#disappointing behaviors from George | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muiitoloko · 1 year ago

Note

If that’s okay for you if I may request

Colonel Brandon If that’s okay? Cause I read all your Alan rickman stories and I love them all so very much! ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for writing those

Title: You are you

Summary: You are everything he needs, even if he doesn't realize it initially.

Pairing: Colonel Brandon × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Madness, Self-criticism, inferiority complex, unrequited love, anguish.

Author's notes: I've been wrestling with writer's block for a while, trying to figure out how to craft a one-shot with Brandon. Then, a spark of inspiration hit me while watching the Netflix series "Queen Charlotte." Drawing from her character and that of King George, I found the muse I needed to create this piece. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for your support!

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Colonel Brandon stood on the sprawling grounds of his estate, his thoughts consumed by the recent turn of events. Marianne had chosen John over him, and though he felt a pang of sadness and disappointment, he knew he had to respect her decision. Seeing her happy with another man brought him a bittersweet sense of contentment, knowing that she had found the love and happiness she deserved.

But as the days passed, Brandon couldn't shake the lingering emptiness in his heart. He knew he needed to move on, to find a wife who could give him children and heirs to carry on his legacy. And so, he reluctantly resumed his search for a suitable match, his heart no longer seeking love, but rather a practical solution to his need for a family.

It was during one of his social engagements that Brandon encountered you, the eldest daughter of the duke and duchess, a woman living in seclusion on their vast estate. He had heard whispers of your eccentricities, but he paid them little heed, his focus solely on finding a wife who could fulfill his need for heirs.

As Brandon got to know you better, he discovered the truth behind the rumors surrounding your behavior. Your parents, the duke and duchess, confessed to him the challenges you faced, the periods of aggression and madness that plagued you intermittently. Despite their wealth and connections, they had been unable to find a solution, leaving them resigned to your fate.

But Brandon was undeterred by the revelation, his pragmatic nature guiding him forward. He saw in you the potential for a suitable match, a woman who, despite her flaws, could provide him with the children he so desperately desired. And for your parents, you represented a burden they were eager to unburden themselves of, a means to secure your future and their peace of mind.

For Brandon, it seemed like the perfect compromise—a marriage born out of duty rather than love, but one that could fulfill both his and your parents' needs. And so, he approached you with a proposal, his demeanor calm and composed as he laid out his intentions with unwavering clarity.

As Colonel stood before you, awaiting your response to his proposal, you couldn't help but feel a whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. Despite your eccentricities and the challenges you faced, you couldn't deny the practicality of his offer. It was a solution that could benefit both parties involved, easing the burden on your parents while providing Colonel Brandon with the heirs he desired.

Lost in thought, you retreated to the comfort of your study, surrounded by shelves filled with notebooks containing your innermost thoughts and musings. Dressed in your usual attire of men's clothing, a reflection of your unconventional nature, you pondered the implications of Colonel Brandon's proposal.

As you delved deep into contemplation, the weight of your decision pressed heavily upon you. You knew that accepting Colonel Brandon's offer meant relinquishing any hope of a love-filled marriage, resigning yourself to a union of duty and practicality. Yet, the thought of bringing relief to your parents, sparing them the burden of dealing with your unpredictable episodes, tugged at your heartstrings.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of introspection, you made your decision. Stepping out of your study, you faced Colonel Brandon with a mixture of determination and resignation in your eyes.

"I accept your proposal," you announced, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "But under one condition." Colonel Brandon regarded you with curiosity, awaiting your terms with an air of patience and understanding.

"I ask for a cabin of my own on the estate's land," you continued, your gaze unwavering. "Far from the mansion, where I can retreat during my periods of madness. It is my only request."

Brandon considered your condition carefully, weighing the implications of your plea. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded in agreement, a hint of understanding softening his features.

"I see no harm in granting your request," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "In fact, it may prove to be beneficial for both of us. A space of your own, away from the confines of the mansion, where you can find solace during difficult times."

A sense of relief washed over you at his understanding, grateful for his willingness to accommodate your needs. With a silent nod of gratitude, you accepted his offer, knowing that it was the best course of action for both you and your family.

Brandon didn't see anything wrong with granting your request for a cabin of your own on the estate's land. In fact, he saw it as a practical solution to ensure both of your well-being. If you were to experience periods of madness, it would be best for you to have a space where you could retreat and find solace without causing disruption to the household.

So, Brandon accepted your condition without hesitation, understanding the importance of accommodating your needs. However, he didn't anticipate just how distant you would be after the wedding. Days turned into weeks, and Brandon found himself growing increasingly impatient with your absence from the main house.

Despite his frustration, Brandon respected your need for space and independence, trusting that you would come to him when you were ready. However, as the days stretched on without any sign of your presence, Brandon's patience began to wear thin.

One night, overcome with loneliness and longing for your company, Brandon made his way to the cabin where you spent most of your time. He approached the door with a sense of trepidation, unsure of what he would find on the other side.

As he entered the cabin unannounced, Brandon was greeted by the sight of you standing by a telescope, your eyes fixed on the starry night sky above. Books and notebooks were scattered around the room, evidence of your scholarly pursuits and intellectual curiosity.

You turned to him with a smile as he walked in, your expression one of genuine warmth and affection. Your nightgown billowed around you, your hair cascading in loose waves down your back, and Brandon couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked in that moment.

But despite the tenderness in your smile, Brandon couldn't shake the frustration that simmered beneath the surface. He had missed you, missed the sound of your voice and the touch of your hand, and he couldn't understand why you chose to spend so much time away from him.

"Good evening, Colonel," you greeted him politely, your tone casual and unaffected by his unexpected visit. "What brings you to my humble abode tonight?"

Brandon struggled to contain his frustration as he responded, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "I've come to see you, of course," he replied curtly, his eyes searching yours for any hint of emotion. "I've missed you, [Your Name]. It's been weeks since I last saw you, and I couldn't bear to spend another night alone in our bed."

Your smile faltered slightly at his words, a flash of guilt crossing your features when you met his gaze. You knew you had been neglecting him, consumed by your own thoughts and passions, but you hadn't realized just how much your absence had affected him. Pushing aside your feelings of guilt, you tried to divert the conversation, eager to steer clear of any discussion about your relationship.

"So, Colonel," you began, your voice light and cheerful as you gestured towards the telescope beside you. "Have you ever gazed upon the stars and wondered about the mysteries of the universe? It's truly fascinating how much we have yet to discover out there."

But Brandon wasn't so easily swayed by your attempt to change the subject. He could sense the underlying tension between you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, and he knew they needed to be addressed.

"Indeed, the stars are a wonder to behold," Brandon replied diplomatically, his tone measured as he studied your expression. "But I believe there are matters closer to home that require our attention."

You paused at that, your smile fading as you met Brandon's earnest gaze. His words hung between you, heavy with unspoken implications, and you knew there was no avoiding the conversation any longer.

"What do you mean, Colonel?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension as you braced yourself for his response.

Brandon took a step closer to you, his expression serious as he met your eyes with unwavering determination. "I married you for one reason, and one reason only: to have heirs," he said bluntly, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "And how can we achieve that if the two of us barely see each other?"

You stopped at that, your gaze locking with his as you took in the gravity of his words. For a moment, you felt a pang of guilt at your own negligence, knowing that you had failed to uphold your end of the bargain. But then, a sense of determination washed over you as you realized what Brandon was implying.

Was he demanding that you fulfill your duty as a wife? Did he want... sex?

The thought made Brandon blush slightly, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as he struggled to articulate his desires. But you weren't embarrassed; you were a 28-year-old woman, well aware of the implications of marital intimacy. Despite never having been intimate with a man before Brandon, you had spent enough time reading and learning from your already married sisters to understand the mechanics of such encounters.

And your first time with Brandon had been surprisingly pleasant. He had been kind and patient with you, guiding you through the experience with a gentle touch and reassuring words. In the aftermath, you had distanced yourself from him, convinced that it was for his own protection. But now, faced with his unspoken request, you realized that you couldn't continue to avoid him indefinitely.

With a resolute nod, you dropped the notebook in your hand and approached Brandon, closing the distance between you with determined steps. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as you reached out to touch his cheek, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a tender touch.

"Why not start today, then?" you suggested softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "After all, it is our duty as husband and wife to fulfill each other's needs, is it not?"

Brandon's blush deepened at your boldness, but he nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and embarrassment. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to proceed.

You took the initiative, stepping closer to him until there was barely an inch of space between your bodies. Leaning in, you captured his lips in a gentle kiss, your heart racing with anticipation as you felt Brandon respond eagerly, his arms encircling you in a warm embrace.

And as you melted into his embrace, you knew that despite the unconventional nature of your marriage, you were determined to honor your side of the bargain. After all, you were both bound by duty and obligation, and it was time to fulfill the promises you had made to each other, no matter the cost.

As Brandon and you stood in the dimly lit cabin, the air thick with anticipation, he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation mingled with desire. His heart still belonged to Marianne, his unrequited love for her a constant ache in his chest. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw more than just a means to an end; he saw a woman who deserved his respect and consideration, despite the circumstances of their marriage.

With gentle hands, Brandon began to undress you, his touch tender and reverent as he revealed your delicate form beneath the fabric. He couldn't help but admire the curve of your body, the softness of your skin, as he trailed kisses along your neck and collarbone, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You responded eagerly to his touch, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him to explore every inch of your body. Brandon's heart raced with excitement as he felt your arousal building, his own desire growing with each soft moan that escaped your lips.

As Brandon guided you to the bed, he felt a surge of anticipation coursing through him, his body responding instinctively to the intimacy between you. He couldn't deny the pleasure he felt at being so close to you, the warmth of your skin against his own igniting a fire within him that he hadn't felt in years.

With practiced hands, Brandon explored your body with a gentle touch, his fingers tracing patterns of desire along your skin as he elicited soft gasps and moans from your lips. He marveled at the way you responded to his touch, the way your body arched and trembled beneath him, as if seeking more of his affection.

And when he finally entered you, it was with a reverence and tenderness that took your breath away. Brandon moved slowly, savoring each moment as he lost himself in the sensation of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. He felt a sense of connection with you that he hadn't experienced in years, a bond forged in the heat of their shared passion.

But even as Brandon surrendered himself to the pleasure of their union, his thoughts strayed to Marianne, his beloved lost to him forever. He couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to make love to her, to hear her soft moans of pleasure as he brought her to the heights of ecstasy.

But Marianne didn't want him, that much was clear. Despite Brandon's unwavering love and devotion to her, she had chosen another, leaving him with a heart heavy with sorrow and longing. But Brandon was a man of honor, and he knew that he had to be content with what he had, which was you.

You, the woman whose mind was plagued by bouts of madness and unpredictability, yet whose heart was filled with kindness and compassion. And as Brandon lay beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of their lovemaking, he couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over him. He knew that he should be focusing on fulfilling his duty as a husband, on siring heirs to carry on his legacy, but a part of him couldn't deny the pleasure he found in being with you.

But even as Brandon reveled in the intimacy between you, he couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that gnawed at him. He knew that his feelings for you were born out of necessity rather than passion, that he was simply using you to fulfill his own needs. And yet, a part of him couldn't help but enjoy the pleasure you brought him, the warmth of your body against his own.

As the days went by, Brandon found himself spending more and more time in your company, seeking solace and companionship in your presence. He tried to convince himself that it was all in service of their shared goal of starting a family, but deep down, he knew that he enjoyed being with you, in spite of everything.

He admired your resilience and admired your intelligence and creativity, seeing beyond the surface to the kind and compassionate woman beneath. You, in turn, found solace in Brandon's presence, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding. He treated you with kindness and respect, never once judging you for your eccentricities, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him for accepting you as you were.

But as the saying goes, all good things are short-lived, and Brandon saw this firsthand when he witnessed one of your episodes of madness. One night, he woke up to the sound of whispers and found you in the bedroom, talking to yourself and drawing on the wall.

Brandon's heart clenched with concern as he approached you hesitantly, calling out your name in a gentle tone. But when you turned to him, your eyes unfocused and distant, he realized that you didn't recognize him.

"Are you Venus?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper as you regarded him with a mixture of awe and confusion.

Brandon's heart clenched at your words, the realization dawning on him that you didn't recognize him as your husband. He took a step closer to you, his voice calm and reassuring as he reminded you of his true identity.

"No, my dear, I'm Colonel Christopher Brandon, your husband," he replied softly, his eyes pleading with you to see reason. "Please, come back to me."

But you shook your head stubbornly, dropping the chalk in your hand as you turned away from him, your mind set on a singular purpose. Ignoring Brandon's protests, you left the bedroom, navigating the dark hallways of the mansion with determined strides.

Brandon followed close behind you, his heart pounding with fear and anxiety as he called out to you, hoping to bring you back to your senses. But you paid him no heed, your mind consumed by delusions of Venus coming to take you away.

As you stepped out into the garden, your eyes fixed on the starry sky above, you spotted the bright gleam of Venus shining in the darkness. With a sense of urgency, you called out to the celestial body, your voice filled with longing and desperation.

"Venus, my love, please come get me," you pleaded, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night. "I'm ready to go with you."

Your screams alerted the mansion's employees, who came rushing outside to see what was causing the commotion. Brandon watched helplessly as you shed your nightgown, revealing your naked body to the world as you continued to call out for Venus.

Unable to stand idly by any longer, Brandon sprang into action, moving to cover you. But you pushed him away angrily, refusing to let anyone come between you and your imagined lover.

"Get away from me!" you cried, your voice tinged with frustration as you brushed him aside. "Venus will come for me, you'll see!"

Seeing that you were beyond reason, Brandon turned to the servants, instructing them to fetch a blanket to cover you. The maids obeyed without question, rushing to fulfill his command as Brandon's butler stepped forward to assist in calming you down.

But despite their efforts, you continued to scream and cry out for Venus, your mind lost to the grips of madness. It wasn't until Brandon made a bold declaration that you finally seemed to calm down, your eyes focusing on him with a newfound clarity.

"I am Venus," Brandon announced firmly, his voice filled with conviction as he met your gaze with unwavering determination.

For a moment, you stared at him in confusion, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you seemed to accept his words, your body relaxing as you allowed the maids to cover you with a blanket.

Brandon wrapped the blanket around you protectively, his heart heavy with relief as he gazed down at you with a mix of sadness and concern. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the cabin, his mind racing with thoughts of how best to care for you in the coming days.

As you walked beside him, your gaze fixed on him with newfound adoration and confusion, you couldn't help but question the reality of the situation. Was Brandon truly Venus, the god of love and desire, come to whisk you away to a world of eternal bliss? Or was he simply a mortal man, doing his best to care for you in your time of need?

"Are you really Venus?" you asked hesitantly, your voice tinged with uncertainty as you looked up at him for answers.

Brandon met your gaze with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with warmth and compassion as he squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Yes, my dear," he replied softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "I am Venus, and I'm here to take care of you."

And as you clung to him, expressing your belief that he was Venus and how you had waited so long for him to come for you, Brandon felt a pang of sadness tug at his heart. He did not like the hope he saw in your eyes, the desperate longing for happiness that seemed to radiate from your every word. While he was relieved that you finally seemed content, he could not help but feel conflicted about perpetuating the illusion that he was Venus.

Leading you gently to the cabin, Brandon guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you as you looked at him with such love and adoration, still addressing him as Venus. The realization that the duke and duchess hadn't mentioned this aspect of your condition left Brandon feeling unsettled. He had been led to believe that you were simply isolated in your cabin, dealing with your episodes of madness alone, but he hadn't expected this level of delusion.

