#this is my history buff moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

athenamikaelson · 6 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 7

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Swearing, stabbing, Elijah wanting to hold hands, witch trials

A/N- KLAUS NEXT CHAPTER BABIES!!!

“I don’t understand why you grown men keep dragging me into your shit,” I groan to Alaric as he parks his car. I cling to my seatbelt and regret ever answering my phone this morning. I really just have to throw my phone away at this point.

“I don’t trust him around Jenna, Y/n. I have a bad feeling about the guy,” Ric says as he undoes his seatbelt and begins to exit the car.

“That or are you just jealous?”

I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips at him and he leans down to stare at me with an annoyed look.

“Get out of the car Y/N.”

I watch as Ric makes his way from his side of the car to mine, but just as he’s about to open my door I press down the lock from the inside. I smirk at him as he tries to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He stares down at me annoyed and then presses his key fob unlocking the car. He tries to open the door but I mimic my actions from before and lock the car again. We continue doing this for another 2 minutes before Ric gets the better of me and throws open my door.

“Seriously, Y/n!”

I huff and practically crawl out of the car.

“For the record, I would rather jump in front of a train than be here,” I say matter-of-factly to Ric as we catch sight of Jenna and Elijah walking up a grass path together.

“For the record,” Ric waves at them and then turns his head towards me, “I don’t care.”

Once again I groan as we make our way towards Jenna and Elijah. I lock eyes with the latter and he sends me a warm smile. I don’t reciprocate and quickly turn my eyes towards Jenna. I can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me, as always, as we stand in front of Jenna and him.

“Uh, Elijah, this is my friend,” Jenna, who seems to be annoyed, introduces Alaric to Elijah, “Alaric Saltzman. And you’ve already met Y/N,” Jenna turns to me and seems much more happy to see me.

Ric who can’t seem to catch a clue speaks, “Ya, I got your, uh, message about walking Elijah here through the old property lines. I thought I, uh we,” He gestures to me, “would, uh, tag along. You know us being history buffs and all. Where to next?”

An awkward silence follows for a moment before Elijah breaks it, “I’m pretty curious about the freed slave property owners. Some say, you know, the descendants of the slaves are the true keepers of American history.”

I am almost one hundred percent sure Mr. Suit and Tie has an ulterior motive but Jenna doesn’t seem to catch it as she tells him she has the stuff in her car and that she’ll go grab it. I watch as she walks away and then turn back to the two men next to me. Elijah stands about a foot's width away from me while Ric is to my right. Ric must’ve noticed Elijah’s staring as he moved himself in front of me. If you didn’t want me to be around Elijah why bring me here? Dumbass.

I can still see Elijah from over Ric’s shoulder and the movement Ric made doesn’t seem to sit well with Elijah as a small twitch in his upper lip presents into a snarl. He drops back into a neutral look almost instantly.

“So you’re one of those people on Elena’s list of loved ones to protect,” Elijah says to Ric. Even though Elijah is relatively shorter than Ric the aura Elijah protrudes makes up for it. Anyone could tell that even though Ric is trying to put up a macho front, he’s afraid of Elijah.

“So is Jenna.”

Elijah smirks at Alaric and then shakes his head slightly, “You don’t have to be jealous. I don’t really pursue younger women,” Elijah’s eyes trail to mine momentarily, “Most of the time.”

Elijah turns back to Ric and they stare at each other for a moment before Elijah pats Ric on the shoulder, “It’s a joke, Ric, lighten up.”

Ric rolls his eyes and nods.

“Wait,” I speak and turn to Elijah, “Technically isn’t every woman younger than you? You know, since you’re like old. Really old. ”

Ric just brings a hand up to massage the tension between his eyebrows and sighs deeply, but Elijah lets out a small chuckle that sends shocks down my spine.

“I guess you’re right Y/N. I am really old,” He mimics my tone with a small smile on his face.

—

35 minutes. We’ve been walking in this dirty ass forest for 35 minutes. I should be in bed asleep right now. But nope, here I am following behind three adults as they talk about history. It’s not that I don’t like history, I do, it’s just that it’s a Saturday. I shouldn’t be learning things on a weekend.

I half-heartedly listen to what Jenna is telling Elijah as we cross over a bunch of fallen tree logs. Alaric helps Jenna over one, and I don’t miss the dirty look she looks she shoots him, making me try to cover my giggle with my hand. The giggling instantly stops though when I see Elijah standing by the front of the log with his hand outstretched towards me. We haven’t talked in these 35 minutes since Jenna has been occupying him, but that hasn’t stopped him from turning back every few moments to catch a glimpse of me, as if he thinks I’m just going to disappear into thin air. Honestly, I wish I would.

I’m not going to use Elijah’s help but realize that my clumsy ass would probably fall over the log if I didn’t. So I lightly place my hand into his, which results in him closing his hand over mine. Locking our hands together. Our hands are locked for a long moment before Ric clears his throat from the other side of the log. I quickly look away from Elijah and use his hand to get over the log carefully. I soon as I get over it though I wrench my hand away from his and walk over to Jenna who sends me a warm smile.

“Seems like someone is fond of you,” She whispers to me as she raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I can already feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks as I stare at her horrified. Jenna just laughs at my face as she starts leading us farther down the trail we’re on. Sadly though, Alaric has occupied Jenna, which leaves Elijah to walk next to me.

Elijah’s quiet for a moment, seemingly just enjoying my company before he starts speaking, “Is it true what Alaric says,” I turn to him confused, “That you’re a history buff?”

I sigh slightly as I shrug my shoulders realizing that just talking to the guy might make this little trip go by a little faster.

“I wouldn't call myself a buff,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “but it’s also not something I dislike. Learning about how our world was made and all the small factors of why it was made are quite intriguing. I also like weird history.”

“Weird history,” Elijah questions me with a frown.

“You know, like the unexplained, or the odd things in history that many don’t understand,” At the still confused look on his face I continue, “You know like the dancing plague of 1518, D.B Cooper, or Oh! The lost colony of Roanoke. That’s probably my most favorite.”

Once I realized that I had just gone on a tangent I went to apologize to Elijah but when I look at him all I can see on his face is pure adoration. The type of adoration that makes the beating in my chest stops. He smiles at me and from being so close to him I notice the small dimple on his left cheek.

“I understand now,” Elijah says, “You seem to be most interested in The Roanoke Colony. Why is that?”

I ponder his question for a moment, “I’m not sure, it’s just something I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe because of how mysterious and odd it is. I’m not sure, I know that some people say it was aliens or cannibalism but there isn’t a known answer. It’s amazing to me that so many people, an entire village, can go missing and there are no clues. Other than the word Croatoan!”

Elijah nods his head along but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face tells me he’s hiding something. Wait. Holy shit.

I whip around to him stopping us, “You know, don’t you! I mean you’re old enough but I didn’t even think you would…,” I stop and stare at him in awe for a moment, “You have to tell me.”

Elijah opens his mouth but then I shake my head and throw a hand up to his mouth stopping him, “Wait! No, what if you tell me and it ends up disappointing me.”

I go through all the possibilities in my head at what he could tell me and then fight myself on whether I should have him tell me or not. I can feel Elijah’s smile behind my hand and bring my hand back.

“Sorry,” I wince embarrassed.

“No worries, I enjoy seeing you so full of life,” I blush at his words, “Would you like me to tell you?”

I think about Elijah’s question for a moment and then shake my head, “No. I think the reason I love that moment in history so much is because of the mystery behind it. I don’t want to lose interest in it by knowing.”

Elijah seems pleased with my answer and nods, “Very well.”

We continue walking for another moment before Elijah chimes up again, “What else interests you?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Nothing much, I’m not a very interesting person.”

“I highly doubt that.”

I smile slightly at his comment, “Well I like reading. That’s actually something Elena and I have bonded on. I used to get bullied for being a book nerd but now having someone who likes it too is comforting.”

At this mention of Elena, Elijah’s smile drops slightly but then turns into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that you were bullied for reading, as a literature connoisseur myself I find it quite depressing how reading has become something so rare in these past decades. What types of books do you read?”

I nod along to Elijah’s words until he asks what books I read. At this, I instantly get red and look anywhere other than him.

“You know,” I try to find a socially acceptable answer. Not really wanting to tell this 1,000-year-old man I spend my free time reading smut, “Literature.”

“Literature?”

Elijah looks at me with a smirk on his handsome features and I just nod and clear my throat, “Yep, literature. Just all the literature.”

“What about you? What literature do you like?”

Elijah laughs slightly at my change in subject, “Literature in general as well,” I roll my eyes at his joke, “But also I appreciate all types, Historical, the classics, thriller, even romance.”

“You read romance,” I ask surprised.

He nods his head, “On occasion. There’s something so unique about how different authors portray love and devotion. Where some show it as a neverending, intense emotion others show it as one’s demise.”

“And which do you believe?”

This question has Elijah pausing momentarily, thinking, “I’ve lived a long time, Elskan. Seen people start wars in the name of love, and seen people kill and die in its name aswell. To choose just one thought when it comes to the idea of love is something I can not do. What about you, what are your thoughts on love?”

“I want nothing to do with it.”

Elijah goes quiet for a moment at my answer. I face back forward and we keep walking in silence for another moment.

“I understand your reluctance towards it. But still young why cut off something like love at your age?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. My age has nothing to do with my hatred and distaste for love.

“Don’t tell me all that romance you read is getting to your head, Elijah,” I say to him slightly snarky.

“I’ve struck a nerve,” Elijah says as he nods his head.

“Nope. No nerves struck here,” I tell him picking up my speed and walking away from him. He doesn’t have to try hard to meet my speed though as he falls back into step with me.

“Even though there have been no nerves struck,” He tries to lighten the tension with a joke, “I must apologize for overstepping. As I’ve said before, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

I move my gaze from Jenna’s back, who is currently in a small argument with Alaric, and turn to look at Elijah. Once again his face has no signs of malice or ill intent.

“It’s fine,” I shrug at him, “Like I said no struck nerves.”

Elijah slightly laughs and then nods his head. We walk for another 5 minutes in silence, Elijah helps me over logs and rocks whenever we come up to one.

“Y/N and I should be heading back now,” Alaric tells the group as we get to a clearing.

I nod, happy to be getting out of these woods.

“Well, thank you Y/N for coming today, I’m sure you had more exciting things to do today,” Jenna smiles at me and jokes.

“Just sleeping. But it was nice to see you Jenna,” I reluctantly look over to Elijah who hasn’t left my side, “You as well.”

This has Elijah’s deflated shoulders rising again. He almost reminds me of a dog that is happy someone is finally giving it an ounce of attention.

“It was a pleasure to be able to spend this morning with you, Y/N,” I’ve noticed that Elijah calls me by my actual name when other people are around. But, when it is just him and I, he uses that stupid nickname.

I nod as I go to follow Alaric back to the car but stop and turn back to Elijah, “I guess I’m not one-hundred percent against love,” This perks Elijah up, “I mean I totally loved the dress I wore to the tea party.”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle that rattles his broad shoulders, “You weren’t the only one.”

I almost choke on my saliva at his words. Elijah’s smirk deepens and I put my lips together and nod my head fast.

“Well, um. I’ll be going now,” I don’t give Elijah time to respond as I speed walk past him and Jenna and grab Ric’s forearm pulling him roughly behind me.

“Keep up,” I whisper yell at him as we speed walk our way to the car.

—

The original plan was that Ric and I would go on that stupid history walk and then after 30 minutes he would bring me back to my house, but of course, no one in this god-forsaken town follows any type of deal. So that’s why I am currently sitting in front of Demon and his “girlfriend,” and next to Ric who are talking about Elijah and how they don’t trust him. Thankfully Damon bought me fries so this whole trip hasn’t been an entire waste. I half-ass listen to their conversation but don’t really care so I don’t process a word they’re saying, at least not until Damon perks up.

I’ve come to learn from my time in knowing Demon that if I see him getting excited about something, someone is going to get hurt.

So that’s why I follow his line of sight and see Elijah and Jenna walk into the Grill together.

“Ah, there Jenna with her new boyfriend,” Damon says. I know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Ric but something about that sentence makes my skin crawl.

Damon calls over both of them. Jenna welcomes all of us with a smile and wave while Elijah trails behind her looking complacent. As always his eyes find mine and his complacent smile lightens.

“So I hear you two had a meeting of the historical minds today,” Damon speaks to the two.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna smiles looking up at Elijah who is now looking down at Demon.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I, uh, I’ve got papers to grade and a teenager to get home,” Ric gets up from his seat and he gestures to me. I frown as I see my fries still half full and quickly grab a fist full and fill my mouth trying to get away with as many as possible, almost choking myself in the meantime. The adults around me watch me with a mix of amusement and slight disgust, but I don't care. I’m not wasting free food.

“No, you know what,” Alex or Stephanie or whatever Demon’s girlfriend is named, chirps up, “We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party!”

Hell to the no.

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas,” Damon looks over to her before turning back to us, “I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?”

“It’s good for me. Jenna,” Where Alessia agrees Ric tries to disagree.

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna talks over Ric. Yikes.

“Will the lovely Y/N be there,” Elijah asks me and I try to tell him, “Hell no,” but the fries in my mouth have left me mute.

“Of course, she’ll be there,” Damon exclaims as if there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. I send him a nasty glare which earns me a wink in return.

“Then it’d be a pleasure.”

Damon’s smile is all but welcoming as he responds to Elijah, “Great.”

This is going to be a horrible night.

—

This is a horrible night.

First I get a nasty grade on my modern art project. Not my fault, since modern art is a crime against humanity.

Then, I try to find a dress for this stupid dinner and the only half-decent dress that I have now is two inches too short.

And then after I said screw it, put the dress on and finished getting ready. I went down to my car only to find out that my front tire had gone flat. Honestly in this case I was happy about it because I had a reason to cancel, but when I called Jenna and told her the “upsetting” news, she told me she’d come pick me up. Great.

So now I’ve been sitting on my front porch waiting for Jenna. After waiting for fifteen minutes I was close to just calling it quits and telling Jenna the fries from earlier made me throw up on myself. But, right when I stand up a dark sedan pulls into my driveway. Wait. I know that sedan. Damnit. Why the hell is Elijah here?

