#and also a bit of a peek through his veil.

[rockeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

made matt a doctor in my au specifically because him being the token Guy Who Made It of the group is really funny to me

[zepskies]

Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending. 

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony. 

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill. 

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open. 

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.” 

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.  

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could. 

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands. 

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder. 

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could. 

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself. 

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter. 

“Don’t you look at my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip. 

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck. 

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response. 

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.” 

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile. 

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life. 

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip. 

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought. 

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood. 

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing. 

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface. 

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked. 

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself. 

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood. 

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated. 

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed. 

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?” 

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close. 

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.” 

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise. 

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill. 

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw. 

Okay, now you were panicking a bit. 

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff). 

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom. 

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay. 

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips. 

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him? 

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first. 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt. 

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine. 

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker. 

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table. 

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you. 

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again. 

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.”

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery. 

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded. 

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out. 

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you. 

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom. 

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot. 

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought. 

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.” 

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for. 

And he got tired of waiting for your answer. 

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows. 

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked. 

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized. 

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this. 

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically. 

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter. 

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment. 

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile. 

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head… 

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood. 

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes. 

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion. 

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

“What do you think?” he countered.  

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk. 

“Show me,” you challenged. 

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch. 

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp. 

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.  

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.  

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap. 

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head. 

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds. 

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most. 

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted? 

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response. 

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk. 

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit. 

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.  

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair. 

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.  

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words. 

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you. 

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there. 

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. ���You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.” 

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.��  

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Keep reading: PART 2

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

Extra: A Ghostly Tactical Bakery

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig X Female!Criminal! Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

NOTE: Hello, everyone! I hope you'll like the chapter! By the end of this extra, I will be putting a poll regarding our gremlin's call name, which I believe or like to think will be a bit of a reveal/foreshadowing for the upcoming chapters. I shall mention more details after this. Thank you!

You put your index finger to your lips, blowing silently to hush down the whining creature beside you. Riley, your brother’s—or at least that was what he wanted to get called or referred to—Hesh’s dog. You took a slice of bread out from your stash and tore it in half.

With a smile, you handed him the food. You watched him take a sniff first, before carefully biting the bread and slipping it off from your fingers.

You pushed your balaclava over your head, then brought your part of the bread to your lips. You put a hand on Riley’s head, softly stroking it as he nibbled on his food.

In silence, you both ate what was left on your ration for the day and patiently waited for Walkers’ and Keegan's return.

“Taking a while, aren’t they?” you spoke just as you chewed on your food and swallowed. Riley let out a whine in return.

You tilted your head at his way. “You think they’re having fun without us?”

His ears perked up and barked in a low volume.

You nodded, lower lip poking out in agreement. “Right?” you clicked your tongue. “Let’s bite off their asses once we meet up.” Then, as if he was to be of the same opinion, he laid his head down on your lap.

You remained sitting at the corner of a rooftop, up in an abandoned building where you could see the rest of the vicinity. A sniper rifle rested on your side, while Riley remained on the other. In this mission, you were supposedly the recon sniper. And it seemed the sun had also begun to get impatient as the time ticked. Its last warmth for the day kissed your skin, covered in paint and dirt, as it slowly said goodbye.

Upon its final wave, darkness veiled over the land and the ones up in the sky, overshone by the nearest star, begin to twinkle, eager for their time to shine. Then, something brighter caught your eye as it drew a trail into the night.

You picked up your gun, Riley quickly stood up, and you got on your knees, peeking over the wall of the rooftop.

Would have been beautiful if it was a shooting star. Maybe, you would have made a wish.

You looked through the scope, finger landing on the trigger as you steadied your gun.

But this kind of shooting star, coming from below, would also make you say a wish that everyone—people you call your family were okay. Then you frowned and rolled your eyes, as you saw fucking David “fucking won’t stop annoying the fuck out of you for at least a fucking second” Walker flipping fingers at you, mouthing ‘you suck’, and Logan “fave bro” Walker kicking his shin. At their back, Elias shook his head.

You felt a twitch under your eye in irritation. “Son of a . . .”

“Language.”

In an instant, you drew your pistol and aimed at the man behind you, and upon quickly scanning the man’s appearance—a uniform the same as yours, a balaclava with a white skull painted over, and frosty blue eyes which had become stormy with the shadows of the night.

You dropped your arm, sighing. “Good lord, Keegan,” you grumbled and turned to Riley with a glare. “And why didn’t you tell me he’s coming?” You narrowed your eyes. “I swear, you like him more than you like me.”

Riley merely barked at you.

You pulled a face. “Bruh.”

Keegan stared at Riley, before settling his eyes on you, with the most judging look he had once in a while. But as you were about to say a retort, he spoke. “Come on, kid.” Keegan pulled your balaclava back in place, stuffing your face with fabric once again. Then, he turned away, gesturing at Riley, and started jogging.

You followed his steps down the roof and onto the winding stairs of the building, each footfall echoed in a steady rhythm. In this noise and silence at the same time, you found comfort. You opened your mouth underneath the fabric, wanting to speak but no words came out.

You wanted to say a pick-up line—maybe, try rizzing him, again. But usually, it never worked, and you have very unsupportive brothers-in-arms.

Hesh would make himself vomit just to tell you how disgusted he was and Logan would walk away, most of the time dragging Merrick or anyone of the Ghosts with him. Elias, on the other hand, would just give you a thumbs-up with an awkward grin.

It wasn’t like you had any prior experience in romance or anything related to that for a matter of fact.

All the lessons which your father gave you as you grew up was: how to kill, how to murder, how to massacre, how to be above everything else.

You were more or less a weapon he created, than a daughter he raised.

But heck, your father should have at least taught you how to seduce people. Then again, why seduce people when you can just straight up bash their heads?

It wasn’t like you could give Keegan those heads.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

WAIT.

You could give him a head!

Haha! You fucking genius!

Then, realization dawned on you at the bottom of the stairs. You let your rifle fall off your hands just as you pulled on your balaclava, and exclaimed, “Argh, I don’t know how to do that, though!”

Keegan and Riley stopped in their tracks. The dog tilted his head curiously at you as the Sergeant turned to face you, eyeing you with confusion. “Do what?”

Ah, shit. You forced out a laugh and rushed ahead, leaving him behind with Riley. “Nothing!” you remarked, pushed open the glass door of the building, before jogging back to the stairs where you left your gun.

You cleared your throat as he stared at you pointedly and once again, he led the way to the meeting point, which was the roof top of another building.

It didn’t take long to track the others down, but the stairs sure gave you an unwanted exercise. You breathed heavily upon the final step and kicked the rooftop door open, where the Walkers awaited your arrival. Riley ran up to Hesh as the butt kneeledHesh and Logan, while Elias walked toward you.

The Captain put his hand on your shoulder, patting softly. “Everything okay at your end, child?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. “Although, I don't see a reason why you smoked up a flare. Which I guess to be my dear eldest brother's doing.” You shot a glare at Hesh, which he merely rose a brow at.

Elias chuckled and ruffled your head, but as his hand left, you were shoved down the rough concrete. You grunted upon impact and at the weight over you. Elias as well had been brought down with a groan.

“I'm borrowing this,” Keegan said in a low voice as he snatched your sniper rifle, positioning himself before you, making you face his ass.

You stared at it, respectfully. Lord, thank you for keeping me alive to see this blessing.

A gunshot rang in a deafening loudness, but it was music to your ears. And again, and again. One bullet for each head.

He looked so good that you just wanted to jump onto him, carry him around, and scream that you wanted to marry him and his goddamn tactical buttcheeks that could rival a bakery.

“Disgusting.”

You turned your head to Hesh, who was once again faking his vomit. Logan turned away from you. While Elias pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You love my ass that much that you want to marry me?” Keegan asked, gazing down at you.

You sat up, got on your feet and turned towards the edge of the roof. “You know what, I'll just jump.”

Keegan, however, grabbed the straps of your vest before you could run and dragged you as the sound of a chopper echoed in your ears, and it continued to do so until someone shook you.

You opened your eyes, wide like saucers and quickly straightened up at the sight of someone with a skull balaclava.

Ghost.

Not your Ghosts, but the Ghost of 141.

“Had a good sleep?” Simon questioned, putting his rifle down beside him.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, “I guess.” You looked around and realized you were still at Graves’ aircraft, which was heading to Las Almas.

“Looks like someone or a couple of sergeants exhausted you last night,” he claimed as his eyes shifted to Soap and you turned your head away.

“Uh,” Soap began, “who?”

“It's alright, Soap.” You faced him. “The Lt. knows you freaking made me look like your chew toy.”

His hand went at the back of his head, scratching his nape, a tint of red painting his cheeks. “Sorry if that upsets you.”

You hummed in return and intertwined your fingers, before pinching your hand, your nail planting onto the skin, but not enough to make it bleed.

Did you miss them badly you dreamt about them again? Was it guilt you feel for leaving them for your goal? Was it the urge to put a bullet in your head for being unloyal to the man you love although you weren't exactly his lover?

Or was it the urge to kill yourself right now to end this all?

“Something the matter, Bonnie?” Soap asked in a low voice.

Without bothering to shoot him a glance, you shook your head and painted a smile on your lips.

“Nothing.”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[runnning-outof-time]

embracing them from a sudden hug from behind but this time it's tommy!! <3

Ahh!! I’m so happy you sent another request in! 🥰 I’m sorry it took a little bit for me to get to writing it. I hope you enjoy!

You Do So Much For Us

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: none

Tommy surprises (Y/N) a few times in one night.

(Y/N) had just put the baby down to sleep after nursing and rocking him for the last half hour. She was also tired, but just couldn’t bring herself to step away from his crib. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, and it made her look at him with wonder; amazed at how she and Tommy created something so beautiful.

She was so immersed in thought that she didn’t hear the nursery door open, or the footsteps sound off the hardwood. In fact, she didn’t hear anything at all, which made her jump when two arms wrapped around her waist from behind. The sudden hug made her gasp, but her heart was quickly calmed when the smell of cigarettes and cologne filled her nostrils.

“You should know better than to sneak up on me like that, Thomas Shelby,” she scolded him quietly, being mindful not to wake the baby.

“Did I sneak up on you?” he asked her, his voice husky right next to her ear. She couldn’t stop the chills that coursed through her body upon hearing it.

“You did!” she whisper yelled, twisting her neck as best as she could in order to give him an incredulous look.

“Well for that I am truly sorry, Mrs. Shelby,” he said, nuzzling his face into her neck as he swayed her gently, his arms tightening around her abdomen as he pressed his lips to her skin.

“No you’re not,” she jokingly stated, her hands falling onto his forearms, gently running along them. “I’m surprised that you’re home so early,” she commented then, making sure to keep her voice low.

“It’s half past nine, love,” he pointed out, lifting his face enough so that he could talk without his words being muffled.

“That’s early for you, love,” she countered, using the same term of endearment that he’d just said as she spoke in a matter of fact tone. Tommy only chuckled against her skin, knowing this was a losing battle for him. “Loosen up,” she said to him then, pressing gently on his arms so that he’d get the hint and loosen his hold on her. He listened, letting go of her just enough so that she could spin in his arms to face him. “How was your day?” she asked, her hands rising so that she could fiddle with the clip that he wore on his tie.

“Fine,” he responded simply, and (Y/N) nodded, knowing that that was the extent of what she was going to get from him. “I had a talk with Pol…”

“You did?” (Y/N) answered, her eyebrows raising as surprise filled her voice. She was instantly curious as to what was talked about.

“Yeah…” Tommy trailed off, pursing his lips as he looked down at her, “she told me what it is that would make you happy.”

(Y/N)’s heart started thundering in her chest as dozens of scenarios started rushing through her mind, spurred on by Tommy’s veiled statement. “Wha…what did she tell you?” she hesitantly asked him, her eyes wide as she waited intently for his answer, knowing full well that Polly could have told him anything.

“She said that you want to go on holiday. So I figured I’d make that happen. We’ll go somewhere nice; just the two of us…”

“Tommy,” (Y/N) gasped, stopping him mid-sentence.

“She offered to take Charlie; said we can go for as long as we want,” his grin grew as he shared more details with her.

“She really said all that?” she checked to make sure this was really happening before reacting.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, love,” he answered her, watching as a wide smile formed on her face.

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed, sucking her lips against her teeth as she realized that they were standing feet away from their sleeping son. A quick peek over Tommy’s shoulder made her relax; Charlie was still sleeping. “I can’t believe she suggested that,” she whispered this time, smiling at Tommy again.

“What did you think she told me?” he questioned, his one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

“You’d be surprised what I share with Polly,” she paused, watching surprise fill his features, “but don’t you worry about that,” she made sure to add, patting on his chest for extra effect. Tommy only chuckled at her statement, shaking his slightly at his wife’s antics. She smiled up at him, excitement coursing through her. “We’re really going to go on holiday?” she checked with him again after a few moments had passed. It was like she wanted to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yes,” he nodded his head, his smile returning, “we are. Anywhere you choose. You do so much for us, love, it’s only fair that I show you how much I appreciate you.”

“I love you,” (Y/N) smiled at him, squeezing his biceps lightly as she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” Tommy repeated the sentiment, mumbling it against her lips before he kissed them again. “I think we ought to go to bed…before Charles wakes up,” he suggested once they’d pulled away from each other.

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder again to see that the baby had, thankfully, slept through his parents’ entire conversation. “I think we should,” she agreed, frowning slightly when she realized that that meant Tommy would have to let go of her. She was quite content in his arms.