Should he continue to play along with your delusions, maintaining the facade of being the god of love in order to keep you calm and prevent any further aggression? Or should he confront the reality of the situation, risking triggering another episode?

Sighing inwardly, Brandon decided to prioritize your well-being above all else. For now, it seemed best to go along with your belief that he was Venus, at least until he could figure out how to help you through this latest episode.

"Of course, my dear," Brandon replied softly, his voice filled with warmth and compassion as he took your hands in his. "I have waited for you just as eagerly. Now that we are together, I am here to take care of you, always."

Gently, Brandon helped you lay down on the bed, tucking the blankets around you to keep you warm. He listened quietly as you spoke, your words filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. You reached out to him, pleading for Venus to take you to the stars, to make you happy and relieve you of the burden you felt you were to others.

"Venus, my love, please take me away with you," you murmured, your voice soft and filled with longing. "I want to love you, and if you love me in return, I won't be a burden to anyone anymore."

Brandon's heart clenched at your words, the pain evident in your voice cutting him to the core. He wanted to reach out to you, to comfort you and reassure you that you were not a burden, but he knew that now was not the time for such revelations. Instead, he remained silent, his gaze filled with compassion and understanding as he listened to your pleas.

"I understand, my dear," Brandon said softly, his voice gentle as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "Venus loves you deeply, and he would never see you as a burden. You bring light and joy to his world, and he cherishes every moment he spends with you."

Your eyes shone with tears as you looked up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Despite the turmoil in your mind, you found solace in Brandon's words, finding comfort in the belief that Venus was there to guide you to happiness.

"Thank you, Venus," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude as you closed your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of sleep. "I love you."

Brandon watched over you as you drifted off to sleep, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was deceiving you, allowing you to believe in a fantasy that could never be true. But for now, all he could do was be there for you, to offer you comfort and support in whatever form you needed.

And as Brandon lay down next to you, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Despite his best efforts to reassure himself that everything would be alright, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of his stomach, a silent prayer escaping his lips as he hoped you wouldn't have another episode of madness.

Closing his eyes, Brandon tried to push aside his worries, allowing exhaustion to finally overtake him as he drifted off into a fitful sleep. But even in slumber, his mind remained troubled, haunted by visions of you lost in the throes of delusion, calling out for a love that could never be.

The next morning, Brandon awoke to the soft light filtering through the windows of the cabin, his eyes lingering on your sleeping form beside him. For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the tranquility of the moment, the gentle rise and fall of your chest a reassuring presence in the stillness of the room.

But as the events of the previous night came rushing back to him, Brandon's heart clenched with guilt and sorrow. He knew that he couldn't continue to ignore the reality of your condition, that he needed to take action to ensure your well-being and safety.

With a heavy sigh, Brandon rose from the bed, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. Quietly, he dressed himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Leaving you sleeping in the cabin, Brandon made his way to the main residence, his mind racing with thoughts of how to best care for you in the days to come. As he entered the familiar halls of the mansion, he was greeted by the sight of the butler, who had served his family faithfully for years.

Without preamble, Brandon approached the butler, his expression grave as he relayed the events of the previous night and his concerns about your condition. He instructed the butler to pass on the information to the other servants, emphasizing the importance of treating you with kindness and understanding.

But as Brandon spoke, he couldn't help but notice the disapproving look that crossed the butler's face, a hint of disdain lingering in his gaze. It was clear that the butler harbored reservations about you and your suitability as Brandon's wife, a fact that didn't sit well with Brandon.

"Is something the matter, Jenkins?" Brandon inquired, his voice tinged with a note of concern as he regarded the butler with furrowed brows.

The butler hesitated for a moment before responding, his tone hesitant yet tinged with thinly veiled disapproval. "Forgive me, sir, but I cannot help but express my concerns regarding your choice of wife," he admitted reluctantly, his eyes darting away from Brandon's gaze.

Brandon's jaw tightened at the butler's words, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration. He knew that the butler's opinion held weight among the household staff, and he couldn't afford to have any doubts cast upon your character or his decision to marry you.

"I understand your reservations, Jenkins, but I would appreciate it if you refrained from passing judgment on [Your Name]," Brandon replied evenly, his voice laced with a hint of steel. "She is my wife, and I expect her to be treated with the respect and dignity she deserves."

Jenkins bowed his head slightly, a contrite expression crossing his features as he acknowledged Brandon's reprimand. "Forgive me, sir," he murmured apologetically. "I spoke out of turn. It's just... I never imagined that you would choose to marry someone like her."

Brandon's jaw clenched at Jenkins's words, his anger flaring anew at the implication behind them. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with indignation.

Jenkins hesitated for a moment before responding, his tone hesitant yet tinged with thinly veiled disapproval. "I had heard rumors about her, sir, but I never thought they were true until last night," he admitted reluctantly, his eyes darting away from Brandon's gaze. "I cannot fathom why you would willingly take on such an unnecessary burden, sir. It would have been far wiser for you to marry Miss Dashwood."

As the butler's words hung in the air, Brandon felt a surge of frustration bubbling within him. How dare Jenkins question his choice of wife, especially in such a callous manner? Suppressing his anger, Brandon took a deep breath, his voice measured as he addressed the butler once more.

"Jenkins, I understand that you may have reservations, but it is not your place to pass judgment on my decisions," Brandon stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I married [Your Name] out of necessity, not out of choice. Miss Dashwood made her feelings clear to me, and I must respect her decision. As for [Your Name], she may be a burden, but she is a necessary one. I need a wife to conceive children, and she is the one I have chosen for that purpose."

There was a heavy silence in the room as Brandon's words sank in, his gaze never wavering from Jenkins's face. He could see the butler's discomfort, the conflict evident in his expression as he struggled to come to terms with Brandon's assertion.

But before Jenkins could respond, Brandon felt a shift in the atmosphere behind him. Turning around, he was met with the sight of you standing in the doorway, dressed in men's clothes, your expression unreadable as you listened to the conversation unfolding before you.

For a moment, Brandon's heart clenched with guilt at the thought of you overhearing the disparaging remarks about you. He opened his mouth to call out to you, to explain himself and reassure you of his commitment, but you brushed him off tiredly, expressing your need to retreat to your cabin for a few days.

"If the servants could bring me something to eat, I would be grateful," you added, your tone weary as you turned away from him and made your way towards the cabin. You were tired—tired of the constant struggles with your own mind, tired of being a burden to those around you, and tired of the expectations placed upon you as Colonel Brandon's wife.

Brandon followed closely behind you, his brow furrowed with worry as he tried to catch up to you. "Please, let me explain," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "I didn't mean for you to overhear that conversation. You're not a burden, [Your Name]. You're my wife, and I care about you deeply."

But you kept walking, your steps determined as you refused to meet his gaze. "It's okay, Colonel," you replied softly, your voice tinged with resignation. "We didn't marry for love, that much was always clear. You don't have to explain anything to me."

Brandon's heart clenched at your words, the weight of your resignation heavy on his shoulders. He reached out to you, his hand hovering over your shoulder, but you shrugged him off gently, your eyes filled with sadness.

"I know I've always been a burden to everyone," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I always will be. But I'll fulfill my role in our agreement, Colonel. And I'll try not to be such a big burden to you."

Brandon's heart clenched at your words, the pain evident in your tone piercing him to the core. He wanted to reach out to you, to tell you that you were more than just a burden to him, but he knew that now was not the time for such declarations.

Instead, he watched helplessly as you disappeared into the cabin, the door closing softly behind you with a finality that left him feeling hollow inside. For a moment, he stood there in silence, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have been and what still might be.

But as the days turned into weeks, Brandon found himself growing increasingly restless in your absence. He missed you, deeply, your presence a balm to his weary soul in the midst of life's uncertainties. And so, despite his reservations, he found himself seeking you out, longing to be near you once more.

Every night, he would wait for you to come to him, the anticipation building with each passing hour until he could no longer bear the silence of the empty bed. And when you finally arrived, he would hold you close, cherishing every moment of your fleeting embrace before the morning light came to steal you away once more.

Today was another one of those nights, and you arrived at the agreed time, wasting no time in starting to undress your male clothes, as you always did every night, while Brandon waited for you in bed, watching you undress, revealing your body to him. The routine had become familiar, almost comforting, in its predictability.

As you climbed into bed with him, Brandon couldn't help but notice the exhaustion etched into your features. He longed to hold you close, to lose himself in the warmth of your embrace, but he knew that tonight was different. Tonight, he needed to talk to you, to address the elephant in the room that had been looming over their marriage for far too long.

"Are you alright, [Your Name]?" Brandon asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "You seem tired."

You sighed wearily, the weight of the day's events settling heavily on your shoulders. "I'm fine, Colonel," you replied, forcing a smile despite the fatigue evident in your voice. "Just a little tired, that's all."

Brandon studied you intently, his gaze searching your face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. He wanted you, desperately, but he could see the weariness in your eyes, the toll that their arrangement was taking on you.

"Perhaps we could talk before... before we... make babies," Brandon suggested tentatively, his words carefully chosen as he broached the delicate subject. "I know it wasn't what we originally agreed upon, but I can't help but feel like we should talk to get to know each other better."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the opportunity to postpone the inevitable for a little while longer. Pulling the covers over yourself to protect yourself from the cold of the night, you settled into the bed beside Brandon, your mind racing with thoughts of what you were going to talk about.

Brandon turned to look at you, his expression softening with affection as he regarded you. "How did you... how did you start to like astronomy?" he asked, his tone gentle as he broached the topic of conversation.

You smiled at the question, a fondness evident in your eyes as you recalled your childhood fascination with the stars. "For as long as I can remember, I've been fascinated by astronomy," you confessed, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "I found a telescope in my grandfather's things when I was a child, and ever since then, I've been hooked. There's just something about gazing up at the night sky that fills me with wonder and awe."

Brandon nodded, captivated by the passion in your voice as you spoke. He admired your thirst for knowledge, your willingness to pursue your interests despite the constraints placed upon you by society. In that moment, he felt a surge of affection for you, a newfound appreciation for the depth of your character.

"It sounds like you had quite the adventurous childhood," Brandon remarked, his tone laced with admiration. "Your parents must have been quite liberal in letting you learn whatever you wanted."

You nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you recalled the support and encouragement you had received from your parents throughout the years. "Yes, they were," you replied, a hint of pride evident in your voice. "They always encouraged me to follow my passions, no matter where they led me."

Brandon's heart swelled with affection as he listened to you speak, the warmth of your words washing over him like a soothing balm. He liked how you lit up, the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about astronomy. He found himself captivated by the passion and enthusiasm in your voice, admiring the way you spoke with such fervor about something that brought you joy. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, a glimpse into the depths of your soul that left him feeling strangely drawn to you.

But as the conversation shifted, Brandon hesitated, his brow furrowing with concern as he broached a more sensitive topic. "When did your... episodes of madness start?" he asked tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for answers.

The heat in your eyes disappeared as the tiredness returned, and you fell silent, your gaze drifting away from his as you struggled to find the words to explain. It was a painful subject, one that you had long tried to bury deep within yourself, but you knew that Brandon deserved to know the truth.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come as you recounted the events that had changed your life forever. "It all started when I was 15," you began softly, your voice tinged with sadness. "I was out riding with my father and brothers when my horse was startled by a snake. I fell off and... I hit my head on a rock."

You paused, the memories flooding back with painful clarity as you struggled to compose yourself. "I don't remember much after that," you continued, your voice trembling slightly. "But my brothers told me that I was in a coma for five days before I woke up."

Brandon listened intently, his heart aching with sympathy as he imagined the pain and confusion you must have felt during that traumatic time. "And then?" he prompted gently, his voice barely above a whisper as he waited for you to continue.

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek as you recalled the horrors that followed. "Things were normal for a few days," you admitted reluctantly. "But then... the first episode of madness began."

Brandon's heart clenched with sorrow at your words, his mind racing with questions and concerns. "What... what kind of treatments did you undergo?" he asked softly, his voice filled with apprehension as he braced himself for your response.

But you shook your head, the pain evident in your eyes as you diverted the conversation. "I... I don't think you want to know," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not something I like to talk about."

Brandon's heart ached with frustration at your reluctance to share, but he knew that now was not the time to press you further. Instead, he reached out to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with reassurance. "But know that I'm here for you, [Your Name]. Whatever you need, whatever you're going through, I'm here."

You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his words washing over you like a soothing balm. In that moment, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounded you.

With a soft sigh of contentment, you pulled Brandon closer, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss as you whispered softly against his mouth. "Don't make me wait any longer, Colonel," you murmured, your voice filled with longing. "Let's just get this over with."

Brandon's heart skipped a beat at your words, his desire for you burning hotter than ever as he surrendered himself to the passion of your embrace. In that moment, there was only you and him, lost in the intensity of their shared desire as they sought solace in each other's arms.

Brandon pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he guided you onto his lap beneath the covers. You followed his lead, straddling him with your hands pressed against his chest, your lips meeting his in a hungry kiss that conveyed all the pent-up desire between you.

The kiss was intense, fueled by a longing that had been building between you for far too long. Your tongues danced together in a passionate tango, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies as you lost yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Finally breaking away from the kiss, you reached between your bodies, your hand wrapping around Brandon's hard length as you positioned yourself above him. With a breathy sigh, you guided him to your entrance, the anticipation of being filled by him sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

Brandon groaned softly as he felt you take him in hand, his desire for you reaching a fever pitch as he watched you sink down onto him. He was big and you weren't quite wet enough to receive him fully. But the sensation of being stretched by him was exhilarating, and you couldn't help but moan in pleasure as you sank down onto his cock.

As you sat down completely on him, a low, guttural moan escaped Brandon's lips, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he relished the feeling of being buried deep inside you. And when you moaned his name in a breathy whisper—Christopher—Brandon's heart skipped a beat, his desire for you reaching new heights at the sound of his name on your lips.

"God, [Your Name]," Brandon breathed, his voice thick with desire as he savored the sensation of you surrounding him. "You feel so good, so tight around me."

You whimpered in response, the pleasure of having him inside you overwhelming as you began to move your hips in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, the pleasure building with each passing moment as you surrendered yourself to the intensity of your union.

Brandon matched your movements with his own, his hands guiding you as you rode him with increasing urgency. He could feel the tension building within you, the need for release growing more urgent by the second as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure together.

And as you continued bouncing on Brandon's dick, you experimented with new movements, gyrating your hips and watching the pleasure written all over his face. It was a sight that books and stories of your married sisters' experiences could never fully describe—the indescribable pleasure of seeing Brandon lost in ecstasy, his features contorted with pleasure as you rode him with abandon.

He was absolutely beautiful, his handsome face twisted in pleasure as he surrendered himself to the pleasure you were providing him. But despite his beauty and kindness, you pushed aside any thoughts of unworthiness, focusing only on the here and now with Brandon, on the pleasure you both felt.

Taking his hands that were on your waist, you guided them closer together, intertwining your fingers with his as you held his hands above his head. The feeling of his strong hands in yours only fueled your desire further, adding an element of intimacy to your passionate encounter.

And as you continued to ride him, lost in the sensation of being filled by him, you couldn't help but let out a torrent of praise and moans, your voice echoing through the room in a symphony of pleasure. And Brandon loved every moment of it, reveling in the sound of your moans and the sweet compliments you bestowed upon him.

"You feel so good, Christopher," you gasped, your voice filled with longing as you rocked your hips against his. "I never want this to end."

