#=and never shall it arise again=

[articulatetrick]

I kn⊙w n⊙t h⊙w to help y⊙u understand that my way is the ⊙nly path f⊙rward f⊙r us. I ⊙nce thought y⊙u we’re reas⊙nable yet y⊙u remain blinded by an ancient grudge neither of us have any true part ⊙f.

=first and foremost i can deduce you have failed to be sufficiently knowledgeable in my ways to be aware that what opposes the both of us has been since the beginning=

=truly the ancestral struggle dividing us is great in the matters of honor and revenge for i shall achieve what my ancestor died devoid of=

=but you are vastly mistaken to believe this is the only dichotomy between you and i=

=the wicked despot your dreams depict you to be shall never come=

=the new universe will thrive sans caste and sans imperialist tyrant crowning its skies=

=it is but a matter of time=

#=the empire has fallen= #=and never shall it arise again=

[bitterchocoo]

Hello!!Haha, I'm very glad that you liked my idea with Argenti! I don't want to impose too much, but I have so many ideas! For example, I have this idea - A reader from the Genius Society who is very interested in Doctor Ratio.

Again, if you are not interested, you don’t have to do it!

-Anon 🌾

A Waste of Talent

Dr. Veritas Ratio | M. Reader as X [Reverse: 1999]

----------

Are you sure you're not a mind reader? I swear I was working on this while making that Argenti one. Where are the cameras?? Did we met before??

----------

The Genius Society is known for many things. Their intelligence, their ambitions, their determination.

Accomplishing things beyond mere humans.

And yet... There is always one odd duckling in every group..

.

.

What a waste of talent...

That is the first thing Dr. Ratio thought when he met [Name].

This man.. this researcher... this brilliant, and intelligent researcher...

Why is he even doing this?! He could be so much more and yet he continues to lay around, doing aimless research, and making useless inventions!

Why?! Why would he waste that genius brain of his?!

"Honestly," He stated, his voice shaking with fury, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

He took a deep breath to try and control himself, but the heat of his anger still burned hotly within him.

"You are squandering a once-in-a-generation opportunity to become an intellectual powerhouse," Dr. Ratio continued, his voice dripping with frustration. "What a shame."

The researcher in question merely smiles at the other's reaction as his eyes drift to the clipboard in his hand. To be honest.. he doesn't care. He doesn't care how he's "not using his full potential" in fact, he's quite happy with what he's doing now. Even if some people branded his inventions as "useless."

Plus...

Dr. Ratio's reactions are always a sight he loves to see~ the confusion mixed with frustration. What a sight to see on a man whose intelligence could rival a member of the Genius Society. [Name] had always found Dr. Ratio to be an intriguing man and even with those harsh words being directed towards him, [Name] still found him to be a fascinating individual.

Getting a reaction out of him had also become a "hobby" of his. Just those clever, witty comebacks and with how expressive he is? It's always a joy to mess with him~

Which lead to their current predicament...

Ever since [Name] became interested with Dr. Ratio, he had made the doctor his personal tester for his inventions and oh... how wonderful those days have been~ the way he gets so worked up with every invention, saying that the Genius is wasting their talent.

Making Dr. Ratio test his inventions had easily became the highlight of his day~

"Are you done talking now? Alright.. shall we proceed with the testing?"

"So... you're next research is about... fried chicken?" Dr. Ratio asked, reading the papers as his gaze darted to the invention once in a while. This can't be real... how come this genius ever think of such a thing? He could be working on some life changing invention or discovery! Why is he dedicating an invention regarding fried chicken?!

"The inspiration came from the explosion.. introducing: The Breadcrumb Spraying Dispenser." The researcher stated as he took the papers from Dr. Ratio and began flipping through them. "An invention which will bring the flavor of your food to a significant level."

"Care to test it for me?'

....That's his inspiration into making this..? This.. thing?

"An explosion inspired you to make this? What explosion?"

"The one back at Herta's Space Station."

.

.

.

.

The day that the Genius Society decided to have their little meet up. [Name] never would have thought that Dr. Ratio is also at the Space Station.

At first, [Name] didn't think much of it. That is... until the whole Annihilation Gang thing happened..

As a kind person he is, he decided to lend them his help not only that, as a fellow Genius Society member he can't let danger arise in Herta's Space Station

.

.

"Go, go! Retreat!"

"Damn... get that ship moving!"

How... interesting..

It's not everyday that the Space Station is being raided like this, especially not from the Annihilation Gang. He thought they were more of a "rush in and kill everyone" type of organization. Who would have thought they have more in mind than to kill him...

[Name] let out a yawn as he casually sat in one of the hidden rooms of the facility as if the whole place isn't being raided or trampled upon by unwanted guests.

"So... the target of the Annihilation Gang is the space ship? But they only sent a bunch of dummies who can hardly accomplish anything." He chuckles in amusement as he continues to eavesdrop on their conversation. It's common for Space Stations to have ships and pods, especially for one as big as Herta's.

"Take all the supplies, the flower and everything! Don't forget the coffee beans!"

"Huh?" [Name] blurred out without thinking.

Standing up from his sitting position, he burst open the door. "Stop right there. You brutal criminals." He said casually as he put a finger gun on the side of his head and did a "fire" motion.

Taken aback by the sudden involvement, the group stood there in shock. Just who is this guy?

"Why don't you listen to the smart guy here, give up your plan and leave. Okay?" He continues, taking a seat at one of the desks as he begins making a cup of coffee on the machine next to him like it's a regular Tuesday.

"What..?"

"This is a gliding ship powered by Arcanum. To start it up... the whole Space Station's electric will be cut off for 5 hours." He explains casually as he made a latte art on his coffee.

Getting fed up with him, one of them pointed their weapon on the side of the scientist's head. "I don't care what you have to do, get this thing moving!"

[Name] merely chuckles in response. "Alright.. at your service.."

"Let the butterfly flap its wings and bring us the hurricane we need.."

BOOM!!

"The ship exploded?! What have you done?!"

"It's just another way to activate it, now say.. thank you, butterfly.." He smiles as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Just because he makes "useless inventions" doesn't mean he doesn't have a trick up his sleeve. Sometimes... [Name] took great advantage of their ignorance..

And Dr. Ratio... is one he takes delight in~

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x #🌾 anon #veritas ratio #dr veritas ratio

[miniwheat77]

Simon Says. (Ghost X Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, this is kinda short, Smut, Rough Sex, Oral Sex (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, Minors DNI -_-

Summary: After reader harasses Ghost enough, he decides to play you at your own game.

Since you joined the Task Force, everyone noticed how playful and fun you were. You reminded them a lot of Johnny. Some even referred to you as a younger- female version of Soap. The both of you got along real well. Poor Ghost was getting harassed in so many ways, and it had been ramped up.

Especially when you found out his real name was Simon. You tortured him nonstop. Anytime he led missions and gave any orders you’d always make jokes.

“Oh, Simon says we take the building on the left, let’s go.”

“You have to say Simon says first or we won’t go.”

“He’s Simon, anything he says goes.”

You always cracked little jokes like that. Usually you got an eye roll in return. You never really thought much would come of it. You thought if he didn’t like it, he’d pull you aside and complain, but that never happened. He took your harassment and gave you little in return. Until one night.

You made your way back to your room, skin warm and red from the shower you’d just had. You’d forgotten a towel which meant your hair was soaked and your clothes were damp. You were frustrated and all you needed to do was get back to your room. You flinched a little as you felt water dripping down your back from your soaked hair. You opened up your door, stepping inside and closing the door behind yourself before flicking the light on. You don’t notice him at first. Your bed was up against the wall in the center of the room, toward the foot of your bed was a desk with a small wooden chair a few feet away. You didn’t see him, but Simon was sitting there. You looked around for a towel to ring your hair out with, a gasp leaving your lips when you finally see him. “Jesus Ghost.” You rest your hand over your chest. “How long have you been sitting there?” He shrugs. Avoiding your question completely.

What you didn’t know, is that Ghost had overheard a few of the other girls on base talking about you, how you had a crush on him.

“You said since my names’ Simon, anything I say goes right?” He asks. “Uh..” you creep toward the foot of your bed, sitting on the edge of it. A few feet away from him. “I.. I guess so? It’s just a joke.” You say nervously. He’s leaning back, leg propped up over the other as he plays with his gloves. His eyes are watching them, only looking up at you when he starts again. “Let’s play Simon says than, shall we?” You look at him confused as he slides his foot off of the other, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair completely. “I.. I don’t think I understand-“ you go to stand up.

“Sit down.”

You obey him, keeping sat down.

“Good girl.” He smiles. “Learning quickly yeah?” He nods.

“Take your shirt off.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Simon says, sweet girl. Take it off.”

“Are you serious?”

A deep chuckle leaves his lips. “Deadly.”

You swallow hard. Reaching down for the hem of your damp shirt, pulling it up and over your head. He takes a deep breath, the sound of his breaths getting more and more ragged. “Now take your shorts off.”

You hesitate for a second, his eyes burning into yours. You like Simon sure, but never thought anything like this would ever happen, you had to be dreaming right? You slip them down your thighs. You had no undergarments on, you had literally just left the shower. You now sat completely naked in front of him. “Ring your hair out.” He starts to tap his foot. You grasp your hair together in one hand, squeezing it, moving your enclosed fingers down. Drips of water coating your shoulders and chest. A growl leaves his lips as he watches the water spill down your body. Shivers going up your spine and your nipples harden from the chills arising on your skin. “Stand up.” You obey him. Standing up. “Cmere.” His voice is so deep, so sexy. You take in a jagged breath, taking slow steps toward him. You stop right in front of him, and he reaches forward, pulling you closer into him by the back of your thigh. He leans forward. Taking a deep breath in.

He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust. “Get on your knees.” He breathes.

You drop to your knees quickly. He leans back in the chair, watching you for a second. His gloved hand glides across your shoulder, over your collar bone and up your throat, lifting your chin to look up at him. His voice is low and deep when he speaks again, almost a whisper. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, yeah?” He breathes. You nod your head. “Yes sir.”

His cock jumps in his cargo pants at the nickname you’ve given him. He’s heard it before, but obviously not like this. He reaches down, unbuckling his belt. He’s moving slow, admiring the way that you watch him so intently. Simon would stop if you were uncomfortable, but the way you’re looking at him. He can tell he has nothing to worry about. You scoot closer as Simon slides his thick cock through the zipper of his pants, “Suck my cock.” He breathes. You raise yourself up slightly, hands resting on his thick thighs as you grasp the base of his cock, he watches you intently, the way you lick a stripe up the base, swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock. “Oh fuck..” he breathes, sliding down further in the chair. You take him further down, hallowing your cheeks and started to suck harder, his eyes widening. You’re bobbing your head up and down with your movements, hand pumping the parts of his fat cock that you can’t fit in your mouth. The way your hair moves. Lips swelling with the friction, the absolutely filthy and lewd sounds coming from your lips. It’s thrown him for a curveball, Simon hasn’t been with a woman in years. He’s realizing it now. He slides his glove off, reaching down and gathering a handful of your hair up, guiding you down his cock.

He tilts his head back and you take the advantage, looking up at him. His mask raises just a little bit and when he swallows you can see his adams apple bobbing. He’s panting hard, clutching your hair tightly, earning a whimper from your lips. The vibrations from your mouth has him bucking his hips into you. “F-fuck- so good-“ he gasps, his thighs starting to shake a little under your grasp. He releases his grasp on your damp hair, clutching the chair tightly. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and your eyes start to water. He looks back down at you, finally staring right directly into your eyes. You’re looking up at him through your eyelashes and Simon has to fight off the urge to bust right there. “Stop.” He pushes you back. He stands up, helping you up from the floor. He lifts you up, laying you back on your bed and moving himself above you. He’s staring down at you, and your eyes widen slightly as he grasps the bottom of his mask, pulling it up and over his face. Revealing himself to you. You were looking at Simon, all of him. “You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip, heart racing in your chest. You nod your head. Your nerves are shot and he can tell. “Have you done this before?” He asks. You nod your head. “You seem nervous.” He chuckles. “It’s been a while-“ you take in a shaky breath. “Just try to relax for me. M’not gonna hurt ya.” He breathes. He tugs his sweater over his head, his shirt following with it. He unbuttons his pants, they’re sitting low on his waist already. You glance down, following the v on his fit body down to his fat cock, something you’re not used to. He moves himself lower on the bed, moving himself between your legs. He pushes your legs apart further, grasping you by your thighs and pulling you down until you’re laying on your back. You’re stiff and he can read you easily. He knows you’ll get used to him though. He’s not worried.