“C’mon…let’s go to bed,” he nodded towards the door, taking hold of her hand so that he could lead her out and to their bedroom.

It didn’t take long until (Y/N) was smiling again, content in Tommy’s arms as he hugged her to his body from behind. She closed her eyes, her mind full of the possible holiday destinations. She was surprisingly able to push them aside and get to sleep rather quickly…something told her that Tommy’s presence was to thank for that.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[invinciblerodent]

About the altered animations in Astarion's first romance scene

I already knew that there's something of a precedent for large updates to change camera angles and facial animations around a little bit, so, on a lark, I loaded in my save from before the first romance scene in my current, Astarionmance playthrough, just to see and compare it to my recorded version, see if there's been any changes since then.

Well... honestly? My feeling is that the two scenes are pretty much only roughly comparable to each other at this point. Like not to be dramatic, but it's kind of almost a case study in how much body language can alter the perception and interpretation of the same dialogue.

In the version of this that I got originally in my game (on october 21st so in patch 3, through high approval, quite a bit before the party), the short conversation before leaving the main campsite has him wearing sort of a... heavy, darkly suggestive, almost predatory expression. He looks, overall, very serious: head pitched strategically forward so he's both leaning towards- and looking at the PC through his lashes (maybe crowding them a little bit, stepping into their space), his eyes are more narrow and provocative, and he's not wearing even a hint of a smile. I think it makes it very clear what the intent here is: to present Desire™, and show a façade that suggests his impending performance of the "ooh, the sexy vampire is now going to steal you away to have his wicked way with you" fantasy.

Comparing this to the latest version (as of the 4th of december, so shortly after patch 5, which from the patch notes I'm guessing is likely what brought these alterations on), it's... very strangely different.

I had not altered my settings, or the shots in any way (beyond cropping and resizing), the lighting just... seems to have been brightened. But, the most obvious change is that his entire body language is sort of... tipped more back and away from the PC now. His brows and eyes are a lot softer and more open, rounded, more like they appear later on in the confession scene, and he's smiling this.... kind of cordial, unsettlingly friendly smile, that seems (at least in retrospect) very obviously fake and plastered on. I think he's selling the illusion of the rakish debaucher, the dashing scoundrel about to rock your world, a lot less convincingly this time around.

Even though the voicelines have not been altered in a way I can detect, his face is saying something completely different, and it recontextualizes a lot of things for me.

[Also in addition, him breaking character momentarily ("I do mean sex, to be clear") now does also lose a bit of its humor for me. Just because this new way, there isn't as large a gap between the capital letter Performance, and the little side note he gives himself in the middle of it. Now it's somehow... less theatrical overall, and so the aside is less like he knows he sounds unnatural and his real self is peeking out from behind the lines, and veers a twinge more towards "in case you're dense and didn't actually notice that I'm seducing you, I'll dumb it down for you".]

Even as he's waiting for the response in that silly "ta-dah!" pose, his face is very different: instead of that sort of blank, "haughtily and hauntingly sexy", determined kind of look, he's now gazing at the PC with what (in motion at least) looks to me like it's kinda... going rapidly back and forth between almost a pained/unsure look, and... a thinly veiled disgust, maybe?

Like, that's... that's straight-up a grimace, man, I don't want anyone I'm considering sleeping with to be looking at me like that.

Within the scene itself that follows, the animation appears unchanged (or at least not changed significantly enough for me to notice without playing them literally side by side), but the following conversation in the morning is... also a bit odd, and has been edited heavily?

In my original recording, he seems to be making sure to look at the PC more, though only over his shoulder, and his features are harder, more severe again, as it is in line with the conversation before. The whole little exchange, before the arcana check and before it'd segue into talking about Cazador more directily, ends on a bit of an eyeroll and a hidden smile that can be construed as conspiratory, or just a bit sly and self-satisfied.

This kinda straddles the line between "hehe, you're caught in my web now" and "hehe, I'm SO good at sex"- the former being closer to what he's likely thinking, and the latter being one of the more obvious ways the PC can interpret that look. A+ on that, no notes.

But now, (first of all the lighting is overall much less warm, the whole scene looks cool and less afterglow-y) he doesn't really turn to face the PC, not even over his shoulder. This keeps his expressions concealed from them, but open to the player, which is an interesting choice, and his expressions are, again, a lot more in line with those from later scenes, when the relationship is well underway: it's less openly performative, and more just a... a sad, unguarded, almost forlorn, private look. My guy looks like he is speedrunning through all his emotions over the span of like 10 seconds here-

-and lands notably on this kind of unsettling shot, of this expression that's, while somewhat similar to the old one for the line "I didn't want to go too far" (that the PC can halfway see), is both more exaggerated, and kept entirely to himself:

I for one find this one a little.... creepy and cartoonish, tbh???? Which, I guess while it's in line with the whole "I'm such an evil mastermind, they've fallen right into my honeypot" way of thinking he is supposed to have in this precise moment, it, uh.

Listen, it just conjures in my mind a violently clear image of Robbie Rotten from Lazytown. Because it's just such an "I'm clearly being a villainous villain with a nefarious scheme and agendas aplenty" expression, he's all but twirling his mustache, and the fact that it's turned right to the player's face rather than being only hinted at for both person and character, makes it look... pretty heavy-handed. Which I guess is more indicative of this man having a charisma score of a whopping 10, but it takes away from the subtlety of the entire exchange, and kind of creates a rift between what the player, and what the PC can know/suspect.

Overall, these new animations look... very different, bit more like they're trying to drive the point all the way home? Now there seems to be a big neon sign that says "HE IS NOT DOING THIS FOR PLEASURE" over his head, rather than letting your figure things out for yourself later on.

Needless to say, I.... personally prefer the old version of this scene over this new one, lol.

(...... One final, mildly notable change I noticed is that they seem to have taken out the little moan they had my character make as he bit into her neck? In my old recording, there was a tiny, barely audible little "a-aah!", and that's just.... not there now. I'm not sure what that's about, if it's a bug or a feature, and I don't know if they had it for other player voices or not, but prior to now, they did go pretty hard into how getting bitten is, to many, quite pleasurable, so downplaying that now comes off as a tiny bit odd to me.)

(I do like how her tits look less squashed though. They perked my girl's girls up a little bit, which is kinda nice lol.)

Editing to say this: it seems like these animations are the same as the goblin party ones, only... in the daylight? Which, it could be a bug of some sorts. I reloaded it once and it was the same once more, but... it could be that my save is kinda weird there for some reason. Idk. Turning reblogs off because it could just be a bug.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Memento Mori

type: smut warning(s): explicit descriptions, this is filth, an dark, and a bit sinister word count: 3.3k words summary: As Grim Reaper Azriel is absolutely not amused to find out about a young healer, saving his already claimed souls from dying. He comes to find you, to have a word with you. He does not know what expects him.  Once again thank you to @moonlightazriel for placing this thought in my mind <3

-all rights reserved-

He comes for everyone — the rich, the poor, the strong, the weak, those who suffer, those who do not expect. He cuts your thread, you are his, his to claim. He will come for you at night, find you at day, curl his cold, scarred fingers around your trembling body, take you with him.

You are his from then on. He, whose name is unknown to mortals, goes on the hunt, every day, every hour, to find his victims, his new prey.

No pleading, no begging helps—he is merciless, ruthless, cruel, cold. And what he wants, he gets.

The echoes of his former claims, the pleas for just a day longer, one moment, another chance, hollow in the mind of the angel of Death, Azriel. He leaves his empire of claimed souls, long cloak gliding over the floor like a shadow, rustling on the ground.

One dark winter’s night his target is something new, something that makes his blood boil, his cold skin grow hot. Fueled by anger he is driven to the mortal lands once again.

You make his blood boil—a mortal who challenges Death, makes fun of him by saving people, saving them from death, bringing them back to life.

His balance is out of control and if there is one thing Azriel cannot stand then it is losing control. You make him lose control, and he doesn’t even know you in person yet. He does not know what will expect him when he lays eyes on you, when his soul for the first time in centuries starts glowing, yearning. His balance is shaken and that only through a mortal?

The knock of death against your door is soft, yet powerful. You don’t even have to ponder, having already expected the male hidden behind his shadows. Confident steps carry you to the door where you peek through a tiny hole in the wood. His face is veiled in shadows, his hat drawn, a dark cloak completing his appearance. 

You draw in a deep breath, readying yourself for your very first encounter with Him—the Lord of Death. Azriel, born of shadow and darkness. 

And then your own fingers curl around the cool handle, almost teasingly, like you’re a playing death once again, you open the door, your eyes lifting to the covered face, the male looming over you. His face is shielded, yet his eyes, the deep hazel, stand out—are a stark contrast to his appearance. They pierce right into your soul and you know that in this very moment Death knows what you have done in your life. Every good and every bad deed, it is all revealed to him.

Icy cold creeps into your skin, almost making it burn. You can see your breath, can feel your heart beat in your throat. It is true what they say, his biting grip starts when you make eye contact with him.

Your voice is a breathy whisper, in his ears the most erotic sound he has ever heard, when you say, “I was expecting you, Lord of Death.”

Azriel is not too fond of this feistiness. He does not like it when people are not scared, when they don’t run and beg. It makes his anger increase that your are so confident, so cocky, so feisty.

He is so very angry and all of a sudden thoughts of how he could punish you for that flood his mind. None of these things only partly scrape the thought of taking your life. He is beyond that. He wants to do other things to you, he wants you to beg for other things, plead and cry when he his moving inside of you. These thoughts that are so obscene and lewd, his cock strains against his tight pants, making an ache and longing appear that he has never felt before.

Another thing he hates because this is also what losing control feels like. His rising lust only fuels his anger, his desire making it so hard to breathe that his voice is ragged and raspy when the next words leave his mouth. “How dare you?”

Azriel takes a step closer, his jaw clenched, his eyes like burning flames.

“How dare you be so fearless in the eyes of Death? So reckless? I’ve known you are one of the bad kind, but you are even worse.” His voice is a cold, rough growl that has your insides clenching, your toes curling and you accept this challenge, inviting Death inside your home.

“You may enter, Lord of Death.” And with that you step back, allowing the cold and darkness to fill every little corner of your home.

You allow him your entrance? It feels like the greatest mockery he has ever experienced.

He sweeps in, his dark cloak moving over the ground like a wave of darkness. His presence immediately fills the interior of your little hut, power stretching out like a dark cloud, his cold curling around your spine. But it is his darkness that thrills you, that you want to consume you.

The male, so tall, looming over you, makes a sharp spin and pins you with his gaze. For a moment you find yourself unable to look away, to think, to breathe. All your attention goes to his piercing eyes, flames of hazel burning in them. 

“Why are you not afraid, mortal?” The Lord of Death spits his questions like the words taste foul on his tongue. “Because I am not scared of a man whose only job is to claim those who have no choice, those who suffer, those who—“ The shadowy male cuts you off, hurdling towards you so quickly you have not seen it coming. The is a moment of taunting and teasing, you circle each other, until he cradles your face in his icy, scarred hand, glaring deep into your eyes, your soul. 

“I am keeping balance. And I claim all of them. All of you. All mortals. The suffering, the happy ones, the kind ones, the bad ones.” He puts stress on bad, nearing your face, but before he can make any further move bindings snap up from the ground, curling around his wrists, by magic a chair moves forward, the bindings pull him down, restraining him. 

You grin in triumph.

“You—“ he hisses. “How dare you defy me, mortal filth. Release me!”

Eyes aglow, Death scans your body with a predatory gaze. 

“Release me!” His voice is louder than expected, the deep tenor hollering through your hut.

But you withstand the rising threat, the rising angst, slowly creeping into your body. You clamp it down. You withstand it—you withstand him. The corners of your lips curl upwards, you are at an advantage, you have him exactly where you want him. He will be the one begging, pleading…for your mercy. “As I said, I am not scared of Death. Having conquered him many times already.”

You add and extra sway to your hips when you waddle over to the male, grinning delightedly. “I am not afraid of you.” 

And although this sentence is a mockery and he should feel angry and violent, his heart warms at that, his heart beating frantically. You are not afraid. You are not afraid of death. Of him. 

Everyone has always been afraid of him. Not you. You are not scared—not even in his presence. It is this knowledge, this knowledge that no matter what he will do you won’t scare of him, that makes him want to lose control. That makes him feel alright with this loss of control. He wants to be submissive for you. He likes that you have taken control of this situation.

Azriel's head tips back an inch, his chest heaving when your scent of life, of night, of forest, fills his nostrils. You place a knee on the chair between his thighs, your hands moving to his shoulders.

This is the last push he needs to fully give into you, to fully give himself to you. You are not afraid to touch him. Everyone has always backed away from touching his icy surface, scared they might die right where they were.

Death has never had a lover, has never had any intimate encounters, but he knows exactly how he would take you that night, how he would worship you. 

Azriel groans lowly, when intentionally or not your knee slides closer. He squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a shuddering breath. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Not a question, but a command that leaves room for interpretation. 

Your hand brushes over his shoulders, the lapels of his cloak. You can feel his cold skin underneath, wanting nothing more than to let your palms glide over it. You have no idea what he does to you, why you want him so much. It feels like some primal need is finally awakened, yearning and longing filling every fiber of your body. Voluntarily or not your arch into him, nearly coming in contact with his chest. “I want you to stop claiming the lives of those who have done nothing in their life to deserve it. Who have not gotten a chance to live. Children, babies.”

“It is not my decision to make!”

That makes you angry and you grit your teeth, leaning closer. You grasp his hat from his head, tossing it away and fully revealing his stunning face. Cruel beauty.  