Brandon's heart swelled with pride at your words, his desire for you burning hotter than ever as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of your union. "You're amazing, [Your Name]," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he watched you move above him.

You smiled at his words, your heart overflowing with love for him as you continued to ride him with increasing urgency. You let go of Brandon's hands, your fingers curling into his chest as you rode him harder, your movements fueled by a desperate need for release. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, the tension building with each passing moment as you chased the elusive peak of ecstasy.

Brandon watched you with rapt attention, his eyes filled with desire as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of your union. He groaned softly as he felt you tighten around him, the sensation driving him closer to the edge with each passing moment.

At the sight of you throwing your head back in ecstasy, Brandon felt his own climax approaching rapidly. With a guttural moan of pleasure, he let go of all restraint, surrendering himself completely to the overwhelming sensation of release. As you reached climax, your body shuddering with the intensity of your pleasure, Brandon held you close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he supported your weight. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the waves of his orgasm with you.

And as he came deep inside you, filling you with his seed, you felt a surge of contentment wash over you, knowing that you had given him everything he desired. You melted into his embrace, your bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs as you basked in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

As you both calmed down, Brandon pulled you to lie down next to him, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he held you close. You snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. But as Brandon fell asleep beside you, a wave of sadness washed over you, threatening to engulf you in its depths. You knew that your relationship with Brandon was built on a foundation of duty and obligation, not love. He had made it clear that you were here just to give him children, nothing more.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, leaving you feeling empty and hollow inside. You didn't deserve him, you didn't deserve Brandon's love. He was kind and compassionate, everything you could ever want in a partner, but you knew that he would never love you the way you longed to be loved.

And as you stood up to get dressed, ignoring the sticky remnants of his cum running down your thighs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over you. You cast one last look at Brandon's sleeping form, the ache in your heart growing more unbearable with each passing moment.

But as you turned away, tears streaming down your cheeks, you made a silent vow to yourself. You would bury your feelings deep within yourself, locking them away where no one could find them. You would continue to fulfill your duty as Brandon's wife, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the process.

With a heavy heart, you slipped into your clothes and made your way back to your cabin, back to your books, and your stars. It was the only solace you had left, the only thing that could distract you from the pain of knowing that you would never have the love you so desperately craved.

Brandon woke up the next morning with a satisfied sigh, his body still tingling with the lingering sensations of their passionate encounter from the night before. He reached out instinctively, his arm seeking the warmth of your body as he pulled you close, his heart swelling with affection at the thought of waking up beside you.

But to his dismay, Brandon's hand met only empty space, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric of the pillow beneath him. Confusion clouded his mind for a moment as he blinked away the remnants of sleep, his eyes scanning the room in search of you.

And then, with a sinking feeling in his chest, Brandon realized the truth—you were gone. Once again, you had left him alone in the marital bed, slipping away in the darkness of the night without so much as a goodbye.

Disappointment washed over Brandon like a tidal wave, his heart heavy with the weight of your absence. He had hoped that last night's passionate encounter would bring you closer together, that it would be a step towards building a deeper connection between you.

But as he lay there in the empty bed, Brandon couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that settled over him like a shroud. He longed for your presence, for the warmth of your body pressed against his, but he knew that you were gone, leaving him to face another day alone.

With a heavy sigh, Brandon turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a sense of resignation. He was tired of this—tired of the constant cycle of intimacy followed by solitude, tired of feeling like he was always left wanting more.

Rubbing his face tiredly, Brandon knew that he couldn't continue like this. He had to talk to you, to address the underlying issues that were driving you apart. He couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room, pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

And so, with a sense of determination, Brandon promised himself that he would broach the subject with you when you came over again that night. He couldn't let things continue like this, couldn't let the distance between you grow any further.

But for now, Brandon pushed aside his worries, forcing himself to focus on the tasks at hand. There were duties to attend to, responsibilities to fulfill, and he couldn't afford to let his personal struggles interfere with his professional life.

With a deep breath, Brandon pushed himself out of bed, steeling himself for the day ahead. He didn't know what the future held for him and you, but he knew that he couldn't keep living like this, trapped in a cycle of longing and disappointment.

Brandon longed for more than just stolen moments in the dead of night; he wanted to be with you, truly and completely, in every sense of the word. And so, he resolved to confront you, to lay bare his heart and soul in the hopes of finding solace in your arms once more.

And so, on that fateful night, as the hours stretched on without any sign of your arrival, Brandon found himself growing increasingly anxious. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that you needed him now more than ever.

With a sense of urgency, Brandon made his way to the cabin, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared himself for what he might find inside. And when he entered, he was met with the sight of you lost in another one of your episodes, drawing intricate constellations on the wooden floor as you mumbled to yourself.

"[Your Name], it's me, Christopher," he called out softly, his voice filled with concern as he approached you cautiously. "Can you hear me? It's going to be alright, I'm here."

You looked at him and smiled, beckoning him closer. Brandon realized that you weren't in one of your manic episodes, at least it didn't seem like it. He approached cautiously, a mix of relief and confusion flooding his senses. "What are you doing?" he asked gently, his concern evident in his voice.

You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm drawing my favorite constellations," you replied, a hint of excitement in your tone. "The sky is beautiful tonight, don't you think?"

Brandon felt a surge of frustration bubbling within him, his worry dissipating into annoyance. "That's it?" he exclaimed, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "You didn't come to me because you were drawing constellations?"

You looked at him, confusion clouding your features as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to dishonor our agreement, but I just... I lost track of time."

But your words only seemed to frustrate Brandon even more, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to comprehend your actions. "Is that all this is to you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Just a deal?"

You looked at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words. "How should I see it then?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Brandon looked away, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. "Maybe... maybe I want something more," he admitted quietly, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I... I think I'm in love with you."

You interrupted him, shaking your head in disbelief as you backed away from him. "No," you whispered, your voice tinged with sadness. "You barely talk to me, Colonel. How could you possibly love me?"

But Brandon insisted, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes with determination. "I see you, [Your Name]," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "I see you helping the servants when you're not alone in the cabin. I see how you light up when you talk about astronomy, how passionate you are about the stars. And those nighttime conversations we have... they mean more to me than you'll ever know."

You remained skeptical, your gaze fixed on him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "You can't love me," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned away from him. "It would be better if you extinguished that love now, before it consumes you. Fall in love with another woman, but not with me."

Brandon's heart clenched at your words, the pain evident in your voice cutting him to the core. "No," he protested, reaching out to you desperately. "I don't want to be in love with anyone else. I want to be with you, [Your Name]. Please, let me show you how much you mean to me."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I heard rumors that Marianne Dashwood will no longer marry John Willoughby," you explained, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Maybe you can ask for an annulment of our marriage, claiming that I am crazy, so you are free to go after Marianne."

Brandon's eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. "How do you know about Marianne?" he questioned, his tone laced with disbelief. "And why would you suggest such a thing?"

You smiled sadly at him, the weight of your words heavy on your heart. "I heard Jenkins happily commenting on this with other employees," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "He seemed eager to see you away from me."

Brandon's expression darkened at the mention of Jenkins, his frustration mounting as he struggled to come to terms with the implications of your words. "Jenkins has no right to meddle in our affairs," he muttered, his voice tinged with anger. "And Marianne... Marianne is not the solution to our problems."

You looked at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you processed his words. "But you love her, don't you?" you questioned softly, a hint of sadness in your tone.

Brandon's gaze softened as he met your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I thought I did, once," he admitted quietly. "But that was before I met you."

You looked at him, disbelief written all over your face. "But how can that be?" you questioned, confusion evident in your voice. "I'm nothing like Marianne. I'm not beautiful, or charming, or witty."

Brandon reached out to you, gently cupping your face in his hands as he met your gaze with unwavering determination. "You may not be Marianne, but you are everything to me," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are kind, compassionate, and brave. And who says you're not beautiful? You are simply stunning."

You push Brandon's hand away, your heart heavy with disbelief and self-doubt. "You don't know what you're talking about," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just a crazy woman, Colonel. You shouldn't waste your time on me."

But Brandon refuses to back down, his eyes filled with sincerity as he reaches out to you once more. "It doesn't matter if you're crazy or not," he insists, his voice unwavering. "You're my wife, don't you see? I want you, all of you."

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to comprehend his words. "But why?" you question, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "Why would you want someone like me?"

Brandon's expression softens as he looks at you, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "Because you're you," he replies simply, his voice filled with conviction. "You're kind, and compassionate, and brave. And I... I think I'm falling in love with you."

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe what you're hearing. "But Marianne..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words.

Brandon interrupts you gently, his voice filled with understanding. "Marianne sent me letters, asking me to visit her," he admits quietly. "But I refused, because... because of you. I want to explore this love, this connection that I feel with you. Marianne is not the solution to our problems. You are. Give me an occupation, [Your Name], or I shall run mad.”

Tears fill your eyes as you look at him, the weight of his words sinking in. "I don't deserve you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you turn away from him.

But Brandon refuses to let you retreat into your self-doubt, reaching out to you and gently turning you back to face him. "It doesn't matter," he insists, his voice filled with determination. "It doesn't matter if you think you're not worthy of love. Because to me, you're everything."

You meet his gaze, your heart aching with longing and uncertainty. "But what if I have another episode?" you question hesitantly, your voice tinged with fear.

Brandon's expression softens, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek. "Then we'll face it together," he replies softly. "I'll be by your side, every step of the way. Because you're not alone, [Your Name]. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

You look away, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The weight of Brandon's words hangs heavy in the air, his vulnerability laid bare before you. You want to say something, to reassure him of your feelings, but the words catch in your throat, choked by the fear and uncertainty that have plagued you for so long.

Brandon waits patiently for you to speak, his gaze searching yours for any sign of understanding. But when you remain silent, a defeated look crosses his features, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

"Maybe... maybe it's you who doesn't love me," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, a surge of emotion welling up inside you as you struggle to find the courage to speak. But then, before you can stop yourself, the words spill from your lips in a rush of emotion.

"No, Christopher, it's not that," you interject, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you. How could I not, after all the kindness you've shown me? There aren't enough stars in the sky to quantify how deeply I've fallen for you."

You pause, taking a shaky breath as you gather your thoughts. Weeks ago, when you overheard Brandon referring to you as a necessary burden, it had shattered your heart. You had never wanted to be seen as a burden to him, but your madness seemed to make it unavoidable.

"But I know that I can't make you happy," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But Marianne... she's young and beautiful. She'll have a much better chance of giving you children and making you happy. And the employees will like her. It will be better that way. I will no longer be a burden to you."

Tears fill your eyes as you speak, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You know that this is your destiny, to fade into the background, with only the stars for company.

Brandon listens to you in silence, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. When you finish speaking, he reaches out to you, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"You are not a burden, [Your Name]," he whispers softly, his voice filled with conviction. "And I don't want anyone else. I want you, just as you are. Marianne may have her charms, but she's not you. And I love you."

You look up at him, disbelief written all over your face. "But why?" you question, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Brandon smiles tenderly at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Because you're you," he replies simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "And that's all I need."

#colonel brandon #alan rickman #marianne dashwood #sense and sensibility #colonel brandon x reader #alan rickman x reader #oc

253 notes · View notes

vibingandsimping · 2 years ago

Note

Would you be willing to write Astarion x a fem!reader (if it matters) where originally he’s slightly annoyed because she just seems like another goody two shoes hero, until she finally gets the chance to punish someone for their actions only to realize that she’s just as cruel and violent as he is, she just directs it at people who deserve it the most. I just wanna be bitchy and judgy with him

My character was an oathbreaker paladin and the best way i could describe her is that she became a paladin in the same way mean girls in high school became nurses, to basically bully people for a job which I thought was a ridiculously fun way to play a character and thought Astarion might approve of it too

DAMN IT. Now I have to make a human tav that’s Regina George and play the game as her. Curse you.

How in the hell was an Oathbreaker so good-natured? You went against your contract. You couldn’t be so heroic. He knew something was beyond the surface. It just pissed him off that you concealed that nature. He craved to see that part of you. Perhaps it was a fluke? A one-time deal that damned you? His snippy behavior towards you was bred from the fact he couldn’t figure you out. At least, he thought that, until you reached the Goblin Camp. Your demeanor was so much more aggressive. It was a delicious sight. It first started with you making a goblin kiss your feet. Gods, he loved that. He wished he were you in that position. Astarion simply clapped in amusement and praised you for the cruel behavior.

Who knew you had it in you, darling? From that on you were much more keen on acting such. Not towards the innocent, much to Astarions disappointment, but to those deserving. You’d bring down karma and justice onto those. Such as telling the goblin in the Shadowlands to fetch after dooming an animal to the shadows. Usually, when killing you were quick about it. Not one to make them suffer for long. He found it quite boring til you were faced with the option to murder someone thought evil. The way you drove your blade into their skin and charred their flesh with spells was violent and bloody. Their screams echoing as you slay them. He never thought you more beautiful, honestly, with the blood staining your face and hands. You two would gossip and chat during adventures. Remarking those you’d punished or killed. He’d snob with you about them. Anything to feed into this behavior he beloved. Watching you climb the ladder of power by evoking your justice onto those

Overall, he finds you quite interesting. He can’t wait til he can peel all the layers and get to know the true you. It’s almost like a challenge.

#my asks #anon ask #my writing #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #mean girls #astarion and regina george is an interesting idea

259 notes · View notes

cosmickid-inmotion · 2 months ago

Text

All my negative opinions on tlou season 2 in one spot so I can just get it out and focus on what I love and enjoy, like my beloved Tommy. I dont want to ruminate on so im just getting it out.

Reblogs deactivated bc its not discussion really i dont want it all going around BUT comments are open!

Also this is outside of the zionism themes which have been and will continue to be wildly discussed, and outside of my opinions on any actor. Only time the actor will come up will be for performance, not other stuff.

spoilers, obvs

I cannot relate to abby Nor Ellie. Maybe this is my fatherless behavior but I cannot fathom risking other peoples lives for my vengance, unless it was to protect the community like they may come back

Bella's acting is mostly good but I felt a downgrade from last season. Some line delivery didn't hit, but, overall some really REALLY good scenes, like the almost c-section

Why is the hair... like that. Why the make up and blow outs. I don't get it.

Why, with all the fancy hair, did we trap Gabriel's beautiful locks in a bun all season save for the flashbacks. Free him!!! I know game tommy had the man bun but come on... just once for me?

I actually do think Abby should've been muscled. This is not me wanting a muscle mommy bc thats not my type of woman, Abby as she was in the show is. I just think thats something she really should have kept. Cast Kaitlyn if you want, but build muscle. I mean, she didn't even have to be game abby strong but she had less than me. Kaitlyns acting was amazing though I really do love that part, this is nothing against Kaitlyn and I promise it's not something that keeps me up at night. ETA!! I learned the reason Katlyn didn’t have muscle is because she couldn’t do the training with her mom dying. I take back this point and apologize

Let me put this foreward, I think isabella had some of the best acting this season. I think her and Gabriel had the best. I do feel disappointed that she doesn't look like game Dina with her nose. I dont know much about the game but Dina is jewish and theres a scene in a synogoge. Maybe that's happens later than what we've seen here? IDK but it feels like that part of her has been erased. i don't mind non jews being cast in jewish roles (Oscar has been in a few so i'd be a hypocryte) but I was kinda dissapointed. Would like to hear others thoughts.