As if he could read my thoughts Elijah pretty much glides out of his car looking practically god-like in yet another five-thousand-dollar suit and smiles at me.

“Good evening, Elskan,” Elijah walks up the walkway to stand before me, “Miss. Sommers so kindly asked me if I could escort you to the dinner tonight. To which I happily obliged.”

“Right,” I sigh, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

I walk to Elijah’s car as he follows me, just like before he opens the door for me. I send him an appreciative nod and get in. After another moment we’re driving down the dark road towards the boarding house.

“You look breathtaking, Elskan,” Elijah says to me from his position in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” I turn to him and look at his usual attire, “You look the same.”

He chuckles, “Yes, you always seem to remind me of my attire. Thank you for that.”

“Always here to help.”

We drive in comfortable silence for the entirety of the trip until we get to the Salvatore’s driveway.

“How are you feeling about tonight,” Elijah’s tone is flat but as he looks at me his eyes are filled with what I believe to be suspicion.

“You mean, do I think something bad is going to happen?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches, “Aren’t you a smart one? But yes, I am not going to threaten you Elskan. I would never do that, but,” At that, I’m tensing in my seat, “I need to know if your friends are planning something, unbecoming, tonight.”

At Elijah’s serious tone, I shake my head, “I don’t know anything. Promise,” Elijah doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with my answer, and something in me wants to fix that, “But, I do know that Damon is not one to have friendly dinner parties so,” I look at him uneased but speak in a strong voice, “Be on your guard tonight.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Elskan.”

—

Elijah and I stand side by side as he knocks on the front door. We wait only a moment before a smirking Demon opens it up,

“Thank you both for coming,” Damon says a little too nicely, “Y/N don’t you look adorable. Come on in!”

Elijah places his hand on my lower back, “Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider.”

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just, uh, getting to know you.”

“Hmm, well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” I watch this back and forth waiting for something bad to happen.

“Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal if you so much as make a move to cross me I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house,” And there it is, “Except Y/N and Miss. Sommers of course. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Damon eyes Elijah wearily. And then Elijah leads me into the house as Jenna enters the room.

“Jenna, wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m seriously getting whiplash from you man,” I whisper so only Elijah will hear. The only response I get is a slight squeeze to my waist as he pulls me closer and away from everyone else who has entered the room to greet us. His right-hand stays resting on my upper hip.

“Let’s eat.”

—

“I hate to break it to you, Damon,” Jenna says to Damon as she pours him a glass of wine, “But according to Elijah your family is so not a founder of this town.”

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon responds. Damon sits at the head of the table sipping his wine as he stares at Elijah, who is currently sitting next to me on my right. Alaric sits to my left and Jenna and Abby sit across from us. I should really learn her name. There’s also this balding white man who is sitting across from Damon at the other end of the table but no one here seems to want him here.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier a faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trial in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution.”

“Hmm, because they were witches,” Jenna chimes in.

“Yeah, there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem.”

“Andies a journalist. Big on facts,” Oh, so that’s her name. I liked Andrea more.

“Well,” Elijah sets down his fork and starts talking again, “the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement. So these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned,” Elijah says as if it’s something anyone wants to hear while they’re eating steak dinner, “Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the,” He gestures to the salt and Ric passes it to him wearily.

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna says which has me wanting to roll my eyes at the mention of those bags.

“Maybe you should,” I say to myself but have seemed to catch the attention of the table. Shit.

“I’m just saying it would knock them down a peg, which is clearly needed,” I whisper out the last part, “Even though there is no proof of witches being burned at the stake during the trials. It was mostly done from self-drownings and using rocks.”

At my contradiction to Elijah’s statement he raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Self-drowning and rocks? How would that work,” Jenna questions with a slight stutter clearly having had a little too much wine.

“Well with the drowning it was more of a test,” I use fingerquotes at the word, “So to speak. The witch in question would be tossed into a body of water and if she was able to stay afloat she was condemned as a witch and was killed. But if she didn’t float, well. Y’know. So I mean either way it was just a way to punish women for being women. They used the rocks though to stone the people to death. Interestingly enough one of my ancestors was actually killed that way. R.I.P.”

I laugh at my little joke at the end which has earned me a few stares from the people at the table.

“Ok, moving past whatever that was,” Damon says as he turns back to Elijah, “So why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?”

Elijah thinks for a moment before smiling, “You know… a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course.”

“Of course,” Damon replies to Elijah who has already gone back to taking a bite out of his steak. I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a sip but start choking on it when I feel a hand gently grab my other one from under the table.

“Y/N! Are you ok,” Jenna exclaims from her side of the table as Ric pats me on the back, I put up a thumbs up and try to smile.

“Yep all good. Just,” I cough out a bit more, “went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me.”

Even though I almost choked, Elijah still hasn’t moved his hand from mine. Instead, his fingers have begun tracing shapes into my skin. I know I should feel disgusted, but I can’t seem to want to move his hand away. He looks at me momentarily as if to check I’m ok. To which I send him a small nod. This in return makes him smile and grab a hold of my hand more firmly now.

Damon's standing distracts me momentarily, “Does anyone care for some cognac? I have a bottle I’ve been saving for ages.”

God, me, please.

“None for me, thanks. Nine bottles of wine is my limit,” Alaric says as he downs yet another glass of wine. Jesus dude, try water sometime.

This has everyone standing from the table. Ok then, guess I’m done eating.

“The gentleman should take their drinks in the study,” Anna says.

“How 1950s of you Alice,” I smile at her sarcastically.

“My name is Andie,” She says back.

“Is that not what I said,” I smile at her as I walk past her into the study. I don’t even want to go in here with them but I’m doing it to stand on principle. And that I’m kind of an asshole. But that’s not my fault since I was awoken this morning before I was able to get my full 13 hours of shut eye.

—

My fingers graze the dozens of books I walk by as Damon and Elijah converse behind me. It surprises me that Damon has so many books, when he’s so dumb. Weird.

“Are these Stefan’s?”

Damon spares me a moment's glance, “No, they’re mine.”

I hum. Weird. Maybe he just doesn’t have comprehension skills.

“So, let me guess, in the addition to the moonstone, the doppelganger, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe… You need to find this witch burial ground.”

“Because I feel as though we’ve grown so close, Damon,” Elijah’s words have me chuckling as I flip through a book that seems to be at least one hundred years old, “I’ll tell you yes. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Damon’s answer has Elijah walking over to him, “Tell me why it’s so important.”

“We’re not that close.”

Damon getting rejected has me snorting which catches Elijah’s attention as he smiles up to me. He notices the book I have in my hands and speaks again to Damon.

“It’s quite a collection you have here. It is a funny thing about books. Before they existed people actually had memories.”

I go to make a snarky comment at Elijah’s words but Ric comes storming into the study.

“Gentlemen,” I clear my throat and Ric looks at me, “And Y/N. We forgot about dessert.”

Addison comes over to Elijah and raises a hand for him to take, which has a nasty feeling starting in my gut. But before it goes too far Elijah turns to me instead and reaches out his own hand, “Y/N.”

I have to fight back a snort as we walk by Amelia Bedelia as Elijah leads me into the dining room where Jenna is.

“Sorry, guys, dessert is taking longer than I thought,” Jenna’s words have me physically deflating, “I usually just unwrap food.”

Elijah leads me to a chair and moves it so I can sit down. He sits next to me and Audrey sits across from us.

“So, I know this is a social thing but I, I would really love to ask you some more questions about the work that you’re doing here,” She asks Elijah who agrees. I’m quite interested in what he’s going to say since he’s created this big lie surrounding, Elijah Smith.

“Great,” She continues as Damon enters the room, “Oh, that’s so great. Ric, would you do me a favor and grab the notebook out of my bag?”

She instructs Ric as Elijah’s hand finds its way back to my hand.

“Elijah, did John tell you that he’s Elena’s uncle/father?’’

Damon’s question has me sitting up right.

“Huh?!”

I look between Damon and the balding man next to me and wonder how he was able to produce a girl as pretty as Elena. Also now I’m pissed and kind of sad no one has told me this before.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Even Elijah knows?!

“Of course, she hates him, so there’s absolutely no need to keep him on the endangered species list.”

Now I don’t feel bad for thinking he looked like Charlie Brown earlier.

Adeline says something to Ric but now my full focus is on Elijah's fingers which are now grazing up and down my hand that lays on my thigh.

I can hear Dead Beat saying something to Elijah but the words won’t focus as I try to calm my breathing. Elijah’s deep voice enters my ears as I hear him threatening the two men but the soft touching hasn’t gone away.

I’m almost comforted by the feeling now until the once soothing feeling is replaced by his hand crushing my thigh. My yells are mixed with what I’ve just now realized are Elijah’s as he crunches up in pain. A loud scream escapes my lips as I see a dagger protruding from Elijah’s back and can only watch in horror and pain as Elijah’s once soft and light skin turns to grey and veining flesh.

I blink rapidly as everyone moves around me but all I can focus on is Elijah’s dead body. Dead. Elijah’s dead. Oh god.

I feel someone grab my upper arm and drag me out of my seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

My breathing halts. My vision goes black and, my body hits the floor.

704 notes · View notes

seongwars · 9 days ago

Text

𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 | 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Pairing: Viscount!Choi San x Countess!Reader AU: non-idol | regency Rating: T/NC-17 Summary: After falling prey to one of Choi San’s cruel games, you vowed yourself to a life of eternal spinsterhood. But when a fire leaves the Choi estate in ruins, the very man you swore you would never forgive re-enters your life. Word Count: 7.8K Warnings: you were a bet trope, misogyny, men being disappointing, angst, swearing, inaccurate depictions of the era (sorry history buffs 😭)

Fic Masterlist | Taglist Signup

a/n: it's here! the rewritten version of Ardently, now known as Wallflower! Note that those who signed up for Ardently's taglist will be tagged here, but let me know if you'd like for me to remove you!

feedback on this new version is also appreciated

"I’m joining a convent!" you declared dramatically, clutching a small sack packed with nothing but a pair of sensible shoes, and a shawl for your new monastic life.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your mother snapped, reaching for your arm as you darted past her with surprising agility, fueled by equal parts adrenaline and spite.

“I will not be trapped under the same roof as him!” you shouted, narrowly avoiding Anna, the head maid, who was attempting to form a human barricade by the parlor door.

“The sisters of Saint Hala will understand my plight! They’ve taken in women for less!”

Joe, the head butler, a sweet old man, tried to sidestep your wild trajectory near the staircase, but you spun past him with an impressive maneuver. He groaned, pressing a hand to his lower back as you darted away, Anna and your mother hot on your heels.

You burst out the front door and onto the gravel path. Anna was close behind, huffing as she struggled to keep her bonnet in place, while Joe followed at a more measured pace, muttering about the indignities of old age. Your mother, however, stalked after you like a woman possessed, her voice rising above the commotion.

“Kang Y/N, stop this nonsense! “You are not becoming a nun just because the Choi family is staying with us!”

You whipped around briefly, clutching your sack like a shield. “You’re asking me to endure the unspeakable horror of living under the same roof as Choi San!”

“I’m asking you to behave like an adult!” your mother shot back.

“I am an adult!” you retorted, darting further down the path. “One who is capable of making her own decisions!”

Behind you, the haphazard mob of your mother, Anna, and Joe screeched to a halt, their gasps of exertion mingling with the crunch of gravel underfoot.

“What now?” you barked, spinning around to glare at your entourage, your chest heaving from the effort of your escape.

“My lady!” Anna squeaked, her voice strained. “My lady, wait!”

The answer came in the form of an unfamiliar silence. Slowly, you realized the mob wasn’t staring at you—they were looking just beyond you.

Confused, you turned toward the gates, and there he was.

Choi San was standing just a few feet away, halfway down the steps of his family’s carriage. He stared at you, his head tilted slightly, dark eyes wide with confusion as he took in the spectacle: you, breathless and disheveled, holding your pitiful sack like a runaway, while your mother, Anna, and Joe formed a panting, disorganized trio behind you.

For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of the breeze through the estate’s trees.

San blinked, clearly at a loss for words. His hand lingered on the edge of the carriage door as if he were debating whether stepping back inside would be the more sensible option.

“M-Ms. Kang?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft and cautious, entirely devoid of the insufferable smugness you had expected.

Your face flushed a furious red, caught somewhere between humiliation and indignation. You had not run halfway down the estate path, your mother, Anna, and Joe in hot pursuit, just to be confronted by him of all people.

“You!” you spluttered, pointing a shaky finger in his direction, the sack swinging precariously at your side.

“Me?”

“Mr. Choi!” your mother shrieked suddenly, pushing past Anna, her skirts swishing dramatically.

“Mr. Choi, stop her!”

“She’s running away!” Anna exclaimed, clutching her chest as though this scandal was enough to make her faint.

“Block the path, tackle her if you must, anything to stop this madness!” Joe groaned, rubbing his aching knee.

Without giving anyone a chance to act, you spun on your heel and bolted. Your little sack was clutched tightly in your arms, its contents jingling faintly as your feet crunched against the gravel.

Behind you, the chaos reached its peak—San calling your name in confusion, Anna’s faint protests, Joe muttering curses about his knees, and your mother’s furious shrieks of indignation.

But none of it mattered. You had escaped. For now.

You hadn’t always loathed Choi San. At twenty, you’d even been drawn to his charm, captivated by the effortless confidence he exuded. But that admiration was short lived, turning into bitter resentment after he lured you into a reckless wager, a cruel game fueled by his arrogance that left you humiliated and betrayed.

4 Years Earlier

“Why the doom and gloom?” Wooyoung asked as he plopped into the seat across from San. He leaned back, stretching his legs out comfortably, as he took a swig of his scotch.

San shot him a glare, the kind that would make lesser men falter, but Wooyoung only raised a brow, unfazed. San’s jaw tightened, and he gripped his glass more firmly.

“I’m not,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Wooyoung scoffed. “What’s going on? Did someone step on your pride or just your heart? Oh wait,” he feigned realization, snapping his fingers.

“It’s Dami, isn’t it?”