“It is! Don’t you have a heart?” Azriel’s fingers curl towards his palms, stuck on the armrest of the chair. 

“I do have a heart!” he spits and wants to add, that it is finally beating, beating for you and you only. Filling with warmth for the first time in centuries. Not the only body part that is filled with warmth. His cock throbs with need, a painful ache behind his all of a sudden so tight pants.

“It is to keep the balance. When the—“ “Fuck the balance. You take children away from their mothers, their fathers. Their hearts are ripped open without hope for repair.” Tears dwell in your eyes at the thought of your neighbour, losing her one year old. Fury burns it way through your body, your skin is on fire when your fingers curls around Azriel’s throat. He meets your gaze, nostrils flared, eyes ablaze. 

“I was going to say that when the fates cut their life thread I am coming to claim them. It is not me who makes this decision. And it is never ever easy to take a child, just so you know. I might have thought you think that I find incredibly pleasure in taking children away from their parents.”

That…you haven’t known. “It is not you who…”

You lose yourself in your thoughts, your mind running wild. It is not him who cuts the life threads. He only comes to claim the people. 

“I didn’t know.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips curls into an almost mocking smirk, his eyes darken when they seize in on your face. “Obviously.”

For a moment your gazes are locked, piercing into the others soul and for the first time this evening you care about what he might see inside your soul. His eyes do things to you. And you know one thing for sure: when it comes to this male there is not much seduction needed, he pins you with his gaze and you core starts throbbing with need.

But you won’t let him have this. You lean closer, so close your noses are almost touching. Your tongue poking out, licking over your dry lips, the shadowy male’s eyes cast down, following the movement. You know what your are doing. You know exactly what you are doing and that it is driving him mad. Death has truly lost control and that to a mortal. A mortal who tired to defy him, mock him, play him. But gods, does he like this. 

“What is it that you want?” you ask, your voice a breathy whisper. Azriel knows that you want to know what he wants in life, what he would rather do instead of claiming those life. But in this very moment there is only one thing he can think of, only one thing he truly wants. 

“I want you. I want you on my cock.”

Slight shock makes your body go rigid, your breathing ragged. You pull back sharply.

Astonishment fills every fiber of your body because you have expected a lot, but not this. Never this. You can smell his arousal, feel his desire stretch out but you would have never guessed he would ask for this, would use such vulgar wording.

Azriel must have noticed your surprise, his face turns grim, eyes losing their fire. He looks almost worried for a moment, his skin turning even colder. 

You want to show him that this is exactly what you want. That you have been yearning for this since the moment he stepped into your house. You need him, need Death to consume you, claim you in another way he normally did with mortals. 

You brush your thumb over his chin, eyes following the movement and suck your lower lip between your teeth. You lift your gaze to his, lips slightly parting when your hand moves to the ties of your dressing gown. Pulling on them, you manage to shrug your dressing gown of, leaving you just in a tiny slip, that accentuates your curves and nearly has the shadowy male panting. 

“Beg.”

It is a whispered command that slips through your lips when you climb onto his lap, your thighs caging his. A wicked grin spreads over your lips, feral delight aglow in your eyes. Azriel’s mirrors this fire of desire, of pure, primal lust. 

 “And plead.”

You fully lower yourself to his hips, hands sliding over his shoulders, arms curling around his neck. 

“Beg for me just like you love to hear people beg to you. Plead that I give you exactly what you want. What you,” —your lips are mere inches from his— “desire.”

Your chest heaves, brushing against his toned chest covered by the thin cloak he’s wearing. You feel how tense his muscles are and lean back, watching the tendons stand out on his neck, how tight his skin appears all of a sudden and how his eyes are blazed with lust. 

You roll your hips, rubbing against him when Azriel leans forward and brushes his nose over your skin. You can feel his passion just as acute as your own.

You are playing with darkness, and Azriel, he would consume you. And this is all you want.

"Death and life have never been that close, have they?" His breath is a cold whisper along the side of your neck. The press of his hips against your own offers another proof of his desire, his erection hard against your softest parts. But he hasn’t given you an answer and you don’t like that. Hand coming up, your grab a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Beg,” you order, getting impatient. 

“Please,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His nostrils flare, his heated gaze caressing your skin. And so you have Death begging for you. For your mercy. It is a sinister delight that comes alive inside of you, making you feel powerful, strong and ruthless. 

“Please what?” You nip at his jaw, tasting his icy skin. This is a sin. The worst of all sins.

You grin when you hear him groan, his hips rubbing against yours. Although he loves your control over him, he decides that two can play this game. He also decides that, just for a moment longer, he lets you believe that these restraints could actually hold him, hold Death.

When his hardest parts press against your softest, so perfectly fitting, Azriel is rewarded with the breath catching in your throat.

“Please…kiss me, fuck me. Claim me. Make me yours.” 

He breathing is ragged, chest heaving with sharp inhales. “I, Death, Destroyer of Lives, surrender to you. I am fully yours.”

You have planned on teasing him more, making him beg and plead more, but your restraint is shredded, that very moment. There is only one thing on your mind: need. You need him. On you. In you. All over you.

His surrender is your undoing, proof that Death is willing to give his all to you. He lets you have control and despite how twisted this situation seems, your heart warms at this thought. 

One hand parting his cloak and sliding over the laces of his pants, you pull them open. His already rigid length springs free immediately and your mouth waters at his size, his thickness–he is beautiful. 

Azriel must have noticed your slight hesitation because he says, “No worries, we both know you can handle this.” 

You lift yourself up, hovering, fingers curling around his length to ease the tip into you. Something low in your belly clenches, your wet heat welcoming him. Azriel slides fully into your, a gasp parting both your lips when your bodies become flush with the other, merge, become one, come together. You take a short moment to adjust, to angle your hips and then you move. 

“Yes,” Azriel pants. “Yes, that's it. Fuck, yes.” His voice, the deep tenor reverberating through you, has the hair on your body standing, your toes curling. You moan loudly, the stretch of your walls from his cock on the edge of painful. But it does not hurt, it feels good, better than anything you have ever felt before.

“I…have never felt like that. Nothing…nothing can compare to this.”

And although he is death, a cruel monster in the eyes of most, Azriel feels alive for the very first time. Having you bounce on his cock, makes all sinister parts of his life fill with light. All he has done in his life has been that way so he could meet you. Fate has brought him here, and he will stay. With you. You are his.

Driven by lust, Azriel’s tongue latches over your right nipple, the short nightgown having slipped down your chest. You grab his shoulders, head thrown back, riding him. You cry out in pleasure, a mix of curses slipping through your lips. Azriel feels himself getting closer, your sinful sounds his most favourite music from now on.

And he knows, at the back of his mind he knows, that he doesn’t hear them for the last time today. He will hear them a lot from now on. You have entered into something there is no escaping from. You have let Death enter your house, your body. You are bound to him–his forever. Because there is no one apart from you that accepts Death likes this. That sees him, sees him for more than he is believed and he will never let you go, no matter what. 

“I want you to come with my name on your lips.”

You angle your hips, letting him hit that one damnable spot inside of you with every thrust. His name–unknown to mortals.

“Azriel.”

Azriel. The name hollows through your mind. It sounds so beautiful and he has told you his name. You are the first mortal to ever know of his name and this, even though it has been spoken and revealed in frenzy, does something to you. Your walls clench tighter around him, riding him harder.

A moan parts your lips, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Azriel.”

It is a breathy whisper, and Azriel knows that this…his name on your lips is his end, the most erotic thing he has ever heard, his weakness. You are his weakness. 

He rips through the bindings, loosening every restraint that has formerly holding him back. Azriel’s hips jerk up, his pants sliding down to his knees and before you can comprehend what is happening he has you pinned underneath him on the harsh wooden floor, pounding into you mercilessly, his large body covering yours. His hips slap against yours with deep, quick thrusts. The sounds are wet, your high-pitched moans and pants the only things that are louder.

And then you fall apart, Death is their to catch you, to hold you, guide you through your height. He follows right after, his hot release spurting of your walls, his hips meeting your with sloppy thrust. Azriel’s lips capture yours in another bruising kiss, he is not down yet. 

Hours later, Azriel still hovers over your, damp strands of hair sticking toppling over his forehead.

“Come with me. Come to the Hewn City with me. Become my queen.”

It should have been a difficult decision, but it isn’t. There is only one correct answer.

“Yes.”

And so Death has found his queen. He sweeps you up, his cloak wrapping around him, taking you with him to the Hewn City, his territory where you will be granted immortality, where you will rule next to him. 

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

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Yay your asks are open

Can I please get headcanons with Fuegoleon, William, and nozel with an s/o who sings beautifully and sings them a soft lullaby as he lays his head on their lap when he has a headache from overworking?

Yes they are!! ^^

Oh this was so cute that I just had to jump on it, and... I got a bit carried away ^^' Whoops. But I do hope that you like these ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x gn!reader, William x gn!reader, Nozel x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Fanfic type: Oneshots

Warnings: None

Total length: ~2.6k

Fuegoleon

Dusk was beginning to peek from behind the horizon and with it, just behind the treeline, you could see a veil of orange, red and gold, almost as if the warmth of your home was reflected in the world that opened before you from the window. Though, at times, you mused to yourself that it was only fitting to see such sunsets from the Crimson Lion Kings’ living quarters. It was a mere thought that tugged the corner of your lips up for a short while, in passing, whenever it occurred. But just as a summer breeze, in was soon swept away.

The door behind you opened, which made you turn around, only to see your husband return much earlier than anticipated. Not that you complained, oh no. In fact, it was much better this way, that he came home early every once in a while to get some rest.

But, just as soon as he stepped through the door, your expression turned into a frown, as the gentle loving smile you had grown to know, wasn’t there. Instead, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, and his head hung low; as low as it might hang when speaking about the king among lions.

His hair draped over his shoulders, and his cape was hanging from his left arm as he held it against his body, as if having shed some weight off of his shoulders.

Which in itself, perhaps, shouldn’t have been surprising. If anything, it was a wonder how he could carry the weight of his responsibilities with such elegance and poise to begin with. But, then again, he was special. He was strong and brilliant.

However, now, something was the matter, which is why you needed to ask about it.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquired, voice soft and gentle like silk to his ear, as in it there was also a welcome to home.

“Yes,” he replied as a faint smile appeared on his lips while hanging the cape away. “It’s just that… I think the last week has taken a toll on me, as I have a headache.” He admitted. And in the admission there was a hint of a … not quite shame, but perhaps apprehension. Because he knew that he ought to take good care of himself. After all, he was always telling you to get plenty of sleep, and remember to rest, while working ungodly hours himself.

“Then you should rest,” you said, speaking out a fact with a kind, understanding smile. Because you did understand him. You understood his drive, his motivations and wish to be the best version of himself while wanting nothing but the best for his knights and the kingdom. But he shouldn’t do it at the expense of his health.

Which he knew.

“Come one,” you urged with a near whisper while taking his hand and leading him towards the bed, with which he complied.

Of course he complied. Because though he might have had to retire early for the day, because of a headache, and simply not being able to process information, having you there made it all the more sweet; being home. Though, he had to wonder, if it would have felt like being at home in the first place without you being there. Because home was no longer a place for him, it was a person; you.

And as you laid together in bed, him placing his head onto your lap as you sat against the headboard, he could already feel some of the tension and dreariness off his body seeping away from him.

You sank your fingers into his hair and let the silken locks run through your fingers, gentle like a summer stream on a warm evening just washing over his body.

“Would it be easier if I removed my hair tie?” He inquired while looking at you with those eyes that were not quite royal purple and not quite lavender, but something else instead. A combination of silk and velvet that pulled you in time and time again.

“Maybe, if you like this that is,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from him as he lifted himself just enough to take off the hair tie and settle back down, head securely in your lap.

And just like that he closed his eyes, sinking into the sensation of your fingers brushing against his scalp, through the vermillion locks that bore the slightest scent of lavender. His chest rose as he took a deep inhale, and lowered back down with a steady, low, exhale that held the slightest hint of a hum.

With it, you begun humming a tune that had grown to be fond to you. A comforting melody of a lullaby that he had grown to know well too, and yet not quite well enough for his taste. A melody that he had only heard you hum, since you thought it to be, perhaps, strange to be singing a lullaby to him.

“Which song is that?” He thought to ask, this time, as he laid there, concentrating on the feeling of your touch.

“It’s a lullaby,” you answered with the faintest of senses of amusement in your tone.

“Oh,” he uttered, meaning nothing more with it. “Will you sing?”

There was a hint of absurdity in the request, but only a hint, a speck of dust on an open ocean. Because, he loved to listen to you sing.

“You wish to hear?”

He chuckled, only a little, and almost too quietly for you to hear. Almost, but not quite. “I love to hear you sing.”

And with it you, in turn, chuckled under your breath, before breathing in, and beginning to sing: “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes…”

His smile grew wider, more content, softer and more relaxed, as if all the burdens of the world couldn’t reach him anymore.

“Smiles await you when you rise…”

His breathing grew more calm and deep, speaking of how he was supposed to dose off out of exhaustion, the weariness in his bones. But he had more than earned a good rest. So, you sang, and let him drift away as you held him, with a wide, proud, loving smile on your lips.

William

Light cascaded in through the window, painting the entire room in various hues of golden light with the setting sun, as if creating a veil between the world that existed outside and the room itself. A welcomed state of being that allowed one to settle in for the night, for the evening, and to shed the burdens of life behind the bedroom door. Though, sometimes, it was easier than at other times, which was only natural.

And from the way William walked in through the door that evening, told you enough.

It’d be one of the days, when shedding that burden would be harder.