He takes hold of your thighs so that you can’t squirm away from him. He can tell you’ve probably never been gone down on, and if you had it wasn’t any good. He knows once he starts you’ll get sensitive and try to move away. His grip on your thighs will prevent it. He looks you dead in the eyes as he glides his tongue over your clit for the first time, you visibly melt into him, tilting your head back with a gasp and reaching to clutch at the sheets. His tongue glides between your folds and you fall apart right there. Tongue moving through your folds like a warm knife gliding through butter. You clamp your hand down over your mouth and Simon knows, it’s a shame he won’t get to hear your cries. But that’s something for another time. He glides his tongue over your clit, lapping at it and sucking it between his lips until you’re swollen and sensitive. Squirming as you’re right on the edge. You’ve never cum like this and as desperate as you are, you don’t know if you can stay quiet. He pulls away and your body relaxes. “Hands and knees sweetheart.” He mumbles. You obey him immediately, which is good.

Because this is still Simon says.

He moves himself up slightly, gliding his hand over your back, pushing down on your middle so that you arch your back for him. Feeling his hands glide down your hips until they’re resting right on your ass, spreading them so that he can get a good look at you. He lowers himself and once you feel his tongue at your hole, you jump forward. The sensation is completely unfamiliar and he tries to hold you still, you’re realizing pretty quickly that Simon has no limit. He’s doing this casually. You’re clutching at the sheets tightly, burying your face into them which was the goal. To muffle your moans. He rubs circles over your clit as he swirls his tongue over your ass, sliding a couple fingers into your pussy. You realize quickly you’ve never been so stimulated. Your orgasm is approaching pathetically fast as he works you up to it, fingers brushing over your walls, moving through you perfectly, tongue lapping at your hole. You cry into the sheets, thighs shaking violently as you reach your first orgasm. He works you through it until you’re overstimulated and shying away from his touch. He pulls away from you, wiping his saliva from around his mouth. He moves up, and you feel his cock prodding at your entrance. You’re nervous for how thick he is, but your haze from your first orgasm keeps the nerves at bay for now.

You feel the tip of his cock pushing past your folds, and his eyes widen as you swallow him up, feeling tight just around the tip. You can feel every inch of his cock as he sinks himself into your hole, a slight burn from him stretching your walls further than they ever have before. You’re biting the sheets to stay quiet and he’s smirking down at you. When his hips are flush with yours and he can hear you sobbing from the shear size of him stretching you open. Splitting you open on his cock, he leans over you. Mouth right next to your ear. His voice is low, deep and scratchy. “I want you to remember this. The way you feel on my cock whenever you want to make your little jokes about Simon says.” He breathes, drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you hard. You cry into the sheets and he chuckles again. “Simon says take his cock like a good fucking slut.” His deep laugh is taunting as he starts in. He’s rough, showing you no mercy as he fucks his cock into you as deep as it’ll fit. You’re crying into the sheets, overstimulated and overwhelmed. You can barely take the brooding man, how on earth he’s going so deep is beyond you. He grasps a handful of your hair, pulling you back into him until your back is flush with his chest. Your skin is cold from your damp hair. A different contrast to his heated and sweaty chest. He rests his hand around your throat, tilting your head back to kiss him.

“Such a good fucking girl for me, keeping up.” He groans. He’s got a death grip on your hips, there will for sure be fingertip sized bruises there the next day. You can’t even form coherent thoughts as he pounds himself into you, and it’s even worse when he lowers a hand to rub at your sensitive nub. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut. You can feel another orgasm building, his cock brushing right up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I heard your little friends talking about how you had a crush on me.” He pants. His own high is approaching quickly. Your cheeks are turning red. “Guess it worked out huh?” He smirks. He’s trying to distract himself, he doesn’t want to cum first. “Simon-“ you mewl. “Rub your clit.” He breathes. You listen to him again, rubbing quick circles over it. He grasps your hips, taking skilled and quick thrusts into you. Keeping the same pace. You moan into the pillow as you reach another high and he fucks you right through it. This one is more intense than the last, your vision going white. Simon groans out as he reaches his own high. Cock twitching hard with each spurt of his cum that he releases deep inside of you, not even bothering with the consequences. He lowers himself into you, resting his forehead against the middle of your back. He’s panting hard, worn out and completely fucked out.

“You did so good for me.” he breathes. You can’t help as your cheeks turn red. A gasp leaves your lips when he slides out of you. He groans out, seeing his filth spill back out of your hole could easily get him hard again. He helps you off of the bed, helping you clean up and get redressed. Once you finish, he’s waiting patiently in the chair at your desk for you. “Come here.” He breathes. You walk toward him, and he pulls you into him, looking up at you again. “You’re a good girl you know that?” He breathes, earning a smile from you. “Hey, Simon says right?” You smile, leaning down to kiss him.

“Yeah. Simon says.”

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost smut

[igotanidea]

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time. 

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping  “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled  her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

[fayes-fics]

Reprisal

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Turnabout is fair play. Sequel to Acting Up.

Warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, exhibitionism, semi-public blowjob, deepthroat, swallowing, brief d/s dynamics, brief mention of window sex.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: So, I was in the mood to write a filthy blowjob fic, and this has been sitting in my drafts for more than a year. It was inspired by an ask from the lovely @queen-of-the-misfit-toys, so it is dedicated to them. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

Your toes tingle from crouching in the same awkward position for what feels like the last… eternity. But revenge is a dish best served not so much cold, as when least expected.

You hear him warmly greet all his guests out in the hallway, then beckon them towards the dining room. He sits at the head of the table, just a few inches in front of you. All is unfolding exactly as you expect so far. 

You are so very grateful no one kicks you as they take their places, the convivial buzz of conversation muffled under the thick drape of tablecloth fabric. You shift slightly to get more comfortable, knowing you must wait patiently a while longer; your window of opportunity will arise after their light two-course supper.

Just two weeks ago, your husband had mercilessly made you orgasm silently in front of his entire family as he fingered you to oblivion at dinner. It is now his turn. 

As Smith serves the men dessert, you place a firm hand on Benedict’sknee when you hear him complete a sentence, and his whole leg jolts. It’s the only forewarning you give him before running both hands heavily up over his muscular thighs and grabbing for his resting cock. You feel both his legs jerk, and a hand grabs your wrist forcefully. Next to you, a spoon clatters loudly to the floor, smattering a streak of blackcurrant across the pristine oak floor.

“Butterfingers!” He jests. 

Suddenly, his face appears under the drape of cloth and morphs into one of surprise as he sees you. With a raised eyebrow, you shove a little note into his hand, you came prepared.

Do not give anything away. Now we shall see how well you play this game, my love.

You watch him quickly scan the note, and then his eyes cut back to you, trepidation, challenge, and adoration—a beguiling cocktail. Realising if he stays under too long, his guests will suspect something; he straightens but not before a loving touch to your chin.

“Could not find the blasted thing,” he jokes in explanation. “Smith, please, could you bring me a new spoon?”

As soon as the conversation begins again, you reach to squeeze him again, and he helpfully pushes forward in his chair and splays his legs wider. 

Well played, darling.

You can feel a burgeoning swelling there, and you reach for the buttons at his hip, wanting to dive right in. As soon as you peel open the front of his trousers, his cock springs free, already half-erect. The fact he never seems to wear underwear makes you smirk—your wonderful bohemian whore of a husband. 

You wrap a hand around him, and you can tell from the way his hips surge how much he appreciates it. Slowly, teasingly, you strengthen your grip. He probably suspects you will just use your hands, as he did to you. You cannot wait to see how he will react when you use your mouth on him. You intend to suck him deep and hard, not wanting to be bettered in this game of one-upmanship. 

You shuffle forward, and a hand reaches under the table to pat your shoulder affectionately. 

Without preamble, you suckle his tip into your mouth and feel his whole body tense in surprise, his thigh muscles tensing, and his fingers dig into your shoulder reflexively. Smirking to yourself, you swirl your tongue around his head as his hand travels along the top of your shoulder to cup the side of your neck, his thumb swiping a few tender strokes just under your ear. 

You feel the vibration through his body as he talks, calling upon his friend to regale everyone with tales from his recent travels. “Spare no details!” he appends with an accommodating chuckle, relaxing into his chair and pushing his hips towards you, sliding deeper into your mouth as he does. 

You appreciate his smarts for that decision - he can appear to be listening intently as a gracious host but not having to lead any conversation. 

Taking a deep breath, you sink, taking half of his cock into your mouth, revelling in the contours as they pass through your lips and the twitch of his fingers in the hair behind your ear, his warm palm cupping your jaw. So you push a little lower, as far as you can, without fear of making a noise - you do not want to give anything away by choking yourself on him, as you love to do—that will have to wait for another time, in private. This is more of a challenge for him than anything.

You still, to let him feel the heat of your mouth, enticingly dabbing your tongue over his length, before pulling up and concentrating on his sensitive head, sucking on his frenulum and letting his foreskin roll between your lips, a slight twisting action to your movements that you know he loves. He coughs, causing his cock to jerk into the roof of your mouth, his fingers sliding tentatively around the back of your head as if planning to direct your movements.

No, no, I decide what happens here, dearest.

You grab his hand away and hold it on his thigh instead, lacing your fingers with his as you lower again, his fingertips curling between your knuckles, telling you exactly how much he is enjoying this, even as he remains mostly silent and still, his friend still holding court around the table above.

“I did miss my wife, though,” the man ripostes as his story ends. “Her womanly delights were a wonderful homecoming.” 

There is a bawdy round of laughter at that.

“And what of you, Bridgerton?’ you hear one ask as you change your motion, his tip glancing the back of your mouth with each deep pull.

“What of me?” his voice a touch rough.

“You are not long married. How is that sweet, innocent, young thing?” the same man continues.

You have to tamp the urge to giggle at the irony of being called innocent while kneeling between your husband's splayed legs, mere inches from his unsuspecting friends, sucking his cock so thoroughly that your jaw aches deliciously.

If only they knew…

“She is a wonder, and I love her more than life itself,” Benedict praises after clearing his throat. A warmth blooms behind your ribs as his sweet words, such a contradiction to the utter debauchery of your actions at this very moment.

“Spoken like a true poet,” another man mocks affably. “Come now, we speak of earthier matters tonight, Bridgerton. There are no such delicate ears to overhear after all.”

You want to roll your eyes at their prurient line of talk. Even as you slide up and down on Benedict’s cock, moving faster now, wanting to truly put him to the test, as he did you, something in the way he tilts his hips fractionally tells you all your need to know.

“As I said, my wife is a wonder,” he repeats with finality, gritting his teeth. 

To his friends, it likely seems he is attempting to arrest the topic out of decorum, not the fact he is struggling with composure, which you can detect from the tinge of desperation, the twitch in his legs, the harsh grip of his hand on yours. 

As talk moves on to gambling around the table, the volume increases as the men splinter into side conversations, an opportune moment for you to be a touch daring. Sinking to his root, allowing his solid, hot tip to plug your throat, emitting a tiny moan as you do, buzzing into his pelvis. Benedict’s entire body stiffens, and you feel a crest of victory as he fights not to make a noise; his body at war, wanting to thrust, to grab, to do anything but sit still and take it.

Tougher than it looks, is it not, darling husband?

You want to chuckle, but your mouth is too full of him, a salty bead of precum trickling down your throat as you ease off to allow him a moment of reprieve and yourself a deep, calming breath. Tilting your head sideways and running suckling kisses over the underside of his cock, all the way to his sac that you lap as your other hand wraps around his tip and gives soft teasing squeezes.

His hand untangles from yours on his leg and wraps around your other hand, attempting to halt your motions, silently asking for clemency which you ignore, batting him away. He gave you no such accommodation in front of his own mother, no less.

But you take pity and decide not to string it out for much longer, his friends loud now the wine bottles are empty, one beginning to sing tunelessly, and another joining in a few bars later. Using both of your hands wound around his lower shaft, constricting in a wave motion, and your mouth sucking forcefully on his head. Encourage him to break, to come, wanting that taste to flood your mouth, a heavy throbbing sensation between your legs that is your arousal. You will need him to fuck you ruthlessly once his entertaining duties are over. Perhaps facedown right over this very table or, preferably, in your bedroom window, your nipples pebbled against the cool glass as he takes you roughly from behind, kneeling on the bench seat… the exhibitionist streak that he provokes in you flaring.

The images tumbling through your mind have you feral, sucking ferociously, pushing his thighs out wider to allow yourself greater access, crowding into him, knowing that with the level of noise in the room now, you can make some sound yourself. The back of your head glancing the underside of the table as you bob rapidly, moaning lightly, drooling on the length of his cock, your saliva pooling into his trousers as you mercilessly rise and sink, breathing heavily through your nose. You sense the tension in his legs, his vice-like grip on the table edge, every cell of his being in pure ecstasy and the agony of not being able to show it. He is usually so very vocal and lavish in his praise when you do this. 

“Come for me, my love, give it to me.” you gargle around him, his legs dancing now in a staccato quake.

Even if he cannot decipher your words, he can feel the echo over his velvet skin, and suddenly, both of his hands dive under the table and grip around your ears, finger grasping your scalp. Pushing you deep onto his cock, his whole being seeming to curl around you, his knees lifting high near your shoulders as you feel his sac tighten against your chin, a strong ripple between your lips and then a salty wave in your mouth as he comes hard.