San’s jaw clenched visibly at the jab, and for a moment, he contemplated chucking the glass across the room just to see Wooyoung flinch. But he didn’t. It had been weeks, weeks since Dami’s defection to Lord Jeon, yet the sting of her rejection still burned like an open wound.

San, the youngest and only son of Viscount Choi, had an uncanny knack for charming everyone he met. His charisma was well-known, making him the center of attention in any room. He wore his rakish reputation with pride, his flirtations harmless enough to keep him out of scandal but tantalizing enough to make him the subject of constant speculation.

And for a time, his charm had captured the heart of Han Dami, the daughter of a baron and the envy of every debutante. Together, they had been the couple of the season—the talk of every ballroom, the object of admiration and envy alike.

But that was before.

Before she abruptly ended things with him, San had entertained dreams of romance. A sweeping love story that defied the harsh realities of their world. But love alone was never enough. He lived in a world where practicality reigned, and expectations of passion often crumbled under the weight of ambition and survival.

“Look,” Wooyoung began, waving a dismissive hand. “Wallowing doesn’t suit you. If you’re so hung up on her, why not make her regret it? Win someone else over. Let her see what she gave up.”

San’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming against his glass. The idea was ridiculous, childish, even, but it wormed its way into his mind nonetheless. Wooyoung, ever the instigator, saw it instantly. The faint flicker of hesitation in San’s eyes, the way his pride clashed with caution.

“If you’re so confident, give me a name, and I’ll prove you wrong,” San finally said.

“The Wallflower.”

“Wallflower?”

“Miss Kang Y/N,” Wooyoung elaborated, his grin widening.

“Sister to the Earl Kang. You’ve seen her—always hiding in the corners, avoiding conversation like it’s a plague. Invisible to most. Certainly not your type.”

Your debut season in society was a whirlwind of excitement and trepidation, a delicate dance between anticipation and the subtle pressure to conform. As the younger sister of Earl Kang Yeosang, you entered the glittering world of the ton with a blend of expectation and apprehension.

While others were preoccupied with securing advantageous matches or making influential acquaintances, your thoughts frequently wandered to the world of literature. You dreamt of a future where you would hold your first published book in your hands—a future that seemed distant amidst the societal demands of the present.

San scoffed, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. “Since when have I needed a type to charm a lady?”

“You’ll find no eager glances or fluttering fans with this one. She’s not desperate for attention. She’s reserved. Thoughtful. The sort who can see through a man’s empty words.”

“What’s the wager?”

“If you can truly win her over, I’ll fund that expedition you’ve been pestering me about for months,” Wooyoung replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He secretly hoped San would fail—an expedition of such grandeur was bound to cost a pretty penny.

San’s lips curved into a confident smirk. “Consider it done.”

A wave of laughter and cheers erupted in their circle of friends. The challenge had been laid out, and San’s self-assured response had ignited a buzz of excitement. He would prove Dami wrong. If she had chosen security over passion, then he would show her and everyone else that he was still the man every woman desired.

After all, what harm could there be in making a wallflower blossom?

The first attempt San set out to woo you, was at a hunt hosted by his family. The day was crisp, with a low mist hanging over the expansive grounds of the manor, a sprawling estate nestled against the autumnal countryside. The air is filled with the distant sounds of hounds barking, horses snorting, and the low murmur of conversation from the assembled guests.

Amid the cluster of gentlemen in their riding coats and polished boots, you spotted San, seated atop his stallion. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, drawing more than a few admiring glances from the assembled ladies.

San caught your gaze from across the clearing and nudged his horse in your direction. Your heart began to pound against your ribcage, each beat growing louder, more insistent, until it drowned out the distant chatter of the other guests.

You were suddenly, acutely aware of the many eyes turning to watch this unexpected approach—mamas murmuring behind their fans, young ladies whispering behind gloved hands, and even the gentlemen casting curious glances. You could almost hear their thoughts: Why is he riding toward her? What does he mean by it?

“Ms. Kang,” San greeted as he reigned in his horse beside you, his voice low and smooth, laced with that familiar, infuriating hint of amusement.

"What a welcome surprise."

You tilted your head slightly, fighting to keep your voice steady even as your fingers nervously fiddled with the leather handle of your riding crop.

“Mr. Choi,” you replied, allowing a thin, polite smile to play on your lips, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, away from the rest of your party.”

“And yet, here I am. Fate has a strange way of bringing people together, don’t you think?” San’s voice was smooth, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Or perhaps it’s your…habit for being everywhere at once,” you insinuated, taking a jab at his reputation.

His gaze lingered on you, a flicker of confusion in his eyes as he took in your demeanor. He had expected you to be as shy and reserved as the rumors suggested, but you defied those expectations entirely.

“Will you be watching from the sidelines like the rest?” San asked, a teasing edge in his voice that softened into genuine interest.

“Or might you be bold enough to take part in the hunt yourself?”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “I might surprise you, Mr. Choi. I’m not one to sit idly by when there’s excitement to be had.”

San’s confusion quickly turned to intrigue. “I look forward to seeing you out there,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of quiet confidence. He gave you a slight, respectful bow of his head before guiding his horse back toward the group.

You caught the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he rode away, and a wave of frustration mingled with something warmer, something unwelcome, swept through you. You turned your horse away forcing yourself to ignore the whispers and sideways glances, and made your way over to where your brother and the rest of the hunting party had gathered.

It was unusual for women to join the hunt, an activity traditionally dominated by men, but you had never been one to follow convention. Ever since you were a child, you had accompanied your father on his excursions, slipping away from the stuffy drawing rooms and the tiresome embroidery lessons to ride beside him. Your father had always encouraged your spirit, delighted in the way you held the reins with such determination, the way you matched him stride for stride through fields and forests.

The horns sounded, a clear, commanding call that echoed across the fields. The hounds sprang forward, their lean bodies surging across the estate, their howls filling the air with a primal energy. You urged your own horse to move, feeling the familiar rush of excitement as the wind whipped against your face, the ground blurring beneath you.

San hadn’t expected to see you mounted on a horse with such a determined look in your eyes. The sight was a stark contrast to the reserved demeanor you usually displayed at social gatherings. As he watched you ride, he saw you weaving through the other hunters with practiced ease, your movements fluid and confident. The way you handled your horse, guiding it with subtle commands, spoke of a skill honed over years.

A thrill shot through him, an electric spark that danced along his skin, igniting a sense of admiration and curiosity. He found himself captivated by this facet of your personality, one that defied the quiet, unassuming image you were rumored to project.

Perhaps the wallflower has a brazen side to her, he mused.

The hounds had picked up a scent, their excited barks echoing through the forest. The riders spurred their horses forward, the thrill of the chase driving them on. You urged your horse to keep pace, the wind whipping through your hair as you navigated the dense underbrush.

Suddenly, a fallen branch blocked your path. You guided your horse to leap over it, the powerful muscles of the animal bunching beneath you as it soared through the air. You landed smoothly on the other side, the impact barely jarring as your horse’s hooves met the ground with practiced precision.

A triumphant smile spread across your face, the exhilaration of the jump coursing through your veins. As you regained your stride, you noticed San riding alongside you, his eyes alight with admiration.

“Impressive,” he called out, his tone genuinely warm and filled with respect.

You gave him a small nod, acknowledging the compliment with a modest smile. The thrill of the moment spurred you on, and you surged forward with your horse, the wind whipping through your hair as you raced ahead.

San matched your pace effortlessly, but confusion crossed his face once again. He had expected a verbal response, perhaps a playful retort or a shared laugh. Instead, your silence left him puzzled, wondering if he had misread the situation.

Eventually, the hunt drew to a close. The hounds had cornered their quarry, and the riders began to gather, their faces flushed with excitement. You dismounted, your legs slightly unsteady from the exertion. San was at your side in an instant, offering his arm for support.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, his voice soft and sincere. “Perhaps we could ride together again sometime,” San suggested, his tone hopeful.

You chuckled softly, trying to steady your racing heart. “That would be improper without a chaperone, Mr. Choi,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes as you pulled your hand away and turned to make your way back to your brother and mother.

San watched you go, a thoughtful smile lingering on his lips, knowing full well that he had caught a glimpse of something rare and untamed—a side of you that he would very much like to see again.

⊹

The day after the hunt dawned quietly, the morning light filtering through your window in soft, golden rays. You were beginning to settle into the rhythm of the day when a knock sounded at the door. One of the housemaids appeared in the doorway, looking slightly flustered.

“Miss, a delivery has arrived for you,” she announced, her eyes bright with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

“A delivery?” you repeated, setting down the book you were pretending to read. “For me?”

She nodded eagerly and stepped aside, revealing a young footman holding a large, exquisite bouquet of flowers—pink roses, rhododendrons, and geraniums, artfully arranged with sprigs of greenery and delicate baby’s breath.

You took the flowers gingerly, surprised by their weight and the intoxicating scent that enveloped you. For a moment, you were at a loss, glancing down at the arrangement with a mixture of confusion and wonder. Who could have sent these?

Your eyes caught sight of a small card nestled among the blooms. Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled it free, turning it over to read the neat, elegant script written on it:

“For the lady whose grace and spirit during the hunt were truly a sight to behold. –S.”

You could almost hear his voice in the words—the familiar teasing lilt, that infuriating hint of amusement that seemed to color everything he said. A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, but you quickly suppressed it, unsure of how you truly felt. Flattered? Irritated? Amused? Perhaps a confusing mix of all three.

“What is this?” your mother asked, appearing in the doorway.

“A gift,” you replied, “from Mr. Choi.”

Your mother’s eyes widened slightly, and she stepped forward, her hands clasping together in front of her.

“Mr. Choi?” she repeated, her tone colored with intrigue. She paused, a contemplative look crossing her face, and you could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “That is… unexpected.”

“Indeed,” you murmured, glancing back at the flowers.

“Well,” she asked, her tone almost teasing, “will you respond?”

You sighed, feeling a familiar mix of exasperation and affection for the woman who always seemed to know how to unsettle you. You flopped back onto your bed, the springs creaking under your weight.

“I suppose I should thank him,” you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

Your mother’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, a mischievous smile plastered across her face. “He has made quite a gesture, after all. It would be rude not to acknowledge it.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” you said, sitting up again.

Moving to your writing desk, you dipped your quill into the inkwell. As the nib touched the paper, you paused, considering your words carefully. You knew you would have to strike a balance—a note that was gracious, but not too encouraging; polite, but with just enough edge to keep him guessing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should add something more, some playful remark that would remind him that you weren’t so easily won. But then, deciding that less was more, you signed your name with a flourish and sealed the letter with a small, satisfied smile.

“Mr. Choi–I must thank you for your most unexpected gift. Your thoughtfulness is noted. I trust you enjoyed the hunt as much as I did. Until we meet again.”

The Cromer Fair was a lively affair, bursting with color and sound. Brightly painted stalls lined the village green, offering everything from delicate ribbons and bolts of fabric to candied apples and steaming pies. The fair for all its charm, had become another stage for the intricate theater of high society.

Your family’s arrival, marked by the gleaming carriage, did not go unnoticed. Heads turned as you stepped down from the coach, drawing more attention to the elusive Wallflower. For weeks, whispers had circulated throughout the ton, their interest piqued not by scandal or intrigue, but by your notable absence from social gatherings. Your avoidance of the spotlight had, ironically, made you the subject of intense curiosity.

“Ms. Kang!”

The sound caught your attention instantly, and there he was—San, standing just a few paces away, his expression alight with something close to joy. His smile was so easy and genuine that you felt the corners of your own mouth tugging upward, almost involuntarily.

He bowed slightly, though the gesture carried more charm than propriety. “I feared the fair would pass without the honor of seeing you.”

“Lady Kang,” he greeted your mother, his voice polite and measured.

“Choi,” Yeosang acknowledged curtly, his tone cool and formal. He inclined his head slightly, though there was no warmth in the gesture.

“Kang,” San replied, his eyes briefly meeting Yeosang’s before returning to you. There was a subtle challenge in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that hung in the air. Perceptive bastard, Yeosang thought as he rolled his eyes.

“How lovely it is to see you here, Mr. Choi!” your mother exclaimed with a lilting laugh, the kind she reserved for smoothing over the awkwardness of situations she had orchestrated.

“Perhaps, a stroll might be in order? The fair has so much to offer, and it would be a shame to miss it.”

Before you could respond, she continued, “Yeosang, dear, you’ll accompany your sister and Mr. Choi, won’t you? As her brother, it’s only proper.”

You and Yeosang exchanged a glance, dread mirrored in both your eyes. It wasn’t the usual look of sibling camaraderie but a shared expression of silent protest aimed squarely at your mother. You had no desire to go promenading with San, and Yeosang had even less interest in being dragged along as a chaperone.

“Of course,” he replied stiffly, his tone making it painfully clear this was not his preference.

“Wonderful!” your mother declared with a clap of her hands. “Make the most of it, dear. I’m certain Mr. Choi will make an excellent companion.”

“Mother!”

“Oh look, if it isn’t Duchess Jeong!” your mother interrupted without missing a beat, waving gracefully at Duke Jeong’s mother across the grounds. Before either of you could argue further, she glided away, leaving you and Yeosang standing frozen in her wake.

San looked to you, his dark eyes alight with curiosity and amusement, but your thoughts were already elsewhere, drawn by the promise of the fair’s treasures. As the three of you set off, he fell into step beside you.

“Is there anything in particular you’re hoping to see, Ms. Kang?”

You hesitated, glancing at your brother, whose expression seemed to silently dare you to say something frivolous. Deciding honesty wouldn’t hurt, you allowed a hint of excitement to creep into your tone.

“I heard there’s a merchant with books from overseas,” you admitted. “With illustrations from distant lands.”

“Is that what excites you?” San’s lips curved into an easy smile, though his gaze lingered on you with a mix of curiosity and something else. Something more…thoughtful.

“Absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Books are reliable and make their intentions clear. They don’t waste your time and if they bore you, you can close them and move on.”

There was a deliberate pause as your gaze lingered on his face, a silent question dancing in your eyes. Was he testing you, or simply trying to gauge how far he could go?

He leaned in slightly, as if daring to close the distance between you. “So, you prefer something that can’t surprise you? That can’t push you to think or feel beyond the words on the page?”