His eyes were down, and his chin was hanging low, but still he tried to give you a faint smile as a greeting.

And yet there was something in his demeanour that spoke of something else, an added sense of trouble.

“How was your day?” You asked with an innocent question as he put his cloak and mask away for the day.

His steps were heavy, nearly dragging. And the exhale, nearly a sigh, was almost defeated.

“Long,” he replied after a brief pause. “And I seem to have gotten a headache too,” he continued, almost as if an afterthought.

“Well… you do have a lot on your mind,” you told, with faint, careful amusement, to which he replied with a quiet chuckle.

“That I do,” he agreed as he sat onto the bed and took off his boots.

“You should rest, for the evening,” your voice was gentle, warm and loving, but beneath the layers there was a hidden sense of insisting. Because that was what he should do. He should rest, and take his mind off of work, for at least a short amount of time.

“I’ll try,” he sounded absent minded. He sounded like he knew that he should, while being simultaneously reluctant to do so, because of the age old dilemma of needing to think about it in order to think of a solution, and that allowing him to do something about it. Only that he had more of a habit of staying in thinking of even a better solution, as he had difficulties, at times, in settling for one.

But that was an observation that you had made, as his spouse, and it would stay as your observation.

“I know something that will make you feel better,” there was a hint of a tease in your tone, as if laced with a delicious smirk that he could hear.

And so, he turned his head, to look over his shoulder with a curious hum.

“Mhm,” you grinned while climbing onto the bed from the other side. “Come here,” you tapped the covers next to you, close to the head of the bed. “I’ll sing for you.”

His eyes fell again, but this time his lips were tugged up into a smile, as if burden was leaving him layer by layer, and relief took its place. “Like my beloved songbird,” he spoke out loud, but it sounded more like something he was thinking. Because you were his precious, beloved songbird; his nickname for you.

“Like your beloved songbird,” you teased as you settled against the head of the bed, and sat with your legs straight in front of you. “Come rest your weary head, and I’ll sing,” you repeated with a smile and a smirk. Something that was a bit of both, but was quite neither.

There was another, inaudible chuckle from him, as he crawled over the sheets to you and placed his head onto your lap.

“Is this alright?” He asked while settling down, because he didn’t want the weight of his head to cause discomfort to you.

“Yes, it’s alright,” you replied while running your fingers through his hair and over his scar. You could still remember the day when he had first shown it to you, and it had been clear from his eyes, his demeanour and the words he had said, that he was terrified to his bones of you leaving him.

But how could you have? He had trusted his insecurities onto you, and he was still as handsome as ever, perhaps even more handsome, because of it.

And now, as those deep purple eyes of his, like amethysts, closed and settled into the sensation of your fingers running over his skin, your smile was as wide as ever. The golden light of the setting sun cascaded onto his complexion as he took a deep breath, and sank further in into the moment.

“Now it’s time to say good night…”

The corner of his mouth tugged further up as the first notes left your lips.

“Good night, sleep tight…”

As if whatever headache would have been there had subsided into thin air with the sound of your voice.

“Now the sun turns out his light…”

And who knows, perhaps, it had.

“Good night, sleep tight…”

But what you did know, was that the man, the person you loved with all your hear, was drifting into sleep right there, in your arms, to the sound of your voice.

Nozel

Most would perhaps have said that the halls of the Silver Eagle base, or their part of the castle, was cold and hollow, as if painted with silver, snow and ice. But, for those who knew better, only one was true. For those walls might have bore the colour of silver here and there, and though you could understand why the cold of winter frost had howled through the halls, once upon a time, to you, here and now, the specks of silver glimmered in the light of the setting sun, and made it seem as if the star sky was right there on earth itself.

And it was there, under that glimmer of silver and light that the door to your bedroom opened, and revealed the frowning face of your beloved.

His eyes were down, and his chin was lowered, which wasn’t an unusual sight per se. Because there was a lot on his plate, and he wore his heart on his sleeve while at home. He didn’t hide his emotions from you.

“Rough day?” You asked with a compassionate smile and a gentle tone that flowed through the air like feathers caught in a breeze.

“It was,” he sighed while putting his cloak away. “All of it gave me a headache.”

“Hmm,” you hummed with a hint of a tease. “Or it was rough because you had a headache?” You suggested, making him glance to you.

“Does it matter?” He quirked on eyebrow.

“It matters if you haven’t remembered to drink enough water and eaten well,” you told him while reaching him.

And he still looked at you, but didn’t say a word. Which told you enough.

Your look told him enough. Because you had had this conversation before, and he assured you that he’d eat and drink and take care of himself. But it was sometimes difficult being in the position that he was.

So, you did also understand him.

“Have you eaten now?” You asked while brushing his hair back with your fingers.

“Yes, I ate right before coming here,” he replied, and there was no lie in his eyes or his tone, so you nodded.

“Then come on, let’s get some rest for that gorgeous head of yours,” you smirked while tugging his hand closer to the bed.

“Just my head?” He asked with tired eyes and a tender smile, and you laughed.

It was a short, and yet loud laugh that left your lungs. Because he didn’t joke often. Only once in a blue moon.

Most would have argued that he didn’t have a ‘fun bone’ in his body, but you knew better. He had a sense of humour too. He just didn’t show it. Because he wasn’t supposed to be funny. He wasn’t supposed to make people laugh.

But it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have been able to make a joke, when he was comfortable in doing so.

“All of you,” you corrected with a slight laugh while climbing onto the bed and pulling him with you.

The sheets were soft, silken, perhaps far too comfortable, as if a silver cloud floating through the air as you crawled to the headboard and propped yourself against it.

“You can rest your head on my lap,” you told him while patting your thigh and smiling to him.

And again, he said nothing, but instead followed the suggestion and settled his head onto your lap.

His arms wrapped around your body, and his legs tangled together with yours as he closed his eyes, and breathed in your scent as it seemed he was ready to drift off into sleep.

“Somewhere over the rainbow…”

Your ran your fingers through his hair, which was thick and lush; silken much like the bedsheets under you.

“Way up high…”

The rising and falling of his chest grew more and more heavy, tranquil.

“There’s a land that I heard of…”

As if the melody, the sound of your voice was making his worries and troubles melt away and his pain subside like storm clouds.

“Once in a lullaby…”

The word you would have used to describe him in that moment, would have been ‘adorable’, something that one wouldn’t have thought of the dashing captain of the Silver Eagles. But… he was, in fact, adorable. Behind closed doors.

[dexthtoyounglings]

I'm Headed To The Mountains

Cal Kestis x Reader Fluff

Summary: You need to rebuild your life. The Empire temporarily stunted it, but they didn't stop it.

GIF NOT MINE!!

•--•

It was one of those nights again. One of those nights where everything seemed beautiful. When the stars shined a little bit brighter and you could see where the sky started to blend into the sun.

You had shuffled on a thick sweater and slipped on one of Cal's ponchos, finding your way on the Bogano grass. It was soft, healthy here. Sure, it often overflowed and was muddy, the water table rarely low. But today, the ground was hard, a sweet Bogano winter where it was never cold enough for snow but cold enough for the ground to chill and the air to dry out.

And the sun setting. Oh, that was your favorite part of the day. The part of the day that told you that you've survived another. Away from the Empire. Away from the corrupt hands of those who snatched your future from the tips of your fingers. You were barely skimming it, the day you had finally won a duel with your master. He was going soft on you--that you had understood. But you had smiled so wide at finally winning.

You realized now that maybe your fingertips hadn't even touched your future as a Jedi, and maybe your nails had grazed it. Before you started biting at them.

Now you fought for your life, the one you weren't supposed to have. Though you, you'd made one of your own. One that neither the Empire nor the Jedi Order would have allowed.

The same life that allowed Cal to sit down next to you, his leg crossing over the other and his hands planting themselves into the hardened dirt behind him.

The same life that allowed your eyes to sparkle when you turned to look at him.

"Maybe we should stay here for the winter," he spoke, head also turning. You never liked the color green too much. But Cal easily changed that for you. He made eye contact with you, and the black of his pupils shed some of the green off his irises while dilating. Maker, his pupils dilated when he saw you. And the way his hair fell into them, tickling his freckles and making his eyebrows twitch in a wince as the tips poked at his eyes momentarily.

You felt out of breath. Like you couldn't speak. Like his beauty was so intense it had snipped your vocal cords and left you a mess, left your lips parted as you stared at him.

"Why?" you asked, voice soft. But if you spoke louder, you might ruin the moment. You might scare him away or blow out the stars that were finally starting to peek through the veil of blue.

The ends of his mouth quirked, crinkling the pale skin beside them. The pink of his lips teased you and poked at your brain in the most endearing way possible.

"Well, I know you like sitting out here and watching the sun set," he pointed out, eyes never leaving yours.

This was your moment. Sure, you had these often, but they belonged to you. The way his eyes smiled belonged to you. The way his lips smiled belonged to you.

You let the silence consume you both. You had no words in return, knowing that Cal didn't mind your quiet. Maker, he wouldn't mind if you never spoke a word to him as long as you kept staring at him like he blended the colors in the sky, like he painted every star, like he set the wind into such a slow motion. He couldn't help it, the way he got so lost in you, and he never seemed to find his way out.

Some days you both were thankful for the Empire. If you weren't allowed to feel this sort of love, you wouldn't be able to handle your hardships as easy. You couldn't imagine a life that didn't allow you to take in his beautiful features like this and feel the tension seep from your body and into the dirt.

You also thanked Cere and Greez for these moments. After a while, it had become apparent that the night started to belong to the both of you. No matter how many times you both meditated and found peace in your minds, Cere could feel the the eye of the storm was found in the bond you shared.

"We could settle down."

Cal's eyes perked at your words. He didn't look any less happy with you, just... shocked. He turned his head to glance at the fading sky. The pink started the disperse into the orange, and at certain angles, the orange melted away.

You cleared your throat softly, "I mean, one day. One day we can find a planet where we can settle down. And we can watch the sunset every night."

Cal looked at you again. And it was silent, but he spoke to you. He spoke through your mind, wordless. You had a force connection, an undeniable one, but even then his words never echoed through your mind. But you knew behind his look, they way his eyes twinkled and the way his body seemed to lean into yours in the slightest.

And we can get married.

•--•

Masterlist

[cosmos-coma]

'Did you know..?"

A/N: A request/suggestion by the ever-lovely @beardedladyqueen! While Regis isn't really my thing personally I'm always more than happy to experiment with characters and see what makes people happy! I also realized while writing this that I... I'm just Reigs. I'm an herbalist who just loves to tell people fun facts and maybe falls a little in love when people use scientific names.

Pairing: Regis x Reader

Words: 727

____________________

Birds tweeted eloquently from above, their feather-light songs bouncing off each other and stitching themselves into a fantastic melody. The wind rustled through the delicate grass, tickling your arms as you cut another leaf off the little plant. The large umbrella of shade trees above provided a welcome respite from the wicked heat of the day as well as a comforting sense of protection as it watched over your dutiful work.

“Alright, thank you little plant, that's all…” you said with a quick smile as you stood back up and placed your fistful of leaves into an empty jar. Quietly your feet padded around the well-worn protrusions- headstones dappling the surrounding landscape- as you look for your next plant. Your fingers brushed against a particularly moss-covered wall as you made your way around a moss-covered mausoleum when you were nearly scared out of your own skin.

“Aah!” you exclaimed, jumping about a foot in the hair, your hands immediately clutching your chest as you spotted him, “oh- ah, wow… I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know anybody else was here..” you explained as you looked over at the figure sitting before a long-gone campfire. He had dark gray hair pushed back and away from his face, matching sideburns that emphasized already prominent cheekbones, and tired eyes that you’re sure made him look far older than he really was. But you found it all rather endearing, he looked as if he spends all night carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet still seemed to hold the sunniest disposition.

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” the older man said, standing up from his fire to turn to you. “I wasn’t aware anyone frequented this area- oh, forgive my manners” he held his hand out to you, “I’m Regis… “ he said as he shook your hand.

You introduced yourself in turn with a gentle smile and a shake of his hand. “It's been a while since I've foraged here if I’m being honest, so I doubt I could lay much claim to it.” 

“Hmm, is that lily of the valley and… do I smell lemon balm?” The vampire inquired with curious excitement as your hands came close, now peeking over to look toward your herb-laden basket.

You chuckled with surprise and showed him your collection, “What an amazing nose you have..! Yes, I just gathered some before I came around the corner.”

Regis's lips pulled into a sheepish smile, knowing he was perhaps being a little too telling with his vampiric talents than he would have liked, “yes, well I-I think the scent must still be on your hands,” he said, straightening his posture a bit more, “I actually dabble a bit into herbalism as well… did you know that lemon balm can be used for anxiety, appetite, and even-” 

“-Insomnia,” you two said in unison, causing you both to pause before easy laughter filled the otherwise lonesome cemetery.

You grinned brightly as you shook your head, “Yes, actually that's what I’m gathering it for… I’ve been having absolutely dreadful sleep lately and was hoping Miss Melissa officinalis could help me out a bit with that”, you said with the slightest tinge of blush- no one ever wanted to talk plants with you before. Usually, people just listened for a bit to amuse you, but rarely did they ever want to bring it up again. Yet here this older man stood before you with an almost giddy smile that was barely hidden behind a veil of well-mannered resignation. 

Regis on the other hand thought his immortal heart might just burst out of his chest and onto the floor, then and there. A fellow herbal enthusiast and you can drop a scientific name into conversation like it's nothing? He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so broadly at something so seemingly small. 