“Are you alright, Bridgerton?” a concerned voice rings out as you swallow victoriously, then slackening your mouth to allow him to slip out, moving to lick him clean as he quivers under your tender ministrations.

“Sorry, gentleman,” his voice is ragged, harsh. “I felt a wave of nausea; perhaps a lunch of venison and oysters was not advisable. But do not fear, I'm sure it was a fleeting moment of discomfort,” he lies to cover his actions, holding one hand up in a reassuring gesture as his other hand strokes your cheek, your face resting upon his clothed thigh, leaning into his doting fingers, akin to a cat. “However, perhaps it is time we sojourned to the parlour,” he announces as you carefully rebutton his trousers. “‘Tis where I keep my best liquors, after all!!” 

You hear a rousing call of agreement, all around the sound of chairs scraping as they stand and drift towards the exit.

“I will be there, anon, gentlemen; I must speak to my valet first,” Benedict fibs, shifting in his seat but not standing.

As the chorus of voices fades, he pushes out his chair and holds up the tablecloth, staring at you slack-jawed.

“At a loss for words, husband?” you smirk, raising a coquettish eyebrow as he assists you in crawling out from under the table.

“The most delightful revenge, darling wife…” he responds, his eyes glittering. “But the use of your mouth is an escalation. I rather think a declaration of war, not a mere battle.” The very beguiling threat of more challenges to come makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

‘“Promises promises…Sir,” you goad with a wink, dusting off your dress and standing up, hoping the invocation of his play title will spark something in him.

A warm hand clamps firmly around the nape of your neck, making you gasp excitedly.

“Insolence does not go unpunished, little one,” he warns lowly. 

There it is.

“Yes, Sir,” your stance instantly submissive, swaying into him. “Perhaps, you could fuck me against our bedroom window later? So the world can see to whom I belong?”

He growls softly, and his nostrils flare as he crowds into you. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I look forward to it, Sir.” you smile, always enjoying when he behaves domineering. 

However, with a wink, his grip releases, his mien turning gentler, nuzzling your cheek.

“I am quite the luckiest man alive. I love you, darling,” he breathes.

“And I you, husband. Now, go entertain your guests. I will see you later,” you offer, kissing his jaw as you drift towards the door, wrapped in each other's arms.

“I’d rather retire to our bedchamber with you,” he sighs wistfully into your temple.

“I shall be there waiting for you,” you vow. “Naked, except for the jewels you have given me. Thinking of you. Touching myself…” you paint a vivid picture to tempt and tease him.

You squeal as he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, striding purposefully into the hallway, the sounds of the men in the room across the hall unmistakable.

“Smith,” Benedict addresses the man standing dutifully by the front door. “Please tell my guests they are welcome to stay but that I was, in fact, mistaken. I have taken indeed ill with a dreaded stomach bug and must retire from their company immediately,” he pronounces. 

You laugh at his lie, and he slaps your bottom for good measure.

“Will that be all, sir?” His trusty valet replies, tone world-weary.

“Please escort them out the rear entrance when they are done carousing and arrange for their carriages to pick them up in the mews. I do not wish the neighbours to witness their drunken behaviour,” he rejoinders as he begins to climb the stairs with you still dangling over his shoulder. 

Giggling, you wave to Smith as you go, who merely raises three fingers dryly in recognition—he has walked in upon you fucking you in every room of the house since your marriage; this is decidedly mundane.

And as Benedict fulfils your request sometime later - pounding into you so hard that the window rattles in its frame, you clinging to the wooden sash as you stare out across the treetops of the handsome square - you cannot help but wonder if the request to send his friends home another way was not entirely for your benefit.

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[sky-kiss]

Hi love!

Okay so we all know I love your writing, especially for Raphael.

How about a scenario where Tav is in mortal peril and Korilla is NOT around/able to bail them out. Raphael has to do it himself. Well, he doesn't "have" to, but he will.

_________

A/N: MY QUEEN. I will do my best. Think this is the first time I've done a Tav who is DOWN BAD (in more ways than one).

_________

Korilla never failed him. 

It made it all the more shocking when the dwarf appeared at his side, stinking of sweat and brimstone. Her robe, ever flattering, was torn at the shoulder, and the slightly sweet, slightly sick, stink of burnt flesh filled the Devil’s Den. He reached out a hand on instinct, stabilizing her swaying form. The deal he’d been brokering fell by the wayside. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, all too familiar. His carefully laid plans might come apart at the seams. He felt invisible hands pulling at his stitches. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Korilla shook her head. “Your project…your mouse.” She winced. “Got in over her pretty head.” His warlock squeezed his wrist, “Raphael, I couldn’t…” She’d failed to protect his asset. “I kept them off her, but…”

The weight, curling, twisting; fate was determined to spite him again. And beneath that, more insidious, a second thought. Rage. Something had dared to touch her; something had maimed his pet. 

The cambion bowed to his guests, lips pursed. “My associate here, lovely as she is, shall have to entertain you for a moment. Beg pardon, my dears.” 

Raphael snapped his fingers. 

_________

Pain blossomed through her side. Tav staggered back a step, bringing her weapon up to intercept the blow. The blade doesn’t break the skin; she managed to stop that much. The impact…she’s less fortunate. Her muscles screamed, something tearing in her shoulder. 

She’d been stupid. Stupid and shortsighted…

All she’d wanted was a moment's peace. Tav had slipped from the party’s shared room at the Elfsong, determined to watch the sunset in silence. As dearly as she loved her friends, they could be loud and opinionated. After months on the road, with no privacy or distance, she figured she’d earned that much. 

Bhaal’s cultists were waiting. If it’d only been a handful, she could have handled herself. It’d been more, so many more. An inane thought chased through her head as she danced out of the way of another strike: how many changelings were left in Baldur’s Gate? How many Bhaal cultists did Orin have? It seemed excessive. 

Dozens. There were dozens of the damned creatures. For every cultist she killed, another three seemed to arise, like some hellish parody of the hydra. Tav was tired. One of them moved behind her, knife flashing in the dying light. Fresh pain as the blade tore through the muscles in her calf. She screamed. No, no, no, she had to keep moving. They couldn’t hobble her; she couldn’t…

“How dare you.” 

She barely recognized the voice. She was aware of his heat before anything else; the cambion appeared beside her in a wash of flame, catching her attacker by the throat. Panic flashed across the changeling’s face, the briefest hint of emotion before Raphael’s claws tightened their hold. A warm spray of blood coated her face as he tore its throat free, leaving it choking through the ruin of flesh. 

“Insolent creatures! You would touch what is mine?”

They tripped back, almost as one. Tav stared up at her savior, confused, vision swimming. The cambion, red, so red, fire and blood, his right-wing curled around her shoulders. Cherries and sulfur fill her nostrils, too sweet for the night air. Too soft in the face of his fury. Raphael snapped his fingers, and the air around them seemingly combusted. Hellfire consumed her would-be killers. Tendrils of shadow and flame consumed every ounce of flesh and bone, leaving nothing but a black mark on the streets. 

She blinked, staring up at him. Raphael’s eyes continued to blaze, his jaw set. He dusted a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve, lips curling in a sneer. “Strange, I expected the god of murder to employ hardier thralls.” 

Tav swallowed. Her throat burned. “Stealthy.” 

“Hmm?” 

She tried again, struggling to her feet. Raphael caught her elbow. Tav tried to ignore the press of his claws, itching, so full of potential, and the heat of his skin. It had to be the blood loss. His eyes glowed in the half-light. “Orin isn’t looking for hardy. They just need to be quick enough, quiet enough, to catch their victims off guard.” She frowned. “Tonight, they were.” 

“Yes.” The lowness of his voice chased along her nerves like a caress. “Are you bold or stupid, pet? The city wants you dead, and here you are.” He motioned to the darkness surrounding them, the alley nearly bereft of light. "A little mouse, alone in the dark."

She scoffed. “I needed…I wanted a moment to myself. Is that too much to ask?” His gaze flicked to the scorched flagstones, brow arched. Tav shook her head. “Regardless, thank you. It…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Thank you. For saving me.” 

“I sold myself as such, did I not? A friend and savior?” 

Tav smiled. “Truth be told, I didn’t believe you.” 

“And you’re more clever for it, sweetling.” 

Color flared in her cheeks. He was too close for this. Too close, too sweet-smelling, too handsome, and too much. The air in her lungs felt overheated and stagnant by comparison. The blood loss, undoubtedly. Tav chewed her lower lip. “Did you…Raphael, before the…did you call me yours?”  

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, pet.” It’s an answer in itself. Raphael extended his free hand to her. “Come. The devil shall return his erstwhile heroine to her companions.”

“I can make it back on my own.”

The severity of his expression left no room for argument. “No, you’ve lost the benefit of the doubt. I shall leave you safely in your bed. Not before.” 

She hated the flare of heat in her belly. Raphael's hand settled at the small of her back, wings curling more closely as he whispered the incantation to return them to her room. Weak as it may be, she wrapped her arms around him. 

The devil said nothing. But he bent, pressed nearer. Solid and strong, smelling of cherries and fire. Some part of her wondered what he would do if she kissed him.

Tav was saved from any potential embarrassment. Raphael left her at her bedside, bowing, smirking as if he’d followed the line of her thoughts. The damned creature took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. 

And then he was gone in a swirl of fire and ash. 

#raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #asks #my writing #love you friend #hope you like this #raph: i'm protecting my assets #Tav: I want to kiss him on his stupid sexy mouth

[eggplantmaniac420]

Hello, it's nice to meet you.

Oh, how nice. It's a pleasure to meet you as well.

Would you like to shake hands?

Of course.

Which hand would you like to use to shake, and which hand should I use?

Well, the common convention is that both of us should use our right hands, and at the current moment, I see no compelling reason to disregard that tradition.

Great. How shall we shake? Shall I grip from the top or the bottom? Or perhaps, we could even lock our fingers together and shake like that. There are many possible variations.

Conforming to my earlier statement, I see no reason not to use the traditional grip, where I curl my fingers around the bottom edge of your palm and you do likewise, while we nestle our thumb's in each other's thumb-crooks.

Oh, splendid, just splendid. Now, shall I grip gently or firmly? Perhaps somewhere in the middle?

Well, if you grip too tightly, it might hurt my fingers. But on the other hand, if you grip too loosely, we won't enjoy the full pleasure of each other's grips. In my opinion, we should set our strengths somewhere in the middle, ensuring that no complication arises that might compromise our enjoyment.

Ah, but you see, I had already accounted for those complications. I understand well - perhaps too well! - the many pitfalls that riddle the royal road to good handshakes, lying in wait like bandits along the highway, making victims of the ignorant and the incautious. Judging by your obvious familiarity with handshakes, I had assumed from the very first that you were well acquainted with the risks of over-compression and the perils of under-squeezing. When I spoke of the tightness of our handshake, I was referring to the tightness that lies within the bounds of acceptable handshakery. My question, if you were to rephrase it with the assumptions exposed, would be something like the following: "Within the range of possible grip-strengths that produce an acceptable handshake, excluding any that would result in over-compression or under-squeezing, would you like to have a handshake that is more towards the limit of acceptable tightness, or more towards the limit of acceptable looseness? Or would you prefer something in the middle?"

I see. Owing to the large number of unknown factors, I still think it wisest to stick somewhere in the middle. You see, strength is relative. What a mayfly might consider a strong grip would be a scarcely noticeable pinch to a bonobo. We have never shaken hands before, and therefore I have no idea of your physical strength. What you might consider too loose might be too tight for me, or vice versa. Of course, there are certain clues that might give me an indication of your strength, such as your stature or the visible development of your muscles, but these things are only hints. It's a personal matter, you see. I cannot judge until I've felt it with my own flesh. All the guessing in the world cannot replace the raw reality of actual contact for me. By keeping our strengths in the middle, we are more likely to come to an agreeable handshake. Perhaps if we shake again we can begin to experiment with a veriety of advanced techniques, but for now, I insist we stick with average strength.

Very well, then. We shall shake with our grip strength somewhere in the middle. Now, shall we pump our hands quickly or slowly? Or again, somewhere in the middle?

In the middle, for the reasons previously enumerated.

Any special maneuvers you'd like to include?

None.

Not even a little tickle?

Not interested.

Very well then. We shall have a handshake, we shall both follow the convention of using our right hands, we shall grip the bottom edge of each other's palms and nestle our thumb's into each other's thumb-crooks, the grip strength shall be of moderate strength, the pumping shall be pumping of moderate speed, and no tricks or special maneuvers shall be employed, not even a little tickle. Does that sound correct to you?

Yes, that sounds about right.

Are you ready?

Hold on, let me take my wedding ring off... Okay, I'm ready.

🤝

...

...

...

*ahem*

...

...

...