“Books surprise me all the time. They’re just more considerate about it. They don’t linger when they’re no longer wanted.”

His laughter came, soft and deep, but his gaze remained fixed on yours.

“And yet, you still let me linger.”

Your cheeks warmed at the unexpected retort, a telltale heat spreading that you struggled to suppress. You turned your head slightly, pretending to take an interest in a nearby stall, but the way your fingers fidgeted together betrayed your composure.

Just ahead, the foreign book merchant’s stall came into view, and you felt relief. Seizing the opportunity, you quickened your pace, using the excuse to put some distance between you and the weight of his attention.

“Here we are,” you announced, your tone just a bit too bright as you gestured to the vendor’s display. Books of every size and color were arranged in carefully balanced stacks, their worn spines hinting at untold stories and distant lands.

You stepped closer to the shelves, your fingers brushing over the embossed titles, pausing occasionally to pull a volume free and examine it. Your expression softened as you opened a leather-bound book, your eyes skimming the faded ink with quiet reverence.

San watched as you picked up another volume. The quiet focus in your movements seemed to draw him in, as if the bustling fair around you had melted into stillness. There was something captivating about the way you moved as though nothing else existed but the books in front of you.

Despite your best efforts to regain control of your thoughts, you could feel his presence just behind you. It made your steps falter slightly, and you cursed inwardly at your inability to maintain your cool.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked. Your gaze flitted to his, your heart betraying you with a slight quickening.

“I wasn’t aware silence was such a novelty,” you replied, attempting to mask your unease with a touch of humor.

“It is, coming from someone who usually has such pointed opinions.”

You rolled your eyes, handing him the book you’d just examined. “Hold this,” you said, your tone brisk but not unkind.

San blinked in surprise but complied, taking the book from your hands. His fingers brushed against the worn leather cover as he glanced down at it. Before he could comment, you had already moved on, scanning the shelves with a discerning eye.

“It seems books hold the secrets of the universe?” he teased lightly, approaching your side.

“They do, in a way,” you replied without looking at him, your attention fixed on the spines in front of you. Your fingers danced over the titles until you selected another volume, pulling it free and flipping through the pages.

“Every book is a door to somewhere new. You never know what you’ll find until you open it.”

“I see,” he murmured, though whatever witty retort he had in mind dissolved the moment you placed a second book atop the first in his arms. He chuckled softly, the teasing glint in his eyes softening as he watched you move with determination.

“Isn’t that Mr. Choi?” a whisper came, the words carrying despite the attempt at discretion.

“Is he courting Ms. Kang?”

San stiffened, his shoulders tightening as if bracing for impact. The muscles in his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax. With a subtle shift, he angled his body to shield you from view, though his eyes flicked instinctively towards you.

You remained blissfully unaware, lost in the pages of your chosen book, your brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Whether the murmurs reached you or not, you gave no indication of noticing.

“They make for such an unusual…pair,” the other woman chimed in, her voice quieter but no less pointed.

The first woman hummed in agreement. “Quite a step down from Dami, wouldn’t you say?”

“Dami was the diamond of her season,” the second woman added, a faint laugh in her voice, “but this…” She let the words hang, heavy with judgment.

“Perhaps she’s just…a distraction,” the first concluded with a theatrical sigh.

San’s grip on the books tightened slightly, the sharp edges pressing into his palms as their words sank in. He should have brushed them off, reminded himself of the role he was playing and the purpose behind it all. Yet their voices grated against him; not because of their dismissal of him, but because of the way they belittled you.

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a convenient prop, proof of what Dami had walked away from.

But as you turned to show him the book, your eyes lit up with excitement. In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about Dami or the wager with Wooyoung.

All he could think about was you, standing before him, and how fond he was growing of you.

San leaned back in his chair, the rich scent of smoke curling around him like a veil. He held his cards in one hand, his other hand bringing the cigar to his mouth for a slow, deliberate puff. The ember at the tip glowed brighter as he inhaled, a flicker of fire against the dark backdrop of the room.

“How goes the wallflower?” Lord Park Seonghwa asked. The question was casual, almost offhand, but the sharp glint in his eye suggested he was more interested in the answer than he let on.

San studied his cards, his fingers tapping lightly against the worn edges. After a moment of silence, he flicked his gaze up to meet Lord Park’s.

“She’s…intriguing,” San replied at last, his voice carrying a hint of something more than mere curiosity. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it swirled and dissipated into the room.

“Not as shy as others say she is. I’d say she has more thorns than petals.”

“Thorns can be dangerous, my friend,” Wooyoung mused, his gaze sharp as he considered San’s words.

“Especially when they’re hidden beneath such a delicate facade.”

San’s smile didn’t waver, though a shadow passed over his features, too fleeting for most to catch. “Delicate things also have a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

Wooyoung raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“Might I remind you gentlemen that you’re playing with fire?” Duke Jeong Yunho interjected smoothly, his eyes never leaving the cards in his hand.

“Kang Yeosang doesn’t take kindly to anyone who crosses his family.”

The room fell into a tense silence, save for the fire crackling softly, its light flickering in Yunho’s eyes as he finally looked up. The warning was unmistakable in his expression, a quiet but undeniable threat hanging in the air.

San’s gaze remained fixed on his cards, his mind clearly elsewhere as he processed Yunho’s warning. The Duke studied him for a moment longer than necessary, the silence thick challenge. It was a standoff of sorts, where neither words nor gestures were needed to communicate the rivalry between them.

Finally, with a slight nod, Yunho returned to his cards, signaling the end of the conversation. But the tension lingered, palpable and unresolved, hanging over the room.

As the days turned into weeks, San found himself increasingly torn between the thrill of the dare and the reality of his growing affection for you. He hadn’t expected you to be so different from what he imagined.

“Mr. Choi–do you believe that ducks have the ability to ponder their existence?”

He stared at the words for a long moment, both amused and intrigued by the sheer randomness of the question, before dipping his pen into ink.

“Miss Kang—I assure you, if ducks ever stopped to ponder their existence, they would undoubtedly seize control of us all. That is, of course, assuming they’re capable of getting their ducks in a row.”

When this began, it was easy. You were charming in your own way, but he hadn’t been looking for depth. He hadn’t anticipated someone passionate, whose sharp wit and quiet strength captivated him.

San adjusted his cravat in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time, his reflection offering no solace for the turmoil within. He knew he was treading dangerous waters. The more he allowed himself to feel, the harder it became to maintain the facade.

He feared what would happen when the truth inevitably came to light; that his intentions had been born not from affection, but from a petty wager and desire to vindicate his pride. That he had approached you not as the woman you were, but as a means to an end.

The thought haunted him. You deserved better than the lies he’d told, better than the man he had been when this all began. And yet, as much as he wanted to walk away and spare you the eventual heartbreak, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting more.

More of your company. More of your attention. More of you.

The familiar strains of the musicians tuning their instruments floated through the ballroom. From the gilded mirrors that lined the walls to the chandeliers dripping with crystal, every detail of the Kang ballroom was a testament to opulence and sophistication.

San, ever the charming gentleman, was acutely aware of the eyes that followed his every move. His colleagues and other potential admirers watched with barely concealed interest, some with jealousy, others with curiosity. They knew he was playing a game, but none knew the rules, least of all you.

As his gaze swept across the crowded room, searching for any sign of you, the lively chatter and watchful eyes faded into the background. Uncertainty crept in as he wondered where you had disappeared to.

Determined to find you, he stepped forward, his eyes darting toward the balcony doors and the faint glow of the gardens beyond. Perhaps you had retreated to steal a moment of solitude. The thought of you standing alone beneath the stars sent an inexplicable urgency coursing through him.

Just as he started toward the edge of the room, a hand brushed against his arm, halting him mid-step.

“San.”

The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned, startled to find Dami standing before him. Her expression was poised but not unreadable.

"May I have a word?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering over her shoulder in a final, searching sweep of the ballroom. A part of him wanted to dismiss her, to follow the thread of instinct that urged him to find you instead. But Dami’s presence demanded his attention, her tone leaving little room for refusal.

“Of course.”

⊹

The evening had been a whirlwind of forced smiles and polite exchanges, each interaction more draining than the last. The laughter and chatter of the crowded ballroom felt like a cacophony, grating on your nerves, and you had long since grown tired of the superficial conversations.

Seeking a moment of solitude, you slipped through a side door and into the garden, a quiet sanctuary away from the prying eyes of high society. You wandered along the gravel paths, the scent of night blooms filling the air. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a world where you weren’t bound by the rigid rules of propriety, where you could be free to live and love as you wished.

But that fleeting peace was abruptly interrupted when you heard voices nearby, muffled but unmistakably familiar.

“Was it worth it? Putting on this little act, dragging her along?” Dami’s voice was soft, almost sweet, as she glanced up at San with a tilt of her head.

“Don’t tell me you actually started to feel something for her.”

The silence that followed was excruciating, heavy and suffocating, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. You leaned closer, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of what you were hearing, your breath hitching at the implications.

San froze, his body stiffening as if the question had struck him physically. His chest tightened, the weight of her words twisting in him like a blade. The confident smirk he had worn earlier faltered, dropping his gaze to the dim glow of the lanterns flickering around them.

“No.”

The single word cut through the air, sharp and final, and it shattered something inside you.

Dami’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“We both know you don’t want her. You never did. You wanted to forget me. That’s all this was.”

Her gloved hand slid down his arm in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate. “What’s stopping us from trying again?”

“No more pathetic little wallflower,” she murmured, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Terribly awkward and unsociable. The type doomed to spinsterhood.”

San let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and hollow as he shook his head. But he didn’t pull away from her touch.

“What did Wooyoung bet you?” Dami pressed, her curiosity sharp and pointed.

“That’s between us,” he teased, amused.

Your heart sank as you listened, your world crumbling around you. The man who sent you flowers, who had seemed to share a connection, had been playing a game all along.

How could you have been so foolish? How could you have let yourself believe that someone like him could genuinely care for someone like you?

You could feel the tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here, not now. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. But as you stood there, the anger began to build, simmering beneath the surface until it was impossible to contain.

You couldn’t let San believe that his betrayal would go unnoticed, that his actions would have no consequences. With a surge of resolve, you stepped out from the shadows, making yourself known.

“Is this true?” you demanded, your voice quivering and strained.

You locked eyes with San, the man who had been at the center of it all, the one who had so effortlessly made you believe in the possibility of something more. But there was no explanation that could undo what he had done.

“Y/N. I–” he stammered, his voice faltering as he grappled with the gravity of the situation.

“How dare you toy with my feelings because of your bruised ego? How dare you lead me to lay bare my vulnerabilities only to use them as fodder for your amusement?”

San flinched at the venom in your words, his face paling as the full impact of what he had done became impossible to ignore.

“Y/N, please—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. “Don’t try to justify this. Don’t try to tell me it wasn’t what it seemed. Because I heard you. I heard everything.”

For a moment, you stood there, breathing heavily, your chest heaving with the force of your emotions.

“You’ve shown me exactly who you are.”

With one final look at San, you turned on your heel and walked away. You would not run, you would not flee into the night like some wounded animal. You would survive this. You would rise above it.

And you would show them all that you were not a wallflower to be trifled with.

“The Choi estate was partially burned last night,” Yeosang announced, stepping into the drawing room. His voice was tinged with urgency as he approached, the unopened letter a silent plea for attention.

You ignored your brother and instead flipped the page of your book with deliberate nonchalance. “Send them my regards,” you bristled, your tone biting even as you maintained the pretense of calm.

Yeosang sighed, clearly grappling with how best to navigate this unexpected development. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognized as one of his tells when he was deeply troubled.

“They’re seeking refuge with extended friends and relatives while the estate is restored,” he explained softly. His eyes lingered on you, gauging your reaction as he placed the envelope on the table before you. The Choi family’s wax seal, a delicate emblem of the mountains and skies, seemed a fragile echo of their former prestige.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice softened, almost pleading.

“Brother,” you replied, finally looking up from your book. The skepticism in your voice was as much a defense mechanism as the sarcasm you’d laced it with.

“They’re desperate,” Yeosang admitted. “The accident has left them with little choice.”

“How unfortunate,” you replied flatly. “Perhaps the Viscount should have ensured his household wasn’t a tinderbox waiting for disaster. Foolishness, it seems, runs in their blood.”

The words were more cutting than you had intended, but you didn’t regret them. The Choi’s predicament, though dire, was of their own making, and the idea that they would try to drag your family into their mess infuriated you.

“The Viscount is invoking a favor as a friend to father.”

“Our late father’s generosity does not extend to negligence or recklessness,” you retorted, leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And it certainly does not extend to housing strays.”

The tree branch creaked under your weight as you settled higher up, your legs dangling lazily over the edge. The letter from the Choi family had been too much to bear, its contents so suffocating that you bolted, preferring to become a sister of St. Hala to sharing a roof with Choi San.

How convenient it must be for them, you mused bitterly, to seek sanctuary now, when it was their own schemes that had caused this debacle.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horses' hooves, faint at first, then growing louder as they drew closer. You peered through the branches and spotted Yeosang and Yunho riding toward the estate.

You swung your legs back over the branch, debating the best way to descend without completely embarrassing yourself. Grabbing your sack, you decided to toss it to the ground first but miscalculated when it veered too far to the right and smacked Yeosang in the head.

“Y/N!” your brother barked.

Ignoring his swears, you began shimmying down the tree, carefully testing each branch to balance your weight. But as usual, fate had other plans. Your foot slipped, and you let out a startled gasp, flailing for the nearest branch. Gravity claimed you, sending you tumbling through the air until a pair of strong arms caught you mid fall.

“Careful there, Lucifer,” Yunho laughed, steadying you in his arms.

You blinked up at him, momentarily dazed. His arms were firm around you, and the absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You, tangled in Yunho’s arms, looking thoroughly disheveled from your grand escape attempt.

“Foiling my plans to destroy the heavens, as always,” you groaned, your face flushing with embarrassment as you pulled yourself away from him.

“If this is your idea of a divine rebellion, might I suggest conquering climbing first,” he chuckled.