“I- please, forgive me if this is too forward,” Regis started, nearly tripping over his seat as he stepped forward. He knew it was terribly unlike himself to be so clumsy, but for some reason, he just couldn’t seem to help it. “but would you mind if I accompanied you while you continue to forage?”

Your shy but determined smile captivated him like the first glimpse of morning light as you held your basket out to the love-struck vampire.

 “Only if you promise to carry the basket.”

__________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

Want to be on a Taglist? Did my brain slip and I forgot to tag you? DM me to let me know!

[geothe-isnazeya]

Travels of Vigrid

Chapter 3: the council hall

Summary: She looked to be in her early twenties, with a fair and smooth complexion, silver eyes round and large, and thick eyelashes fluttering as she squinted at people. Her high nose bridge and full lips, with twin braids wrapped around, covering her ears, reminded me of a sheep with fluffy wool. The golden circlet across her forehead signaled her status. She had an air of pride and sanctity that made me forget all the rehearsed words.

CW:I just want to keep trying different styles. I realized that Vigrid is actually located in France on the map, so I wrote about some accurate or fictional French history. In this chapter, you can see that the religions are quite mixed. I haven't established a unified doctrine or a closed loop for Umbra yet, and I mean no offense at all.Just letting you know, the whole series is getting updated bit by bit on AO3

We got to the square, and the ground was covered in these square, shiny white tiles. Right in the middle, there's a fountain. The council hall is this majestic, square building with a white body and a roof made of brass tiles.

It's got four floors. The first floor is held up by these colonnades, and you can't really see inside through the dark purple, arched glass doors. The second and third floors have these classic French-style, round-arch windows. The fourth floor kind of sticks out, it's got this little square dome with stained glass that's all painted up. That pattern looks like the yin-yang symbol.

This time, I saw it really clearly. There's a big circle with three smaller circles touching each other horizontally inside. The design is split into black and white, filling each other out. The fish-like curve in the middle looks like an eye, and the script on top flutters like a woman's eyelashes... I was just staring, mesmerized.

"Snap out of it, Austrian girl." I felt a pat on my shoulder, which made me jump a bit.

So, Ophélie saw me stop and came over to make sure. Her red hair was peeking out from under her headscarf. "You really are a wandering scholar, come on, the Virgins has spotted us already."

Following her silvery gaze, I saw there were two more ladies behind the fountain. The vibe of our group got tense real quick. The sentries hustled us into line, marching us over to them with big steps, and then they all saluted with their elbows crossed over their chests. I glanced over, and on the table next to them were incense burners, fire pits, water containers, and a bunch of plants, plus some ritual stuff that was all new to me.

The priestesses were dressed in long black robes, and they were really skinny. Their faces weren't covered, but they wore veils that draped over their heads. The headscarves curved like half-moons pressed against their foreheads, and under the misty veils, they had eyes that sparkled like galaxies, as if they were looking right through me and Elius to something else.

That symbol must has been painted to represent their eyes.

"The purification ritual is ready. To seek the favor of the Demon Lords, stranger, tell me your true name," her voice was ethereal and clear, like dewdrops in the morning mist.

Elius coughed repeatedly, and I was noncommittal about his hints. Revealing my full name means exposing a vulnerability in the realms of magic and the extraordinary; it's said that many spells require the precise pronunciation of the person's name to be cursed. But these women are closely linked to the Moon Lord—why would they harm a simple pilgrim like me? I also have no reason to harm Vigrid.

"Nadia, Nadia Krämer," I responded.

The priestess nodded, then used a dish to scoop up some spring water and dampened a bunch of leaves. She went through the directions—north, west, south, and east—and made her plea to the spirits of each: "May the spirits of the blaze, the gale, the chasm, and the flood grant Nadia Krämer, daughter of a Viennese merchant, protection and guidance."

Then she sprinkled the branch over my head and around my feet. The end of the branch that hold was polished, showing off the golden wood. The leaves were long and narrow with irregular, wavy edges. It must be an oak tree, right?

After that, the priestess called the next person forward. Elius reluctantly mumbled something, and Ingrid took over, briskly guiding my friend to step up: "This man is named Elius Schreiber."

Virgin priestess went through the same routine again, calling out Eli's family business and hometown, and I couldn't help but look at him with suspicion as he hung his head. Did he spill everything in just one night? Or do the Virgins really have psychic powers?

"Sentries, set up the scene as usual," the tall, thin priestess clapped her hands together.

The soldiers scattered at the command, some helping the priestesses to light the braziers and crush the herbs; others stripped us of our clothes; some went off to bring our two horses; and some tested musical instruments—I recognized a lute and a hand drum right away.

Ophélie was in charge of the search and undressing. She raised her eyebrows, swiped the dagger from the sole of my boot, put her index finger to her lips to shush me, and nodded her head as if to say, "Lucky they didn't find this." I could only give an awkward laugh to play it off.

So, after about the time it takes to drink two beers, Eli and I were left in just our thin clothes and socks, hugging each other's arms and shivering in the autumn wind.

With the clear notes of the lute, the two Virgins held the lit incense burners and prayed in a mix of French and an ancient language I'd never heard before. The priestesses circled us counterclockwise, moving their arms to the beat of the drum, sprinkling powder from bowls onto the flames. Then, they lifted their veils and blew the ash onto us.

First, it was the bitter scent of sandalwood, like burnt toast, followed by the sweet of camphor, then a sharp, cool spiciness. I covered my mouth to muffle the cough in my hand. My nose was running, and my eyes were burning, like I'd rolled around in a kitchen that had been used to stir-fry chilis until it was pitch black. Finally, there was citrus and pine, and the air returned to its slightly bitter state.

The Virgins scooped water to wash my eyes. I clasped my hands together, asking her to give me water, and buried my face in the spring water to drink the coolness. My eyes could see again, my mouth could speak again, and the fatigue and soreness were all gone. I felt like I could ride a plow ox and till ten acres without getting tired.

The priestess who was giving orders asked me to flat out my hand, and my fingertips overlapped with her palm, loosely hooking our wrists together as we moved in sync through the smoky fire. At that moment, the drumbeats were intense and fast; at that moment, the gut strings of the lyre also vibrated in resonance. She loudly asked the Demon Lords for mercy on me, promising a bountiful offering with a long, drawn-out inflection: "We gather here, beating with the most sincere hearts, to offer Umbra respects to you, asking with boundless compassion to forgive this outsider."

I looked back to see Elius, holding onto the hem of another priestess's robe, also stepping into the smoke. Then, the sentries carried our clothes across the fire in several trips. When we all reached the end, the Virgin sprinkled the ash from the incense burner under the horses' hooves, "And welcome to you too." As she stood up and offered one oak leaf to each horse, the two animals with different personalities both nuzzled their jaws against the shoulder of the priestess in a sign of affection.

The music was dying down, and the ceremony was over. We finally got our clothes back to warm up (except for the dagger). I was surprised to see that the women, after all that, didn't seem out of breath, not even a drop of sweat on their foreheads. Did that mean they were all super fit or something?

As I was getting dressed, I asked my childhood friend in German, "Eli, psst.psst.. Eli! Why did you call them witches before? Did you spill all our secrets?"

"You didn't know? They didn't show you... that terrifying power? Nadi, I'm counting on you. I rarely wielded a sword even in my squire days..." His dusty face started to tear up as he spoke, "They've been kind to you, Nadia, please help us. Ask them to let us go... Friend, friend, forgive me this time."

"I don't know what? Can you be a little clearer??" I was starting to get anxious.

The commotion caught the attention of the priestess, who was sitting on the pristine relief of the fountain, cleaning the dirt from her hands. She called over the leader of the sentries and whispered something to her. Ingrid glanced at me, nodded in understanding, and after their conversation, she approached us.

"Get ready to go inside and see Her Highness. Elder Renée wants you to speak. Keep your follower in check; if he dares to make a scene and cry in front of the heir, I'll cut out his tongue." Ingrid looked me straight in the eyes and then glanced at Eli, spitting out the threat.

"Huh!..." My friend let out a wail as the sentry strapped a leather muzzle over his mouth. When I reached to take it off, Ophélie grabbed my arm and shook her head. For the first time, I angrily shook off her grip. In an instant, the leader pinned me to the ground; the tiles were bitingly cold. She was incredibly strong, and no matter how much I wriggled, I couldn't break free.

"This farce is over." The high priestess named Renée swept her robe past my nose, and the sentry quickly let go. I got up grumpily, straightening my clothes. The disparity in strength was so vast, and I gave Elius a steady look, silently vowing that whether we get through this ordeal or not, it's all on me.

Holding my breath, I rehearsed in my mind how to argue against any questions that might come my way. Led by the group into the meeting place, I wasn't in the mood to appreciate the golden, symmetrically elegant carvings on the supporting pillars, whether lit by the bonfire or the sunlight. The long corridor with iron doors on both sides made me feel oppressed. Our shadows, swallowed and then released by the columns, seemed like ghosts swaying.

The raised platform in the distance was just a few steps high, and the lake green light refracted from the ceiling totem made the floor tiles seem as cool and quiet as pebbles washed by a stream. The chatter died down as we approached, and as Renée, the Virgin, stepped forward, I looked up and observed her settling into the empty chair. Every chair at the crescent moon-shaped table was occupied by a woman in black, except for the one in the center with a bright red figure.

She looked to be in her early twenties, with a fair and smooth complexion, silver eyes round and large, and thick eyelashes fluttering as she squinted at people. Her high nose bridge and full lips, with twin braids wrapped around, covering her ears, reminded me of a sheep with fluffy wool. The golden circlet across her forehead signaled her status. She had an air of pride and sanctity that made me forget all the rehearsed words.

If she claimed to be the Moon Lord herself, no one would doubt her.

We were still in the stage of sizing each other up. I should have greeted her with courtly manners for men, but considering the local custom where women hold the reins, I switched to a curtsy. But since I was wearing trousers, I had to make do by grabbing the hem of my coat and pretending it was a skirt, bowing low to the heir with my eyes cast down in submission.

"Your Highness, my name is Nadia, and I represent the Austrian royal family, extending to you our respect and greetings."

I thought I'd be scolded for this awkward gesture, but when I looked up at the round table on the high platform, several elders were frowning and pursing their lips, their expressions full of confusion and criticism. I stole a glance at Her Highness and caught a fleeting smile at the corner of her red lips.

Perhaps winning the heir's favor was easier than I thought.

"You may rise, envoy from Vienna, I have received your greetings," she said, her voice clear and serene.

"Where did this court jester come from? You barged in uninvited, dirtying the sacred soil of Vigrid with your filthy boots, and now you try to cover up your rudeness with so-called 'respect'?" An elder with an official hat on her head and a crescent moon on her shoulder leaned both hands on the table, speaking out harshly.

I glanced at Her Highness again; she neither argued nor agreed, calm and composed, only her eyes twitched slightly at the beginning of this accusation.

"The purification ritual is complete, and the watchers of the demon realm have raised no objections." The Virgin's words were still melodious and pure; I wasn't sure if she was defending me or just stating the facts.

"Renée, as you've been sizing them up, have you seen any signs that this is another well-crafted trick by the Lumen Sages? Their hypocritical reach has been getting longer and longer in recent years," said the elder, holding the royal document I brought and passing it to her colleague on the left after reading.

"The traces are faint, but..." As soon as she said this, murmurs of doubt echoed around, drowning out the Virgin's plea.

As I caught whispers about punishment and imprisonment methods, the heiress rose from her seat and interrupted, "Silence! The words of the Virgins are not to be interrupted. Why does Umbra now ignore the advice of the Demon Lords' servants?" Once the room quieted down, she sat back down and said, "Priestess Renée, please continue."

"Just as Brigitte said, the Lumen Sages have set up missions in every corner of Europe. Our two foreign guests seem to have been corrupted by that radiance. However, the spirits whisper in my ear that Nadia of Vienna remains true to herself."

"Let's just slaughter the man as a sacrifice and send her packing. It's that simple," another elder interjected, her body lean and powerful, as she drummed her fingers on the table to get everyone's attention.

"This is a wrong judgment! I can prove our innocence. Please give me a chance!" I shouted, but the many eyes that turned on me were like arrows, dousing my cry. It was as if my voice was as insignificant as an ant's, not worth their consideration at all.

"Honey, handling swords and staffs is your forte, but dealing with these courtly political games isn't as simple as a dance. Before we dive deeper into this absurdity, remember, these Austrian royals are diplomatic guests, not enemies. Let's hear what the sentries have to say first, alright?" The owner of the soft voice crooked her finger at Ingrid.

"Sentry Leader Ingrid, I call you forward to testify. There's no need to be nervous. Now, please recount your experience from last night in front of the elders." The heir leaned forward, passing a glance.

Upon being nominated, the female soldier nodded, stepped forward, and saluted, "Yesterday at dusk, during our patrol on the hillside, we came across three individuals acting suspiciously. One of them went down the mountain ahead of the others, so we apprehended the remaining two suspects at the pass, searched them, and found royal letter. We then carefully knocked them out. The woman was properly taken care of at an inn, while the man was brought to the prison for questioning. After a thorough check, we confirmed they weren't carrying any narcotics or poisons; they were as fragile as chicks."

"Now you may speak, Nadia of Vienna, and tell us the true reason you've come to Vigrid," the heiress in the bright red motioned for me to step forward.

"The Habsburg dynasty sent us to Vigrid to document the local customs and people, so that we might serve the Moon Lord more devoutly. As for the Lumen Sages, I know nothing of them, and no one has identified themselves as such to me. The one who left ahead was our local guide," my voice trembled a bit, and I continued with a sense of grievance, "We've never set foot in Vigrid before and were unaware of the forbidden rules; we meant no disrespect... and certainly no harm..."