Josh Peck's character just felt like Josh from Drake and Josh surived the apocalypse and joined the military. No different. I really liked him in Red Dawn and felt like that character was different but its been so long maybe he just has the same acting every time. it felt out of place like ed sheeran in Game of Thrones

I like the lil cult bit but why do they talk and act like a cult stereotype? It feels played up

You know how in star wars George Lucas has awful dialoge and you just gotta respect the actors for doing what they can? Thats how I felt with pedro. A lot of the lines were clunky, so his delivery was clunky. I'm sorry. Its not his fault bc Its RARE i've ever seen him falter even with cheesy parts but some of the lines felt so ham fisted

The best scene was 100% Joel, Tommy, and Javier. The acting was amazing 10/10 addition. But it made it jarring watching that after watching some really bad episodes prior

Joel getting mad about the sex and drugs and stuff I get, but I really dont think he'd say experimenting with girls. That felt out of character. I don't say that because Joel is my precious uwu i know theres no way he could have unpacked all his biases since 2003 but like. Something else could have fit better. The "experimenting with girls" trope comes from the idea that women who love women only do it until the right man, or for fun or for male attention. THAT notion comes from hetero normative ideals of the family. i think Joel by this point would not be setting those expectations on Ellie. I don't think its like Sarah where he's going "I cant wait to walk her down the aisle and hold my first granchild :))" although he would have loved those things, its a different world. Im not saying Joel is free of hetero normativity either (I am NOT i still catch myself) but it just didn't make sense to me. Joel saying something insensitive or not perfect I think would fall more into Jay from modern family. Not the more crass things Jay says but things like still assuming one is the man one in the woman in a homosexual relationship.

I'm sorry, I just found Ellie a brat. I dont think teenagers need to act perfect or super cool. I loved Sansa Stark! But it's hard for me to watch that and know I will never have that kind of unconditional love. Ellie grew up without a dad. it's not like this is her dad shes had her whole life shes taking for granted. it doesn't make sense to me, honestly. And I do get it; I value my autonimy a lot, and I dont expect a 19 year old to understand the full situation and her inability to consent at 14, but this just felt, again, like fisting a ham. Oh, and being willing to abandon Tommy felt shitty to me. We SAW they were close. In the game its not really a relationship but in the show, tommy is acting like her uncle. A father figure while shes fighting with Joel. And she's willing to let him die. Again, i get making choices in a panic. but this just didn't ring true. Tommy is shown again and again being the HEART AND SOUL OF JACKSON he was with her for the burn, he brought Gail to see her husbands body, he's constantly there for everyone. He came FOR HER. ELlie KNEW why Joel and Tommy fell apart in Boston and how much Tommy wanted to leave the violence behind, he threw away that life of peace and left his WIFE ANDSON for her and Dina. It felt like a slap in the face and honestly I did not appreciate it.

OKAY I"M DONE

I can't promise I'll never bring up an issue again but this is me getting it out and, hopefully, letting it go.

IDK i might have more with point number 12 with Tommy but i'll gonna try and let it go.

This is mostly to get out the petty thoughts.

#the last of us #the last of us season 2 #tlou spoilers #tlou 2 spoilers

14 notes · View notes

quillfulwhimsyverse · 1 year ago

Text

The Act of Faking

Word count: 7,2k

Summary: George is not talking to Fred, and the only way Fred thinks this can be salvageable, is by faking a relationship with you. Or when you hear his request - faking him having feelings for you.

Warnings: Angst towards the end.

A/N: I am literally going to kill myself. I had a plan for this to be the perfect slowed paced slow burn, were relationship builds slowly and beautifully but then I just ran out of ideas and this is what happened. And to remind you - English is not my first language so most of the times I just stared at the page trying to come up with different descriptions rather than using the ones everybody knows by heart. So I am sorry. Please enjoy.

P.S I am very sad that I found out about the "5 Acts of Play " stature at the end of writing this one-shot. I could've used it to make the story more interesting. But oh fucking well… _______________________________

One thing that everybody in Hogwarts knew, - the Weasley twins were always together. One never went anywhere without another. They also never had any serious arguments, only slight disagreements that seemed to be forgotten pretty soon after.

That was why you currently frowned looking at the door. Fred came into the Great Hall looking tired, confused and disappointed to say the least. You closed your book, your interest peaking. He only looked like that when he'd gotten himself into detention that overlaps with Quidditch practice.

‘So what happened to you?’ you asked as Fred moved to sit in front of you at the Gryffindor table. He looked really upset. ‘Prank gone wrong?’

‘No, I wish tho.’ He sighed. ‘It’s George. I haven’t had a single conversation with him for what seems like days.’

‘You never fight.’ you mentioned, as Fred was taking a gulp of juice from your glass.

"We haven’t gotten into a fight, Y/N, he just dumbly avoids me. When I try to talk to him, he mumbles something about guilt trips and at the next moment he’s gone.’ He started fidgeting with his wand.

‘How come? Why would he “guilt trip”?’

“Well our dear best friend, Geroge,” Fred mumbled irritably, for a moment you thought he might snap, “had gotten himself a girlfriend, bet you didn’t know that, right?” you only nodded. “Well apparently nobody knew, including me.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip. “I still don’t see what the problem is.”

“I will tell you what the problem is… The problem is that I accidentally caught him snogging Angelina off in the Quidditch pitch.” You looked at him trying not to show too much emotion. “That wanker wanted to keep it a secret, because he thought I might get hurt.”

“Well, I kinda understand why he kept it a secret.” You waited for his reaction, but he only looked at you blankly, waiting for you to continue. “Weren’t you, like, in love with her a couple of years ago?”

“Yeah, so?” he shook his head. “ I was, that’s the point, Y/N. Was. I am not. Not anymore. I wouldn’t care if they got married tomorrow.” He rested his head in his hands, slowly massaging his forehead.

“Have you told him this?”

“Yeah… Like a dozen bloody times. He doesn’t believe me, though. Says “I am only saying this to make him feel better.” How many times, do ya reckon, I would have to repeat this to make him believe it?”

“Hmmm..” you thought for a second. “Just give him a bit of time, maybe that will solve something?” you suggested.

“Just give him time…” he repeated your words to you. “How do you assume I should do that? With the Christmas holiday upcoming? Although, I think he would rather spend the whole time with the gnomes instead of me in the same room.”

You stayed silent for a moment. Now that you have thought about it, you haven’t seen George for a couple of days too.

“But.” Fred lifted his eyebrows and took a deep breath.” I have a little plan.” He quickly reached for his bag and pulled a letter out of it. “ This morning I got a letter from my mother, about my bad behavior in class and yada yada yada, but she did mention inviting you to stay over during holidays. And this, dear Y/N, sparked a thought in me.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

“You and I,” he pointed towards you and then towards himself. “We are going to fake being in a relationship. Over your stay at The Burrow.”

“Fred.” you snapped quickly. “You’re crazy.”

“Why? I mean, it’s a good plan. Angelina will be going home during holidays, and George will be forced to be with his family instead, and we’re going to pull a little show for him, just enough, so he would drop this stupid avoidance game he is playing.”

You frowned at your best friend.

“You have a perfect opportunity to talk to him during the holidays and you want to spend it playing a pretend game?” you ask him as he nods. “Yeah, well there is a slight problem in your plan. We have never ever acted romantically towards each other, and George isn’t so stupid, he won’t believe it. He spent so much time with both of us together, so he will notice that there’s just no spark, or whatever.”

“That is exactly where you are going to help me,” he stated. “Your mother is muggle, right? You mentioned once that she is really into those romantic books muggle people read? What do you call them? Noveelies?”

“Novels, Fred.”

“Yeah, whatever, not the point. You said you were into them when you were younger. So what I’m trying to say is that you will help me put this act together, so it looks convincing.”

You look agape at him.

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I had too much time on my hands with my brother successfully avoiding me, I’ve even opened the Transfiguration book a couple of times out of boredom. Closed it pretty soon after, it was even more boring than doing absolutely nothing.”

“Still, Fred, no. It’s your whole family that will notice this as well and I don’t want to lie to Molly. And anyways, how would explain the sudden break up after the Holidays. And… Oh my god… Ron and Ginny will literally tease me to death. This is a really stupid plan, Fred, no one is going to believe it anyway. Just think of something else, I dunno, talk to Angie and make her help you out or something.”

“How am I supposed to talk to Angelina when she is almost always with George nowadays? I knew you would think the plan is stupid, but look - you are my best friend, right? I know you inside out, it would be much easier to pretend we’re in love.”

You look skeptically at him. You wanted to help him, you really did, but this plan was bound to fail one way or another. You very well knew how he flirts and acts with other girls, the last thing you wanted - to accidentally fall for him for his stupid act.

“No.” You started packing your book into your bag, not looking at him.

“Then at least let me act as if I had fallen for you, you won’t have to do anything, just help me out to put the act together, so it looks convincing enough for George, c’mon, Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” You let your eyelids fall a little more over your eyes while he speaks. “It’s either this or I am going to do something even more stupid.”

You let your head lull back.

“Alright.” you sight. “But.” You quickly state. “Embarrass me, Weasley, and you will have two people not talking to you.” He rolls his eyes and then determinedly looks at you.

“Okay, so how am I supposed to pull this off?” You look at him in frustration. “What? I need step by step guidance.”

“I am gonna tell you this once. You miss it, I won’t repeat it. It is extremely stupid and why do I even… Aren’t you like a huge flirt and tease? Why would I need to teach you how…” He gave you a warning look and you shut yourself up real quick. “Oh, for Merlin's sake, okay.”

He nodded. You gave yourself a moment to think it through, and he let you, keeping everything he wanted to say to himself.

“Because this will be coming from literally nowhere, you must be really subtle at first.” He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him. “ I know, you don’t know how to be subtle, so just gaze at me from time to time during the dinner or whenever you’ll be sure George notices.”

“So all I have to do is just look at you from time to time?”

“No, you muppet. I called it a gaze for a reason. You know? Staring at someone you find admiring?” He slightly shook his head, his ginger hair falling over his brown eyes. “Or just someone you find unbelievably pretty?” He still looked at you a bit dumbfounded. “Fred, you do it when you think about Quidditch and pranks.” He smirked, red tinting his cheeks.

“Okay, loverrr…” you deliberately said the last word as slowly as possible, teasing him intentionally, hoping he might have a change of heart and call this plan off. “We will call this “Act Number One.” In case you fail convincing George with this one, we will move on to the “Act Number Two.” Where you will seek close proximity.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Step over the line with this one, Fred, and I will hex you.”

He raises his hand into the air. “Whatever you’ll say, Ma’am.”

“You will have to be subtle with this too. Otherwise it will just be whatever you do here, in Hogwarts on a daily basis. Try to sit next to me when the dinner is ready, try and fix my hair slightly or something, you will figure it out as you go.Then there is gonna be “Act Number Three”, I believe, you will need no assistance on this one - teasing. No comment on this one. I think this should do the job.” You look at him blankly, something about this makes you irritated and anxious.

“And what if after all of this, he still won’t be on no speaking terms with me?”

“Then an actor's career won't be suitable for you.”

Act Nr. 1

Your stay at The Burrow began shortly after the plan was devised. You had urged Fred to attempt a conversation with George before enacting the plan, and in the presence of Molly and Arthur, all appeared well between the brothers, they even shared a joke about Ron’s owl Gigwidgeon. However, once left alone, their relationship reverted to its former state. And you knew that it was a matter of hours before Freds attempt at Act One.

And indeed, your prediction proved accurate. The scene unfolded during dinner, just as you had anticipated. While engaged in conversation with Ginny, who sat to your right, Arthur kindly addressed you, prompting you to look left, up at him.

“Y/N, Fred shared the fact that your mother is a muggle,” you nodded looking at him. “How fascinating.” Arthur remarked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I recently got a hold on this little thing..” he reached for his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “What exactly is this?” He held it with the tips of his thumb and forefinger as if it was a little wand. “I’ve seen it ignite flames. Is it some sort of muggle magic wand, huh?”

You couldn't help but giggle at Arthur's question, but your attention soon shifted to Molly, who cast her husband a warning glance. Unbeknownst to you, Fred's focus shifted to you, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he observed the interaction.

“Not quite, Mr. Weasley,” you replied with a smile. “It's called a cigarette. It contains an addictive substance called nicotine, which people often smoke to alleviate stress or tension.”

“Really, Dad,” Bill interjected with a laugh, “Mum will be reaching for one of those every time you mention something from the Muggle world at the dinner table.”

Suddenly, Fred erupted into laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he directed his gaze towards you. “Well, would you look at that,” he exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone at the table, yet his eyes were locked on you. “Our dear Y/N, the epitome of innocence, enlightening our dear old Dad about the vices of the Muggle realm.”

You shook slightly, your eyes widening a bit. What was he doing? But he only laughed at your widened eyes, the mischievous glint in his eyes indicating that he was teasing you, trying to uplift the mood at the table.

As the Weasleys' laughter filled the room, you felt a warmth spread through you, despite the slight embarrassment of being the center of attention.

Ginny shot Fred a knowing look, her lips curling into a smirk. "Looks like someone's enjoying themselves a bit too much," she teased, earning another round of laughter from the group.

Fred caught your confused look as you were about to mouth him to watch what he’s doing, but he only winked at you.

After the dinner you jumped quickly on your legs to help Molly. When you went to roll up your sleeves to wash the dishes, Molly quickly stopped you with a light touch and smiled kindly. “Honey, the magic will take care of that, go ahead and rest on the couch with everybody.” She rushed you to the living room.

You turned back to look at the rest of the family: Arthur was explaining to Bill about some corruption that involved the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts Wizarding Bank; Ron and George were playing the wizards chess on the floor and by the look on George's face - Ron was winning. Ginny picked up a plate of cookies, murmuring that these were Percy’s favorite, so she had to offer some of him, so he wouldn’t starve himself to death with whatever he was doing as an exemplary Head Boy; and Fred seemed nowhere to be found.

You turned back to Molly. “My mother always said that magic was too precious to use it on simple daily tasks, that could simply be managed by humans.” She smiled gently at you and her eyes lifted a bit from your eyes.

At that exact moment you felt a heavy chins presence on your right shoulder. You turned your head towards it to see Fred's untidy red hair that was brushing your cheek slightly.

"Fred," you greeted softly, turning your head to meet his gaze.

His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned down at you.

"Hey there," he whispered, his voice low and intimate despite the bustling room around you.

A sense of ease washed over you in his company, a feeling you'd grown accustomed to over the years of friendship.

"Thought I'd join the party," he quipped, his breath warm against your ear.

“Go rest, you two,” Molly interrupted, “while I go and see where to lay you, Y/N. I hope you sharing a room with Ginny would be alright.”

“It’s perfectly fine. Thank you, Molly.”

Fred feigned a dramatic sigh, before nudging you gently towards the living room.

“You are not following the plan, Fred, you ran over all of the acts in one day.” you scolded him, but he laughed loudly.

“Y/N, darling, when was I ever following the rules?”

Act Nr. 2

For a couple of days, the plan appeared to be on hold. The Weasley children found themselves occupied with various tasks around The Burrow, and you willingly lent a hand wherever needed.

Whether it was assisting Molly with preparing meals in the bustling kitchen, helping Arthur mend a fence in the ramshackle backyard, or joining Ron and Ginny in tending to the garden, you immersed yourself in the daily rhythm of life at The Burrow. Once or twice you caught Fred gazing at you while he took a little break to drink some water or just to catch a breath.