Well, it was nice meeting you, but I'm afraid have to get going. I'm meeting my mother for lunch, you see, and mother can't stand it when I'm late.

Yes, it was such a pleasure. I do hope to see you again soon. I have my own business to attend to as well.

Ah, but one last thing before we part. I can't leave a new friend without shaking their hand goodbye. May I shake your hand in farewell?

Why, of course my friend. It is only polite.

Oh, excellent, excellent. Now, the question is, which hand would you like to use to shake, and which hand should I use?

[ettelenethelien]

CW: aftermath of graphic violence, corpses, blood; not explicitly described, but it's there

There is a lot of fanart around of Fëanor cradling Finwë's dead body, and while I find it just as moving as any other person, I can't help but think that the info we're given in HoME doesn't make it seem at all like the corpse was in good enough a state to make this possible

Maedhros: "... There we found the king slain at the door. His head was crushed as with a great mace of iron ... His sword lay beside him, twisted and untempered as if by lightening-stroke"

And of course, you can ignore this, but I think this version has just as many possibilities for angst... Consider:

Maedhros arrives at the scene first, and he never gets over what he sees there. He will know worse one day; battles are no pleasant thing, but this is his first experience of violence, and it is the greatest horror one could find.

Caranthir is second and Caranthir starts retching. By the time Curufin appears, Maedhros has regained enough presence of mind to stop him from coming nearer, and make sure Maglor and Celegorm and the twins - especially the twins, for stars sake, the twins! - don't have to see it.

And despite his horror, despite the nausea, Maedhros kneels down to pick up the pieces. He sends Caranthir for the casket... (it's just a box, of course it's just a box, but that's what poets will later call it) And to his horror, Celegorm appears in his field of view.

"Didn't Curvo find you?"

"He did"

And Maedhros is furious: "Stars, then why are you here??!"

"I've seen blood before, Nelyo" says Celegorm calmly, and Maedhros wants to protest that this is different than whatever he might have seen, but Celegorm has already knelt down beside him and begun helping in the bloody endeavour, though up close it's visible that he isn't as unfazed as he pretends to be.

"At least," says Celegorm "it must have been quick"

...

Later, in Tirion, Maedhros will have one of his rare moments of opposition to his father. He doesn't let him open the casket; he puts himself between it and his father. Hand on the swordhilt, almost as if he was ready to fight - he wouldn't dream of hurting his father, but certain instincts are already arising in them all.

"Will you not let me look on my father's face one last time?" Fëanor both pleads and demands in anger.

"There is no face" Maedhros replies. "I've seen it; you shouldn't have to. Do not ask."

...

Maedhros will only gainsay Fëanor one more time in this life, and he shall never again stop him.

#my post #Maedhros #Fëanor #Tolkien #Silmarillion #silm

[mrs-monaghan]

there’s so much misinfo going round atm, see lots of people saying that after jk enlists with jm and does the boot camp he can apply for some special ???something and will leave separately where he is stationed or that just because jk / jm are enlisting on same day, they only will do basic training together then go to separate places ? and that they only chose the enlisting together option because it meant they could make sure they were out in time for june ?

ik it’s a bit hard to follow maybe with different sources and not real confirmation but do you know if any of it is true? my understanding was that they did the “enlisting together” scheme thing, (ie. it’s a purposeful application, they knew they were choosing this way) which meant they’ll at least be in same living quarters etc the whole time until they’re out ?

sorry for long Q! it’s ok if you dk it was just confusing D; thank you!

Hi anon. 😳 I am terrible when it comes to the serious stuff and have the attention span of a toddler when such topics arise. My mind registers them as boring and so I don't retain the in4. But my friends delved deep into this so I will gather as much as I can and do my best to explain the sitch

Let me start by correcting the biggest misinformation of them all. Thanks to fucking Mina with her fake subs and reaching conclusions, the vermin are confusing "Special Task Force" with "Special Forces"

JK said he wanted to join special forces. Well and good

But thats not what V is doing. V applied for Special Task Force which, while not easy (he said in the live its why he enlisted there, to challenge himself) its nothing compared to special forces. Special forces is HARD CORE. Its no joke. It's for those who actually want to go to war and proper fight for their country. Not for those fulfilling a mandatory duty... One they wouldn't do if they had the choice. Special forces, those people actually wanna be there. And if u know JK then u shouldn't be surprised that he would say something like this. Of course our dare devil bunny would enjoy joining something as risky as special forces.

But guess what? No one stopped him. He still could have gone there if he really wanted to. Just like in Winter package. No one told him to give up zip lining for beer tasting. He did that off his own volition since Jimin was going beer tasting. JK's happiness is where Jimin is. Period. (Suga's presence played a big part but we don't talk about Yoonmin)

(Edit: the whole thing takes almost 8 years to complete which again, is not something JK would actually do if he wanted to still stay a member of BTS. And of course satellite Jeon would again, never do it)

Jikook wanted to use the buddy system and they applied where Jin is on purpose because since the location is so risky, (front lines) not alot of people apply to serve there. So the chances of them being accepted were pretty high. I already talked a bit about that here.

Coldest and most dangerous. But before we panic, Jikook love snow so... thats good. But also;

2 things to note before we continue; 1) Tattoos are a none factor on why Jikook applied together or why JK couldn't be with V. They had 0 to do with that. And 2) All members and where they ended up it was their decision

So, here is a Korean explaining

They shall not be separated. They will train together and continue to serve together

One body. Shiet.

Nice. Even the breaks they will take together. Basically spend every minute together for those 18 months y'all.

They had to pass 3 rounds. Applying wasn't all. They had rounds to pass before getting accepted. So as we can see this was a whole ass process. They really worked hard on this to make it happen.

Apparently there is a show you can watch that explains the buddy system. Its 8 episodes, its called real man

The holding hands thing is legit 🤣🤣🤣

Jikook shouldn't have an issue then 🤭

Anon, people are in denial and the other half are trying to explain this away. If Jikook only went in together just so they could come out at the same time then they could have done what Vmon did. Apply separately at the same time.

This is one tough pill to swallow for antis. It's like the biggest fuck u Jikook could have ever done but at the same time I really don't think they factored anyone else but themselves when they made this decision.

18 months is no small amount of time so let's call a spade a spade; Jikook couldn't be apart that long. Fax 💯 JK wanted to be there for Jimin, Jimin wanted to be there for JK, of course. Them in the same place looking out for each other is all I as a fan who loves them can ask for. But at the same time, they needed this.

Anon, they will be together 24/7 for the entire duration of their time there.

Yes. Sleeping in the same quarters. It wouldn't make sense for companionship if they were separating the recruits who applied together. To be companions. Of each other.

The buddy system is there to help friends cope with this difficult mandatory thing that the government insists on doing to their young men. It's there to help them cope in any way possible. I imagine mostly mentally. So why would they train them together then separate them? ❓❓❓

It is said that you should make sure the person you apply with, is a person u get along with super well because for the next 18 months you will be together every moment of everyday. It's krazy to imagine that JK wouldn't rather do this with his actual boyfriend V, instead. Krazy. 🤯

Anygays, no need to worry my good people, Jimin and JK have got each other's back. All that's left is to wait for them and pray for them. May they always hold hands 🤭

Tihihihihihihi

#jikook military #satellite Jikook #ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jimin #jungkook #bts #jikook is real #If jikook isn't real then neither I'm I #Taekook is not real #the shade

[icarusignite]

Hey Autor,

Could you maybe make a Reader Velaryon/Targaryen x Cregan stark?

The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor (the real father is Daemon Targaryen) and the eldest child of Rhaenyra and the heiress of the iron throne.The reader is sent to the Starks at the age of 14 to live with them for some time (no idea what reason there might be). Cregan doesn’t like the reader at first and is mean to her.At some point, the two get closer and fall in love. Maybe just kisses could arise between them no more. After she was with the Starks for some time, one day a lord comes with his daughter maybe Alysanne Blackwood and her father. Because Cregan is engaged to her and should marry her soon,He never told the reader that he was promised to someone else and the reader gets angry. Cregan wants to talk to her but she ignores him. Cregan does not take action against the wedding and marries Alysanne. Alysanne notices that the reader is angry and and provoke her. reader says goodbye to Lord and Lady stark, While Cregan spends time with Alyssane to get to know her. Reader flies home on her dragon because she doesn’t want to be at the wedding. After years, a war in the north has broken out and seems to be lost. Rhaenyra sends the reader and Jace to the north to help the Starks and end the war with their dragons. Cregan has a child with alysanne (but she should still be alive please.) She's still bitter and full of anger. Maybe the two could have a happy ending because Cregan really loved the reader, he didn’t want to hurt her, but it’s called a stark doesn’t break an oath. Of course, the reader does not forgive him directly and makes him feel her anger.

Please a lot of drama, I love big drama.

I am sorry for my English.

Your reader.

Ps: I wrote this request to another author but I don't know if he wants to write it so I wanted to write to you again because I always love your writing 🫶

Cregan Stark x fem! reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: The five times you told Cregan Stark you hated him, and the one time you actually meant it.

A/N: Hey heyyyy, lol I'm finally back. I'm soo soo sorry this took forever to put out, I've been suffering from massive writer's block and I lowkey feel like my house of the dragon hyperfixation was over for a while so I wasn't feeling too motivated to work on related stuff. Anyway, hope you like what I've done with the premise. Lots of drama but I didn't really see there being a happy end where they actually get together lol. As usual, I love your requests and asks so feel free to send in more (I shall try to get them done in a more timely manner T_T)

I hate you I love you

1. At first sight

Being the oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and future heir to the Iron Throne meant that you were seldom allowed to follow your heart's desire. You were simply a pawn in the grand elaborate game of life, fit to be moved around wherever someone saw fit. You didn't have much of a say when your mother named you her heir, you didn't have a say when she decided that you would be sent to be fostered at Winterfell for a few years for some reason you could not fathom, and you certainly would not have a say when you would be married off to whatever lord would serve the greatest political advantage. 

You first met the dark-haired boy that was Cregan Stark at the impressionable young age of fourteen, and you were quite intimidated. There was something in his eyes, their steely grey reminding you of an icy winter storm. His uncle, Lord Bennard, currently ruled the north as regent and you could tell that relations were tense between the two of them.

Lord Brennard had led you into the Great Hall, where the fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. There, standing near the hearth, was a young man of sixteen, with a stony expression, his eyes fixed on the flames. Lord Brennard cleared his throat, and the young man turned to look at them.

"Princess, may I introduce you to my nephew, Cregan Stark," Lord Brennard said with a polite smile.

Cregan regarded you with a cold, distant gaze, his demeanour as frosty as the land outside. He didn't extend a hand or offer a greeting. Instead, he simply nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, making it clear that he would rather be anywhere else but there.

If you were unhappy with his offputting behaviour, you made no show of it. Your mother had schooled you in the proper etiquette of being a gracious young lady and you extended your hand gracefully. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord."

Cregan's response was curt, "Likewise." 

He then turned his attention back to the fire, seemingly disinterested in your presence.

Lord Brennard, ever the diplomat, tried to initiate conversation. 

"Cregan, the princess has travelled a long way to be here. Perhaps you could show her around Winterfell, and introduce her to some of your companions?"

Cregan sighed audibly and finally tore his gaze away from the flames, "Do I have to, Uncle?"

Lord Brennard's expression tightened slightly, but he remained patient, "It would be a kind gesture, Cregan. She's a guest in our home."

You smiled politely, doing your best to break through the young lord's cold exterior, "I would appreciate it greatly. I've heard so much about Winterfell, and I'd love to get to know the people who live here."

Cregan rolled his eyes but eventually relented with a reluctant nod.

"Fine, I'll show you around, but don't expect me to be your tour guide."

"Thank you. I promise not to be a bother," you grinned now, willing him to at least return some of your warmth. 

Cregan's tour of Winterfell was far from what you had imagined. He led you through the castle's corridors and courtyards with long, determined strides, leaving you to struggle to keep up. Your gown, designed for the elegant strolls through the castles of the Red Keep and Dragonstone, was ill-suited for the rugged terrain and brisk pace Cregan set.

"My lord, please, may we slow down?" you called out, your voice slightly breathless. Your soft leather shoes were ill-equipped for the uneven stone floors, and your dress hampered your every step.

Cregan barely spared you a glance, his impatience evident in his voice, "We don't have all day, Princess. You wanted a tour, didn't you?"

You pressed on, determined not to let Cregan's demeanour ruin your first day at Winterfell. You struggled to maintain your composure, but your frustration was building. 

"Yes, but I didn't expect it to be a race. Could you at least wait for me?"

Cregan halted abruptly, turning to face you with a roll of his eyes, "Didn't you promise not to be a bother?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. You had hoped for a warmer welcome, but it seemed Cregan was determined to make you feel like an unwanted guest. 

"I did, but I didn't realize being polite was such a bother."