"Jeanne d'Arc! I thought moving the prison from the tower to the city center was already the height of absurdity, but I didn't expect you to be considering pardoning criminals, giving them a chance to lie and wriggle their way out. This will lead to irreversible consequences!" The elder wearing an official hat was on the attack again, but this time, the target of the accusation was the heir herself.

"I know what I've done." It was the first time I saw Her Highness snap back, and this time the twitch in her eye was even more noticeable, "Moving the prison to the city center was to increase administrative efficiency, and it's in the best interest of the people."

"Goodness, it's been almost forty years, and you still won't let go of that poor mother and daughter. Isabella, Rosa was once your pride and joy. Honestly, I feel sorry for you." The elder with the soft voice feigned nonchalance and yawned.

"Quoi ??"

This attack seemed to light the fuse on a powder keg; the elders all stood up, pointing fingers and shouting accusations at each other. Amidst the uproar, the heir barely managed to give the leader of the sentries orders to avoid our awkward stares: "Ingrid, take them out, the council still needs to discuss... wait for further summons."

So we moved outside the hall, and after a long, agonizing wait, the sunlight shifted from the lake surface to directly above us, when we were finally allowed back into the chamber. The elders were all seated again, sitting upright and glaring at each other. The heir looked a bit weary, propping her head with her hand, and she was the only one to pronounce the result in a hoarse voice.

Out of diplomatic courtesy and Umbra's mercy, the council has offered an alternative to imprisonment. One option is that I become Eli's guardian during my stay in Vigrid, where he would have to wear specific attire and shackles, and there would be two soldiers accompanying us throughout the assessment period. The second option is that I can move about freely, but Eli would be imprisoned until the travel is over. The third option is that I can stay, but Eli must have his memories of this place blurred and leave Vigrid immediately. I chose the third option and agreed with Eli that he would wait for me in the town at the foot of the mountain; every day, I would send a message to the town. If the messages stop, it means something has happened to me.

As for my punishment, I have to spend a couple of hours a day doing community service in the city. Being an explorer, I had already planned to immerse myself in the local life here, so this is hardly a punishment at all.

In short, the diplomatic trial was a nerve-wracking experience, but it went smoothly. After I bid farewell to the dazed Elius and grabbed some dried food from my satchel, it was already afternoon. I asked the innkeeper from this morning to draw a rough map of the Vigrid area for me and bought a set of local clothing.

When I started my formal travel, the first thing that came to mind was to visit the temple of the Virgins. So, I rode my horse across the grand bridge at a gallop, which was long enough for me to recite a few poems.

As I studied the map in my hands, I was allowed to roam freely around Vigrid, which let my thoughts take flight. The bell tower on the highest cliff... the plaza below it, a web-like structure... temples, schools, and the council building scattered around. That means the north end of the bridge is the real center of power. I'm curious if this is the birthplace of civilization here, perhaps where the queens of yore settled the people, and then the residences radiated outwards to the inn where I just stayed.

I've seen similar layouts in many territories: a castle on high, surrounded by the upper lands where the nobility live, then the common townsfolk's activity center, and often the slums and red-light districts at the bottom. Vigrid doesn't have clear city walls but uses bridges to separate the commoners from the nobility. The temples and the city council hall are interspersed, reminding me of ancient Rome during its republican period. And I haven't visited the slums of Vigrid yet; perhaps there are still marginalized groups here, just not easily encountered on the main streets.

I finally looked to the south, where in the distance on the mountains stood round, white buildings, milky-white connected cottages with a very Mediterranean, perhaps Greek, flair, but nestled in the mountains. There were also continuous aqueducts, bringing mountain springs to the town.

I returned to the area near the council and made my way to the temple I'd heard about, said to be a charming, circular building. The ladies in black, seeing me wandering alone on this side of the bridge, cast curious glances my way, yet never allowed me a real chance to speak with them, always disappearing around the corner the moment I noticed them.

I dismounted and approached the building with a dome like a moon disk; its door was a narrow one, resembling an upside-down crescent. The door was carved with insects that had their wings fully spread—scarabs? Butterflies? Moths? I unfolded a parchment and sketched it down. The ancient Egyptians believed that the emerald green scarab had the power of rebirth. Could it be that I would learn similar revelations from the teachings in Vigrid?

This thought made me hesitate. Although the purification ceremony in the morning was kindly hosted by the Virgins, but the chaos that followed... It would be quite bold to ask her to explain their religion to me. Or maybe I should first go to town and find out what the Virgins like, look for a trendy gift or a bottle of fine wine to use as a conversation starter. I pondered deeply, my brows surely furrowed in concentration.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Lost in thought, I heard a voice that had made an impression on me earlier in the day. It was the heir and her guard approaching from the temple, addressing me.

She looked relaxed, as if she had shed the stress of the meeting.

"Oh! Your Highness, I didn't expect to run into you. I was wondering if it's appropriate for me to disturb the Virgins right now. You see, I was a prisoner just half a day ago." Now dressed in the local attire of Vigrid, I finally managed to perform the proper curtsy for her.

"I stepped back with one foot, lifted the skirt at my side, and curtsied with a smile and a nod.

“Stay vigilant, friend from afar; bowing to everyone might lead to unnecessary trouble. Especially with the elders,” her tone remained dignified, but her lips curled into an appropriate smile.

She approached me; she wasn’t wearing a veil or a mask, and that almost divine beauty was right in front of me. She handed me a lily brooch as a token, to prove that I was the heir’s guest: “Now, you can enter the temple with peace of mind.”

"Your Highness, about the next arrangements..." the guard, dressed in black and red, leaned in to remind her.

"I'm aware," the heir replied, her gaze steady. The quietness in her contemplation only amplified her beauty, "I look forward to reading your travelogue."

It was only after they had left for a while that I realized her last remark was meant for me.

.tbc

Notes:

1、Renée is an elegant and unique French name that comes from the Latin word meaning "reborn." 2、Brigitte is associated with St. Brigid of Ireland, who is regarded as the guardian of wisdom and knowledge. 3、Isabella means "God's promise" in French. This name has Hebrew origins. 4、Nadia Krämer means "merchant." 5、Elios Schreiber means "scribe" or "secretary."

[twstgo]

*peeks through the door*

Honestly I'm curious of so many things, but let's see here.

How about for jamiliz:

31. How would they describe one another?

54. What's something that they don't really care for but tolerate because S/O has an interest?

And for lizul:

9. If there wasnt enough seats, how would they sit? One on the other's lap? One on the armrest? One on the floor in front of them?

71. If someone were to insult their S/O, how would the other handle it?

And feel free to pick and choose if this is too many!

ooh these are some that I had to thinking about thank you for the asks ner!!!

jamiliz:

31. How would they describe one another?

Liz would describe Jamil as someone underhanded and cunning, but at the end of the day also admirably ambitious. As much grief and complicated feelings chapter 4 brought her ultimately the genuine fondness she has for Jamil alongside the emotional catharsis his success would bring her is overall much stronger.

Jamil on the other hand would say that Liz is stubborn and an overachiever to a troublesome degree. He says this with mild contempt in his voice to hide his concern for her knack for overcompensating to a detrimental degree pot calling the kettle black.

54. What's something that they don't really care for but tolerate because S/O has an interest?

While Jamil is resourceful with what he has at hand he doesn't much gel with Liz's hobby of DIY crafts, many of which are small renovations and quality of life updates to Ramshackle. The projects themselves are fine but she insists on doing almost completely handmade rather than relying on any sort of magical shortcuts--of which Jamil finds a bit excessive.

This isn't an interest per say but the near over the top reaction Jamil has to bugs makes Liz deadpan lmao. At first she was mildly entertained but it's magic has waned off the more he's been genuinely freaked out. She isn't a bug person by any means (she finds them quite gross) but has silently become a master of discreet bug extermination before Jamil could even fixate on one in the area.

lizul:

9. If there wasnt enough seats, how would they sit? One on the other's lap? One on the armrest? One on the floor in front of them?

They would be in a stalemate of insisting the other takes the seat (Azul to not feel indebted, Liz because she's a bit biased towards him as a merperson with less use for his legs on land). If the seat hasn't been stolen by someone else by now and depending on the situation it goes one of two ways:

in a more casual setting Liz takes the seat to then teasingly offer that Azul sits on her lap, he reluctantly takes the offer with more insisting and she silently revels in the way he squirms until he gets comfortable

if it's a more serious environment like he's about to meet with someone then Azul gets to have the seat and she takes armrest in a semi professional manner (she looks more like his guard dog than his girlfriend really--)

71. If someone were to insult their S/O, how would the other handle it?

In the same way that a person would bite someone's head off if someone spoke ill of the sibling they always shit talk about, Liz would not tolerate any baseless insults thrown about Azul (valid criticisms on the other hand--). She proceeds to join in the conversation at first it's inconsequential but the topic veers to talk about the offender and the way Liz addresses them with condescendence in her tone and thinly veiled beratement makes the group awkwardly thins out.

Azul is much more patient with his retaliation willing to let the insult fly in the moment, but he's already scheming on how to trap them in a contract that benefits his business. It's people like that that are easiest to manipulate and if there's bias in how much harsher the punishment is for breach of agreement, well he doesn't have to disclose the reasoning behind that.

Ask Game

[cyvonix]

Cyv Reads Homestuck - Act 4 Wrapup

... So I just finished Act 4.

Ummm..... How do I put this ... ....

I genuinely do not know how to put into words the intense feeling of excitement and satisfaction I am feeling. But I guess I'll try.

Let's just get it out of the way right away, best end of act animation yet, like hands down. The level of artistry, the dynamism of the camera and the animations, the excellent Toby Fox track, (I see now that bro knew how to use a recurring motif even before Undertale) it was just perfection. What an incredible way to finish off an incredible section of this story.

I'm going to hold off on going in depth into things like theories and predictions, because I feel I do plenty of that on my smaller liveblog posts and frankly it's getting so complex that if I were to lay them all out in a sufficient manner this post would be entirely too long for my liking. I would like to talk about some of what this act made me feel, however.

Something that was present in small doses previously but in Act 4 has been fully assimilated is the elevated way that everything is presented. Cinematic, I suppose, is one of the words I could use to describe it. But I feel it's more than that. It feels as though the team who put this together - obviously Hussie, for the greater proportion, but also those he worked with - had, by this point, entirely gotten a grasp on how to tell a compelling narrative with this particular format. The obtuse references and forum humor have been stripped back and toned down, not to the point where they are gone entirely, but enough that everything feels a bit more accessible, existing more as a part of its DNA, rather than its backbone. Instead, that space is filled with more authentic and illuminating characterization than we've seen at any part of the story so far.

In the way that a voice actor may settle into their role after a few seasons, by this point Hussie has mastered his already impressive knack for writing the unique voices of these characters and letting them just kinda bounce off of each other in ways that, despite being entirely silly and in the context of a science fiction epic, just feel so real, dude. Like, fuck, I love these characters. I didn't feel that way until this act, really. Sure, they had many funny and charismatic moments in the past, and I've gradually warmed up to them over time. But in this act, the veil (lol) really gets pulled away more than it has before, and what gets revealed is genuine connections between these friends, friends that are snarky and sarcastic and snippy with each other, but friends who care about each other, and are interesting, passionate people. Even the trolls, who could have easily remained joke characters and nothing more for this entire act without basically any issue, have been treated with the dignity of allowing more than one aspect of their personalities to peek through, surely to be explored further later in the story. For fucks sake, the faceless adults, only seen from the context of the kids before this point, have even begun to receive some genuinely compelling revelations. I love these characters. All of them.

The lore/world aspects of Act 4, as I mentioned, are far too complicated for me to fully get into here. But what I will say is that this part of the comic has fully sold the grand scale of the overarching narrative. Whether its the greater knowledge brought forth by the trolls, or the ability of the animations to showcase how many moving parts are at play here, things have been set up with an astonishing amount of style. Getting further glimpses into this strange system of planets has been beautiful and fascinating, and the twists and turns in the development of Jack Noir as our apparent main protagonist have been enticing. Jack is certainly intimidating, and ruthless to boot, so the story has done a great job of setting up a looming threat to build toward, especially taking into account the ominous revelation of The Reckoning. On top of this, the time fuckery has hit an all time high, but despite that, its integration into the story has felt more natural than ever, and maybe it's just me getting used to this bullshit, but it's honestly starting to feel easier to wrap my head around. And even if not, it's extremely fun to watch pan out.

All this said, I remain super excited to continue. Again, if you enjoy hearing what I have to say about any of this, whether you're an old fan or maybe even joining me for your own first time, please, talk to me about it! Lemme know what you think, or what you thought, about all this crazy shit. I absolutely love having discussions and hearing from people who are veterans to this world compared to me. It makes my day to see that someone can reinvigorate their interest in this through my experience. I gotta go to bed (writing this at like 3 am) but man I wanna start Act 5, and of course will post more updates when I do. TTYL <3

[rainbowfey]

Day 8: Rainy Day

@flufftober

Kakashi stood in front of his bookshelf and had to make a decision. Unsure, his hand hovered between two very distinct spines, one being an orange one that definitely had been held more often than the average mug in its whole time of existence. Even just looking at Icha Icha Paradise made Kakashi long for reading it once again. Next to it stood another book, way less intriguing from the outside but certainly even more fascinating than his beloved Icha Icha series. It was a recommendation from the grandiose Jiraiya himself, an insider tip about a promising young author whose books impressed even the master of romance. But the main difference was that instead of the delicate heroine, this book followed the intricate romance of two young men, one of them being a warmhearted and strong man of kind spirit. And somehow, in Kakashi’s imagination he was dark haired and had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

Kakashi tried to ignore the tingly feeling in his stomach and pushed aside the mental image of a very real man who was – entirely coincidentally, of course – also dark haired. Suddenly, his living room felt rather hot and he headed towards the window for some fresh air. It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of his window that he heard the soft patter of rain against the glass. He turned off the light and opened the window a crack, just enough so that his living room would cool down a bit. For a moment, he stood there lost in thought, peacefully listening to the rain. With a soft sigh, he finally turned back towards the room – when he suddenly heard another sound amongst the pitter-patter of the rain. Kakashi paused and listened carefully. It almost sounded like someone was lurking around the door of his apartment. 