Yeosang dismounted his horse with quiet fury, stalking towards you. He held your sack, his knuckles white against the worn fabric, as if it were the root of all his troubles.

“Running away?”

You crossed your arms, lifting your chin defiantly despite the fact that your hair was likely a mess and your clothes bore the evidence of your failed escape.

“Yes,” you replied coolly, “but I thought it only polite to bid you and Yunho farewell before committing myself to St. Hala.”

His grip on the sack tightened, his knuckles standing out starkly as he muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Why am I related to this lunatic?” He exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to rein in his frustration.

“Do you ever stop to think, or is recklessness a natural talent of yours?”

You glared at him, refusing to back down. “I could say the same about you, brother, for not understanding the brilliance of letting vipers into the nest.”

“I’m doing what’s necessary to fulfill a promise between father and the viscount! Do you know what it meant to father to keep his word? A bond of trust that defined him and our family!”

“And yet here you are, jeopardizing all of it by letting them crawl closer! A promise to the viscount doesn’t mean we have to blindly—”

“There she is!”

Both of you froze as your mother swept onto the scene, flanked by Anna, and her husband Jason, the head groundskeeper. Jason’s expression left no doubt he was prepared to intervene if necessary, unlike poor Joe.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, darting behind Yunho in a desperate attempt to escape. But Jason, faster and far stronger than Joe, easily caught up to you. His firm grip closed around your arm, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Not another word,” your mother hissed, her voice icy enough to freeze the air around her.

Yeosang, who had momentarily been forgotten in the chaos, muttered something unintelligible, as your mother grabbed your free arm with an iron grip.

“I’m not going back there!” you shouted, your voice echoing across the grounds as Jason and your mother began dragging you toward the estate.

Behind you, Yunho chuckled softly, falling into step with the chaotic procession. His easy going demeanor only added to your frustration.

“Yunho, don’t just stand there!” you snapped, trying to twist out of Jason’s hold. “Help me!”

From the drawing room, San watched the commotion unfold, his arms crossed, though the faint smirk that once might have graced his lips was absent. Instead, his expression was tense, his brows drawing together as his dark eyes followed your every move.

There had been a time when he might have chuckled at the sight, teasing you later about your theatrics or making some sly remark about your temperament. But now, the thought of doing so felt hollow, wrong even.

He told himself you hated him, and maybe you did. Maybe you always would. And yet, as much as he tried to accept that as his punishment, the thought of it gutted him.

All he could think about was ways to reach out to you, ways to fix what he’d broken. But how could he even begin? What could he possibly say to undo the harm he’d caused?

He found himself hoping desperately that fate might grant him a second chance. A chance to make amends, to prove that he was more than his mistakes.

Because if it wasn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself.

II >>

taglist: @e3ellie @scuzmunkie @syubseokie @sunnysidesins

@notevenheretbh1 @litolmochi @intowxnderland @etaerealboy

@foxinnie8 @sanriomilk @kang-ulzzang @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

@vcutparis @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #cromernet #ateez san #historical au #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez fic #regency era #regency au #marriage of convenience #san angst #arranged marriage

200 notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

Text

I Like Your Mind - Edward Cullen x female reader

Summary: As soon as you meet Edward, you're both drawn to each other with an intensity you never expected

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I step into the Cullen house, my heart racing in my chest, and my mind filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. Bella has brought me here, introducing me to the family of her new boyfriend - Jasper Hale - and I can hardly believe where I find myself. I know their secret, the one they’ve been hiding from the world, the fact they’re vampires. And I know Edward can read minds which makes the whole situation even more daunting. But, as Bella races off to find Jasper, I’m left alone I the living room, taking in the stunning surroundings.

The Cullens’ house is unlike any place I’ve ever seen. The air is heavy with an unspoken history, and everything within is both timeless and modern. A grand piano rests against one wall, a dark mahogany masterpiece, and the soft notes of a melody linger in the air, a testament to the musical talents of the family. On the opposite wall, a massive bookshelf houses an impressive collection of novels and ancient texts. Their spines form a spectrum of human knowledge, artfully arranged.

My gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the room, offering a breathtaking view of the dense, ancient forest that surrounds the house. The trees stand tall and proud, their branches intertwined like guardians, protecting the Cullens from prying eyes. The afternoon sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that dance across the polished wooden floors.

As my eyes linger on the tranquil forest, my imagination takes flight. I envision myself running through the woods, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath my feet. The leaves would crunch softly with each step, and the intoxicating scent of pine and damp earth would fill my senses. My heart would race, and a rush of adrenaline would surge through me as I lose myself in the untamed beauty of the wilderness. But, what captivates me the most is the idea of running through the forest in the rain. The thought of raindrops falling like liquid diamonds from the heavens, pelting the leaves and creating a gentle, rhythmic melody, sends a shiver of delight down my spine. In my daydream, I am drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin as I twirl and leap through the woods, liberated and carefree.

The rain washes away all my worries and fears, leaving only the exhilaration of the moment. It's as if the world, with all its complexities and complications, has melted away, leaving only the simplicity and purity of the rain-soaked forest. It's a feeling of utter peace, a sense of being one with nature and the world, a sensation I've longed to experience again.

Lost in the serenity of my daydream, I sense a subtle presence to my right. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a strange but not unwelcome shiver runs down my spine. Slowly, I turn my head to see one of the Cullen brothers standing there, a striking figure with sharp, chiseled features. He exudes an air of quiet strength and confidence, and I can't help but admire his physical appearance.

As I take in his feature, I quickly realise that this isn’t Jasper, as Bella would undoubtedly be with him if he were here. Besides, Jasper is known for his blond hair, which contrasts with the dark brunette locks of the Cullen brother beside me. His eyes, however, remain a shimmering gold, and their intensity is captivating.

Going over Bella’s description, I recall that she mentioned Emmett to be big and buff. Emmett is tall and muscular. He has dark curly hair and dimpled cheeks. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is light-hearted and carefree. This man in front of me is almost quite the opposite with perfect and angular high cheekbones, strong jawline, a straight nose, and full lips causing my heart to quicken with a sudden realisation. In a hushed voice, I tentatively ask, “Edward?”

The name hangs in the air between us, my uncertainty evident in the way I speak his name. The Cullen brother gives a small nod, his eyes holding a hint of amusement and there’s a small smile on his pretty lips as he says, “Hello.” His voice is a velvet whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. My cheeks heat up in response, and I can’t help but feel flustered by his presence. Turning my face away from him, I gaze out at the enchanting forest, using the breathtaking view to regain my composure.

But just as I start to calm my racing heart, I sense his movement. Edward is moving closer, somewhat hesitantly as if he’s scared to do so but he moves so close I can feel the coolness of his chest against my back. The physical proximity is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and I can’t help but wonder what his intention are as I continue to look out at the tranquil forest.

The peaceful silence in the room is broken by Edward’s soft voice, barely above a whisper, “I like your mind,” he admits, his words sending a rush of warmth through me, “It’s quiet.”

His words wash over me like a gentle caress, and I can’t deny the intrigue of his interest in my mind. It’s a compliment I could never have anticipated, coming from a vampire who can hear the thoughts of others. The intimacy of this moment is palpable, and I can sense the internal struggle within him, as if he’s torn between his desire to touch me and the realisation that we’ve only just met.

Despite my rational thoughts screaming at me to maintain my distance, I surrender to the magnetic pull of Edward Cullen. My back leans into his cool, sculpted chest, and the sensation of his icy hands on my hips sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. It's as if the enchantment of the Cullen house, the breathtaking view of the forest, and Edward's irresistible presence have combined to create a spell that I am unable, and unwilling, to break.

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to become completely enveloped in everything Edward. I’m hyperaware of how he feels behind me, the firmness of his chest pressed against my back, the subtle rise and fall of his breath against my neck as if it’s a force of habit for him despite vampires lack of need to breathe. His scent, a delicate blend of lilac, honey and sunshine, fills my senses and intoxicates me, wrapping me in a warm, inviting embrace.

The moment feels intensely romantic, the air electric with the unspoken connection between us. I know that Edward can read my thoughts and perceive my view of him, and in this vulnerable instant, I choose not to resist. I grant him access tot he unfiltered depths of my desire, allowing him to see and feel the passion that simmers beneath the surface.

The tension in the room crackles, the rain outside intensifying as if mirroring the fervour building within us. It's a clandestine dance of two souls drawn together by an unexplainable force. In this silent, electrifying embrace, I become an open book for Edward, my thoughts and desires laid bare, and I can only wonder what he'll make of the desires that race through my mind like wildfire

With a slow and deliberate movement, Edward turns me to face him, his eyes open and unguarded. They flicker with a hint of vulnerability, as if he, too, is uncertain of the depth of this connection. His gaze drops to my lips, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin as he hovers close. His fingers twirl my hair around them, an intimate gesture that feels like an attempt to memorise every part of me that he can reach. The air crackles with anticipation as I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this electrifying moment.

Edward’s gaze remains locked on mine, a silent promise of the depths of emotions and desire that lie beneath the surface. In the hushed room, our shared anticipation and vulnerability create an electric tension that’s impossible to ignore. His lips are tantalisingly close, and I can feel the coolness of his breath as he hovers near. It’s as if he’s about to kiss me, his intentions clear in the smouldering depths of his golden eyes. But he hesitates, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbles something about not being able to stop once he starts, a confession laden with both longing and restraint.

Unable to resist any longer, I tangle my fingers in his tousled hair, an intimate gesture that communicates my desire and intent. With a gentle, yet urgent push, I guide his face the rest of the way down until his lips finally meet mine.

As our lips meet in a hesitant and guarded kiss, a complex swirl of emotions and desires floods the space between us. Edward, despite his initial restraint, can’t help but respond to the fiery connection we share. His lips, cool and soft, brush against mine with a caution born of a lifetime of self-control. The kiss begins with a tentative exploration, as if he’s testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy.

The initial hesitancy slowly gives way to a growing intensity, and I can sense his need for more. His grip on me tightens ever so slightly, fingers digging into my hips, a delicate balance between desire and restraint. His response is careful, as if he’s constantly aware of his vampire strength, wary of causing any harm to me. The kiss deepens, his passion building, and the chemistry between us becomes an irresistible force that pushes us further into uncharted territory.

With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to walk me backwards, his lips never leaving mine, until my back makes contact with the cool glass of the windows, drawing a gasp from me. It has Edward smiling softly, golden eyes a little glazed as if in a trance of disbelief this is happening before his cold nose bumps my neck, making my pulse jump. I should be scared by how close he is to my jugular but I don’t feel any fear or anything, especially when Edward places a soft kiss on my jugular, a silent acknowledgement of the temptation that throbs beneath my skin. His lips are cold, but their touch is gentle, sending shivers of desire coursing through me.

My hands tangle back in his soft locks, guiding his lips back to mine, their coldness a stark contrast to the burning passion that courses between us. In that moment, I am both vulnerable and empowered, willingly allowing myself to be drawn further into this intoxicating dance of desire.

Each kiss makes me feel more alive, more connected to a world I never knew existed. The world outside may be drenched in rain, but in this electrifying embrace, a different kind of storm rages, a tempest of emotions and desires that we can’t control. His lips, cool and velvety soft, meet mine over and over again in a symphony of fire and ice, a fusion of elements that ignite a burning desire deep within me.

His body presses against mine, a solid and unyielding presence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and empowered. The contrast between his cool skin and the heat of my own sets my senses ablaze. As we deepen our connection, the room seems to spin around us, and I lose myself in the feeling of everything Edward.

The room is charged with our passion, and I can feel it deep in my core. Every kiss is like a secret, a stolen moment in a world that is entirely our own. We lose track of time and space, our lips locked in an intimate dance that only intensifies the fever that has drawn us together in the first place.

But then, like a bolt of lightning in our own private storm, I hear Bella’s joyful squeal. Edward pulling away from me, and I let my face fall into the warmth of his chest, overwhelmed by embarrassment. As I hide from the world, I can feel the soft rumble of amused laughter in Edward’s chest, a sound that both soothes and electrifies me in equal measure.

“Fuck yeah!” Bells shrieks with joy and I flip her off over Edward’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around me, stifling a laugh as he can probably hear all of my silent insults and embarrassed thoughts thrown Bella’s way.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, fingers carding through my hair and I just hum, letting my eyes flutter closed in contentment. I don’t care how quick this is happening, all I know is I need Edward and no-one else so I’ll live with the embarrassment if it means I can have Edward.

“You have me.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight angst #twilight fluff #twilight smut #Edward cullen #Edward Cullen x reader #Edward cullen x you #Edward cullen smut #Edward cullen fluff #Edward cullen angst #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen fanfiction #Robert pattinson

1K notes · View notes

neramontagofficial · 11 days ago

Text

I fear that your invocation of the Last Argument of Kings in this instance betrays your tendency to conflate Terran history with Karrakin in ways that do not do you any favors.

The end of the Annorum Passacaglia began with the Antiannorum, when the houses of Khayradin declared themselves independent with the Antianno refusing tithe. One might be tempted to frame this as a peasant revolt but it was not, the Stonelords on Khayradin then still sat happy and rich on their thrones.

A more detailed history can be found elsewhere, but suffice it to say that what followed was an attempt to put down the rebellion, the death of the reigning Anno for unrelated reasons, and a succession crisis. When Tyrannus, also of one of the oldest houses of nobility, returned home to Karrakis after putting down the Antiannorum, the world had already been years into a succession crisis that was resolved by the returned military putting down the hundred pretender-kings to crown Tyrannus Anno.

The Dynasticlade, too, was not a demand of the ignoble but a response to the looming threat of a succession crisis- Tyrannus had a daughter set to inherit and a son who still had to contend with the stretched time it might take to get home, offering the possibility that Tagetes might contest Calendula's children's reign. The answer was twofold- Tyrannus abdicated the throne early for Calendula, and Calendula would be the last Anno we see, with her heir being the new Federation, an answer that offered no possibility of major succession crisis turning to war as it diffused power across Karrakin space.

I have a number of books on our history you might be interested in reading, but suffice it to say, it is my recommendation that you stop issuing advice based on history you do not know and factions you self-admittedly are not aware of the goals of. There is complexity here that most Karrakins have been living with for our whole lives, and it is condescending to believe that we have not considered other angles.