Cregan let out an exasperated sigh, and for a moment, you thought he might storm off and leave you behind. Instead, he begrudgingly slowed his pace, allowing you to catch up.

"Fine, let's get on with it."

As you continued the tour, Cregan pointed out various parts of Winterfell with curt explanations, still making no effort to engage in polite conversation. You did your best to show interest and appreciation for the castle's history and architecture, but it was clear that Cregan was not interested in your company.

Later that evening, the dinner at Winterfell was a formal affair, and despite the grandeur of the feast laid out, Cregan continued to be rude and dismissive towards you. He barely acknowledged your presence, and when you attempted to engage in conversation with other members of the Stark household, he would interrupt with snide comments or pointedly change the subject. The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the disapproving glances of some of the Stark bannermen who were clearly not pleased with the arrangement. You couldn't blame them though; you were an outsider, and Cregan's hostility toward you only made matters worse.

Eventually, you had had enough. After the meal, when you found yourselves alone in the corridor leading to your chambers, you turned to him, frustration boiling over after hours of having kept it simmering under your skin. 

"My lord, may I ask you something?"

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his icy demeanour unchanged, "I don't suppose you'd desist if I refused?"

That was it. Your final breaking point. 

"Why are you determined to be so fucking impolite to me?" your voice exploded, echoing in the empty corridor. 

Cregan's eyes widened, surprised at your use of profanities no doubt. 

Without stopping for a breath, you continued your torrent of complaints, "I understand that you didn't want me here, but have you perhaps considered that I didn't want to leave my home either? I didn't have a say in this, just like you, so if I can muster up the courage to try and hold on to a shred of hopefulness about this whole situation, can't you at least try to be civil to me? You're older than me, after all. Or do you not have the emotional maturity to not be a fucking menace to people you've judged in your head before even getting to know them."

Cregan regarded your outburst with his usual cold indifference, and you felt yourself deflate. Perhaps you had gone too far. Insulting a lord in his home was not proper behaviour befitting a young lady but you would be lying if you said that it didn't bring you a little satisfaction to see the slight cracks in Cregan's composure. There was a glimmer of something else in his eyes as well—a flicker of respect, perhaps. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally let out a sigh, seemingly relenting and his eyes softened, almost too imperceptibly.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, his tone suggesting that he was far from genuine. "I apologize if my behaviour has offended you, Princess."

He tacked on the Princess at the end of his sentence, almost as an afterthought and the mockery in it only made the fire in your eyes blaze brighter. You opened your mouth to say something else but Cregan raised his hands placatingly. 

"No, no. I am truly sorry for my behaviour. I had my reasons but I will not give you excuses," he chuckled. "Although I must admit, I did not expect you capable...of that."

Your ears flushed crimson and you ducked your head in embarrassment.

"I hate you Cregan Stark," you mumbled under your breath but when you looked up to see his arrogantly cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk, you realized you did not quite mean it with the intensity he deserved. 

2. Deep in the godswood

One crisp, sunny morning, the two of you found yourselves in the godswood of Winterfell, surrounded by the ancient trees with their solemn faces carved into the bark. You had decided to engage in a rare moment of playfulness, and the game you had chosen was a simple one—tag.

Cregan, always quick and agile, took the first turn as the pursuer. He sprinted after you, his laughter echoing through the godswood. After a few months at Winterfell, you were no longer the delicate princess you once were, and you ran with surprising grace.

As you weaved between the towering trees, the thrill of the chase engulfed you. You darted around a tree, hoping to outmaneuver Cregan, but he was relentless. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward and tagged you, causing you to stumble.

Your foot caught on a root, and you tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise. You had landed on the soft moss beneath the tree, your dress stained with mud and leaves. You scowled and glanced up at Cregan, who stood over you, victorious and unapologetic.

"You cheated," you accused your voice a mix of irritation and laughter.

Cregan grinned mischievously, "All's fair in love and war, Princess."

You couldn't help but chuckle despite your fall. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your gaze meeting Cregan's. 

"Well, we must be at war then, my lord, for I see no love here in this godswood."

"Oh is that so?" Cregan's eyes twinkled and he watched you in a way that made your ears flush again. 

"I fucking hate you!" you declared, trying to force a scowl on your face.

Cregan's expression softened, and he reached out his hand to help you up. As you looked into his eyes, something shifted within you. You realized that your declaration of hatred was no longer true if it ever had been.

You accepted Cregan's hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and into him. Your gaze met his, and there was a brief moment where something bright and electric sparked between the two of you. 

Cregan smiled and winked, breaking the soft moment. 

"Let's watch our language, Princess. And don't try to lie to me, I know you better than that."

"Oh, you know nothing at all, my lord."

3. Once upon a fairytale

The ball at Winterfell was a rare and enchanting event, one that had not been held in years. The Great Hall had been transformed into a dazzling spectacle, with chandeliers glittering from the ceiling and banners of House Stark adorning the walls. The air in Winterfell had been doing you wonders and you had grown even more radiant in the past year. Your presence drew the attention of many young lords from noble houses across the North.

You were quickly approached by eager suitors the moment you stepped into the hall, and they approached you with polished manners and flattering words, hoping for a chance to dance with a royal princess. Cregan, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of jealousy as he saw one lord after another try their luck with you, often stumbling over their words in their haste.

In response to their requests, you smiled politely and declined each invitation with a gracious nod. Your eyes, however, never strayed far from Cregan, who it seemed had taken up a dance with another lady—a striking brunette with a winsome smile. 

Finally, when the music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody, Cregan finished his dance and made his way towards you. He extended his hand with a charming smile. 

"Princess, may I have this dance?"

Your response was less than warm. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with mock annoyance. 

"Oh, my lord, how kind of you to finally grace me with your presence. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Cregan's smirk was mischievous as he took your hand, "Forgotten about you? Never, my lady."

As you began to dance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. Your voice was hushed as you spoke, your irritation clear. 

"You've been dancing with other ladies all night. I thought you weren't interested in me."

Cregan leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your throat, "Jealous, are we?"

Your cheeks flushed.

"No," you replied, trying to remain nonchalant, but your tone betrayed your true feelings. "I just thought you were ignoring me."

"Sounds like jealousy to me."

You rolled your eyes, "I hate you, Cregan Stark."

Cregan's eyes twinkled with amusement as he spun you gracefully across the floor, "You don't."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Cregan brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your breath immediately caught in your throat, rendering you speechless.

Cregan held your gaze, his eyes filled with a fierce intensity. 

"No, you don't," he repeated softly as if daring you to deny it.

4. Slowly, and then all at once

Throughout the next grand feast, Cregan couldn't resist cracking teasing jokes at your expense, each one playful but not cruel, designed only to elicit merriment. His quips were met with laughter and amusement from the other lords and ladies, you felt annoyed being his topic of discussion that evening.

After the dinner finally concluded, you could take no more. You caught Cregan by the arm as he was about to leave the hall and dragged him away to an isolated hallway. Your eyes flashed with anger as you turned to face him and although the expression on your face was a serious one, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the fieriness of it. It was the same expression you had worn the first time you confronted him about his behaviour and unbeknownst to you, that was when he had first started to feel that aching pull toward you.

"What was that all about, Cregan?" you demanded, your voice sharp. 

Cregan's response was unexpected. He didn't offer an apology or a defence of his actions. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his expression intense. Before you could react or voice your pent-up frustration, he kissed you.

It was a passionate, intense kiss that left you momentarily breathless. Your protests were silenced as your lips met his, and your anger dissolved into a mixture of surprise and desire. Cregan's lips were firm against yours, his hands gentle but insistent on your waist.

When he finally pulled away, you were left looking quite dazed and disoriented. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart raced in your chest. Cregan smirked at you, his eyes filled with a blend of amusement and affection.

"Princess," he said softly, "Don't you dare say that you hate me again. It's abundantly clear that you don't."

You tried to form a coherent response, but your thoughts were still scattered from the unexpected kiss. You found yourself at a loss for words, your feelings for the young lord more complex than ever before.

Cregan's thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead tenderly. 

"Let's not waste any more time pretending, my lady," he whispered. "We both know how we truly feel."

5. I wish I could hate you

The arrival of Lady Alysanne Blackwood and her father brought a flurry of activity to Winterfell. Lady Alysanne was a beautiful and vivacious woman, and her presence seemed to light up every room she entered. As the daughter of an important house, she was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by Lord Brennard Stark and the other members of House Stark.

You couldn't help but notice the stark contrast in Cregan's behaviour towards Lady Alysanne compared to his demeanour with you when you first arrived. He greeted the Blackwoods with a genuine smile, engaged in polite conversation, and even offered to show Lady Alysanne around Winterfell himself. It was a stark departure from the cold and aloof Cregan you had known at first.

You tried to push aside the feelings of hurt and jealousy that welled up within you. It had been some time since Cregan had treated you with such indifference, and you knew you should let bygones be bygones. After all, you reasoned, Cregan had every right to make new acquaintances and friends. You were still the one he shared kisses with and spoke whispered promises to. 

However, as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling of being left behind. Cregan seemed to spend more and more time in the company of Lady Alysanne, showing her the beauty of Winterfell, introducing her to the people of the North, and sharing tales of their homeland.

One evening, as you watched Cregan and Lady Alysanne from across the courtyard, a sense of loneliness and abandonment washed over you. Then came the announcement that turned your blood cold. There was talk around the castle of preparations for a grand wedding. At first, this confused you. Cregan was the only member of the Starks of marriageable age, but he had never discussed something like this with you. And then you realized why, when passing the kitchens late one night, you overheard the scullery maids talking about how lovely a bride Lady Alysanne would make. 

One day, as you walked alone in the quiet gardens of Winterfell, your steps slow and contemplative, Lady Alysanne approached you. You had been lost in your thoughts, unaware of Alysanne's presence until she spoke.

"I must admit, I wanted to see for myself the woman rumoured to be close to my future husband," she said with a smirk.

Your heart sank at the cruel tone in Alysanne's voice, and your voice trembled as you replied, "Your future husband?"

Alysanne nodded, her expression filled with mockery. 

"Yes, Princess. Cregan and I have been promised to each other since birth. It's a marriage that our families have long arranged, for the good of both our houses."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away to hide your emotions. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the realization that the man you had grown to care for deeply was bound by duty to another. 

Your voice was barely a whisper as you asked, "How long have you known about this?"

Alysanne's tone was sharp and cutting as she replied, "I've known for a while, but I wanted to meet you before the wedding. I wanted to see the foolish girl who thought she could steal Cregan away from his duty."

Your heart ached with a mixture of sadness and resignation. You had to accept the reality of the situation, no matter how much it hurt. 

Alysanne reached out with a mocking smile, but her touch was far from comforting as she placed her hand on your shoulder. 

"I know this must be difficult for you, Princess, as you are probably used to having whatever your heart desires. But you should have known better. Cregan was never yours to have."

Later that very same day, when the sun had begun to set over Winterfell, casting long shadows across the castle grounds, you were sitting alone on a stone bench, your thoughts consumed by the hurtful encounter with Lady Alysanne. You had been lost in your own misery when Cregan approached, his expression filled with concern.

"Princess, I heard about what happened with Lady Alysanne," Cregan began, his voice gentle. "I wanted to make sure you're all right."

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, but you tried to ignore him, focusing on the setting sun instead. You couldn't bear to look at him, not now, not after everything that had transpired.

Cregan, undeterred by your silence, took a step closer, "Please, let me explain."

Your emotions, raw and uncontainable, finally burst forth. You turned to face him, eyes filled with tears, and voice trembling with pain. 

"Explain? You don't deserve to give me an explanation now, Cregan. Not after all that has happened between us."

Cregan's expression was one of genuine regret as he reached out to touch your arm, "Listen, please, just hear me out."

You couldn't bear to listen any longer. The words that had been building up inside you for so long spilled out in a rush. 

"You should have told me, Cregan. You should have told me that you were promised to another, that you could never belong to me. You should have told me before you kissed me under the stars, before you spun me around in gilded ballrooms. Before you made me hope for something that wasn't real."

Tears streamed down your face, and your voice broke as you continued. 

"I hate you, Cregan."

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. Cregan's face showed a mix of pain and sadness, but he said nothing in response. You yearned for him to tell you that you were wrong. To tell you that you didn't hate him and that he certainly did not hate you and that he would be yours after all. 

He opened his mouth but no words came out. 

I love you.

The words were just on the tip of his tongue but he could not force them out. He could not be selfish enough to give you hope when he was bound by duty. 

There never lived a Stark who broke an oath.

That was what Cregan's father had always told him, and he wasn't about to be the first stark to do so. And so Cregan chose to remain silent and eventually, he walked away, leaving you surrounded by the shards of your broken heart. Your hands came up to muffle the broken sobs that escaped your lips and the tears that streaked down your face were a testimony to your lie. You could claim to hate him all you want but one did not mourn this much for someone they hated. 