Now curious, Kakashi scurried through his now almost entirely dark living room and headed for the door. If he listened very closely, he could almost make out footsteps beneath the sound of the downpour. It sounded like someone was walking away from his door. Kakashi thought about who might have come up to his apartment on the brink of sundown but nobody would come to mind. Nobody except … with a start, he yanked his door open and peered out at the semi-open hallway that was only dimly lit. At first, he couldn’t make out anything but suddenly, a movement at the very end of the hallway caught his eye. It almost looked like a person turning the corner and heading for the staircase leading down to the street. Kakashi barely noticed that his heart was now beating faster when he grabbed his rain coat and jumped out into the hallway. He almost missed grabbing his keys before he shut the door behind him and rushed towards the staircase.

When he finally reached the stairhead, the sound of footsteps had already faded away. Kakashi cursed under his breath and peeked at the dark street in front of him. Even though nightfall hadn’t started yet, the rain clouds made it seem like it was already midnight. Deep shadows concealed whoever had been at his door from him and only the flickering lights in some of the windows illuminated parts of the street. The buildings around his loomed over the street like silent giants and the pitter-patter of the rain on the cobbles made Kakashi feel like he was the only living being around.

Increasingly hopeless, he stared down the road, trying to make out any kind of movement. Whoever it was couldn’t have vanished into thin air. But the heavy rain shielded the secret visitor from his view like a murky veil. Kakashi was about to give up and retreat into his cozy, dry apartment, when he suddenly saw something. At the far end of the street, directly below a well-lit window, a shadow moved. The silhouette grew hazy behind the heavy rain but Kakashi was sure that he had found who he was searching for.

Without hesitating, he left the doorway of his apartment complex and dove into the rain. Dozens of ice-cold raindrops hit the hood and sleeves of his raincoat and he shielded his face with one arm, his eyes fixed on the spot where he had seen the figure moving. He felt like he had taken a fully clothed shower when he finally reached the window and peered around the corner next to the house. This street was narrower than his own street and this time he could see somebody walking briskly towards the next crossroad.

“Wait up!” Kakashi called out, his voice almost entirely drowned out by the rain. The person either didn’t hear him or didn’t care to react. They continued walking and Kakashi let out a sigh. He collected himself and wiped the water off his face, before he broke into a run. Puddles splashed beneath his feet and droplets of rain fell from his hood when he closed in on the person. He had almost reached them when he felt his foot slip over a particularly slippery cobblestone. With a surprised yelp, he lost his balance and stumbled against the person in front of him.

Kakashi heard a startled “Whoa!” and felt strong hands catch him just in time before he got to meet the wet ground up close. He carefully collected himself and got back on his feet, just in time to face his rescuer.

Kakashi’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the surprised smile on a very familiar face. For a moment, he lost himself in those warm brown eyes – until he noticed that Yamato looked like as if he had taken a swim in the lake. His brown hair fell into his face and droplets of rain ran down his checks and neck. His clothes were soaking wet and Kakashi could feel his cold hands even through the fabric of his sleeves.

“You’re soaking wet,” he said, stumbling on his own words.

Yamato gave him an amused smile. “You know, that can happen when it’s raining.”

Kakashi blinked, trying to clear his head. Something about Yamato always caught him off guard to a point where he felt his own heart beating and his mind racing. “Were you at my door?” he asked, trying to hide his sudden whiff of coyness.

Yamato hesitated for a moment before he nodded slowly. “Yes,” he replied in an abashed tone, almost inaudible beneath the rain.

Kakashi looked at him, trying to discover the source of his reluctance. “Why didn’t you knock?”

Yamato avoided his look and stared at a puddle only a few meters away. “You turned off your lights. I didn’t want to bother you,” he said quietly.

Kakashi stared at him in disbelief. “I’d never be bothered by you,” he said, almost a bit indignant. “You should’ve knocked!”

It took him a moment to register that Yamato’s eyes had widened a bit at his words. Only then did he realize that he had almost yelled at him. For a second, they stared at each other in silence – but then, Yamato started smiling and Kakashi’s heart skipped another beat, almost sending him back on the ground. “Thank you,” Yamato said softly. They both noticed at the same time that Yamato was still holding Kakashi’s arms and he let go of him, mumbling an apology. And even though his hands had been ice-cold from the rain, somehow Kakashi now felt even colder than before.

“You must be frozen to the bone,” he quickly said. “How about we go back to my apartment and get you some dry clothes?” Yamato gave him a tentative look and muttered, “Don’t bother, I can go home. It’s not that far.” Before he could stop himself, Kakashi had grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “I insist. You’ll freeze to death before you’ve made it even halfway home!”

And before Yamato had the chance to protest, Kakashi had already set himself into motion. Yamato had no other choice than to follow him. Together, they made it back to his apartment complex and even though he was wearing a rain coat, Kakashi was also almost entirely drenched in water. With his free hand, he fumbled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his apartment. He only reluctantly let go of Yamato’s wrist to open the door and step inside the hallway. He moved a bit to the side and gestured for Yamato to come in. Yamato gave him a shy smile and followed suit. Kakashi closed the door behind him and sighed when he slowly started feeling the warmth inside of his apartment.

“Wait, I’ll be right back”, he said and scurried into his bathroom. He quickly grabbed two towels and returned back to the hallway. When he came back, Yamato was staring rather helplessly at the puddle rapidly forming below his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking guilty, and Kakashi had to hide his smile. He handed him a big blue towel and Yamato accepted it with a grateful nod. But then he looked down at his soaking wet clothes and back at the towel. “I’m not sure whether this will work,” he said, sounding very sure that it would indeed not work out.

Kakashi thought about it and suddenly, he had an idea. He ushered Yamato into the bathroom and made him wait while he went to his wardrobe and grabbed a couple of dry clothes. He gave them to Yamato and closed the door behind him even though some part of him definitely wouldn’t have minded the door to be open. He shook his head, trying to ignore the thought and meandered back into his bedroom. He grabbed another change of clothes and took off his wet clothes.

After Kakashi had dried himself off and slipped into dry clothes, he went back to the hallway. Yamato had finished changing as well and peeked out of the bathroom door. His hair looked a bit disheveled as if he had tried to dry it with the towel. Kakashi fought the urge off to run his fingers through Yamato’s brown hair and instead asked, “Would you like some tea?”

Yamato nodded, looking rather thankful. He followed Kakashi into the living room. Kakashi turned on the light and motioned for him to sit down. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how well his clothes fit Yamato. A strange sensation of pride arose in him when he saw Yamato in the black hoodie that was one of his own favorites. Only after a while he noticed that Yamato tugged at the hoodie a bit awkwardly – and it was only then that he realized that he had been shamelessly staring at Yamato for almost a minute. Kakashi felt his cheeks turn red and he quickly hurried into his kitchen to make some tea for the both of them.

Only when he was out of Yamato’s view did he allow himself the pained expression that he had to suppress. He had made a fool out of himself and even though Yamato was too polite to say anything about it, Kakashi felt the urge to curl up and die. He was grateful for the time making the tea gave him and when it was done, he was almost done recomposing himself.

When he went back into the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Yamato had curled up on his couch, his head resting on the armrest. His eyes were closed and his chest moved softly with every breath. A sudden feeling of affection overwhelmed Kakashi and he smiled tenderly. He carefully set down both cups on the table next to the couch. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind to wake Yamato up. But then he looked at his peaceful face, mesmerized by his delicate features, and he knew he didn’t want this moment to stop. Instead, he snuck over to his bookshelf and grabbed the book next to Icha Icha Paradise. He loved this series, but for now he somehow felt more like reading about two young men falling in love. And with a smile, he sat down across from Yamato and started reading.

[benarirose]

꧁Hijo de La Luna Príncipe꧂

Author's note: This little story here is also on Ao3, My account is Benari_Rose there. It's inspired by Haggard's (or Mecano's) song Hijo de La Luna. I would appreciate it so much if you leave comments on here or there. Thank you (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Tw: Just a little bit of violence, there's no blood included in this so don't worry. But usage of knife is mentioned.

𝕬 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉

𝕿𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆 𝕲𝖞𝖕𝖘𝖞 𝖂𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕲𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖂𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊...

 The woman standing in front of him was crying silently. Yet her sobs echoed through the halls of Prince Cygnus' castle. He slowly raised his hand to take a peek at the woman by lifting the veil covering his face.

 𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊, 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖍 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍

He smiled, masking his confusion. Why wouldn't she wish this from the Venus Prince Ambrose? His task was to tie two lovers together, to bless their relationship and family with his spells. So why would she ask this to himself instead of his brother? He didn't know but the woman in front of him was in pain, in need of love, in need of validation.

So he parted his lips and said:

 "𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊. 𝕭𝖚𝖙..."

He paused. He didn't know what to ask in return. Then an idea came up to him. He had always wanted to be a parent, to bring an heir to his kingdom. But his infertility never allowed him. He loved children of his kingdom like they were his own. Their laughter, joy, innocence and goofy little chats eased his stress and forget all his problems while spending time with them. 

Men who didn't deserve to be a parent became fathers while he couldn't. It felt unfair to him. Yet he didn't make any noise about it. But now he didn't need to biologically have a kid to be a parent. So he adjusted his posture in his throne and...

 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖐𝖊:

"𝕴𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓, 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖔 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖎𝖒. 𝕬𝖑𝖆𝖘, 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖓, 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊"

 It was kind of cruel of Cygnus wanting this in return. He knew a mother's sorrow of losing their firstborn pretty well. But his desperation put pressure on hus conscience. In which, he will regret sooner or later. 

The woman raised her head and swiped her bangs from her forehead as she blinked. That's when he felt his chest ache. It felt like his ribcage had turned on him and started suffocating his lungs and heart. He didn't see her face at first due to his veil, but now it was crystal clear that she was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and a vibrant brown. Long and curly eyelashes which matched her dark curly hair. A slender figure with chubby curves which were adorned and garnished with accessories and jewels.

He was always told not to judge a book by it's cover, which he agreed to this mindset with his heart and mind. But for some reason he was mesmerized by a lady who was a foreigner to magic.

Her breath hitched as she tried to speak. "I-is there n-no oth-other way?.." she asked in a very quiet voice that even Cygnus could barely hear. He winced silently, he was already regretting his decision, but there was no turning back now. 

"I'm afraid yes fair mortal lady... Casting a love spell is not something I practiced with my magic. So casting it would require something important in return." He said as he lowered his gaze to the ground. The woman thought for a moment. Her eyes fixed on the prince, she spoke "Will you take good care of my baby, your Highness? If I ever get parted from my child, I'd want it to be in good hands..."

Cygnus nodded. "Yes, indeed. I promise your child will be taken good care of. You can rest assured." A sigh of relief left the woman's lips and she clasped her hands together. "Thank you, your highness. It hurts me so but if what you're saying is true, then I accept." And with that, Cygnus rose from his throne and descended from the staircase which lead to his pedestal like crown. 

"Well, then..." He said as he gently placed his palm on her head, magic glowing from under his hand with a gorgeous blue hue. He was close to her enough that his shining silvery locks brushed her shoulder. Which she couldn't help but gaze up in awe. After the glow faded, he pulled his hand back. "Now then, our deal is sealed. You can go now, I'll come to check up on you from time to time. But before you go, can I learn what your name is miss?" 

"Nataliya. And thank you again, your highness. It will never be enough no matter how much I thank you."

"No, I thank you for your sacrifice, Nataliya... Now go." He said as he turned his back, flowing his cape with the wind he made.

Nataliya rose up from her knees and guided out of the castle by the guardians. Cygnus watched her as she left. Feeling the sense of growing guilt like he did something wrong. 

 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗

𝖄𝖊𝖙, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖓

𝕿𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓

𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉?

𝕬𝖍𝖍-𝖆𝖍-𝖆𝖍-𝖆𝖍-𝖆𝖍𝖍-𝖆𝖍-𝖆𝖍-𝖆𝖍𝖍...

𝕾𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊

 Months passed since Nataliya had made a deal with Cygnus. Just like he promised, she was able to gain the affection of the man she loved. Soon after, they got married and got tied to eachother at the wedding night. Cygnus watched them afar, observing their joy and laughter. He couldn't help but feel jealous from the deepest pits of his heart. That man was loving her only because of his spell. That man... He had no ounce of mercy, kindness or humbleness. He was full of hatred, vengeance and anger.

After a while, he learned that Nataliya was eight months pregnant and close to giving birth soon. He smiled at the information and chose to visit her more often. Sometimes he draws invisible protection signs on her house's door. Sometimes he controls them from afar while reading a book. One month later, she gave birth to a beautiful son. But there was an issue...

𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆 𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗, 𝖆 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓

𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖓 𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊'𝖘 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐

𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘, 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊

𝕬𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖔 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉...

"𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊! 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖎𝖙."