And as I have said before, you look like a bit of a stooge when you do so.

The Karrakin Cavalry College dueling committee is currently considering a new motion to ban the use of certain Paracausal tech such as the Mourning Cloak & Calendula from official dueling events due to studies suggesting that they may be causing "strange and unknowable" forms of harm to students piloting them.

#ooc: no worries on my part #ooc: this is not me trying to be aggro it is #ooc: history buff nera having a Moment

69 notes · View notes

just-some-user-hunny · 3 months ago

Note

For hellsings request n bit of a history buff since there are legit living descendents of Vlad the impaler

How would Alucard and Integra be during international meetings with a royal who is the last direct bloodline of when he was human before being a vampire, seeing that the descendent is quite shy but very responsible with the country they are ruling

Oh my gosh I think this is the first hellsing request I’ve ever received! I’m so happy😭💕

Ooohhh that’s such a cool idea!!! Alucard would probably be so taken back at the realisation that he has actual blood descendants, someone related to him, family, that he would probably become very protective and probably fatherly over them. He is conflicted however- he is an incredibly complex person, and he feels disconnected from being human (he was arguably just as much a tyrant when he was alive as he is as a monster) that he’d internally struggle a little with the concept of having something so mortal and fragile connected to the last few pieces of him that remained after he turned, as if they exist as a reflection of himself when he was young and mortal (painful memories he doesn’t like thinking about), so he’d certainly be a complicated mix of hovering protective father, and a dismissive shadow until he at least works through his own internal feelings about them.

However, seeing them rule well would make him proud. He was a certainly memorable and glorious figure in history (mostly for his gory actions), so to see the last of his blood doing well would make him feel at least a little accomplished. Something good came from him, this person is the last shred of humanity and light to come from his blood.

This little meek thing is of his blood? He’d tease, playfully of course.

Integra is intrigued. Both by your mere existence, and of Alucards reaction. Her eyes would probably be on her hound the moment you introduced yourself, curious of his reaction. She’s surprised- but pleasantly so. She’s interested to see you live up to the name of the infamous impaler.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfiction #Alucard x reader #integra x reader #hellsing Alucard #hellsing Alucard x reader

152 notes · View notes

supercap2319 · 15 days ago

Text

Y/N let the water wash over his body as he let out a small moan of pleasure. His muscles were tense from today's training session with the Young Avengers. They had potential, but a long way to go.

Just then the front door of the boys' locker room opened, and Teddy Altman walked in with a fluffy white towel around his waist, and when he saw Y/N, he smiled. "Hey, man. Mind if I join you?"

The male hero nods. "Sure, Teddy."

Teddy drops his towel to the ground, revealing his chiseled chest and abs, before sitting next to Y/N under the warm water. He lets out a sigh, his muscles relaxing under the steaming water. "Man, training is getting harder every day."

"That guy always goes hard." Teddy smiles, thinking about his boyfriend. Teddy moves closer, his shoulder brushing against Y/N's. "So... have you always wanted to be a part of the Young Avengers?" His eyes meet yours, showing genuine interest in his answer. "I have. You? I'm sure it was a surprise to find out you were the son of a Kree soldier and Skrull princess."

His expression turns thoughtful, his shoulders relaxing under the water. "Ha, you can say that again. My parents' history is... complicated. But it's made me who I am today, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Teddy said.

"Yup. Green and all." Y/N smirks, running the soap over his chest. Teddy chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, the green is definitely a part of who I am. But hey, being a half-Skrull, half-Kree hybrid has its perks." He glances over at Y/N, his gaze lingering on his soap-slicked skin.

Y/N catches him looking. "Something wrong?"

Teddy quickly averts his gaze, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Nah, man. Just... you're really buff. Like, seriously jacked. Is that from your mutant genes, or do you just hit the gym a lot?"

"Before I joined you guys, I used to train with Captain America to control my powers." Y/N explained. "Captain America, huh? No wonder you're so ripped. That dude is a total fitness guru." Teddy watches as Y/N continued to wash himself, his eyes drifting back to his muscles. Teddy swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "So, Y/N..."

"Yeah?" Y/N asked, rubbing green shampoo into his air.

Teddy hesitates for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts he shouldn't be having. But the sight of his wet, muscular body is driving him crazy. "Do you ever, uh, need help washing hard-to-reach spots?" He asks, his voice coming out a bit shaky.

"Why, you offering, Altman?" Y/N teased.

A mischievous gleam sparkles in Teddy's eyes as he leans in slightly closer. "Maybe I am." His voice drops lower. "Besides, we are teammates. Helping each other clean up is practically standard operating procedure, right?" He reaches out one hand, pretending to casually gesture towards Y/N's shoulders.

"That would be a good thing of a fellow team member to do." Y/N agreed, turning his back towards Teddy.

Teddy gulps as he helped Y/N wash his back.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #teddy altman #theodore altman #Teddy x male reader #Teddy Altman x male reader #kit connor #hulking #Hulking x male reader

125 notes · View notes

httpvomitello · 12 days ago

Note

Hi!! Can I request a TMNT 2012 Donnie X M!Reader? (Headcanons or fanfic is your pick :D)

The reader is stoic, quiet, and blunt, with a monotone voice and a resting bitch face, which can make him seem rude even though that’s never his intention. But, he’s completely obsessed with history—like, he could talk about it for hours on end! When the topic comes up, his eyes light up, and he gets so excited, talking nonstop without even realizing it. Also, could his love language be Acts of Service for both giving and receiving? He’s also an excellent listener. :)

Hello, hello! I hope you like it ♡♡♡♡

My moment of knowing a little history will shine now ~

donnie x m!reader

Bitch, Please! *⁠.⁠✧

It was quiet in the lair, save for the occasional sound of Donnie tinkering in his lab. The soft hum of his computers filled the space, the purple-masked turtle lost in his latest project. His focus was absolute until the familiar sound of your footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Donnie,” you said, your monotone voice breaking the silence. Despite the neutral tone and your infamous resting expression, Donnie’s face lit up at the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, setting his tools aside. “What’s up? Need something fixed?”

You shook your head. “No. Just thought I’d hang out here. It’s quieter than the living room.”

Donnie chuckled softly, already understanding that this was your way of saying you wanted to spend time with him. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. To anyone else, you might have seemed disinterested or even annoyed, but Donnie knew better. He saw the subtle changes in your posture, the slight shift of your weight when you were comfortable around someone.

As Donnie turned back to his work, you watched him quietly, your eyes scanning over the intricate gadgets and blueprints scattered across his desk. After a few minutes, you finally broke the silence.

“So... I was reading about the Byzantine Empire earlier.”

That was all it took. Donnie didn’t even get the chance to ask a follow-up question before you launched into an impassioned explanation about Justinian I, the Hagia Sophia, and how the empire's politics shaped modern Europe. Your voice gained just a hint of excitement as you spoke, your eyes lighting up as you dove deeper into the topic.

“And then there’s Theodora,” you continued, your words tumbling out faster now. “She’s so underrated. Like, people talk about Justinian, but without her, half of his policies wouldn’t have worked. She was a genius.”

Donnie wasn’t much of a history buff himself, but he loved these moments. Seeing you so animated, so alive, made his chest tighten in the best way. He didn’t interrupt, letting you talk as much as you wanted. It was one of the things he adored most about you—how your passion could take center stage, even when your personality was more reserved.

When you finally paused for a breath, Donnie smiled softly. “You know, you’re amazing when you talk about history.”

You blinked at him, your expression unreadable. “Amazing?”

“Yeah,” he said, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red. “I mean, it’s obvious how much you love it. It’s... captivating.”

You stared at him for a moment before your lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Thanks, Donnie.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while after that. You quietly admired the way he worked, his hands precise and confident as he adjusted wires and soldered pieces together. And though you didn’t say it out loud, you loved these moments just as much as he did.

When he finished, Donnie leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Whew, finally done. What do you think?” He gestured to a small handheld gadget on the table.

You picked it up, examining it closely. “It’s perfect.”

The simple praise made Donnie’s heart swell. He knew you didn’t give compliments lightly, and hearing it from you meant the world.

Before he could respond, you set the gadget down and pulled a small leather-bound book from your bag. “Made this for you,” you said, holding it out.

Donnie’s eyes widened as he took the journal. “You... made this?”

You nodded. “Figured you could use something to jot down your ideas. The leather’s reinforced, so it should hold up in the lab.”

“Y/N, this is incredible.” He flipped through the pages, his fingers brushing over the crisp, high-quality paper. “Thank you.”

“Figured it’d be useful,” you said simply, but Donnie could see the faintest hint of satisfaction in your eyes. Acts of service were how you showed your love, and every detail in the journal screamed how much thought you’d put into it.

Donnie set the journal aside and reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you didn’t pull away. “You’ve said that already.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he replied, a soft smile on his face.

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #donnie x reader #x male reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt donnie 2012

58 notes · View notes

gureumz · 2 years ago

Text

burn

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

notes: fem!reader, reader is a couple years older than him, acquaintances to lovers, medieval/renaissance (?) royalty au (i made the time period as vague as possible so anywhere from the 1500s to 1700s should be fine i guess), talks of marriage, loss of virginity, unprotected sex

a/n: IMPORTANT! i was hesitant to put this out at first because i know there's tension when it comes to explicit content regarding jungwon, but i didn't make this out to be anything too crazy, so no hard/taboo kinks as i don't feel quite okay writing those for him as of now. i did enjoy writing this piece as i'm a history buff and love the drama. of royal courts so,,,please enjoy!

it was getting too much.

the stares, the "innocent" touches, the silences that followed each strained conversation.

you had been patient. you had been steadfast. you had stood your ground.

but the flicker of desire inside you was slowly catching on, and you know, it would soon be roaring fiercely despite your efforts to tamp it down.

you gather your skirts and trudge on out of the library, knowing the princess would be looking for you, given the length of time you've been away. the hallway is quiet, as you expected. the end of supper time is drawing near, and everyone in the castle would soon retire to their private chambers.

the princess was dining with her family in her father's royal suite, along with a handful of courtiers and ladies-in-waiting, much like yourself. you had excused yourself for a moment under the guise that you were in need of the privy, but in truth, you could not bear to be in the room with him any longer.

he'd been staring, longer than he should be, and you were afraid that someone would take notice.

you had stood behind the princess, curtsying briefly before asking to take your leave. she waved you off without a second thought, though you did not miss the questioning glint in her eye as she did so.

you caught his gaze briefly just before you left.

prince jungwon had smiled in your direction, seemingly amused at your flustered state.

you suddenly blank as you turn a corner, your shoulder colliding with something, causing you to stumble backward. you reach out instinctively to steady yourself, just as a hand grabs you by the arm.

"my lady," a voice croons in your ear, and you feel your dinner churning inside you.

you straighten yourself out, smoothing down the wrinkles in your dress as you look jungwon in the eye.

"your grace," you begin. "i was just on the way back to supper."

"no need," jungwon informs with a tilt of his head. "supper has ended. my sister does seem to want to know where you've wandered off to, though."

you swallow thickly. "i will return to her chambers right away."

you bow, hoping he would drop the conversation, but you feel his hand lay gently on your shoulder. you freeze, acutely aware that no man who isn't your lover or husband should be touching you like this in public.

"i'm sure she would not mind if you stayed out a little longer?" jungwon says as you fiddle with the lace trim on your bodice.

"doing what, your grace?" you question, turning back to look at him.

jungwon smiles, his dimples prominent in the firelit hall.

"take a walk with me," jungwon offers.

"if she asks where you've been, you can always say you were with me."

you draw in a breath. "i don't think that would be wise."

"my sister has five other ladies-in-waiting to attend to her. one would not be amiss," jungwon tries to convince you, taking your hand in his.

"what i meant was, it would not be appropriate to be left alone with you," you protest, watching as he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing them gently over your knuckles.

your skin tingles with a feeling you can't quite place.

"and why not?" jungwon asks, running his thumb over the spot where he had kissed your hand.

you look into his large, cat-like eyes. you're bewildered at how dashing he looks in this proximity, the sharp line of his nose exaggerated by the shadows cast by the torches around you. his lips curve into another one of his handsome smiles, and the way he looks at you is more than enough cause for you to shake inwardly with want.

"you know why," you finally answer. "it is not proper."

jungwon cocks his head to the side as if waiting for you to continue.

"we're not betrothed, or known lovers, for that matter. the direction we're heading..."

you pause, hoping jungwon would understand what you're talking about.

"it's dangerous."

"do you not hold any affection for me, lady ______?" jungwon addresses you formally, perhaps a jest, given the smirk playing on his lips.

"i had thought you did," jungwon continues, reaching out to toy with a loose strand of your hair that seemed to have fallen from the intricate braids that decorate your head.

"why would you think that?" you challenge. your heart beats twice as fast now.

the flicker of flames begins to crackle.

"you do not throw yourself at me like the other ladies in this castle do," jungwon replies, his thumb ghosting over your cheek and down your jaw.

"you avoid me, make any excuse to separate yourself from me," jungwon goes on.

"but when you do find yourself in my presence, your eyes cannot seem to leave mine."

you inhale sharply.

it's true. much like earlier, you make such efforts to create as much distance as possible between you and jungwon. like a fox slinking away from its predator.

but to you, jungwon was like a city cat: sly and clever. despite the couple of years you had on him, he was always one step ahead. you could never escape him. it didn't matter how grand his family's castle was, you will always find your way to each other.

"do you hold any affection for me, your grace?" you ask, raising a brow.

jungwon chuckles at this.

"of course."

your eyes widen at his admission and a laugh escapes the prince's lips.

"you thought i would shy away from such a confession?" jungwon taunts, stepping closer, his hands resting on your waist.

the fire burns brighter, still.

jungwon leans in and panic fills you. you were not in one of the castle's secluded corners where shadows are ready to conceal whatever is to come next. anyone could walk by and find you and the prince in this compromising position.

but all is forgotten when jungwon presses his lips against yours, gentle and cautious, as if wary that he might scare you off.

as a lady of a respectable background, you have always been reminded by your family to keep your virtue with you. you are not to mess with boys and no such inappropriate behavior shall be tolerated from you.

as a lady of a respectable background, you had your way around this.

this is not the first time you've been kissed, but the weak peck of lips against your own when you were but a young girl was nothing compared to the way jungwon's lips seems to be melting against yours.

you pull jungwon closer by the front of his tunic, feeling the firm muscles shifting beneath.