You left the very next morning, after a hasty goodbye to the few people you had gotten to know during your stay at Winterfell and with a heavy heart, you directed your dragon toward your true home. You didn't think you could bear to watch him marry Lady Alysanne and it was better for you to leave now with at least some of your dignity intact. 

~ I hate you and I mean it. 

Several years had passed since the painful encounter with Cregan in the gardens of Winterfell. In the intervening years, much had changed. Your mother had taken the throne after the passing of your grandfather, King Viserys and you had been named her official heir. When news of a great war in the North reached the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenyra Targaryen, she saw an opportunity to strengthen her alliances and sent her two eldest children, you and Jace, to aid House Stark in the battle, accompanied by their dragons.

With the might of dragons at your side, the two of you made quick work of the war, helping to secure a decisive victory for the Starks. The sight of dragons soaring through the northern skies struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, and soon, the war was won.

In celebration of their triumph, House Stark held a grand feast in honour of the Targaryen siblings. The Great Hall of Winterfell was adorned with banners, and tables groaned under the weight of a sumptuous feast. Nobles from across the North had gathered to pay their respects to the Dragonriders.

You couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions as you walked the familiar halls of Winterfell once more. The memories of your time here, both the joyful moments and the painful ones, flooded back to you. You had changed so much since then, and the scars of the past had faded but not entirely disappeared.

As you and Jace were introduced to the Northern lords and ladies, the atmosphere was one of jubilation and gratitude. The Starks were effusive in their praise, grateful for the Targaryens' aid in securing their victory.

You couldn't help but notice that Cregan was among those present, his gaze fixed on you. There was a tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the past and the wounds that still lingered. You had returned to Winterfell as a powerful figure, a dragon rider and an heir to the throne, but the history between you and Cregan remained.

The feast was a boisterous affair, with music and revelry filling the Great Hall. You watched as Cregan hovered about his wife almost constantly, his hand gentle on her protruding abdomen as he guided her about the room. 

As the feast at Winterfell continued, your shock deepened when you noticed a young boy running towards Cregan with gleeful abandon. The boy called out, "Father!" with pure excitement, and Cregan, with a warm smile, hoisted the child onto his shoulders. They paraded around the room, making their way through the nobles who cheered and greeted them.

You watched in disbelief as Cregan introduced the boy to the gathered lords and ladies, his paternal pride evident in every gesture. The sight of Cregan with the child sent a pang of bitterness and resentment through you. You knew that Cregan's marriage to Lady Alysanne had likely produced offspring, but seeing it firsthand was a painful reminder of what could never be between the two of you.

Finally, the little boy and Cregan reached you and Jace. The child's dark, pale freckled skin and dark curls were identical to Alysanne's, but it was his eyes that caught your attention. They were the very same stormy grey eyes that you had noticed on Cregan the first time you had met him.

Cregan introduced the boy with a proud smile. 

"This is my son, Rickon."

Cregan caught your eye and you caught a brief flash of regret pass through him before he schooled his expression into a pleasant grin. He turned back to his son, his face softening entirely as he gazed at him with adoration so tender that it speared right through your heart. 

I hate you, Cregen Stark. I hate you for finding happiness without me. I hate you for not fighting for me. I hate you for your stupid oaths and your stupid loyalties. I hate you. 

You were wise enough to keep your angry thoughts to yourself, but for the first time in your life, you found that you actually meant them. perhaps that made you a cruel and callous monster but you did not care. You hated Cregan Stark more than anything else and wondered, not for the first time, if you should have advised your mother against sending you to help out in the war. Still, you were your mother's daughter and if there was one person you loved with your entire heart, it was her. If helping the Starks win their war secured their support for your mother, then you would bury your heavy heart and do it for her. 

As the evening wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the festivities. The bitter taste of jealousy and regret lingered in your mouth, a constant reminder of the life that could have been but was now forever out of reach. Whatever Cregan thought of Alysanne, it was clear that he loved their children and very soon there would be even more to cherish if Alysanne's laboured breaths and swollen belly said anything. You couldn't escape the feeling that you were a stranger in a place that had once held such significance in your life. The years had changed you, and Winterfell had changed as well. There was no longer any room for you and you couldn't wait to return home. 

A/N: reblog and comment please, it really motivates me and I love reading yalls thoughts <3

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #hotd #hbo house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon aemond #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #icarus ignite writes

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Look at me doing it again just a little past midnight! Thank you to @suseagull04 for the super early tag!

I have only the faintest idea of what this is. It may be something long awaited by a handful of readers of my long fic, but it may also be something that misses the mark entirely and may never go anywhere. We shall see what happens!

Anyone up for being a little experimental? It’s rough and reflects my current mood of “I need to not give a fuck about who I please or displease”.

Of all the challenges Henry has found in his life, Alex is surely the most complex, confounding and insurmountable. Alex has breathed new life into Henry’s existence, made him yearn for a steadfast, honest and true love.

Uncorrupted. Free of obligation, transactional exchanges and deceit.

Henry wants to stop lying to Alex; for Alex; about Alex.

But Alex’s love is suffocating.

Alex demands.

He demands affection and kindness and respect.

Fidelity.

Henry has infinite resources. An endless capacity to please, to submit, to dominate. He can create any fantasy and serve whatever needs arises. He can be anyone to anyone. He can pull himself apart and put himself back together in a new configuration in a single breath and a split second shift of his gaze down, as if merely adjusting a pose.

But Alex demands truth.

A demand for truth demands a reckoning that Henry has no capacity for. He has burned the truth out of himself, banished it along with every unproductive fear that he cannot settle, every instance that his life has disobeyed his will and veered from the path he had set for it.

His mouth nearly betrays him time and time again, spilling words that have no place in his mind but which stumble out from the darkest reaches where he’d shoved them.

No pressure tagging my loves @sparklepocalypse @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere @taste-thewaste @zwiazdziarka @piratefalls @thinkof-england and @thesleepyskipper, but also folks who I am slowly trying to get to know/befriend/stalk: @orchidscript @jettestar @wordsofhoneydew @firenati0n @bigassbowlingballhead @itsmaybitheway @sunnysideprince @getmehighonmagic @typicalopposite @magicandarchery @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin.

Open tag! Please tag me so I can read more goodies. It’s like watching trailers when I don’t have time for the full film!

#wip wednesday #rwrb wips #red white and royal blue #rwrb #henry and alex #rwrb fanfic #firstprince #rwrb au #alex claremont diaz #henry mountchristen windsor #prince henry rwrb #rwrb movie #rule britannia

[lovevuni]

Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 2 Success

Warning: Flirting, Fluff, slight dirty flirting (like two bits), Slow burn

Summary: You take your new challenge into effect, taking every oppurtunity to flirt with enoch to get him flustered in order to soften him up. Your only goal is to get under his skin and have him admit defeat. Is this when you succed?

A/N: Again I hate using Y/N but sadly have to. Enjoy~

Part 1: Challenge Accepted

You are unpacking your luggage in your room Miss Peregrine has assigned to you.

“Ah, Y/N. Always one step ahead of everyone else. I must say, I admire your tenacity.” Enoch says as you are unpacking causing you to look at him.

“tenacity?” You question not understanding the word. 

“Yes, tenacity. Despite our initial differences and the challenges that arise when you’re around, you never give up or lose sight of your goals. Whether it’s advancing your mission or getting under someone’s skin, you always keep pushing forward. It’s an admirable quality, even if it does drive me mad at times.”

“The only thing I want under is you pretty boy.” You tease him causing him to raise an eyebrow at your amusing words.

“Ah, I see you’re still trying to rile me up. Well let me tell you, Y/N, there are much more effective ways to get under my skin than cheap taunts and insults.”

“I bet there is, but this is a lot more fun” You wink.

He chuckles at your antics, “Indeed it is, Y/N. And who knows, maybe someday you’ll find a way to genuinely get under my skin. But until then, I suppose I’ll just have to content myself with watching you try.” 

Claire walks into the room announcing that it was time for dinner before skipping out of the room. (I love claire)

“The night is still young, Y/N. Perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? My treat, of course.” In your head you roll your eyes knowing Miss peregrine and the children make the food.

“We shall” You say as you grab his arm for him to escort you down to dinner.

He smiles as he takes your had, leading you out of the room and towards the dining hall.

“A charming lady like yourself should definitely make the most of social situations. Who knows, perhaps tonight will bring about a new opportunity to annoy each other further...or perhaps something more meaningful may come from it? Only time will tell.”

“Oh I plan on it” You finish the conversation as you take a seat next to him, planning your next attack.

He takes a sip of his drink looking pleased as ever, “You know, Y/N, sometimes I wonder what motivates you. Is it simply the thrill of the chase, or do you truly wish to engage in meaningful discourse with me? It’s hard to tell with you; you’re so elusive and unpredictable.”

“I’d never tell you” He grins at this.

“Of course not, Y/N. That would defeat the purpose entirely. Part of the fun is trying to figure you out, to test your boundaries and push your buttons. And yet, despite our differences and opposing viewpoints, there’s something about you that draws me in.” 

You decide to end the conversation there and move your focus to Millard, conversing with him about different books you both enjoy.

Enoch watches as you begin to speak with millard about literature, “ Ah, a love of reading. How quaint. I must admit, though. I’m suprised to see you conversing with such a lowbrow individual as Millard. Then again, perhaps you seek to prove some sort of point by associating with those beneath you?”

You decide to ignore him and continue your convo with Millard.

He seems offended but stays silent as you converse with Millard, but continues to watch you carefully.

As you finish talking and begin to eat Enoch takes this time to try and speak with you again, “So, did you enjoy your chat with Millard? I must confess, i found it somewhat amusing to observe.”

“You’re observing me now?” giving him a shocked look knowing full well he was.

He smirks, “Indeed, I find myself fascinated by your every move. Perhaps it’s because we have such a strong connection. Or maybe it’s just that I enjoy pushing your buttons. One cannot be sure in these matters. What do you think drives your interactions with me Y/N?”

“You believe we have a connection now? If I were any better I would say your catching feeling now Enoch” You say teasingly as you run your foot up his leg under the table making sure non of the children see what is happening.

He laughs as he glances at your foot on his leg before meeting your gaze once more, “Oh, I know you are much too good for me, Y/N. But perhaps there is something about the way I challenge you, the way I push your boundaries, that appeals to you on a deeper level.”

“I wouldn’t say that now” You continue to move your foot up his body to a more intimate area of his, still making sure no one else can see.

He smirks leaning closer to you, their voices low enough not to be overheard, “is it possible that part of you enjoys the thrill of danger, the excitement of exploring forbidden territories? Are you secretly drawn to the darkness withing me even though it terrifies you at times?”

“there is nothing intimidating about you my boy, I’m just trying to prove that I can get under your skin” You whisper with your hot breath in his ear.

Gasping with shivers down his back as he feels your warm breath against his ear, “You certainly succeed in getting under my skin, Y/N. And yes, I admit it - there is something about the darkness inside of you that draws me in like a moth to a flame.” SUCCESS!

You laugh as you completely pull away from him in a succeeding manner, “told you I would get you”

He laughs, “Well played, it seems our little game has become quite heated. Shall we continue?”

“why should we, when I have already won.” You get up in victory from the table to help Claire get ready for bed, “Come on Claire, time for bed.”

He watches you leave the table and take care of Claire, feeling conflicted emotions swirling within him.

“Intrigued by your wit, intelligence, and hidden desires. Driven by the need to understand you better, to uncover the depths of your soul.” He says to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 : Only Fun

#enoch #enoch o'connor #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #enoch o'connor x reader #millard nullings #Claire #enoch x reader #enoch mphfpc #mphfpc

[stergeon]

> FERDINAND II.

And so your PLANT shall henceforth be known as FERDINAND II.

The thought of needing to inform FERDINAND I of his having a namesake makes you a bit ill, but you are already hard at work devising several plausible excuses for the gesture. Something about how you've named it after the one most invested in its naming, or how it is similarly prone to drooling. Yes. Yes, you will be able to deflect quite easily, should the need arise. It has nothing to do with your fondness for FERDINAND or your desire for a substitute in his imminent absence, no—again, you are not so prone to sentimentality. It's about the drool.

Well, anyway. Best to move on with your day and think about something else, lest you grow maudlin or cultivate further affection for the PLANT. May the GODDESS be merciful and never cause you to develop inclinations that could be described as paternal.

Now that your plant has received sufficient care, it is time for COFFEE. You set to making your morning brew. By CHANCE, there happens to be sufficient water remaining in the kettle for FERDINAND I to have TEA, should he wish it.

Per your TIMEPIECE, it is now a quarter to eight. You have made excellent progress on your PRE-BREAKFAST TO-DO LIST thus far: the only remaining task is to remove FERDINAND. You are starting to get rather peckish and would like to be rid of him quickly, but over the past week, you have found that extracting the man from YOUR QUARTERS is a more arduous task than it ought to be.