However after the evening to a hold on the house and everybody seemed to be resting, gathered in the cozy living room of The Burrow, Fred subtly initiated Act Nr. 2 of the plan. With George engrossed in a conversation with Ron about Quidditch tactics, Fred seized the opportunity to position himself strategically closer to you on the worn-out couch.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, he shifted slightly, allowing his arm to brush against yours. You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow in silent amusement at his subtle maneuver. His response was a barely perceptible smirk, a silent acknowledgment of his progress in the plan.

Every now and then, he would lean in slightly, as if to share a secret or a whispered joke, his breath tickling your ear. Each time, you couldn't help but smile at his playful antics, a silent agreement between you to maintain the facade of blossoming feelings.

Just then, George's voice cut through the jovial atmosphere, interrupting the conversation about Quidditch tactics. "Oi, Fred," he called out, his tone tinged with a hint of mischief. "You're looking a bit too comfortable there, mate. Planning on falling asleep, are you?"

Fred's smirk widened, as if he had anticipated this exchange beforehand. He shot a playful glance at George, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Can't blame a bloke for seeking a bit of comfort, can you?" he retorted, his tone light-hearted.

George chuckled, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Well, just don't go drooling on her shoulder, mate," he teased, earning a round of laughter from the others in the room.

You couldn't help but join in the laughter, though you felt a slight flush creeping up your cheeks at the playful banter. Fred's proximity and the teasing exchange sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you, despite the teasing scrutiny of the Weasley twins.

Although, ironically, as the evening wore on, the warmth of the fire and the gentle hum of conversation lulled you into a comfortable state of relaxation. Despite your best efforts to stay alert and engaged in the lively discussion, the cozy ambiance of The Burrow proved too inviting, and you found your eyelids growing heavy.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred noticed the subtle droop of your head as you began to nod off, a small smile playing on his lips at the sight. He leaned closer, discreetly adjusting his position to offer you more support, ensuring you were comfortable.

Meanwhile, George shot Fred a knowing grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed your gradual descent into sleep. "Looks like someone's had a long day," he remarked sotto voce, his tone filled with gentle jest.

Fred nodded in agreement, his gaze softening as he watched you drift off into slumber, a sense of warmth and protectiveness washing over him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you, his best friend, as he silently vowed to ensure you rested undisturbed for the remainder of the evening.

That was how Act Number two acted out.

Act Nr. 3?

You were seated on the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, lost in thought as you gazed out the window. You sent Molly off from the kitchen.

Outside, Molly stood with her hands on her hips, a hint of exasperation evident in her flushed face. Before her, Ginny, George and Bill exchanged mischievous grins, their laughter ringing out like bells in the crisp winter air.

“Are you two crazy? No scarves, no hats on. You are going to get sick.” She urged her children to get back in and dress properly for the weather.

In a moment of playful rebellion, George scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a perfectly packed snowball. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he took aim and let it fly, intending to playfully tease his mother.

But fate had other plans.

In a twist of irony, just as Molly turned to face her son, the snowball found its mark, striking her squarely in the face with an unexpected impact. Time froze for a moment, the air thick with disbelief, before erupting into uproarious laughter, Molly's angry face told them enough and they all turned to get back inside.

“Had a good night's sleep, Y/n?” George's voice rang out as he entered through the door, his laughter trailing behind him like a mischievous echo. He shook his hair, sending a flurry of snow cascading onto the floor, much to Molly's disapproval.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as you slid off from the table, reaching for the teapot and mugs to distract yourself. "Alright," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though your embarrassment spoke volumes.

"Only alright? I thought Fred tucked you in quite nicely." George's laughter filled the room, rich and hearty, as he winked at you. His playful jab struck a nerve, eliciting a mixture of amusement and discomfort. You turned away, feeling the weight of his teasing words lingering in the air, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

As soon as they all settled down to enjoy a cup of tea, you seized the opportunity to slip away, making a beeline for Fred's whereabouts. But as you ascended up the stairs, he was going down, so you practically ran into each other.

"Oh, good," you exhaled, relief flooding through you at the sight of him. "I was looking for you."

Fred's smirk widened as he halted on the step above you, closing the distance between you almost imperceptibly. "Slept well?" he inquired, his tone laced with amusement.

Your brow furrowed slightly as you struggled to articulate your thoughts, the urgency to convey your concerns before the family downstairs didn’t get any ideas as to why you were standing on the stairs a moment too long. "Yeah, look," you began, your words tumbling out in a rush. "Why won’t you give this plan a little break? You seem to be talking again with George, and with the plan advancing at this pace, soon enough everybody will be asking about the relationship that doesn't exist."

"Darling, breathe," Fred intervened, his hands gently finding purchase on your shoulders as he chuckled. "You only fell asleep on me, so what? You’ve done this a million times in the common room, what’s the difference? But if you want to give it a breather, it’s fine too," he reassured, his expression softening with understanding.

However, instead of finding solace in his words, you recoiled slightly, evading his touch as you took a step back. His hands fell away from your shoulders, hanging awkwardly in the space between you as you sidestepped past him, eager to retreat to the safety of Ginny and your shared bedroom.

Fred's brow furrowed in concern as he watched you retreat, a pang of unease tugging at his heart. He hadn't anticipated that his attempt to reassure you would only seem to exacerbate your anxiety. For a fleeting moment, he considered reaching out to you again, wanting to offer further comfort, but he held back, sensing that you needed space.

Meanwhile, you hurriedly made your way to the bedroom you shared with Ginny, seeking refuge from the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by your encounter with Fred. Once inside the familiar space, you sat on your bed burying your face in your hands, closing your eyes briefly as you attempted to steady your breathing.

You have indeed fallen asleep on each of the twins at least ten twenty times during your years at Hogwarts. And not once has the teasing afterwards bother you, but something about today sent you reeling. You were blushing madly and wished that that would stop. Maybe the whole plan you helped to build, was turning against you, and each, and every time Fred paid attention to you, finally started playing with your head.

You promised yourself to be a little more careful after that.

Act Nr. 4 - the improvised part.

The same night, you were roused from sleep by a gentle hand shaking your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N, you up?” Fred's voice, soft and filled with excitement, whispered through the darkness as he continued to shake you awake.

You groaned in annoyance, feeling disoriented from being pulled out of sleep. “What is it?” you muttered, your voice tinged with irritation.

“Remember that star we told you about? The one me and George discovered last summer?” Fred's tone was eager, like a child on Christmas morning, and you realized where this was headed.

“Yeah,” you replied, still half-asleep and struggling to grasp why he was waking you up in the middle of the night for a star.

“Well, come on. I found it again,” he urged, his excitement palpable even in the dim light of the room.

You hesitated, feeling reluctant to leave the warmth of your bed for a star. “Why would you wake me up for a star, Fred? It's just a star,” you grumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

But Fred was undeterred, his enthusiasm contagious as he handed you a pair of special goggles and gently grasped your wrist, guiding you outside into the chilly night air.

“Put these on and look straight up from where you're standing,” he instructed, his grip firm yet gentle as he positioned you in the right spot.

With a sigh, you relented, slipping the enchanted goggles over your eyes and following Fred's guidance. As you gazed upward, your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

The darkness of the night sky was transformed into a mesmerizing display of swirling colors, reminiscent of oil puddles reflecting light from muggle cars. It reminded you of the evening sky as the sun finally starts to set, bringing out the most vivid colors. The bright colors danced and twirled around in the star and all around it, creating an ethereal display that seemed to defy explanation. Shades of deep indigo melted into vibrant hues of sapphire and emerald, while streaks of crimson and gold streaked across the dark sky.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” asked Fred while you watched the view in silence. You took the goggles off and looked up again, seeing only small, little stars shining above you. “Well the other ones do not look that extraordinary, but somehow that one does. And it comes up like three or four times a year. It’s a miracle it came up over your stay here.”

You turned to look at him. “It's really beautiful, Fred. I’m glad you woke me up.”

He gently stroked your arms to make you a little bit warmer as you continued to shake due to the cold of the winter's night.

When Fred retrieved back into his room, he smiled like a dumbass. When you got back inside you asked him if he had named that star and with a gentle smile he asked you to come up with a name for it.

“Where have you been?” Apparently George wasn’t asleep when Fred got back, and curiosity won over George.

“Out.”

“You showed her the star, didn’t you?” George chuckled slightly when his brother removed his clothing and fell backwards into his bed. “I noticed it appeared again yesterday.”

“I might have done that, yes.” Fred admitted with a sheepish grin.

George laughed. “Told her what you named it?”

“No, that would’ve been a bit embarrassing.”

George laughed loudly but then quickly stopped, before waking the whole house up. “You're hopeless, man. But I am happy for you.”

Fred quickly turned his head to look at his brother, even though through the dark he could only make out his silhouette. “So? Are you back on speaking terms with me?”

“Yeah, mate,” George chuckled, “I realized I was being dumb.”

Fred was happy. He genuinely was, but something about coming back to terms with his brother stopped him from feeling completely pleased with the situation.

Act Nr. 5

Act 5 unfolded on a brisk afternoon a couple of days later. The sun was casting long shadows across the snow-dusted grounds of The Burrow. The Weasleys were involved in their own activities. You specifically were interested in another bewitched muggle artifact Arthur promptly told you about, then he went on reading the letter from the Ministry again, completely forgetting about telling you anything afterwards. So you sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in a book. As you finally coughed up to where you left off, Fred entered the room with a lopsided grin.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting.

You glanced up from your book, offering him a small smile in return. "Hey, Fred. What's up?"

"I was thinking," he began, his tone casual yet tinged with excitement, "why don't we take a walk outside? It's a perfect day for it."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. "A walk? Now?"

Fred nodded eagerly. "Yeah, come on. It'll be fun. We can explore the woods behind The Burrow. I heard there's a hidden clearing with the most amazing view."

Despite your initial skepticism, you found yourself unable to resist Fred's infectious enthusiasm. With a shrug, you closed your book and rose from the table. "Alright, why not? Lead the way."

As you ventured into the woods together, Fred regaled you with stories and anecdotes, his laughter echoing through the trees. With each step, you felt yourself relaxing in his company.

Eventually, you reached the hidden clearing Fred had mentioned, and you couldn't help but gasp in awe at the breathtaking view before you. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the landscape, while a gentle breeze whispered through the trees.

"It's beautiful," you murmured, your eyes scanning the scenery.

Fred grinned, his gaze fixed on you. "Not as beautiful as you," he replied softly.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at his words. But before you could respond, George's voice rang out from behind you.

"Hey, lovebirds!" he called, his tone teasing. "What are you two up to?"

Your confusion turned to disappointment as you realized that Fred's affectionate words were likely just another one of his improvised acts. With a forced smile, you turned to face your friend, masking your disappointment behind a facade of nonchalance.

"Just enjoying the view," you replied, your voice lacking its usual warmth.”Care to join?”

As George joined you in the clearing, the moment between you and Fred faded into the background, leaving you grappling with the lingering sting of disappointment and confusion.

As the days passed quickly in The Burrow, the atmosphere seemed to settle into a familiar rhythm, apart from that, the twins seemed to get back into their close relationship, which made you extremely happy.

Once or twice Fred would act out your made up plan and gaze at you during the day at dinner or whenever you were near each other. You, of course, didn’t expect anything more than that, understanding that now the two brothers were back to their old selves and your interactions with Fred were purely out of keeping the act just for George. But that did not change the fact that the shift happened within you. You spend more and more time thinking how everything will play out in the end when you get back to Hogwarts. How you will be sitting there, in the common room, pretending not to notice how Fred flirts with other girls and then returns to you to boast about it. This held a tight grip over your heart, making your chest feel heavy.

There you were, sitting on the couch, watching Ron make the wrong move and lose his bishop in the process, Ginny bobbing her head happily whilst laying on the ground.

“George just now told me that you don’t know how to play chess,” Fred sat down next to you, accidentally knocking several chess figures of the ground.

“OIII!” Ron shouted. “Watch what you’re doing.”

“Sorry, mate.” Fred laughed and dramatically reached for the queen on the ground and put it back on board in the wrong spot. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned to him, shifting back from your thoughts to reality.

Fred raised his eyebrow and laughed. “What were you thinking so deeply about? Me?” he teased and you felt his hand reach for your own. As he tried to intervene your fingers together you quickly pulled your arm away from him and stood up. No matter how angry this made you, you tried not to give it away. You felt sickened to your stomach. The action was small. But for some reason it was enough for you. This went too far, the act he was doing and suddenly there was no going back, everything went from too early to too late to stop this stupid lie, and the only thing you dreaded for - happened. It was your own fault, you agreed to this.

“Just remembered, I haven’t reached out for my parents for a while now,” you mumbled and left the room to actually write to your parents and ask if you could get back home from The Burrow earlier than planned.

The Finale

You were folding your clothes and putting them back in your trunk, while Ginny watched you from her bed.

“Did they really ask you to go back home?” She asked once again in disbelief. You nodded. “They always let you stay as long as you want.”

“Yeah, I guess something happened back home.” You lied without looking back up at her.

“Did you tell Fred? That you’re going back home?” She sat up, while you stopped packing and thought for a moment whether you should tell her the truth. “You haven’t,” she said, quite shocked. “Why? The boy’s going to go mad.”

“I really don’t think so,” you mumbled.

“But he will tho,” spoke George standing in between the door, his arms crossed on his chest, he looked disappointed.

You paused, feeling the weight of George's words sinking in. Despite your efforts to convince yourself otherwise, deep down, you knew he was right. Fred would indeed be affected by your departure, you were his best friend, nevertheless.

Ginny shot her twin a sympathetic glance before turning back to you. "He's right, you know. Fred may not show it, but he'll definitely be upset."

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt gnawing at your conscience. "I know," you admitted reluctantly. "But I need to sort things out back home."

“No, you don’t.” Said George again firmly. He looked quite mad now. “Considering the fact that it was you, who asked your parents to go back home early, not the other way around.”

“Uhmm… How do you?...” You stammered, caught off guard by George's accusation. His words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and disbelief.

Ginny's expression softened, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced between you and George. "George, calm down," she interjected gently, trying to diffuse the tension that crackled in the room.

But George remained undeterred, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "How do I know?" he repeated, his voice low and intense. "Because you accidentally used the quill we use for pranks. It creates two messages as it writes, one to your recipient, second to its owner, and that would be me and Fred, only I got the hold of the message first.”

You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed.

“Then,” George continued, “I assumed Fred had done something stupid once again and pressed him until he told me everything, And when I say everything, I mean it. Merlin's beard, Y/N, I thought Fred was daft, but turns out this friendship with us made you daft too.”

“Ummmm?” Ginny interrupted. “Mind to elaborate a little bit?”

Ginny's interruption brought a momentary pause to the tense atmosphere in the room. George sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words.

"Well," he began, glancing at you briefly before continuing, "apparently our dear Y/N here concocted a plan to get Fred and me talking again. She thought we needed a little nudge to mend our relationship, so she came up with this whole scheme of them faking a relationship."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You did what?" she exclaimed, turning to you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

“First of all,” you raised your finger angrily at George, “ it wasn’t my idea, Fred came up with it. Secondly, it wasn’t a fake relationship,” you said angrily, “it was for you to believe he had feelings for me so you would drop your stupid not talking to Fred phase, because you thought he was still in love with your girlfriend. So in the end, who is to blame?” you asked him.

Ginny looked from you to George. She was sitting dumbfounded, and if it wasn’t for the angry looks on your and George's faces, she would’ve started laughing.