"we mustn't," you protest weakly against his lips. "not here."

jungwon pulls away, breathing heavily, eyes dark as he gazes at you. you stare back at him, anticipation coursing through your body.

what now?

"to my chambers," jungwon whispers, grasping your hand in his. you start to protest as he pulls you along, but he shushes you.

"quickly," jungwon urges, dashing down the hallway towards his room.

luckily for both of you, your destination had been nearby, and no guards are on patrol on this side of the castle. you arrive in front of the heavy double doors of jungwon's room, both of you out of breath and brimming with feelings you did not care to address.

jungwon pushes you against the hard wooden doors, lips pressing up against yours once more. you let out a surprised sound, but it's caught in your throat when you feel jungwon's hand running down the side of your leg. he dips down, grabbing the back of your knee, before hooking your leg around his waist.

you gasp, feeling him press up against you. you feel something hard beneath his breeches.

the flames are catching on, moving up farther and farther.

"your grace," you start, increasingly worried that someone would see you.

"forgive me," jungwon says with a sheepish grin. "restraint is hard to come by when you're around."

you flush at his words, but before you can reply, jungwon turns the knob to one side of the door, hurriedly pushing you inside before letting it close behind him. he turns the lock in place and lets the second steel bar fall across the wood, ensuring the utmost privacy for the two of you.

"your grace," you begin once more.

"jungwon," he says pointedly. "you may call me by my given name."

you gulp, the situation finally catching up to you. "jungwon."

"i...i do not wish to give myself to someone i will not marry," you explain, holding jungwon at arm's length. he examines your face, gently brushing your hair away from your forehead.

"we won't do anything you don't want to," jungwon reassures, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"but that's precisely it," you say, circling your arms around jungwon's neck.

"i want to do everything," you whisper.

"i want to do everything with you."

jungwon raisies an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

"are you the one proposing to me, my lady?" jungwon teases, his hand pressing gently on your lower abdomen. he travels down further between your legs, rubbing you through your gown.

you sigh, clutching at jungwon's clothes. you lean forward to leave a trail of kisses down his neck, enjoying the way he groans softly.

"is there any other woman you wish to marry?" you ask, smiling against his neck.

"no," jungwon answers simply, taking you by surprise as he pushes you towards his perfectly made-up bed, plush with the finest covers and blankets.

you stumble backward onto the cushiony surface, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watch jungwon undo the strings of his breeches. you gasp as he lets them fall, exposing all of his lower body to you.

jungwon catches your eye and leans down, kissing you with newfound vigor.

the fire crackles, just shy of bursting into wild flames.

"we can stop," jungwon murmurs as he pulls away. "whatever you want, my love, i will follow."

you shiver at the endearment, your fingers gently threading through jungwon's hair. with your other hand, you reach down to gather your skirt around your waist.

"i want you," you whisper, kissing jungwon sweetly.

you lay back down on the mattress, watching as jungwon eyes your exposed core with undeniable lust. jungwon bites his lip, guiding his straining length to your entrance. you feel a mild burn as he pushes in, the wet squelch of your arousal reaching your ears as he slips further into you.

you have had a man down there before, but merely with his fingers. the thickness of jungwon's cock contrasts with anything you've felt before, stretching you painfully, but you urge yourself to persist, clawing at jungwon's sleeves.

"my love, my dear," jungwon says, stilling over you.

"wait," you plead. "just, wait."

jungwon kisses you tenderly, stroking one side of your face with his thumb, perhaps in an effort to soothe you. you take increasingly deeper breaths, letting yourself relax in jungwon's embrace.

jungwon gives an experimental thrust, barely there, and you groan, but at this moment, the pain is mixed with a feeling that has you curling your toes.

"again," you pant, looking directly at jungwon's eyes. "slowly, my love."

jungwon moves again, carefully watching your expression. you gasp, lips parting as the sting gives way to a delicious throb within you.

"more," you beg this time. "please, i need to feel you."

jungwon groans, his hips snapping up as he gives in to his instincts.

"oh!" you cry out as the sensations come crashing down on you at once. it feels good, much better than your own fingers or anyone else's. you watch as he disappears and reappears with each thrust, the image so lewd and new to you that it keeps you in a trance.

"look at me, ______," jungwon says lowly. you obey, peering up at the young man. he has a frenzied look in his eyes, wild with something burning inside him.

the flames roar, engulfing you, him, your bodies.

jungwon grabs your hips, forcing you further down his bed. you throw your head back, relishing in the way he seems to go even deeper. you lock your legs around him, never wanting this feeling to end.

the bed creaks with the effort of holding up your passionate lovemaking, and you worry for a fraction of a second if anyone can hear. as if reading your thoughts, jungwon places a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"i think...i plan to marry you within the year," jungwon supplies between labored breaths. "hell, before the next moon if father allows."

you giggle, elated at jungwon's words.

"hardly a choice now that i've given my maidenhood to you," you comment mischievously. one side of jungwon's mouth raises in a smirk before he dives down to latch at one side of your neck.

"you're mine, love," jungwon declares. "all mine."

you preen at his words, his pace picking up. you're left breathless as he thrusts madly in and out of you. your world is spinning but at the very center of it is jungwon. sweet, handsome jungwon.

"i'm about to—"

"inside," you blurt out without second thought. jungwon's mouth hangs open at your decision, a question evidently making its way out of him.

"you'll get it on my dress, otherwise, and that would raise more questions," you interrupt once more, your breath hitching as jungwon's nails dig into your side.

"by the gods," jungwon curses beneath his breath. "i might have to wed you within a fortnight."

"please," you mewl. "want nothing more than to be your wife, to be yours."

jungwon grunts, pressing a hand down on your abdomen. you yelp, feeling a sudden pressure inside you. it had been a slow thrum of something minutes before, but now a strange sensation grips at you from within.

"s-something's happening," you worry, grasping jungwon's shoulder.

"you're about to finish, my love," jungwon says, pressing down even harder on your belly. you writhe, feeling as if you're about to explode.

"it'll feel good, i promise," jungwon reassures, pressing his lips to your temple. his movements are turning erratic, sweat dripping down his forehead with effort.

"fuck, i'm—"

before jungwon can finish his sentence, he moans loudly in your ear, sinking fully to the hilt inside of you. you feel him spasm inside you and the movement brushes against a spot that has you coming undone, pleasure coursing through every vein in your body.

you cling onto each other, trembling and moaning each other's names.

a minute passes by as you both calm down, skin glistening in the dim light of the dying flames in the fireplace. jungwon is the first to pull away, watching you as you try to catch your breath.

"you look absolutely stunning, my love," jungwon praises, kissing you on the cheek.

you smile, the ache in your body starting to make itself known.

"let me call one of the servants to have a bath drawn for you," jungwon offers, reaching over to the row of service bells next to his bed.

you sit up, letting your gown fall over your legs, concealing any indication of the past hour.

"i think i should be the one to call for them from my own room," you suggest, pulling jungwon back. you snake your arms around his torso, kissing him behind his ear.

"they might grow suspicious," you add, laying your cheek against his firm back.

"very well, then," jungwon agrees, prying himself from your arms. he swiftly dresses, straightening his disheveled hair. he sees you watching and he smiles, taking your face in his and giving you what seemed to be the hundredth kiss that night.

"i suppose you don't want me walking you to your room, either?" jungwon asks, helping you up from his bed.

you shake your head, working out the creases in your skirt and sleeves.

"let's not push our luck, my prince," you warn, patting jungwon's cheek.

---

you enter your bedroom, exhausted and slightly worried. you tried to find the princess to provide a semblance of an explanation but she was nowhere to be found. not in her own chambers, not in the library, not in the parlor. you decided after nearly half an hour of looking that you would handle the situation tomorrow.

you slide the large metal lock of your bedroom door into place, securing you in your bedroom for now. you turn, nearly screaming at the figure standing before you.

"gods!" you shriek, backing into the door, painfully banging your head against the wood.

"oh, shut it," the princess says, pulling you away from the door. she maneuvers you toward your quaint sitting corner, pulling a chair back and urging you to take a seat.

"now," she begins. "i'm not mad. i'm thrilled, to be honest."

"have you worked out a wedding date with my brother, yet?"

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jungwon smut #jungwon scenarios #w: jungwon

2K notes · View notes

detentiontrack · 4 months ago

Text

Top funniest amphibby lines and moments, in no particular order (except for the first one because I think it’s the funniest line in TV history) (paraphrased because it’s too early for me to hunt through episode transcripts to find the exact wording)

We’re trying to teach Polly how to play kickball! Which is challenging for obvious reasons!

No Tyler I will not clown face you

Well, Doc, I think you've done it. I think you've cured me of my fear of direct eye contact- *nightmare clown balloon from a horror movie passes by the window* AHHHHHHH

Did that creepy old man just lick EVERYONE on the bus???????? (Honorable mention: *panicked* bOy I could SURE USE SOME COFFEE)

Hop Pop, trying to pass as a human: What would you say for an older frog who's complaining about back pain these days? Vet: ummmm a frog complaining? Hop pop: Well, honestly, he holds it in and soldiers on. He's noble like that.

Polly: what’s your problem? Hop Pop: well to be honest, my cholesterol has been a little-

Polly: oh Sprig good. You survived. Sprig: yEah! I KICKED him! 😃

Anne: Oh, yeah, like you're really gonna tase a kid... *immediately gets tased*

We got banned for life! :D it was Anne’s fault

Anyone need a cough drop? 🤠

WHY IS EVERYTHING YOU SAY SO AGGRO???? 😨

Tongue him?? I hardly know him!!

Marcy: she’s just saying hewwo!!! 🤩🥰 *immediately almost gets eaten*

Polly: (a literal baby btw) hehe… frogs died here :)

Mr. X: sorry, coy is my default setting

Mr X, interrogating the Plantars: alright pinkie, I want to know. Start from the beginning Sprig: I was born on a humid swampy evening, just a tiny cute tadpole with big dreams 🥹

Mr X, still interrogating the Plantars: what’s your master plan Polly (still a literal baby. 5 years old): DUH to eliminate my enemies and take over the world! Mr X: AHA […] tell me more! Polly: *starts listing nearly every person in wartwood*

Sprig: your last friend was kiiiiinda totally evil :/

Not a specific line, but I think Sprig’s accidental homophobia and choosing to be a hater in Marcy at the gates is so funny

Nightmare toy: I eat eyes….. *screaming* ice cream. I eat ice cream. Hop Pop: oh! Well that’s fine Anne: loggle would love this thing :/

*after seeing a detailed wood carving Loggle made of himself super buff and muscular*: Sprig: Whoa, Loggle. We gotta talk about this man. We're comin' back. We're gonna talk about this. All right, good-bye 👋

*Sasha busting out cheerleader moves in the middle of a dangerous mission because of “muscle memory”. Twice.*

*Sasha drawing actual emojis on paper instead of writing or signing her name like a normal person on an actual war document ⚔️😘💅*

#amphibia

58 notes · View notes

fixyourwritinghabits · 8 months ago

Note

So I want to write a novel, and I outline my story and write out everything that happens in the outline and I get to the end and it's... Between 20,000 and 40,000 words, usually. Like I can tell a complete story but I have a hard time getting it to the length of a publishable novel, and it keeps happening with different stories I write. Do you have any advice for making a story longer without making it feel like I'm just adding stuff to make it longer?

While I think you have a workable length for a first draft, I can see where your problems lay. Let's tackle what your intended goal is first.

Industry standard (set by traditional publishing) for novels is the following:

Adult novels - 80,000 to 100,000 word count. Many will fall between that range. Sci-Fi and Fantasy novels tend to run higher, but you'll notice Romance, Mystery, and Crime tend to run tighter, closer to 80k. Literary novels (Contemporary and Historical Fiction) can swing up and down that word length. Door-stopper books of 200k can be found, of course, but that's the opposite of what we're dealing with.

YA Novels - Contemporary tends to stick to a tight 80k, but publishing tends to seek longer fantasy novels, sticking to the adult standard of 10k.

Middle Grade (8-11ish year old readers) - 30,000 to 60,000. Most publishers want something in the middle, as MG readers are constantly stretching their reading capabilities.

These are generalizations that are subject to change, of course, but they're good guides to follow when editing. Let's say you want to aim for an adult novel, which means you want to at least double your 40k length. While looking over your work, consider the following:

Does your main character have enough problems?

If your story can be resolved within the 40k mark, you may need to add more complications to their journey. Does their external problem (the outside issues they're dealing with, like losing a job or battling a sentient typhoon) adequately line up with resolving their internal problem (dealing with unresolved guilt, confronting a fatal flaw about themselves, apologizing to that sentient typhoon for leaving them at the altar, etc).

Save The Cat also talks about the Shard of Glass or Unresolved Wound, a deeply internal problem the protagonist has to confront about themselves in order to solve the main problem of the novel. Deepening your character's issues can buff up the need for more words to resolve them. (Not every story has the character 'fix' this issue - many novels are about characters failing to do just that, that unresolved flaw finally dooming them in the end.)

Subplots, Sidequests, and McGuffins

Subplots are their to enrich your novel with elements that contribute to the overall journey. Besides the main problem your protagonist is facing, what else is going on in their life? Do they need to confess a crush to a friend? Is their struggle to control their magical powers tied to a traumatic childhood? Does learning the truth about their family history force them to reflect on their own behavior? A subplot should weave back into strengthening the main story while adding more elements to make it more interesting. It's not as hard as it sounds - the more you think about your character's internal problem, the more you realize they'll need to confess their feelings, confront their mother, or more to resolve that final issue.

By sidequests, I'm leaning into the fantasy element of storytelling, but you'll find this pops up in a lot of stories. A chance encounter in a mystery can provide an essential clue, or stopping to aid someone could lead to a character-revealing moment. Remember, this isn't filler - you're expanding the overall plot by leaning into your world-building to establish essential knowledge about your world, introducing minor characters that can act as aids or obstacles to a problem, or starting an action scene that changes the trajectory of the novel.