#007 | < | > | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | SEE ALL POSTS

#fire emblem #hubert von vestra #fe16 #ferdibert #hpnd #sterge.pptx #fe3h #sorry this was late lol #late according to the update schedule i don't have #as the poll was wrapping i thought 'wouldn't it be fucked up to make a game where you make coffee.' #never mind that 1. i've barely made any games #2. i had no idea how to make a multi-part game #3. i wanted to turn it around in ~24 hours #i actually Did finish the game in about a day but i still had to write a post and draw the bg + the panel #if the game doesn't work: sorry #it Should work on mobile (android and ios) but it is pretty finicky #it works Better on desktop but that's not saying much #if you run into any showstopping issues: please lmk so i can fix it #did Some bug testing (aka made my friends do it for me) but not a lot lol. again: short turnaround time #i know there's a bug with the message/alert windows if you click through things too fast but idk what i did and i don't really care lol #maybe i'll fix that eventually #i'd like to also make it smoother and add some more animations but i kinda doubt i'll get around to it #pretty pleased as i did the entire game with pure css and no images except the fireplace #idk if that's cool to anybody else but it makes me happy

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Malleus Draconia - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"I had completely forgotten"

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Sebek: Oh, my liege! The Night Raven College school uniform suits you so marvelously.

Malleus: Come to think of it, this is the first time you've seen me wear this, is it not?

Sebek: Yes, sir! I'm blinded by the majestic sight before me.

Malleus: And those ceremonial robes sit well on you as well, Sebek.

Malleus: How wonderful it was to hear that the entrance ceremony went smoothly.

Sebek: Wh… Ah… I, Sebek, will never take these ceremonial robes off ever again!!!!!

Silver: Don't, that's dirty. Go change.

Sebek: Shut it, Silver!!!! My liege, I will absolutely make sure to be of use to you here.

Sebek: I SWEAR UPON ON THESE CEREMONIAL ROBES YOU'VE BLESSED WITH YOUR KIND WORDS!!!!

Malleus: …I see. I'm counting on you.

Sebek: Yes, sir!

Lilia: Oh, my. Sebek is as energetic as ever.

Lilia: …And Malleus seems to be a little put off that he missed the entrance ceremony once again.

Silver: Eh? He seems to be as he always is, to me.

Lilia: Haven't you notice? The tint in Malleus's eyes when he looks at Sebek.

Malleus: …

Lilia: See? He looks envious.

Silver: Is that so…?

Lilia: Sebek. No matter how happy you are to receive praise from Malleus, you must make sure to wash the clothes you've worn.

Sebek: Lilia-sama… …Yes, I suppose you're correct.

Sebek: I would only be hindering him were I to stand at his side in dirty attire. It is most regretful, but I shall clean them.

Silver: I'm pretty sure I said the same thing just a second ago.

Lilia: Alright, then let's gather everyone's clothes together and send them out to be cleaned. That includes Malleus's ceremonial robes as well.

Malleus: Mine?

Malleus: Yet again, I have not worn my ceremonial robes. They will not be dirty.

Lilia: That's fine, too. We should just let them out of the closet from time to time.

Malleus: Even if you did that, there'd be no point. I'm sure the same thing will just happen once more…

Lilia: You've still got a while here in school. If in case the occasion arises that you need them, we can't have your ceremonial robes smell all musty, now can we?

Malleus: …I understand. I'll ready the robes in preparation for the next occasion, just as you say.

Malleus: Sebek, take my ceremonial robes to the cleaners as well.

Sebek: Yes, sir! Please, leave it to me.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

―A few days later

Sebek: My lord, Lilia-sama, I have brought back all the cleaned clothes.

Malleus: Ah, our ceremonial robes. Thank you.

Lilia: You can hand me Malleus's. I'll put it away.

Malleus: Hmph, back into the wardrobe it goes. How pitiful.

Lilia: Now, don't say that. Fate has a strange way of coming around… Hm?

Silver: What is it, Father?

Lilia: This ceremonial robe that Sebek brought… It doesn't belong to Malleus.

Sebek: EEHHH!!!???

Lilia: Malleus's ceremonial robes are custom made, but this seems to be designed for the average student.

Malleus: Oh, was it custom made? I haven't worn my ceremonial robes in so long that I have no recollection of that.

Sebek: How could I have made such a mistake…Hm?

Sebek: However, this delivery slip states that this is indeed for "Malleus Draconia-sama."

Lilia: You're right. The cleaners must have made the mistake, then.

Malleus: Then, whose is that? It does seem to be a little too large to be yours, Lilia…

Lilia: It's so baggy! Well, I think most anyone else's clothes would look like that on me with my height, anyway.

Malleus: What about you, Silver?

Silver: …I tried it on, and yet it seems to be a little too long for me.

Malleus: Then the only one left is Sebek. Try it on.

Sebek: Yes, sir!

Sebek: It seems to fit me well. It is neither too large, nor too small. It's a perfect fit.

Silver: So, the accidentally swapped ceremonial robe was Sebek's. Sebek, go and check your closet.

Malleus: …Wait. Do these ceremonial robes seem quite well worn to belong to someone who has just recently enrolled?

Malleus: For an outfit that has only been worn for one entrance ceremony and washed once, it seems to be faded from multiple washes already.

Sebek: Amazing, my liege, your observational skills are unparalleled!

Silver: Then, this means it belongs to someone who has attended the ceremony many times. At the very least, it does not belong to a first year.

Malleus: …Someone who has attended the ceremony many times, you say.

Lilia: Malleus… Don't glare so reproachfully. You'll make the rightful owner of these robes shudder in fear.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

[knock, knock, knock!]

Malleus: Hm? It seems someone has come. Let them in.

Silver: I shall go see who it is.

Lilia: …You know, Malleus. You shouldn't worry too much about not being apple to attend the ceremony.

Lilia: It's not like the staff intentionally snubbed you because they were frightened of you.

Lilia: This was just an unfortunate accident. Don't be glum.

Malleus: I am not concerned. I am used to humans avoiding my presence.

Sebek: It's absolutely inexcusable that my liege was not invited. I, Sebek, will lay my righteous judgement on all those involved!!!!

Malleus: I said I am not concerned. Don't make me repeat myself.

Sebek: Y-Yes, right!! My apologies!!!!

Lilia: Now, now, Malleus. You can't hide it from me.

Lilia: You've grown well into your position to leader Briar Valley. But even so, you are still quite young, and there is much you do not know.

Malleus: Of course understand that. That is why I enrolled here, in order to expand my views.

Lilia: You're not here to only glean knowledge, you know. Why do you think we left Briar Valley and came all this way?

Lilia: Place a hand on your heart and think on it deeply. You truly are…

Silver: Malleus-sama.

Sebek: What is it, Silver, you've interrupted Lilia-sama!! Pipe down!!!!!!!!!!!

Silver: I think your voice is much louder than mine here.

Silver: Malleus-sama, Leona-ryōchō and Ruggie have come from Savanaclaw.

Malleus: Kingscholar? That's unusual. What does he want? I don't recall setting up a meeting…

Leona: What, do we need an appointment now? You're free anyway, ain'tcha?

Ruggie: We weren't gettin' anywhere talkin' with Silver-kun, so. Excuse us just bargin' in here.

Leona: This place's as gloomy as ever. Doesn't it just depress you bein' in a dark place like this all the time?

Sebek: How dare you! That's no way to speak to the young master…!

Malleus: Sebek, you should still your tongue instead. This is the Housewarden of Savanaclaw, Kingscholar.

Malleus: He is also the second prince of the Sunset Savanna. We must pay proper respects to the royal family of other countries, as well.

Malleus: Moreover, perhaps he is here today to invite us to a party.

Malleus: What say you, Kingscholar?

Leona: Do you fae enjoy those kinds of lame jokes, or something? I just came here to hand you something.

Malleus: To me? What could it… Oh.

Sebek: …It's a set of ceremonial robes.

Lilia: Let me se. Hm… The hood is shaped differently from the others…

Lilia: Yep, this is Malleus's ceremonial robes.

Malleus: …I see, this is definitely my robes. It fits me and my horns perfectly.

Sebek: M-M-M-My liege… How utterly divine you look…!

Sebek: The mysterious charm of your horns is accentuated even further by the ceremonial robes' hood!

Malleus: Ah, right. These were custom made in order to fit my horns. I had completely forgotten.

Malleus: So you were in possession of it, Kingscholar. How generous of you to come all this way to deliver this to me.

Leona: Don't look at me, I didn't want to come all this way. But someone had to be a coward and say he couldn't drop it off himself.

Ruggie: Yeah, 'cause… C'mon. I ain't got the courage to slip into Diasomnia territory all by myself, y'know.

Lilia: It's alright if you all want to come and visit us anytime, you know? …Here's your ceremonial robes in return.

Lilia: I wonder, did they think the horn holes in the hood were for Leona's ears?

Leona: …Ugh. Now my robes smell like lizard.

Sebek: Urk, you should watch your tongue! Do you even comprehend who you're speaking about!?

Sebek: He is the King among Kings. The ruler of Briar Valley! He is not just another common man!!

Leona: What's with this guy?

Ruggie: Looks like yet another one of 'em crazed Draconians have enrolled here…

Malleus: Leave it, Sebek.

Malleus: It is also my duty as king to properly thank Kingscholar for doing such a task for me.

Leona: A king, huh…

Leona: Poor guy doesn't even know the difference between a straggler left behind by his pack, and a solitary king, huh.

Leona: You didn't even attend the last entrance ceremony, why did you wash your practically spotless robes?

Malleus: It is no concern of yours.

Leona: Sure it is. Because you did something so useless, I had to come all the way out this way.

Leona: What, were you hoping that you'll get to go next time? Pitiful. You'll probably not be invited next time, either.

Leona: You're never gonna get the chance to wear these ceremonial robes. Just hang it up already.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: …Have you ceased your yowling? My, what an unbearably noisy wild beast you are.

Leona: What'd you say?

Malleus: Oh, your ears perked up. Have I angered you? Fufu, your ears tell all.

Leona: Better than some useless decoration. Or are you saying those horns can be used to hang coats or something?

Malleus: What do you think? Give it a try, why don't you… If you can.

Malleus: I also would be fascinated to see what would happen if I were to stroke your ears.

Ruggie: …Dang, he really just fell for Leona's provocation like that. Guess Malleus-san's got a surprisingly normal side to him, too.

Silver: Hey, Sebek. Stop struggling.

Sebek: Let go of me, Silver!

Sebek: To be so rude to Malleus-sama as he is… I cannot let that man live!

Lilia: Mhmm. What a wonderful back and forth between fellow students…

Lilia: This is exactly the type of experience Malleus needs.

Leona: I can break those worthless horns off and decorate my mantle, y'know. Here, let me help you get them off.

Malleus: Then, as payment for your generosity, allow me to clip your nails.

Malleus: That is the best way to calm a feisty cat, after all.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #twst malleus #twst leona #twst ruggie #twst silver #twst sebek #twst lilia #twst translation

[aaronyoghurt]

"Dance With Me"

Chrollo x Reader

This is the first fan fic I've written.

I dont't know if this will be any good but

Please be nice.

Although constructive criticism will be much appreicated.

I tried.

This will probably be a one shot and I shall disappear under the surface of the earth.

Unless yall find this engaging or if I choose to write more.

Summary: You're attending a fancy auction event. Becoming increasingly bored, an opportunity arises when a handsome mysterious stranger notices and approaches you. He engages in conversation before swooping you away onto the dance floor. Ending is open to interpretation. wink wink

Note: I have written this in Third Person rather than in Second. I wanted to try out the narrative perspective but I am curious to know which of the two you prefer as a reader :)

Enjoy...

(2.06 k words)

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Smooth red liquid of the expensive wine cautiously slid down her throat as she observed her current surroundings. The soft classical music from the band of musicians flowed through the air, creating a pleasant ambience that entertained the auditory senses. Meanwhile, a swarm of mingling bodies idly danced through the grand intricate hall. The ruby wine, slowly swirled around the inside of the glass as the young woman languidly stirred the stem between delicate fingers.

The function she was attending tonight was a prestigious one. A vast ornate ceiling coupled with splendid decorative designs and grand marble columns intwined with golden threads, were all distinct features that screamed eloquence and money. Just the thing to be expected when one attended a fancy dinner party, especially one that was meant to impress the higher classes, under the disguise of a philanthropic art auction for charity. The young woman liked art. It is a universal thing that binds all humans together and anyone can be appreciative of it, regardless if they consider themselves a knowledgeable appraiser.

The reason for her being here tonight was not only attributed to her desire to see the art or enjoy a social gathering, but almost laughable in its’ simplicity; boredom. A result of a spontaneous decision made on impulse and the desire to escape the typical regularity of daily life seemed more appealing to regard it as such. An acquaintance of hers mentioned that it would be a pleasure for him to take her to the auction if she chose to, and she agreed. However, now that she has strolled around the venue and admired all of the art pieces that were to be auctioned, all the while her supposed partner for this evening has left to throw himself into conversation with other groups of people at some stage during the evening, there was nothing more to do other than to enjoy some of the wine that was offered.