“Okay, it was stupid, I agree with you,” George mumbled. “But you're as thick as it gets, Y/N.”

“Why am I the thick one?”

“Because you actually thought Fred would fake having feelings for you,” these words from George stung like a slap in the face, the truth of them hitting you harder than you anticipated. You felt a surge of embarrassment and hurt wash over you, realizing how naively you had fallen for Fred's act. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Even Ginny’s mouth fell open.

“George…” she murmured silently.

“What? Wasn’t he like in love with her for a couple of years?” He said angrily. “And then you,” he pointed towards you, “went on and let him continue this charade and now because you can’t take it anymore, you’re leaving. Of course this is going to upset him.”

You tried to say something, you really tried, but words just did not form inside your head.

Thank the spirits, cause it was Ginny who spoke after. “No, George, wait. I don’t think she knew.”

You met Ginny's eyes, grateful for her unwavering support in this moment of turmoil.

“I… I didn’t know,” you finally managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, but each word weighed heavy with sincerity. “I didn’t realize... I thought...” Your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that churned within you. “I genuinely thought that he was doing it for you. I was leaving because I didn’t want to…” the words died out from your mouth and you didn’t finish your sentence.

“I didn’t want to end up hurt afterwards. I assumed he only saw me as his best friend and the act would die out eventually when we got back to Hogwarts.”

The snort from George interrupted the silence that followed after your sentence. “You and Fred must be two of the dumbest people I know. Y/N, he named a star after you, you were more than his best friend for a while now.”

“Oi, mate, not nice to throw me under the bus like that,” Fred quipped, entering the room with a lopsided grin.

You turned to him, quite in shock.

“And I think this is our cue to leave,” said Ginny gently, sending a wink to you and grabbing George by his forearm to lead him out of the room.

“Complete idiots,” George managed to yell whilst leaving.

Fred chuckled, stepping closer to you. "Ignore him, love. He's just jealous because he hasn't named a star after anyone yet."

“I am extremely confused, Fred.”

Fred's grin softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to take your hand in his and intervene your fingers together. He smiled as you let him. "I know, Y/N. It's been a bit of a mess, hasn't it?"

You nodded, still trying to process everything that had unfolded.

"I promise to explain everything properly," Fred reassured you, his eyes earnest and sincere.

Fred took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began to explain. "Okay, so... I know this whole situation might seem incredibly confusing, but there are a few things you need to know." He paused, searching your eyes for any sign of understanding before continuing.

"Firstly, yes, I did come up with the plan to pretend to have feelings for you, but it wasn't just to mend things between George and me. It was also because..." He hesitated, his expression turning earnest. "Well, because I actually thought I might kill two birds with one stone.”

Confusion flickered across your face as you processed his words. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred took a deep breath, steeling himself before he continued. "I mean, yes, the initial idea was to help George and me patch things up by making him think I had feelings for you. But... it was also a way for me to... explore my own feelings for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. "You mean... you actually do have feelings for me?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Fred nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "Yeah, I do. I've liked you for a while now, Y/N. I just didn't know how to tell you."

Emotions swirled inside you, a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and a flicker of hope. "But... why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

Fred sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was scared, Y/N. Before our friendship even began, you seemed to be annoyed everytime I approached you. I am not even going to mention the looks you gave me when I tried to flirt with you. Then I dropped it, I thought you weren’t interested and it proved me right, cause quickly after you joined our trio. (A/N: We can not forget our Lee.)”

“I thought you saw me as one of these girls you always flirt with, I thought you were being a tease for your own entertainment.”

Fred's expression softened as he listened to your words, a tinge of regret coloring his features. "Y/N, I understand why you might have thought that. And I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression.”

“But why did George think you were still into Angelina?”

“Because before you came into the picture I kinda liked her. And we got along pretty well, I just did not realize at the time she was being extra friendly with me, cause she liked George. Then you came along and my feelings changed. I mentioned them to George once or twice and then dropped it. Didn’t want to annoy him, didn’t want to hear him tease me when you joined our friend group. When he fell for Angelina, he must’ve overthought everything. But he kinda put everything together after I returned to our room after I showed you your star.” He raised his free hand and gently tucked your stray strand of hair over your ear, and then pressed his hand over your cheek, to which you leaned in.

“Pretty soon after you arrived, you fell asleep on me, literally in front of everybody,” you closed your eyes in embarrassment as he spoke, he started softly caressing your cheek, “I thought you finally started to catch on, but you asked me to put the plan on hold, and I genuinely got scared I was pushing you away with the way I acted.”

“I am so sorry for not catching on sooner, for avoiding you…” you tried to explain yourself, but Fred interrupted you.

Fred shook his head, his expression tender. "No apologies necessary, Y/N. You did what I asked you. I hope you will now understand that everything was sincere.”

You closed your eyes again and as lovingly as possible said, “And I hope you will understand that I sincerely fell for you.”

He laughed as he leaned in closer, “I got that while you were having a little chit chat with my brother, otherwise it would’ve been me who stayed over with the gnomes.” He looked deeply into your eyes as if asking if it was alright, you slightly nodded, so he closed that little space that was left between you and kissed you.

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #fake relationship #slow burn #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one-shot #fred x reader #fred

121 notes · View notes

mydaylight · 15 days ago

Text

Okay some thoughts about the episode now that I've had some time to mull it over:

Merritt Wever was so wasted in the episode. I was expecting so much more when Monica's estranged relationship with Bertha had been hyped so much, but she ended up feeling almost like an non-entity to me. I knew she would be there to embarrass Bertha in front of Lady Sarah, but I didn't expect that would literally be the only thing she would actually do (although bonus points for confirming Bertha to be the younger sister)

I don't want to entirely justify Bertha with the coffee thing but I do get where she was coming from (and honestly don't think Bertha should have been called ruthless over this). Monica not realizing her dress was inappropriate after Bertha already offered to give her one of her own dresses was shortsighted. I think we're meant to think that "Monica is comfortable with her social class, not pretentious like Bertha" but Gladys' wedding day is supposed to be about Gladys, not about Monica making a point to her sister. Monica not caring she might embarrass her niece comes off as stubborn, not self-assured.

I am honesty loving the spiritual plot line for Ada (and Andrea Martin is always a win). I do feel the Van Rhijn VS Forte dynamic might get a bit repetitive, and spirituality adds a refreshing spin into that. I also have to admit I wasn't a huge fan of Agnes' snarky comments on Gladys being an insignificant new money girl and why she should have to care about her.

I am betting the source of the leaks is Miss Andre. She was already looking a but suspicious at the downstairs' council meeting.

God, Bertha was so clueless in this episode. The entire family is crashing and burning around her and she was entirely oblivious to it. I think she's about to go on a power trip post-marriage, thinking she has enough influence now to change the way upper society works, only to get devastated when George asks for divorce. Although, the Mid Season Weeks Ahead trailer suggests Bertha realizes the tension between her and George eventually.

George continues to be an utter disappointment this season. The highlight of the episode for him was when he said to Gladys she should have acted to end the engagement right after he had gotten back from the West. Except when that happened, George was the one negotiating with the Duke and the only thing he cared about was lowering the dowry price!

It's so ironic that the worse Larry's relationship with Bertha gets, the more Bertha and Marian are bonding together. I think Marian had 3 or 4 moments praising Bertha in just this episode? And Bertha hasn't even started her campaign for divorced women yet! (Marian's gonna go: Larry who?). All of this makes me think we aren't going to see any real bad moments between them even when Bertha gets mad at Larry for not telling her about the engagement earlier.

I can't get over the fact that in every Peggy/William scene we get, Dr Kirkland has a smile the size of the entire sun on his face. I know there's some drama coming, but I'm so happy Peggy finally got a super handsome suitor who utterly adores her (please let Peggy get the proposal at the finale!)

I feel bad for saying this, but Mrs Bruce's plot twist of being married was hilarious to me. JFellowes really didn't see anything wrong with merging the Bates and Gregson plotlines from Downton Abbey lmfao.

The last scene with Gladys and Duke was so depressing, I personally found it almost disturbing after rewatching. It's horrific to imagine that Gladys can't even realize she was coerced into consummating the marriage since there would be no support from anyone (not even her family and friends) should she ever tried to bring up her wedding night. And the Duke is awful for ignoring Gladys' discomfort just so the wedding would be consummated and he can get her money (I mean she was going with him in England where she knows nobody, how exactly would she have gotten an annulment by herself? His behavior was unnecessary)

Finally, I am loving Turner being so visibly excited finding about Bertha's sister. More scenes with Bertha and Turner being cunty to each other please!

#the gilded age #the gilded age spoilers

18 notes · View notes

lestappenforever · 2 months ago

Note

Hi Mona!

So I didn’t finish watching the race because an immense amount of rage filled my body. So i don’t know what behavior Max showed that should not be excused.

Care to please tell me? 🙏🏻

Hi lovely!

Max was so pissed at the team putting him on hards that he lost his head after losing the rear and allowing Charles to overtake him, and it resulted in him refusing to give the position back after going off the track and gaining an advantage on George. He ended up causing a collision with George in what looked like an attempt to let George pass, and then lost it on the radio.

Childish behaviour, honestly, and I'm very disappointed in him. I expect so much more from a driver of his calibre.

#MV asks #itshoneywhatever ❤️

12 notes · View notes

archiveoftara · 3 months ago

Text

Gorgeous

You look stunning.”

You flinch at the voice and find your date for the night standing by the door. You gave a small smile as you fiddle with your emerald green dress. “Thanks Kipps.”

“we’re getting late, the cab’s waiting for us.” He left the room leaving you with your thoughts. You took a deep breathe and wore a confident smile. You Got This.

You look at the grand hall filled with posh people drinking and talking about posh things. Kipps lead you to the ball. You were shocked to say the least when Kipps asked you out for the date while you were drenched in your own sweat during the training session.

Nothing romantic just a casual “Will you go to the ball with me?”

You were reluctant at first but you heard a certain agent also got the invite for the event so you took the chance and said yes.

Kipps was nice but your heart belonged to someone else.

“omg y/n you look great!” Kat exclaimed.

“So do you.” You said back. She rocked a little black dress. Looking absolutely lethal.

Although you were physically present but your attention was all over the room looking for the one who you came for.

Just when you lost hope, he enters with a stride, swooning the girls. The talk of the town, The Anthony Lockwood, owner of Lockwood and Co, known for his reckless behavior and unique cases.

You were obsessed with him the moment he beat Kipps with his rapier in the quiet hall of British Archives. Whenever you bumped onto each other it would be some crime scene or in the archives. Each time, you never strike a conversation no matter how badly you wanted to. It hurt your stupid pride. Whereas, Lockwood would make a witty comment on you or argue with Kipps.

Boys ugh.

The rest of the agents of Lockwood and Co, Lucy and George greets your team. Lockwood greets the team in a professional manner, you reply back with a bored tone. You could’ve swore he was hurt but he masked it with his ridiculously handsome grin.

The event begins as the hall gets darker. Penelope Fittes gets on stage for her speech. Halfway through the speech you almost yawned when you felt a caress on your hand. You look up to find Lockwood standing extremely close to you. You could see his deep brown eyes gazing yours. It took all the power in you to not be smitten into a puddle of goo. You gave a small smirk and look ahead to the stage.

“Give me a moment.” Kipps excuse himself from you. You look at the room, watching everyone enjoying themselves, dancing, drinking, kissing. You felt a pang of jealousy when your eyes laid on Lockwood laughing and dancing with lucy.

How I wish that was me.

You excuse yourself and look for the ladies room when you find Kipps tongue deep into some redhead. Great.

You go back to the bar, chugging drinks like there’s no tomorrow. The bartender gave you a weird look but you ignored him. You felt hot with self humiliation. You never really liked Kipps but you didn’t think he would treat you this way. How disappointing.

You found yourself under the night sky, staring at the abyss. When a cough broke your train of thoughts.

“Stalking me , Lockwood?” You roll your eyes.

“I was actually on my way to men’s room when I saw you too close to the edge. Not planning to die, are you?”

You didn’t remember how you got to the balcony, you blame the alcohol. “As if.” You took a step back.

You look away. You thought he left when you felt his presence beside you “so what is a gorgeous girl like you doing alone here?”

“I could ask you the same. What is a handsome boy like you doing alone here?”

His lips turned into a mischievous smirk “You think I’m handsome?”

“Come on, Lockwood. If you’re here to make fun of me then I’m not interested. Why don’t you join your date?” You bite your tongue.

“I smell something burning." He smirks “Are you jealous?”

You hate the feeling of losing, especially to hot men.

“Never. Why would I be jealous?” You mask the annoyance.

"I ain't got time for this." You take a sharp turn when you lose your balance, you were ready to hit the ground when everything stopped.

Your eyes meet the familiar pair of deep brown eyes but this time, soft light of the moon graced his face. His lips looks so kissable, His arms feels like a warm blanket, He smells delicious. He’s absolutely gorgeous you could kill, you could die.. for him.

“Are you making fun of me?” You whisper.

He shook his head. Next thing you know you felt his soft lips against yours. Slowly drinking you, savoring the moment. You pull his collar as you deepen the kiss. You felt fireworks in your heart, your mind went blank. he pulls away, faint blush. wow

"Do you know it was a real test for me not to tear your dress down and make you mine then and there?" He kissed your neck.

"Then make me yours." You moan.

His eyes gleamed in mischief, something twisted in your heart. You gasped as he lifted you. "Anthony someone will see us?"

"Good because I've never felt more alive before you came to my life."

It's safe to say the rest of the night went in bliss.

Hello!! I've wrote after along time. I'm back from my hiatus. This wasn't my best work hell I feel it's not even good. Anyways, I'm gonna work on my skills and I deliver in the next chapters. Hope you enjoy and Please leave a like and comment. I love reading your comments. Love you muaah!!!

#lockwood and co #fandom #anthony lockwood #anthony bloody lockwood #fanfic #lockwood x reader

10 notes · View notes

deadpresidents · 1 year ago

Note

do you believe that Richard Nixon would be a big fan of Trump if he was alive today?

Not a chance in hell. And the GOP's supposed ideological Saint -- Ronald Reagan -- would be fucking horrified by Trump. Reagan was the guy who talked about The Eleventh Commandment being "Thou shalt not speak ill of any fellow Republican."

What I really wish is that George W. Bush would speak out more openly about how he feels about Trump. From what I've read and the few things that have been publicly stated over the years about Bush's feelings, he is genuinely opposed to Trump and Trumpism. But before leaving office, President Bush said that he would not publicly criticize his successors -- partially because he was pissed over the years about some of the criticisms that Jimmy Carter shared about Bush. I also just think Bush was finished with Washington and didn't want to jump in the fray anymore (in the final months of his term he was clearly desperate to get out of the White House and return to Texas. Bush has kept his word and stays out of current Presidential politics and I think it's unfortunate because I do think it matters. Of course, the Republican Party is no longer the same organization that twice nominated George W. Bush (and his father) for the Presidency, so anything he did say would be ignored or ridiculed by most of the Trump cult that has infected the party. But there are some people who would see it as a powerful message, especially since he hasn't really dipped his toe into electoral politics since January 2009.

Bush has made a few comments and statements about protecting democracy and changing the tone of politics that Trump has poisoned since 2015, but he has not directly criticized him and I think it's a missed opportunity to use whatever political capital he still has. I thought President Bush would have been more direct with his statement condemning the insurrection on January 6th, but he wasn't. Instead of straight up saying Trump's name, he criticized "the reckless behavior of some political leaders since the election." By no means did I ever expect George W. Bush to be the conscience of the nation, but I was disappointed that he didn't do more. I think his father would have had he still been alive on January 6th (and I KNOW his mother would have!). Like I said, it's disappointing. Especially since one of the more insightful (albeit simple) comments a former President has made about Trump was when Bush apparently told people around him at the Capitol "that was some weird shit" immediately after Trump delivered his ominous Inaugural Address in 2017.