 Nataliya was shocked against her husband's shameful assumption, let alone behavior. She never had cheated, nor seen another man. Sure, it was kind of surprising how her son was white as snow but this might be Prince Cygnus' magic's appearance. She needs to explain this to her husband before he misunderstands further. 

Unfortunately, it was too late. People around them started to question and gossip. One of them being gross slanders as it was about a pale skinned man (who was Cygnus) visiting Nataliya's house when her husband wasn't there. It was partly true since Cygnus did visit her but not in the way people had assumed

Days and days passed by and and her husband's hidden wrath started to be increasingly evident. Everytime Nataliya tried to explain what happened, the words of people lurked around and got worse each time. It went as far as people gossiped about Nataliya being a promiscuous woman while calling her husband a cuck for letting this happen 

Until one day, he couldn't take it anymore. It didn't matter if she was telling the truth and the baby was his. She 'dirtied' his name and put him in 'shame'

 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖉

𝕳𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊, 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖐𝖓𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉:

"𝖂𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖊? 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖊."

𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊

𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖆 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖈𝖐 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓

 Almost in a second, the man hit a wall with his back as he was pushed by an undeniably powerful force. The man grunted in pain as he tried to collect his senses. As his blurry vision cleared, his blood drained from his face immediately. The Moon Prince, one of the ten royal siblings of the kingdom, was frowning down on him

"Relentless..." He muttered out. "I tied you two together because she loved you. And as in return, I wanted her firstborn which she had from YOU!" He said the last word loudly, which echoed and ringed in the man's ears.

The baby was really his. He tilted his head downwards in shame as he realized his terrible crime. "You did not marry her only because you loved her, but because you trusted her. How dare you believe such foul slanders about herself when she denies them? How dare you hurt her for something she didn't even commit?" Cygnus didn't want the man to flee so he knocked him out by casting a sleep spell. He then turned to Nataliya who was wounded on her stomach. Cygnus kneeled next to her as he tended her wounds with his healing. 

"I should've known better..." He began his sentence with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I'm deeply sorry for my foolish mistake. Not every relationships born from love form fruits of peace. You may still love him, but he tried to kill you. So going back to him would earn you nothing but harm." Nataliya slowly turned her head to him and watched his magic cure her wounds. 

"I won't go back to him. He didn't believe me when I was telling the truth. He can burn in hell for all I care. I really thought he loved me, but the only thing he cared about was his name..." She said as her brows furrowed. Betrayal, was the thing she felt. "But, why?" She asked to Cygnus.

"Hm?' he hummed back in return, so Nataliya continued. "Why didn't your spell work, your highness? Is it because he was the wrong man?"

"No... The spell did work. But it wasn't strong enough to pacify his anger or hatred. Even the strongest love spells can't clear the heart of evil." He answered her question calmly. "But, there's also a question I'd like to ask: Why did you come to me to make your wish instead of my brother Ambrose? He's the wizard of love and beauty after all."

Nataliya forced herself to sit up, grunting as her newly closed wounds stretched. Cygnus held her back to steady herself while telling her to be careful. 

"I actually did..." She said as she exhaled. "When I proposed my wish to him, he gladly accepted at first. But when he got to know my... 'husband', he told me he can't. He didn't tell me why, he just dismissed me by saying 'I don't feel any connection between you two. I'm so sorry to tell you this but for my spell to work, your strings should at least be close to eachother. So I can tie them up.' I didn't understand at first. Wondered why he couldn't just make our strings get close. I was blinded by love so much that I didn't see that he was protecting me subtly. So I went to you..."

"Which resulted in this." Cygnus said as he completed her sentence. Then a sound of a baby crying was heard from the back. Nataliya rose up from the ground slowly and went back into her home. She took her baby son into her arms and caressed his head gently.

"Sshh... It's ok, mama's not hurt. Everything's ok..." She whispered into his ear. Then she got out of her home to see Cygnus sitting and watching the stars above. "Your highness?" Cygnus turned his head to Nataliya. "Yes?" He answered as he stood up. "I know, my marriage didn't last like I wanted, but..."

Her eyes teared up as she patted her now calmed down son's back. Cygnus immediately understood what she was trying to say and raised his hand to stop her. 

"No. I've made my decision. No mother deserves to lose their child. Especially right after they lost their loved one. I'm sorry, I was desperate to be a parent at the time. It was a cruel mistake. Your son will stay with you. Please, do take care Miss Nataliya..."

He said as he turned his back. Nataliya gasped and hold the Prince's arm. "Wait!" She blurted out without thinking. "I uhh... I still believe you deserve to be by his side, your highness. He... Carries your image. He is the one who awakened me to realize the man I married isn't the one I loved, and you're the one who saved me from him. If there's a man who deserves to be a father the most, it's you." 

Cynus' eyes sparkled as he looked at Nataliya. He was too stunned that he forgot how to speak. As he looked over to the baby then Nataliya, his cheeks grew a pinkish hue. Cygnus smiled as he took the little boy in his arms and watched as the little boy's eyes wander around to focus on him. He then started giggling and clapping his hands clumsily. Reaching over to Cygnus' face as the little boy laughed in joy. Cygnus' smile grew wider and kissed the little boy's forehead.

"Does he have a name?" He asked, looking over to Nataliya. "Crescent" she answered. "I named him Crescent. The one which grows to be a full moon, like you." She smiled as she watched her son playing and pulling the Prince's hair. "How beautiful. Welcome to Earth, Crescent. Auntie Lunafreya (Cygnus' twin sister, the Earth Princess) will love you... Ow! Slow down there buddy, that's my hair!" He said as he winced in slight pain, but laughed anyway.

He turned his figure to Nataliya fully. "Nataliya. I want you to come with me to my castle. That way I can take care and check on you two more easily. But, if you want yo stay here, I won't say no to that. The choice is yours." He said with a bright look on his face. Nataliya blinked in surprise.

"I... That was a little sudden, your highness I-"

"Call me Cygnus" 

"What?"

"You don't have to speak to me formally. You can speak with me comfortably, Nataliya." Cygnus said as his breathing got faster. He wasn't going to force her, no. But he really wanted to spend more time with her. To get to know her better. 

"I-I accept your offer my Pr- I mean Cygnus..." She said as she got shy all of a sudden. It looked cute to Cygnus, honestly. He smiled warmly and walked towards her side while Baby Crescent was in his arms. "Let us go then." He said and with his hand movements, a blue circle formed on air and opened a portal to their new 'home'...

 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖋 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖊

𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖋 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖊...

-𝐸𝑛𝑑 <3

[amberlynnmurdock]

Quiet Protection

Ben Tallmadge x Reader

Genre: fluff, light angst

Universe: TURN: Washington’s Spies

Author’s note: Do you guys know how weird it is for me to be writing a Ben Tallmadge fanfic? Please remember this is THE TURN UNIVERSE NOT AMERICAN HISTORY LOL Basically, Seth Numrich as Ben Tallmadge 😍 just wanted to clear that up lol. Need to get this out of my system, so please… enjoy. No series intended but might do a collection of one shots. Also maybe different versions.

It’s cold in New Jersey. It’s late, and you know you should be back in your quarters with Lady Martha Washington, prepping cloths for the next morning and making sure there were enough supplies for Dr. Thatcher in case, God forbid, any soldiers were wounded. No, you kept trekking through the icy ground, shivering, nothing but the hot bowl of broth warming your hands. The broth wasn’t for you, and you weren’t going back to your quarters now. 

You could hear Continental Army soldiers laughing in the distance, gathered around various fires, passing around a bottle of whiskey–today was a good day. General Washington won the first war of the year, and there was much to celebrate–much to anticipate. You tried not to look in the drunken soldiers' direction; some of them were dangerous, Ben had told you in private, and it’s best you keep your distance from them unless he was around. He’s not around now–in fact, you are heading straight to his quarters, unannounced. It wouldn’t be the first time. A small part of you hoped he was expecting you. 

You approach his quarters and suddenly you feel a veil of protection as you reach to open the tent. It amazed you how strong and steady Ben was. You longed to be in his presence all the time. He was so sure of himself, so confident and so, so protective, it was hard not to feel safe any time he was around you. 

You step in, and nearly trip over a pair of boots. The broth doesn’t spill, but you’ve made quite an entrance. 

Ben is startled. He was clearly deep in thought, laying in bed, wearing his white long sleeve shirt and pants. He sits up quickly and rushes to you, making sure the tent flap has no crack. He’s quiet, and he’s smooth, the way he steadies you with his strong hands just above your waist. His gaze is over your shoulder, peeking outside before he shuts the tent flaps so they overlap, securing your meeting and creating ultimate privacy. 

“It’s late,” Ben whispers, deep blue eyes boring into yours. “Did anyone see you?” 

You smile, “no. I took the back way, the one Caleb showed me.” 

Ben just smiles softly, gazing a bit, like he always does when he looks at you. His eyes break contact for a moment when he smells the broth.

“Is this for me?” 

“You may have won today but I know it’s never easy coming back home. I wanted to check up on you, and yes, bring you some soul-warming broth,” you tell him as you step aside to place the bowl on a side table. You open the lid and set it down, the steam warming up your face. 

“Your presence is all I need after a day like today,” Ben wraps his arms around your waist from behind. He buries his face in the nape of your neck and takes a deep breath. “I am very tired.” 

You twist in his grasp to face him. He does look tired, but nevertheless so handsome and soft. His eyes flutter as you lean in to give him a kiss. 

“I’ve been thinking of you all day,” Ben admits, “I’m doing this for our country just as much as I am doing it for our future.” 

You have to look away when he says this, tears threatening your eyes. No, you can’t cry in front of him, you won’t allow it. He can’t see you in such a weak state when he risks his life every day. He’d think you a fool, a weak girl who has no place in a camp like this. 

He must notice the disdain on your face because he touches your chin to move you back to look into his blue eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. 

He leads you to his bed. You lay down as he sits at the foot, beginning to drink the broth. You lay on your side and breathe in his pillow, smelling his scent which was eucalyptus and sweat. You want to remember it and take it in before you eventually have to go back to your quarters. 

“Stay,” Ben states as if reading your mind. 

You look at him in confusion. “Lady Washington will be concerned.” 

He gives you a knowing look and smiles. “You think she doesn’t know by now where you sneak out at night? If anyone had a clue about us, it’s her.” 

“And... you’re okay with that?” 

Ben sets the bowl down and takes both your hands into his. 

“She can be trusted, of course. Other people in this camp–I can’t risk it. I cannot risk it, my love. It’s dangerous enough you are here anyway, but at least I can keep my eye on you.” 

“I know,” you whisper. 

“Stay,” Ben repeats. “It’s too late, and I can get you out of here early by morning. No one will see us, I’ll make sure of it. But I need you tonight. Please, stay.” 

You nod–of course, you will stay, it’s the easiest decision you’ve made in a while. You slip out of your dress as Ben unbuttons his white shirt, giving it to you to wear for the night. He blows out the candle and the tent goes dark. You feel him crawl into bed, closely and tight right next to you. He kisses your shoulder. You both fall asleep. 

[terapsina]

💘🕯️💌

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

Absolutely everything that's older than 2 or 3 years?

But more seriously, IDK maybe 2 Times a Story Trope Slipped Through Emma's Fingers (+1 Time Regina Made Sure It Didn't). I think it was my first attempt at 5+1 things fic but I kinda lost steam midway through so it became 2+1 things. I've always kinda regretted not adding more shenanigans.

I guess I would like to remake this fic and add 3 more tropes (and fix the ending, I've never been particularly happy with the ending).

Most of my other regrets deal with the perpetuity of my WIPs.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

This might be predictable but that's definitely She's Come Undone and Set Free.

It's been hard to write a on multiple fronts. First of all of course is the subject matter itself, shining the light on Elena and Caroline's trauma and trying to get the story to a place where they might start to heal was hard. And it hurt.

On the practical front it's also the hardest thing I've been writing because it's also the longest thing I've ever written.

And while writing it I was constantly surprised by where it lead me. Every time I sat down to write I knew stuff like "here Elena and Caroline have a heart to heart" or "here they're gonna tease Bonnie about Rebekah" but I never knew HOW those scenes would go or where the real meat of the scene would come in. And after I finished them I always had this feeling like... 'that scene would have gone an entirely different way if I had tried writing it last month'.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Okay. So I've still got no idea when I'll finish with it but I'm still really excited about doing the wrapup epilogue bits of She's Come Undone and Set Free.

Especially, the stuff I have planned Bonnie and Rebekah. (it's not ready for viewing but let's just say that I HATED how dirty they did Bonnie with that whole 'secretly dead for months' thing. So I'm going to see how things might have gone different with an Original in Bonnie's corner).

Other than that. Here's a sneak peek into the beginning of the epilogue (please be aware that it might change before posting though. And hasn't currently been combed for grammar mistakes).

Elijah was putting away the freshly dry cleaned suit he'd changed out of before returning to New Orleans - his mind judiciously on anything other than the woman whose fingers had wrinkled the fabric as she grasped the collar at the back of his neck - when his brother found him.

"I heard a strange little rumor." Klaus’s voice was full of thinly veiled curiosity.

"Did you?" he asked carelessly, not quite paying attention. "How fascinating."

"Whatever did Damon Salvatore do to piss you off, Elijah?"

Elijah’s movements halted momentarily as the muscles in his back seemed to pull into stone. He'd known of course that it was simply a matter of time before Niklaus was informed of the bounty he had placed on the whereabouts of the older Salvatore brother. He had simply hoped it would have taken longer than a day.

He exhaled silently under his breath, the only sign of irritation Elijah was willing to telegraph before answering. "He harmed someone I care a great deal about."

"And who might that be?" Niklaus asked.

Elijah chose not to answer.