Her gaze was trained on the red liquid that sloshed lightly in the crystal while her mind was wondering on what to do next. She glanced up at the dancing couples for a second with an indifferent and almost distant gaze before sighing and raising the glass to her lips. Lamenting on the fact that people had found happiness with their lovers was never a beneficial thought process. It made one consider their own lack of romance in life and wonder how some fall into relationships so easily, while others struggle to even find a match or simply waiting for fate to do its’ bidding.

That is why instead of dwelling on such topics, she sipped on her nearly empty glass, allowing the pleasant buzz to fill her head and enjoy the remaining contents of the drink before deciding to call it a night and go home. Perhaps once she is back home, she will decide between getting even more violently wine drunk and viciously bawling into a pillow, considering the uneventful and quite boring evening that she thus far endured.

She raised the glass once again to her lips while her eyes flickered upwards, only to land on a suit clad stranger in the now dispersed party of the previous dancers, and who was also looking back at her with a soft smile. She blinked and shifted her gaze away to the side, as her breath caught in her throat momentarily. It must have been her imagination or worse, a hallucination caused by one too many sips of wine, because once her eyes travelled back in the direction of the mysterious man looking at her, he was gone.

But not even a second later, the stranger reappeared at her side, standing only a small and respectable distance away. Declining his head a bit and nodding subtly downwards at the glass in her hand and leaning into her side he spoke, “Pinot Noir or Sauvignon?” Her head turns at the sound of the calm and surprisingly soft voice and she is met face to face with the handsome stranger. Her widened eyes meet his cool cobalt gaze as they curiously look into hers, maintaining a present contact.

Apart from his tantalising opium gaze, his appearance was strikingly distinct and unique; a white bandana was wrapped securely around his forehead and his earlobes were adorned with turquoise ball earrings. After taking a few seconds to comprehend the random approach and the appearance of the man before her, she quickly shook off her stupor after realising he is waiting for some sort of answer.

He has asked her what wine it is that was in her glass and she glances down at it as she thinks back. When she was poured the wine by the waiter previously, he had said something similar. She glanced back up at the mysterious man and offering him a response, “Pinot Noir, I believe…” His smile widens ever so slightly as he acknowledges her with a gentle gaze. “I must say, it is a fine choice. The taste is quite refined in its own way.”

She smiles lightly back at him and can’t help but feel her heart skip a beat. Not only is his countenance tolerable and fine, the way he carries himself is certainly venerable with a flair for natural charm. Moreover, his appearance is even more captivating. From the way in which his inky strands of hair fall perfectly around his face, to the structure of his jaw and sharp intelligent eyes.

“Ah, pardon me. I believe I got ahead of myself and forgot the introductions. I’m Chrollo.” His eyes remain soft and looking straight into hers, while his lips are graced with that same calm and friendly smile as he extends his right hand slowly. “Chrollo…nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” She smiles back warmly and places her hand into his as he squeezes it gently and raises her hand to his lips while lowering his head, looking into her eyes through his lashes with a soft grin as he does so.

This catches her off guard completely, causing a tint of pink to dust her cheeks right before he lets go and continues in a soft, aimable tone, “Perhaps I was too up front with my approach, but I couldn’t help but notice your humble presence and elegant disposition. Are you enjoying the party?”  She considers him for a moment before letting out a small chuckle and looking back up at him, “It could be worse. I was hoping it would be more entertaining for me, but I’m not one to complain.”

⋙ ⋙ ⋙

Chrollo’s company turned out to be a most joyous experience and probably the highlight of the otherwise uninteresting evening. He was polite and a most engaging conversationalist. They talked and laughed for a long duration of time which now seemed to be of no essence. The rest of the people in the expanse of the hall and the air filled with conversation seemed to have completely vaporised into nothing more than an insignificant echo.

After some time, they both seem to be brought back to reality as the music started back up. A notable change can now be heard in it’s quality of performance since a new, more distinguished, band of musicians  appeared, in exchange of the prior orchestra. Most likely to symphonise a final dance before the auction started.

Upon hearing the newborn melody, Chrollo looks at her again with a more concentrated gaze as he utters his next words, “Dance with me.” His voice is soft as he speaks, but there is a certain command in it, which compels one to oblige instantaneously. Her eyes widen in mild surprise at the sudden request. Her heart begins to thump in her chest at a slightly more accelerated speed, as she gazes up into the sparkling depths of obscurity, contained within those enthralling dark grey eyes of his. Chrollo patiently waits, now with another kind smile compared to the more pointed expression he presented mere seconds ago. “Uhm…alright.” She agrees after initial hesitation, as he offers her his hand, giving the cue, to which she immediately complies.

Placing her smaller hand into Chrollo’s, he leads her onto the dance floor where others have already started their waltz. They stop together in the free space as Chrollo raises their intertwined hands into the air fluidly, and uses his other hand to promptly and gently wrap around her lower back, pulling her closer into him. He offers her an unabashed grin while a more bashful smile spreads itself upon her own lips.

“I should have warned you earlier…I’m not a great dancer.” She admits and glances away from his piercing gaze before meeting his eyes once more. His own lips merely quirk upwards after sensing her apprehension before he responds, “I believe it’s a little too late for any inhibitions now, darling. Allow me to be your guide.” Is all he says, before starting to fall into rhythm with her gracefully, leading her through every step as they progress in their dance.

The music flows through the crowded space easily, while Chrollo smoothly dictates the slow succession of steps and figures, occasionally twirling her around and pulling her in extremely close. It was evident that she felt a bit nervous at the start, and not only because of the fact that this handsome dark haired man was present and choosing to be with her, but since she never considered herself to be a capable dancer. Somehow with Chrollo’s efficient guidance, she found herself naturally responding to his movements. It was bizarre yet magnificent at the same time. As if the ability of dancing itself was innately present with her all along and never existed only as a foreign concept.

“I do not know why you feared that you didn’t have the capacity to be a capable dancer. You’re moving splendidly.” Chrollo praises with a soft smile on his face as they continue to dance. She keeps her eyes on his as they effortlessly sway to the soft classical music provided by the orchestra. “Maybe I just have a good partner.” She teases with a small grin. Chrollo subtly smirks at her suave comment as his obsidian eyes fill with mirth.

Don’t be so humble now, dear. I have witnessed how other women dance and some appear to be as stiff as rocks.” He comments in amusement as he spins her around gently before pulling her back against him, her body moving fluently in response to his lead. “I see you have had plenty of experience in dancing then?” She asks as she tries to appear nonchalant. Chrollo only chuckles softly as his sharp eyes pierce into her own. “Call it observation.” He responds enigmatically as his hand slithers down to her waist from the small of her back.

The two continue dancing until the song begins to fade towards its’ conclusion. After spending only around two hours with Chrollo, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. His enticing nature and charming persona, coupled with his appealing handsome looks was beginning to get to her. The aforementioned idea of romance, that she approached with much scrutiny and distaste, now seemed not be as bad. She could only hope and fathom the idea that fate has finally been kind to her and bestowed this ridiculously attractive man in her favour.

She didn’t know what approach she should take anymore, but she did know one thing; she never wanted for this dream-like dance to end. But all good things seem to come to an end. So she allows herself to indulge in this as much as possible and drink every drop from tonight’s company before the clock struck twelve.

Chrollo looks down at her with devilish smile gracing his plump lips as his eyes sparkle with a newfound light. “Earlier you mentioned you wished for the evening to be more entertaining…well I can assure you of one thing, my dear…” He twirls her around gently for the final time before smoothly pulling her back against his chest with a hand on the small of her waist. Tipping her backwards ever so slightly, Chrollo leans his head down next to hers and whispers the next words into the shell of her ear, his lips brushing the tender skin with the barest touch, “…It will only get more interesting, from now on…”

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if you survived after reading this, I commend you for your dilligence and patience.

As an FYI: This post is a result of a random idea along with me wanting to test my writing capabilities in the department of fanfiction lol. So I have no clue how this escalated to me posting this on here but take what you want of it.

If you are still reading, I would be eternally blessed if I receive any feedback cuz I deadass have no clue what I am doing.

Stay slay and peace out!

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #Chrollo #hxh chrollo #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #anime #x reader

[tired-reader-writer]

Putting the drabble(?) under a read-more because I don't feel so confident in this one. This was just supposed to be an excuse and vehicle for the solar eclipse and the Pilgrim's Bells ringing so if all the other parts sound jank, that is why!

I apologize for this 😭

The sun blinks.

Hilmes stills.

The sun shines unwaveringly, bright and blinding. Clouds may block it, mist may dim it, and the skies may bring it to rest every dusk.

But the sun does not blink.

It goes against every common sense, the very nature of the sun, but—

It blinks, now.

It blinks and blinks, dims and lights up and dims again like a star, the rays almost blinding in contrast when the light returns.

Until it doesn't.

From the sky, vanish the sun's light.

The air turns cold, and shadows dance around them, like a heat haze, like a mirage, and the malformed creatures halt to look at them. As if captured. As if mesmerized.

Zahhak halts.

The moon, realizes Hilmes. It's the moon, the moon devouring the sun, the moon granting them a boon. A celestial of the night, entering the sun's domain.

The sky children.

He looks at the sword in his hand. Glowing silver, starlight on the earth.

Rukhnabad was forged from a fallen star.

He can move again, he finds. Where before he and his army were frozen by the Serpent King's snare, the moon has lifted the pressure from their mortal bodies— it drops like a rock, and in turn the lack of weight lifts them up.

He feels light. He feels as though he could float away.

He raises the sword, Rukhnabad, jabs it upwards to the sky like a beacon, a guiding light, a breath of hope in place of the sun.

“Hark ye, mages and riders!” he cries out, his voice returning to him at last. “Arise, arise! The wretched snake's curse has lifted!”

A collective cry answers him, relief and hope blends one voice to the other until he can no longer tell which voice was whose, and how many there remained.

It is fine. It's enough.

“Endure, we must! Prevail, we must! Zahhak has been defeated once, he will be brought down once again! By us, by our hands!”

He thinks of Kaykhusraw. The hero-king. The slave. The traitor.

His ancestor.

“And we have with us, what the hero king never did! The key to end this, once and for all!” More like what he foolishly threw away, but this is not the place to say it. I won't do it, he swears to himself. I will not selfishly discard what should be dear to me. Zandeh and Irina flash in his mind at once, but also Kharlan and Saam and Bahman, his followers, his men, all of them, even the ones whose names he knows not.

The mages.

The little bird.

Areyan.

“Remember your brother and sisters. Remember that aid is coming.”

The sound of bells shall reverberate, sang to him the old crone, Break the heavens like dawn over the mountains.

“The promise shall be fulfilled…” The promise of victory, no doubt they would think, there is that too, but his mind dwells on the promise of freedom.

The promise Kaykhusraw broke.

And true tomorrow shall arrive again.

“But for that—” He points Rukhnabad forward, lightning trailing behind it in a dance, casting the shifting shadows in a starker light. “For that we must fulfill our role. Remember! Remember what it is that we set out to do! Remember the work that needs to be done!”

There's so much. There's so much to be done. Here and now, against Zahhak the Serpent King, but also beyond that, beyond everything, even when peace is restored.

The work will be never-ending.

He can't wait to get to it.

He can't help the feral grin that graces his lips.

The sun starts to blink again. The eclipse is about to end.

They need to act fast.

“Loose the arrows! Clear a path so that the second squad can bind Zahhak. We must hold on until—”

That is when the bells ring.

The song, it comes from beyond the horizon, from the east, west, north, and south, around them, all around them, filling the air and overlapping, amplifying each other until naught could be heard over them—

The sky laughs and laughs and laughs.

Like an echo, like light, like dawn breaking over the mountain peaks and thunder in a storm, ripples spreading across still-waters, the swaying of trees in the strong winds.

Like the world comes alive, like all spirits were a single soul made solid.

“Now, now!”

The mass of people spring into action. People, and spirits too. He feels them. They rush through them, past them, wading through the army of men as though they too were part of the charge, all the while the earth trembles and shakes beneath their feet and the sun flick-flick-flickers above in the sky.

And the sound of bells would not stop. He can scarcely hear his men's voice above it, can scarcely hear his own heart.

Well, that is fine.

He is not alone, that much he can tell.

Everyone is here. Even the ones he had sent away to find what had been lost.

They may not be here in flesh, in these plains where the battle takes place, but…

Undoubtedly, they are present nonetheless.

He loses himself in the ever-rising song as he rides forth, and drives the treasured sword in Zahhak's chest as ghosts unseen rend him asunder.

And then all is white.

The darkness is no more.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #rotten egg's shitty writing #hilmes #zahhak #the bells THE BELLS #this took quite a while to write #this is NOT edited at all it's a first draft hahahahaha