#History #Presidents #What if?#Richard Nixon #President Nixon #Ronald Reagan #President Reagan #George W. Bush #Bush 43 #President Bush #Donald Trump #President Trump #Republican Party #GOP #Politics #Presidential Politics #Presidency #Eleventh Commandment

46 notes · View notes

jungkoode · 4 months ago

Note

I was enjoying off label, but the latest chapter felt icky! There was no discussion of power play, our mc is still full of alcohol, it felt like no true consent could be given! With my experiences boundaries have to be throughly discussed prior! Hobi threw up when he learned she truly didn’t know what was going on with him previously, what changed?

This is a disappointing ask to receive, and I’m going to respond with as much patience as I can manage—but I do think it’s necessary to correct some fundamental misconceptions about consent, intoxication, and power play dynamics that you’ve presented here.

Your assertion that “no true consent could be given” due to alcohol consumption is both misrepresentative of the text and not universally true from a legal or psychological standpoint. In Chapter 9, it is explicitly stated that Y/N is tipsy, not drunk. Her speech is not slurred, her motor functions are not impaired, and she is in full cognitive control of her choices. The narrative makes it clear she is aware of her actions and pursuing them enthusiastically.

Legally, in many jurisdictions, intoxication negating consent applies in cases of incapacitation, meaning a person is unable to comprehend the nature of the act, unable to communicate their refusal, or physically unable to resist. None of these conditions apply in this scenario. From a psychological standpoint, studies on alcohol and sexual consent (e.g., George et al., 2009; Abbey et al., 2011) indicate that while heavy intoxication can impair judgment, lower inhibitions, and increase risk perception errors, mild-to-moderate alcohol consumption does not inherently nullify consent. In fact, research in sexual decision-making under the influence suggests that individuals retain agency over their choices unless explicitly impaired.

Thus, from both a narrative and psychological perspective, the claim that Y/N “could not consent” is factually incorrect.

Your statement that boundaries must be “thoroughly discussed prior” to engaging in power play is a misconception of how real-world kink and dominance/submission dynamics often function. While explicit boundary negotiation is critical in formal BDSM dynamics (e.g., 24/7 Dom/sub relationships or high-risk scenes), not every power play scenario requires a contractual negotiation session. Many relationships operate within implicit boundaries established through repeated interactions, behavioral cues, and ongoing consent.

Y/N and Hoseok already have an established history of power play. She is actively pushing his boundaries in this scene, deliberately provoking him, aware of the consequence-based nature of their dynamic. This is a punishment scene, which, by definition, presupposes that she knows she is being “corrected” for a violation.

Research on non-verbal sexual communication (Hinds et al., 2020) demonstrates that in long-standing sexual dynamics, a large portion of consent and boundary establishment happens through non-explicit means—tone, body language, prior experiences, and implicit understanding. This is why assuming every power exchange must have a verbal contract prior is an inaccurate generalization. To put it simply: Y/N knows what she is getting into. Hoseok knows she wants it. The scene functions within their pre-established dynamic.

And if you’re looking for a “let’s sit down and formally outline our power dynamics before every encounter” conversation, you’re welcome to go read Fifty Shades of Grey—but that’s not what we do here. I pride myself on realism. Not everyone needs a bullet-pointed contract to understand the dynamics at play. Many real-life power-exchange relationships rely on history, experience, and established understanding, not an explicit TED Talk every time they fuck.

Your argument about Hoseok’s reaction to Y/N’s past vs. his actions in this scene misinterprets his character development. Hoseok’s previous reaction (vomiting upon realizing Y/N didn’t understand his emotional turmoil) was due to his own unresolved guilt and shame. He wasn’t repulsed by the power dynamic itself—he was shaken because he realized she had been interacting with him without knowing the full picture.

By this point in the story, Y/N has that context. She knows what he can offer, she seeks him out regardless, and she provokes him intentionally to elicit a reaction. Hoseok, in turn, is now acting with full knowledge that she understands what she’s asking for. So the assertion that “what changed?” is easily answered: her knowledge changed. His self-awareness changed. The entire dynamic evolved.

Finally, and most importantly, this ask conflates personal triggers with narrative flaws. While it’s completely valid to feel uncomfortable with certain story elements, that discomfort does not equate to poor writing or problematic themes. I explicitly warn readers about the themes in Off-Labels in both the author’s introduction and my ‘Read Before Sending an Ask’ page. It is your responsibility to decide whether this content aligns with your comfort levels.

Also, by the way, studies on fictional media and psychological triggers (Black & Barnes, 2017; Keen, 2007) emphasize that personal experience shapes interpretation, meaning that what feels “wrong” to one person may not be perceived that way by another. When engaging with darker themes in fiction, it’s crucial to differentiate between:

Personal discomfort (“this doesn’t work for me”)

Misinterpretation of intent (“this isn’t what I thought it was”)

Incorrect factual claims (“this is non-consensual” when the text explicitly shows otherwise)

If this scene crossed a line for you, that is absolutely fair. But that is not the same as it being irresponsible or lacking consent. It means it is simply not for you. And that is something you, as a reader, must be accountable for.

This response is not meant to invalidate your discomfort—but it is meant to correct the factual misrepresentations in your ask.

Y/N is not too drunk to consent. The text explicitly states this.

Power play does not always require prior explicit verbal negotiation. Many dynamics are established through previous experience, and Y/N knowingly provokes Hoseok.

Hoseok’s reaction to her past and his actions in this scene are not contradictory. The context has evolved.

Personal discomfort does not equal narrative failure. If you don’t like it, that’s okay—but don’t misrepresent the text as something it is not.

I encourage you to engage with stories more carefully before making sweeping claims like this. If this wasn’t for you, that’s completely valid—but that is your responsibility to manage, not mine.

If you’re looking for an author to manipulate into self-doubt, look elsewhere. I write with thorough research, and I stand by my work. Misrepresenting my work to create controversy will not be entertained here. This is a researched, intentional narrative. If it isn’t for you, move on.

This is my final response on the matter. Engage with my work responsibly or don’t engage at all.

#ask/ol #kiki educates lol #no because these type of asks seriously pmo #you can’t be this fucking dense #like you seriously think idk what you’re tryna do here?#😭😭😭 pls #i work with perception and intentions #like the vibes? off 👎🏻#nice try though! C for effort

7 notes · View notes

princess-of-songs · 5 months ago

Text

Challengers ramblings

As a silent observer on challengerstwt, I see a lot of things that intrigue me to want to join in on the conversation but ultimately I don’t because I don’t want to walk in uninvited and I don’t like the potential of conflict. That’s what makes talking on here a lot easier. Reddit is 50/50.

I did want to talk about discussing the characters.

It’s no secret that Tashi is my favorite of three characters. TBH, she’s become one of my favorite characters of all time. I deeply relate to her emotional repression, how she displays her love, her need for control, and her reluctance to acknowledge her grief because if she heals and moves on- who is she? That said, I deeply acknowledge that Tashi is a fucked up person who needs therapy. She is a loser. She is a control freak. She is a cheater. She can be quite prickly and impulsive with her emotions. She’s very prideful to a fault even when she’s wrong.

I can only speak for myself when it comes to being protective and defensive of Tashi. As a biracial black woman, I always get excited to see black and biracial black women onscreen especially when they’re the leads of a show or a film. 2023 and 2024 were pretty magical back to back years to me, because it brought me two all time favorite characters in Young Queen Charlotte from Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story and Tashi Duncan from Challengers. Similarly to Tashi, I deeply related to Charlotte in a lot of aspects. My two fictional sisters as I like to joke.

For a while, I was obsessed with Charlotte and George. Then something shifted. I started to see some pick Charlotte apart as a character regarding her flaws - which is perfectly okay. She isn’t perfect by any means. But then they would get upset if someone decided to critically analyze George’s behavior (with fully keeping in mind George’s struggle with mental illness). I don’t think any character in QC is perfect and I think it’s cool to analyze what drives their flawed character traits. I also noticed Charlotte and Agatha weren’t as hyped as George, Reynolds, and Brimsley. I was disappointed but not surprised. I have more to say but I’ll save that for another time.

Now you’d think with my sadness over the treatment of Charlotte and Agatha within the QC/Bridgerton fandom, that I’d learn my lesson and I’d toughen up. That I wouldn’t let it get to me.

Unfortunately before Challengers premiered, I naively thought Tashi was going to break that pattern.

Yes, you can laugh at me.

Tashi isn’t an easy character to like or love. I knew that going in. I’d read the original script and I knew Tashi was going to rile some feathers.

I didn’t anticipate the initial reaction. I didn’t expect to see TikTok’s about how the movie would be better without her. I didn’t think I’d get crushed to see stories killing her off. I didn’t think I’d get so sad reading such cruel and bitter things written about Zendaya from her acting to the most mundane things. I didn’t think I’d get really bitter over Tashi being edited out of scenes.

The last one took a while to get over. Mainly because Tashi’s scenes from the original script got cut the most and that broke my heart when I first watched the film. I loved the character of Tashi from the moment I read the script for the first time and I loved Z’s performance. She really brought her to life and understood her so completely. I still wish to do this day, those scenes could’ve made it in a longer version of the film. Oh well. Back to the main topic.

That lit a fire in me.

Before Challengers, I was quite shy when it came to kudos or comments on Ao3. But as a writer myself, it’s encouraging to see that and it makes me want to write more. I try my best to make sure to leave kudos or comments on Tashi centric fics or fics that really try to explore Tashi in a neutral/positive way because I want to see more of them. I’m trying to write some myself so I can help my fellow Tashi fans create that space to talk about her.

On the subreddit, I wanted to start conversations that explored and analyzed Tashi. A lot of my answers whenever there’s a question asked about Tashi, I try my best to think from her perspective. I do think that can sometimes get lost when we are dissecting the character’s actions in Challengers.

I became active on here again because I wanted to join the challengers community. From experience, fandom on tumblr (for the most part lol) can be a great experience.

I think my defensiveness and protectiveness stems a lot from the desire to see more characters like Tashi, Charlotte, and Agatha. I want to see more and more different personalities in black and biracial black female characters. I don’t want us to ever be placed into boxes. I want the possibilities to be limitless. My biggest fear is when there is pushback, people will be reluctant to play these type of characters or write them. That’s the last thing I want.

Finally, I hope as a fandom that we can get to a place where we can dissect Patrick and Art without ripping each other to shreds about it. On twitter specifically and occasionally on Reddit, I’ve seen people get into petty arguments or long ugly fights when someone in the fandom wants to critique one of the guys in a nuanced/neutral/negative way. I’ve seen people block each other, call each other names, and send mean anonymous messages. I love Patrick and Art DOWN. I don’t think they’re perfect, they’re both deeply flawed. Similarly to Tashi, I don’t think it’s bad to discuss these traits and actions those two display and how different people interpret them. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about Patrick and Art but I often stay silent because as I’ve said before, I don’t like conflict lol. Generally, I hope we can get to a place in our fandom where we don’t tear each other apart at all over our different opinions and interpretations of Challengers.

#tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi #challengers 2024 #challengers #challengers movie

17 notes · View notes

gratelove · 2 years ago

Text

I Think I Love You

Peter (The Great) x Reader

I am on season 2 of The Great and I am so in love with Peter. So here’s a cute fluffy Peter fanfic I’ve been daydreaming about.

This is a long one

Warnings: fluff, sweet Peter, cursing, kissing

You were promised to Peter by your father, and since you’ve arrived you’ve been incredibly disappointed. You believe you can never love Peter. The night before your wedding everything changes, making you rethink what life will be like with Peter.

You were betrothed to Peter, the Emperor of Russia, by your father to end the war between your regions. You knew as it was your duty to follow through to save your people, as you were losing the war. Though you did not want to marry the Emperor, you must. You believed he was a cruel and violent man. You watched so many boys come home from war severely injured, missing limbs, or not even returning at all. You had a job to protect your people; to make sure sons, husbands, and fathers would be able to come home to their loved ones.

When you first stepped off the ship, the rocks of the shore crunched under your blue heels, and you were hit with the wonderful smell of the ocean and the trees. You may not be happy about your marriage, but at least Russia is breathtaking. You hoped that you could make a positive impact on its people and government.

You were taken to a carriage, and after a short and bumpy ride, you arrive at the palace. It is more luxurious than you could’ve imagined and you realize your mouth is left open in awe. A guard helps you out and leads you through the halls. Your heels click on the shiny marble floors and you see serfs cleaning up broken glass and fixing pieces of broken wall. You are told to wait in an empty room and the guard closes the large double doors behind you.

A few moments later a young gentleman in a wig walks in with several men following.

“Hello wife.” The young fellow grabs your shoulders and kisses your cheek.

“Hello. You must be Peter.” You curtsy.

“You are sweet. Our wedding will be in 2 weeks. Lots of planning. Must be on your best behavior to make sure I end the war. You French Fucks are losing after all.” You ball your hand into a fist. Be a lady. Control yourself. Do it for your people. You think all of this to yourself, and release your fist.

“I will be on my best behavior, husband.” You force a smile.

“Amazing. I think we’ll get along great. Huzzah.” He throws his hands in the air. “I shall leave you. Settle in and meet the ladies at court. You’ll love them. You can talk about the latest hats and throw balls on the lawn.” He gives you another quick peck on the cheek before exiting.

——

Later that evening your serf, Margaret, helps you dress in a beautiful, baby pink gown. You slip on matching heels and are directed down several flights of stairs and halls until you reach a magnificent ball room. The large doors open before you and present people in elegant attire dancing, laughing, and drinking.

“Ah wife!” Peter grabs your breasts and jiggles them in his hands. Disgusting. What am I? A bag of meat? “Tonight we drink, dance, eat, and later we fuck.”

“I thought we wouldn’t lie together until our wedding night?” You ask, hoping you can push off any sexual actions as long as possible.

“I’m the Emperor. I fuck who I want, when I want.”

“Actually, wise Emperor. Though you can do what you want, when you want. According to the church, you should be married before you lie with the Empress.” An old man with a long beard chimes in. Thank you old man.

“Shut up Archie. But, the Emperor must be one with God, so fine. I’ll just fuck George instead.” What a pig. Peter hands you a small glass, matching the one in his, and he swallows the drink in one swift head tilt. He then pushes your glass up. You smile and take the shot. The burn runs down your throat and you wince. Peter then grabs your hand and pulls you to the dance floor.

——

In what feels like hours of dancing, mingling with the ladies at court, and forced drinking, you have discovered that women cannot read, and are not allowed to. They don’t know what art or science is. They don’t know Voltaire. You have a lot of work to do here.

Finally supper is ready. You sit at a table with just Peter and you. The other members at court sit at tables on the sides, facing the head table. A large pig is laid out in front of you. You envy the pig right now.

“Before we eat, to my wife.” Peter stands from his chair and raises his glass. “To our marriage, to the end of the war, to lots of fucking, and to soon getting a little Peter. Huzzah!” He takes a shot and smashes his glass on the ground. The court follows his actions. “Huzzah!” In unison and the sound of glasses smashing crowd the dining hall.