A MacGiffin is an object, device, or event necessary to the plot and the motivation of the characters, but typically unimportant or irrelevant in itself. Usually, the MacGuffin is revealed early on, and becomes less important once the storyline is set in motion. You'll see a lot of despairing comments about them, because they often can be used poorly. But MacGiffins are often essential parts of storytelling, a quest that leads your characters astray from what they should actually be doing (and in turn learning about themselves and the problem they need to face instead).

Your character spends half the novel trying to find the missing crown, only to discover it's been fake the whole time. That whole first half of the novel was a waste of time... or was it? By having your characters fixate on the wrong solution, you're exploring what Save the Cat calls "Doing Things The Wrong Way" where the real answer is in digging deep down, confronting that internal problem, and setting down the right path at last. This is where the mid-novel twist of the king being the villain all along, the dragon they're meant to slay for killing the villagers turns out to be a card-carrying vegan. The easy answer isn't the solution, and it's taking the hard path that gets things done.

For Example...

In Jedediah Berry's genre-bending mystery novel The Manual of Detection, the main character is pulled into finding the missing detective he used to write the case files for. As with any good mystery, there's a lot of good side quests - going to a bar only to run into villains that need confronting later, a one-sided rivalry with another detective ends up solving a problem later, etc. A subplot starting the novel where the protagonist goes out of his way to encounter someone at a coffee shop turns out to be an essential character connection later, and the MacGiffin - the Manual of Detection itself - turns out to be more important because of what it lacks.

In Jeff Smith's graphic novel series Bone, in the beginning, the main characters remain blissfully unaware of the true danger hunting them or the secrets of those around them. But the villains too are unknowingly pursuing a MacGuffin, leading to a series of events that will bring about a massive clash - and a confrontation of truths that will lead to the final solution.

And Finally, Maybe It's Not a Novel

I do want to say this might all not be what you need, because your true calling could be to write novellas - a length that varies between 20k to 40k. A shorter story is just as good as a lengthier one. There's a steady market for novellas of multiple genres, so it could be a good thing to look into if this feels like where your writing should be.

#plotting #book lengths #editing #writing advice #writblr #trying real hard to not spoiler Bone #but that plot point is real clear from the start

132 notes · View notes

angelatmidnight1 · 1 year ago

Text

Smile For Me

Hi, @supermarvel-fics! I'm your squealing Santa this year. It's my first time writing for the Scream series, but I really hope this fic is to your liking. I'm a big fan of the series myself :D. I hope you have a great holiday season and a wonderful 2024!

Word Count- 2,169.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death, and tickling.

Fandom- Scream (1996).

Pairing- Stu Macher x Reader (Friends to lovers- two characters falling in love and character A finds out character B is ticklish (ends in kissing and confessing) Characters are both 18 in this fic.

It’s been a string of dark days for Woodsboro, California, as the Ghostface attacks ravage the town. Stu distracts you from your worries by inviting you over to his place. What was supposed to be a chill night of movies turned into playful tickling and heartfelt confessions.

Diiiiing!

High school didn’t usually dismiss at 9:00am. You didn’t crawl out of the warmth of your bed for two hours of instruction. But, these weren’t usual times.

A killer was on the loose. People were going missing, lives were being lost. Woodsboro High couldn’t keep you safe. So, they sent everyone home with a strict curfew to be enforced in the evening.

Even in a crowd, you felt afraid. Ghostface could be anywhere. He could strike at any time. You didn’t even bother going to your locker. Instead, you were one of the first students in the hall, holding your backpack strap in a death grip.

You walked as fast as your feet could take you. But, someone behind you was faster.

Unlike you, Stu was thrilled to have a siesta from school. He burst out of his boring history class with a huge grin. He scanned the crowd for you and, when he saw you, he pushed his way forward.

“(Y/N!)

In the commotion of the busy hallway, you didn’t hear him approach. So, when two strong arms hoisted you into the air, you screamed.

“No, NO! Let me go!” Your limbs took on a mind of their own, flailing about violently. If Ghostface was gonna take you out, he’d have a fight on his hands. Stu yelped and, after getting clocked in the jaw, he immediately put you back down.

“Hey, HEY! It’s just me!” Stu wailed. He rubbed his jaw, wincing. “Fuck, that hurt…”

You sighed an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Stu.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap, and tenderly put a hand on his jaw. “You scared the hell outta me. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Stu’s eyes softened. The two of you had been friends since elementary school, and it wasn’t really a secret that he adored you. He made an agreement with Billy that they weren’t allowed to hurt you. Ever. You were his calm in the storm that he and Billy were bringing to Woodsboro.

And, for you, Stu was your light in the darkness. The Ghostface attacks had you on edge. You hadn’t been sleeping well, lacked focus in class, and constantly looked over your shoulder. A part of you wished that Stu took the ordeal more seriously. But, a larger part of you was grateful that he still found ways to make you smile. He leaned into your hand and gave you a little pout.

“Sorry enough to come by my place tonight?” Stu’s pout turned into a bright, hopeful grin. “My parents won’t be home, and Randy hooked me up with some killer movies. All that’s missing is you~.”

He ended his statement with a poke to your nose. You smiled, playfully batting his hand away. Then, you released his jaw and sighed.

“I don’t know, Stu. I’m tired.” You replied. Then, as if on cue, you yawned deeply. “I haven’t been able to sleep because of, well, ya know.”

Stu nodded. But then, he gave you another bright smile, leaning his taller frame towards you. “That’s exactly why you should come over! Ghostface’s got nothing on me.” He bragged and flexed his muscles. “Look, I’m so buff, I’ll totally protect you, (Y/N).”

You regarded him with a smirk. Then, you reached up to feel his bicep. Stu gasped and made a dramatic show of leaning into you. You tried to hold him up, but he was too heavy, and he nearly made you fall. You yelped and stumbled back into a nearby locker, scolding him without malice.

“Stuhu!” You laughed and grabbed onto both of his arms to keep yourself upright. Stu snickered and hovered over you. He gently shook your hands off of his arms and took them into his own. He squeezed them affectionately, thumbs rubbing the top of your hands, and his blue eyes gazed into yours.

“Let me protect you, alright?” He asked softly. You froze and held his gaze. There was a sudden warmth in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks heating up. After a beat, you nodded.

“Alright, if you really promise to protect me.”

Although the safety of your home comforted you, you needed a distraction. And, Stu seemed happy to deliver. Stu confirmed this with a wide grin.

“Awesome!” Stu cheered. He suddenly scooped you up, making you squeal, and carried you through the crowds. Once out of the school, he put you down, patting your back. “Come by at six tonight. Oh! And bring food! Can’t have a movie night without food.”

You smoothed out your clothes, returning his grin. Honestly, he could’ve gotten lost in that smile. “I’ll bring the best of Woodsboro’s culinary delights. You can count on it.”

Stu whooped and did a fist pump. Then, with another laugh, the two of you parted ways.

Burgers, fries, and sodas spelled the perfect night-in for you. Stu’s house wasn’t too far from yours, but your older brother insisted on dropping you off. You waved goodbye as he pulled off and carried the food to Stu’s door. You had to put the sodas down to knock on the door. Seconds later, the door opened, and Stu greeted you with a huge grin.

“There you are! Right on time.” He gave you a quick hug and helped you bring the food in. Once inside his home, you felt your shoulders drop. You’d been over his home so many times, it brought you a sense of peace. A rarity in the current state of Woodsboro. You followed him to the living room and set the bags down. He did the same. Then, he turned to you, playfully pushing you back onto the couch.

“HEY!” You caught yourself with your hands, snickering. Stu flopped beside you, and you lightly shoved his shoulder. “That’s how you treat someone who brought you food?”

Stu chuckled and cozied up to you, putting his head on your arm. “Maybe.” He smirked. He reached forward to grab the remote and his fries. “Now, shhh! The movie’s starting.”

You rolled your eyes, but otherwise relented.

Stu picked out a scary movie for the two of you to watch. His head was still resting on your arm and, despite your best efforts, you flinched at the jump scares. You shielded your eyes from any more scares, and Stu looked up at you curiously. He smiled.

“D’aww, you’re kinda cute when you’re afraid.” He cooed. He poked your cheek, snickering as you reeled away from him.

“Cut it out, I’m not cute.” You argued, keeping your eyes shielded. You moved your hands when you felt him shift under you. He sat straight up, suddenly poking your side. You slammed your arm to protect the area. “Aha! Stu!”

“I don’t know,” he mused, now harboring a playful glint in his eye. “That’s the cutest little giggle I’ve ever heard. And you know what?”

You didn’t respond, but when you felt the couch cushion dip, you jumped to your feet out of instinct. Just in time too, because Stu had scooted closer to you, wriggling his fingers in the air. You giggled nervously, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Stu, don’t you dare-”

“Oh, I dare, (Y/N)!” He grinned mischievously. He made the conscious effort not to dip into his Ghostface voice. “I wanna hear that adorable giggle again.”

He shot up from his seat and lunged towards you. You yelped and narrowly dodged him. You ran behind the couch for cover and tried to run around it. But, Stu mirrored your movements, moving left and right with you respectively. “Where ya goin’~?”

“I’m gonna kill youhu-” You snickered and made the last minute decision to grab a pillow for self-defense. Stu’s eyes widened and, after a dramatic gasp, he covered his mouth with both hands.

“You’re gonna kill me? With a pillow? Oh my god, have mercy!” Stu pretended to sound terrified. Then, he suddenly vaulted over the couch, easily ripping the pillow from your hands. “I don’t respond well to threats! Now, you’re gonna get it!”

You screamed and took off running. Stu’s grin widened; he loved a good chase. He stayed hot on your tail and chased you through the house. He easily caught up with you and, just before you could book it upstairs, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist. He dragged you back to the couch and tossed you onto it.

“Baaad move, (Y/N)! You don’t run upstairs when someone’s chasing you!” He playfully chastised. He straddled your waist and poked at random spots on your torso. You squealed and bucked your hips, giggling frantically. “Haven’t you watched any movies?”

“Nohohoho!” You whined and wrestled with his hands. You managed to get a couple of pinches on his sides, making him squeal, but he was faster and stronger than you. He gathered your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head. Then, with his free hand, he alternated pinches along your hips. You arched your back and giggled harder. “Thihihis isn’t fuhuhuhny! Lehehet me gohoho!”

“Nope! No can do, I’ve gotta have those cute (Y/N) giggles.” Stu snickered and suddenly reached up to spider his nails along your neck. “Give ‘em to me!”

You yelled and scrunched your neck. “NOHahahaha! Stuhuhu stahaha!” You protested and whipped your head around, trying to avoid his fingers. After a couple more scratches, his hand found your side, and he squeezed at it rapidly. You arched your back again. “STUHUHU!”

“(Y/N)~” He responded in a singsong voice. He scritched across your stomach to get to your other side. “Poor baby, does it tickle?”

“Yehehehes!” You whined and fell deeper into your giggle fit. “Plehehehehease stohohohop!”

“But I haven’t even tickled your armpits yet!” Stu argued. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him, only to be met with a smug grin. “What? That wouldn’t be a bad spot, would it?”

“NO! Not there, Stu, plehehehease!” You started giggling again when he poked and prodded up your side. You squirmed, trying to roll away from you, but his weight on top of you kept you pinned to the cushions. “Plehehease nohohot thehehere!”

Stu smirked up at you, teasing your rib cage with his blunt nails. That was your second worst spot; you squirmed around more violently, gasping in between giggles.

“Here I come, (Y/N)...” Stu taunted. He pinched at the spaces in between your ribs, earning short barks of laughter. “I’m gonna get you..”

You shook your head back and forth, laughing harder as he kept moving up. “Nahahaha dohohon’t!”

Stu’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Would you fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book?

“Don’t what?” He asked, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. You snorted and pushed your head against his, making him chuckle. “Hmm~? Don’t what, buddy?”

“Tihihihihickle mehehehehe!”

No way. Stu switched to the other side of your neck to nuzzle. You pinched your eyes shut, now full-on laughing. “Well,” he breathed into your skin, making you laugh harder. “If you insist!”

Stu let go of your wrists and, in one fluid motion, plunged his wiggling fingers under your arms. You screamed and slammed your arms against your sides, which trapped his hands in place.

“NOHAHAHA GEHEHEHT OHOHOFF OF MEHEHEHE!” You kicked your legs against the couch, your loud laughter filling up every corner of the room. “PLEHEHEHASE!”

“Listen to you, listen to that pretty laugh!” Stu laughed along with you and drilled his thumbs into your armpits. You squeezed your arms against your sides even more, falling deeper into a pit of laughter. “You’re such a cutie. Tickle, tickle, tickle, cutie pie.”

You blushed and writhed under him, laughing yourself silly. While tickling your armpits, Stu returned to nuzzling your neck. He blew quick raspberries into it when he felt especially mischievous. As much as you kicked and laughed, you weren’t going anywhere. It was the raspberries that pushed you into hiccupy laughter, and after one more raspberry, Stu stopped tickling you.

You breathed heavily. Ticklish sensations still plagued you, so you were still very giggly. “Youhu’re suhuhch an ahahashole.”

Stu laughed. “You don’t mean that. You love me!” His eyes softened again as he looked at you; disheveled hair, a wide smile, those beautiful (e/c) eyes. “Right? Cause I’ve definitely got a thing for you, (Y/N).”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Your face spelled surprise, but somewhere in your heart, you already knew. “Really?”

Stu climbed off of you so that you could sit up. “Hell yeah, I do.” He repeated, patting a spot beside him. You obliged by scooting beside him, so that you were pressed against him. “Want me to prove it?”

That’s what you needed. Proof. Something sweet to seal the deal. You nodded. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he leaned down to kiss your lips. Deeply.

You leaned up into that kiss and smiled. Stu smiled too. He’d kill to keep that smile on your face.

#scream 1996 #stu macher #stu macher x reader #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #scream tickle #lee!reader #ler!stumacher

274 notes · View notes