“To ge-“

“You don’t talk. Sit. Look pretty, wife.” Peter interrupts your attempt at a speech. The more time you spend with him, the more you hate him. He’s rude, filthy, childish, and overall just a prick.

After dinner is done you immediately head to your room, wanting to escape Peter. His presence makes your blood boil. You make it to your room. Margaret helps you change and you are finally able to sleep, although not very well.

——

It’s been a week since you’ve been in Russia and it is incredibly dull. All the ladies ever want to do is roll balls on grass and wear their stupid wigs as hats. You had an outburst on Lady Svenska for whipping a serf in the hall for accidentally spilling a drink on her dress. You put an end to it immediately, and now hide in the library where no one will ever find you. No one comes here, and everyone hates you for defending a serf. The court believes they are property and not people.

You hear the door creak open and you shut your book. You peak around the side of a shelf to see Peter looking around.

“I know you’re in here.” You stand up and smooth out your dress.

“I’m here.”

“Grigor just told me that you yelled at Lady Svenska in front of all the other ladies at court. I told you you need to behave. Make friends with the ladies. You’ll only make your life harder. Besides, it’s a fucking serf. No need to get upset over a fucking serf.”

“They’re people too.”

“Not here. Serfs are property. You need to get used to the Russian way, or else you’ll never find happiness here.”

“I’ll never find happiness being married to you.” You spit. He has only sexualized and told you what to do since you’ve been here. He’s hasn’t asked one question about you. Hasn’t tried at all to get to know you.

“I have only been fucking nice to you. Besides, I am Emperor. I do what I please. You are only here to make my heirs. Think about your next moves, or I’ll bring you a French Fucks head for dinner.”

“You’re a prick.” As the words come out of your mouth, you know it’s a mistake. Peter’s face goes red and he grabs your wrist tight. “Let go of me!” You yell and try to shove his hand off. His grip gets tighter and as you try to push your heels into the ground to stop movement, he is much stronger than you. You lose your footing and fall to the floor, but Peter doesn’t stop. He continues to drag you down the hall by your wrist as you kick, scream, and squirm. You make it to your room and he picks you up and tosses you in there.

“You can stay in here until you decide to be a good fucking wife.” He slams the door as you run towards it.

“Let me out you fucker! I’ll fucking kill you! You can’t keep me trapped in here!” You yell and bang on the door.

“I’ll visit you tonight and see if you’re in a better fucking mood.”

“Peter! Dickhead!” There is silence and you know he is gone. You are locked in your room, with no books, no friends. You are completely alone. Only a quill, some paper, and your thoughts. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you decided to sit at your desk and write your heart out.

——

You awake, dry tears on your skin, your hair a mess. It’s dark outside and you raise yourself on your elbows to see a figure sitting at your desk. You rub your eyes and let them adjust. You realize it’s Peter sitting at your desk, reading all your angry thoughts.

“Peter?”

“Is this really what you think of me?” You try to recollect what you had written.

“Yes, from what I remember.”

“But everybody loves me. So there is obviously something wrong with you and not with me.”

“Or maybe everyone just pretends to love you.” You can see a hurt look on Peter’s face.

“Elizabeth told me that I have to make you love me.” You snort. You do like Elizabeth. She’s Peter’s aunt and she has been very kind to you since you arrived. She has told you a little of Peter and his parents. In a way you feel sorry for him. His parents sounded cruel, his mother more than his father. From what Elizabeth has told me, she hated Peter. “Why are you laughing? It is not a jape.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Peter, I could never love you.”

“Well, why not?” He stands and makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge.

“Because you are heartless. You care not for others and only love yourself. I could never love a man as cruel and selfish as you.” You say honestly.

“What… Tell me something about yourself.”

“What?”

“In your writings, you say I know nothing about you. I have not gotten to know you. Tell me something.” You ponder for a moment.

“Back home, I had a Dutch Hound named Truffle. He was my best friend.” Peter’s eyes light up like a little boys, and it makes you smile for a moment.

“I have a dog Zeus! And truffle season is my favorite! Shaving it over bread and butter. It’s the deepest of autumn.” He looks off in the distance, remembering a past truffle season.

“My father used to take me every winter.” You smile at your own memory.

“Our love of truffles and dogs. We’ve found something in common. Huzzah.” He says, and I giggle.

“Huzzah. This does not make me love you.”

“You call me cruel, but you seem to have no love in your heart. Like I said, everyone loves me.”

“You dragged me down the hall by my wrist and locked me in a room like a prisoner. You haven’t gotten to know me, even an ounce, and you continue to talk about all the French you killed like it is a jape.”

“Killing French Fuckers is pretty funny.”

“Those are my people. What if I joked about murdering Russians?”

“They were happy to give their lives for me, for Russia. If you were a man you’d understand.” You roll your eyes in annoyance.

“That’s the other thing. You think woman are here to open their legs and close their mouths.”

“Because they are. The women in court know their place. You’ll learn yours soon enough.”

“That’s what you misunderstand. I will never learn my place.” You stare at one another and you feel tension rise.

“You’re fiery. It makes my cock rock hard.”

“The idea of your cock in me makes me wretch.”

“You have not seen or felt it yet. I am of massive cock. You will love it, as well as me.” Peter pats your leg and stands to leave.

“Am I free to go?” Peter’s hands are on the door knobs as he ponders for a moment.

“You do not love me yet. I’ll be back tomorrow. We shall have breakfast together.” He walks out the door and you hear the lock click. You throw yourself against your pillow, grabbing one and holding it over your face. You scream the loudest scream.

——

The next morning you wake and throw on your pink, silk robe. You tidy up the mess of papers on your desk. You wait for a small time until the door finally opens. You hurry to stand and Peter walks in. He has on a fur hat and his red and gold robe.

“Good morning wife. Sit.” He point to the chair across the small, circular table. A serf walks in, laying out fruits, bacon, eggs, and small cakes.

“Tea?” I nod my head to the serf and he pours some in my cup. I take a sip and close my eyes at the feeling of the warmth going down my throat.

“You are pretty. You look as if you were the sun itself.” I open my eyes to see Peter smiling at me.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask.

“Well we are to marry in 6 days. I must get you to love me.”

“Do you love me?”

“Well, you do make my cock hard, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Making your cock hard and your heart soft are two completely different things.” You raise your brows at him and put a strawberry in your mouth

“That is true. Tell me something about yourself.” Peter shovels eggs into his mouth.

“I’ve thought about killing you.” You smile at Peter and he begins to laugh.

“I’ve thought about killing you too. This is why we are perfect together. My father always said ‘if a woman tries to kill you, you’re in business.’ Deep down I know you love me.”

“Tell me about your parents.” Peter stops eating his breakfast and sits for a time in silence.

“Well, father was… great. He is Peter the Great. He was a wondrous fighter and fucker. Mother, she was cruel. She loved me, but Igor always used to tell me his mother was much better than mine. Elizabeth used to hold me and tuck me in, while mother-she…” his voice fades off and I see tears fighting to pour. In this moment he’s like a little boy who got his ball taken from him. He looks so innocent and sweet. I haven’t seen Peter like this since I arrived. Elizabeth told me his mother would lock him in a closet for days by himself. Little Peter would go mad in there all alone. He sniffles and I reach my hand out to lay it on his. I think this is the first time we’ve touched in an honest way. Not drunkenly being thrown around in a dance or groped in public. Peter looks at my hand and then at my eyes. We stare at each other for a long moment.

“Fuck.” Peter states.

“What is it?” I ask, removing my hand and putting it in my lap.

“I think I love you.”

“Peter, you’re sweet.” I smile at him.

“Do you love me?”

“No.”

“Breakfast is over.” Peter stands and heads for the door.

“Can I come out?”

“Will it make you love me?”

“No.”

“Then no. I’ll be back for dinner.”

——

It’s been 4 days of being locked in your room. The wedding is tomorrow and Peter comes and visits every day, two to three times a day. He professes his love every time, asking if you feel the same way. As the days have gone on, Peter has really tried to put in the effort to get to know you. He gave you some books, asks lots of questions about you, and has even tried writing you love letters. Though they are terrible and incredibly sexual, you do find them sweet and comical.

“We’re having pork belly and moose lips for dinner!” Peter squeals in excitement as he takes a seat at the table. You sit across from his and he takes your hand.

“You look lovely wife.” He raises your hand to his lips and kisses your fingers softly. “I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“That’s very sweet. I can’t wait.” You nod. You go through dinner with some small talk about Peter’s day. He rants about Velementov losing the war with the Swedes and how annoying Orlo is.

After dinner he tells you to cover your eyes. You follow his instructions and wait.

“Open.” You open your eyes to see a brown Dutch Hound in his arms. He has silky hair and the sweetest brown eyes. You gasp and run to him, giggling.

“Truffle!” You squeal and grab your pup in your arms, showering him with kisses.

“I had him shipped all the way here from France.” A small tear runs down your cheek. “Fuck, you’re crying. Did I make you sad?” You sniffle and put Truffle on your bed.

“No. I mean, I do miss home, but this gives me tears of joy. Thank you Peter.” You hug him tightly. Your cheeks rest against his maroon velvet coat. He smells of trees and soap and you take in his scent. You’ve never smelled him before, but you love it. You also just now noticed the recognizable height difference. He is over six feet tall and as you lift your head to look up at him your met with his blue eyes. You’ve never noticed how bright and beautiful they are. They do sparkle. He is smiling down at you and you feel a tingle in your lower belly. You find yourself gravitating closer toward him until finally your lips are touching. His are so soft as they brush against yours.

You come to a realization of the moment and move yourself off of him. What am I doing?

“Are you okay?” Peter moves toward you and you back away, putting your hand out toward him.

“No. I-I need lots of rest for the big day tomorrow.” You need some time to think about what just happened.

“Y/N, I’d like-“

“Peter, please leave!” You say harshly, and louder than you meant to. Peter expression turns to a sad one. He grabs his wig and throws it on over his short brown hair, storming out of the room. You lay on your bed, staring at the canopy of gold cloth that hangs above you. You think about this kiss. You think about this past week, locked in this room with Peter. Locked in this room!

You shoot up and look at the door. You shove your feet in your slippers and run for the door. You slowly grab the knob, turning it. It’s unlocked. You laugh to yourself and shove it open, running down the hall. You make it down the stairs and push through the front doors. You take a deep breath of fresh air. You look up and stare at the moon and the stars. It’s beautiful out tonight. You’ve missed the fresh air. It’s only been a week, but it’s felt like an eternity. You start to run through the front lawn, letting the cold air flow threw your hair. You stop when you’re out of breath and sit in a bench in the garden.

“Y/N?” You look at the voice that called you and see Elizabeth pulling her garments up as a guard pulls himself out from her dress. “You may go.” She shoos him away. She comes and sit next to you on the bench. “I see Peter let you out.”

“Or forgot to lock the door.”

“I told him not to lock you in there. He does love you, you know. In his own, odd sort of way.”

“I know. He tells me daily.” She smiles at you.

“And how do you feel about him?”

“I’m not sure. I came here hating him. I imagined killing him in all honesty. He locked me in a room, said hurtful things about my people, and dragged me down a hall.” I stop and stare at my hands.

“But,” Elizabeth inquires.

“But, I kissed him.”

“Peter is a sweet boy. I know he is hard to love, but once you give him a chance, you see he is full of love. His mother was cruel, and he didn’t receive much as a child. I believe this is why it is hard for him to show love to others. Maybe you have seen this side of Peter not many get to see, and you have fallen in love with it.”

“But it feels wrong. I feel as if I am going against myself by letting myself love him.”

“How is it going against yourself if it is you that wants it?” I juggle her words in my head for a little.

“Maybe you’re right. You are a true friend.” You hug her.

“And you.” She agrees. You both stand and you head back into your room. You lay in your bed and dream of your wedding tomorrow and if you will decide if you love Peter or not.

——

The next morning you are awoke by Margaret throwing open your bedroom curtains. The light burns your eyes and you cover your face with a pillow.

“Good morning Empress. It’s the big day. We must get you ready.”

“Five more minutes Margaret.”

“Sorry Empress. We must get started.” You groan and throw your blanket off.

——

After several hours of getting your hair done and getting multiple layers of your gown on you finally slip your feet into your white heels.

“The final touch.” Margaret places a gold crown atop your head. It is littered with diamonds and shines in the sun that’s coming through the window. You look in the mirror and see your gorgeous wedding gown. The white silk glistens. “You look beautiful. It is almost time. Are you ready Empress?”

“I’m ready Margaret.” You nod and take a deep breath. You head down the hall until you reach the top of the stairs. At the bottom of the steps you see Peter in a blue velvet suit with gold accents, with his teal sash across his chest. His back is turned towards you and he does not realize you are there. You hear a small gasp from some women in the court and the Emperor turns around. His mouth falls open at the sight of you and he takes a deep breath. Your stomach fills with butterflies. He looks so handsome. You grab the sides of your dress and make your way down the stairs with elegance. You meet Peter at the bottom and he holds a hand out to you. You take it and smile.

“Empress.”

“Emperor.”

“You are breathtaking.” Peter whispers and you giggle.

“As are you.” Peter’s cheeks flush.

“Shall we get fucking married.”

“We shall.” You both turn toward the arch bishop and your ceremony begins.

——

“You may now kiss the Empress.” The arch bishop says. Peter grabs both your hands and leans in slowly. Your lips touch and you feel a spark you’ve never felt with Peter before. As the kiss ends you wish for more.

“Huzzah!” The whole court yells. Peter and you laugh.

“Let fucking party!” Peter shouts.

——

The rest of your evening is spent drinking, laughing, and dancing with your husband. You never thought you would feel this way for Peter, but feelings changed so quickly within a week. So quickly you are unsure of what happened.

“It’s now time to consummate the marriage.” Archie, the arch bishop, tells both of you. You tense a little. You’ve been thinking about this moment and have been terrified of the thought. You are a virgin, which is a requirement for women before they marry. Peter is definitely not a virgin. You have seen and heard him fuck Georgia in the halls. You hear her screams of pleasure and it makes you nervous. What if I am not as good as her? What is this makes him not love me?

Peter grabs your hand. “Let’s go, wife.” You are led to Peter’s bedroom, which you have never seen before. It is a large room with a massive bed. You turn around and Margaret unlaces your corset and pulls it off of your shoulders. “I got it from here.” Peter excuses her. You take a deep breath as Peter turns you around to face him. His fingers find the ties of your dress and pulls at the strings, loosening it around your shoulders. The top half of your dress falls down completely, and it’s about to expose your breasts before you catch it. “What is wrong?” Peter asks, concern in his eyes. “Does the thought of my cock still disgust you?” You chuckle and shake your head.

“No. No.” Is all you can say.

“Then what is it?”

“Peter, I-I’m nervous.” He brings his warm hand to your cheek and caresses your face. You lock eyes and he leans in to kiss you. Your lips meet and you feel those butterflies once again. You pull back for a moment.

“Y/N, stop resisting me. I know you love me. You kissed me last night.” His warm breath hits your cheeks, and you know he’s right. You find it so hard to admit it to yourself, but he’s right. Elizabeth is right.

“I do think I love you.” Peter smiles and it fills your heart with warmth. You reconnect your lips and feel lighter than you ever have before. You kiss for a what feels like so much time, yet no time at all.

“I love you, Y/N.”

#the great #peter the great #fanfic #fan fiction #the great Peter #nicholas hoult #Nicholas hoult fanfic #Nicholas hoult fanfiction #catherine the great #the great fanfiction #Peter fanfic #Peter fanfiction

59 notes · View notes