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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

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Hi dear, how are you?, could you write an imagine onde reader mentioning offhand how much she would love a whole family. Four, maybe six children? Girls and boys split right down the middle, but the second Miguel hears this (maybe the reader is on the phone, or talking to lyla. or someone at HQ) and Miguel loses his mind

1) Miguel can't help himself and he would grab you and put you on the mattress for a very long time...... or

2) torture himself for two weeks before telling her why he was avoiding her please.

HIHIHI BREEDING BARK BARK (sorry this took so long to write anon zehfrfgh i pulled an all nighter to make this one so also forgive me if there are some mistakes in this gksffgjgbf)

summary : miguel learns you want kids, a lot of kids, so he breeds you

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), breeding kink, soft!dom miguel, obsessive!miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 3,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash @haradasaya

Miguel was on his way to see you. He'd heard that you were back from your mission and that everything had gone well, so he'd come to get you to take you out for lunch.

He was taking advantage of the little free time he had to visit you, even though he would obviously pass this visit off as work-related in everyone's eyes. He had to always, always remain professional and keep everything under control so that everybody could do their bit.

"Six?!" asked Jess, the word choking in her throat.

Well, you were indeed back with Jess.

"Mhm, six," you affirmed as you both busied yourselves filing a report.

What were they talking about? He leaned against a wall. He knew it wasn't very polite to eavesdrop, but the word got around here. Most of society's building had cameras, and everything that was often said or done was recorded here.

He just wanted to listen to you, wondering if there were any topics of conversation that you weren't having with him and with the other spiders. Yes, he was manic, and probably a little too obsessive.

In any case, he wondered what you could have said to Jessica to make her exclaim like that.

"The more the merrier," you laughed softly.

"I hate this sentence so much," sighed Jess.

"Why so?" your voice was sincerely interrogative.

"In this context, it's really not my preferred idiom one might say," she replied as Miguel heard her tapping on a pad to enter more information.

What on earth could they be talking about? he wondered. What subject could suggest that six was far too high a number for Jess's judgement? He knew that Jess was an oragnised woman like himself, with a lot of tact and a fair amount of authority.

Was it perhaps a consecutive number of days doing an activity? Six days of marathon running might have been a bit much, but six days' holiday was never too much. He breathed in very softly, it had been years since he'd had time for such a thing. Did you want to take him on a holiday? If so, the number of days was inordinate. He would never be able to get away from his work for more than three days.

Maybe it was something else then. What was too much in Jess's mind with six?

Six empanadas perhaps? Miguel would obviously disagree. You can never have enough empanada for his taste. But Jess would probably disapprove.

Six... Six pets? It's true that having six pets might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least in Miguel's eyes of course.

Perhaps six books? No, that didn't make sense. Although Jess wasn't a huge reader, she did have a book in her hands from time to time.

So what was it? He was intrigued, that's for sure.

"You know, in my opinion, one kid is already way too much to handle," she sighed, "but six ? Nah, that's some good way of ending your life while still being alive."

But Miguel had barely heard the rest of the sentence, his mind having been caught by a single word: kid. He immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Kid, like... children ? Like, actual human beings ? Small human beings ?

His eyes were wide, his mouth parted. No, he must not have heard correctly, although he dreamed that it was indeed that word that had been uttered.

"Why not? Surrounding ourselves with life is good," you said softly. "I'd love to see six little heads running around. I want three of each, three girls and three boys."

He wasn't mistaken: the discussion was really about the number of children you wanted. Six, he thought, six, six, the word echoing in his mind. He put both his hands on his hips, as if to hold on to something.

He pictured you, your rounded belly, stroking the hair of a child, your child, his child... both your children.

He swallowed, however, as another, immensely more tantalising vision took hold of his mind.

The vision of your cunt, glistening with your desire as from between its lips dripped little by little his own cum, his own seed leaking from you, your belly full of him...

It made his dick twitch for a hot second, and he couldn't remove that image, he didn't want to get rid of that image. The idea that your belly could be full of him, that he could breed you until he had no strength left was magnificent.

"What an egalitarian spirit," Jess noted wryly, "Well, it's all in order."

His thoughts were riveted on the image. He could almost hear in his own mind the sweet melody your moans would make as he came inside you again.

No, it was now impossible for him to think about anything else, he told himself that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this. Except it's a well-known fact that if you tell someone not to think about something, they'll think about it.

He knew what breeding was, obviously, but what about you? Did you even have a clue what it was?

He tried to pull himself together, he had to either leave here or come towards you and pretend to come naturally. Would he be able to hold it together and act as if nothing had happened? Did he really have a choice in the matter after all? He breathed in, tightening his jaw as he decided to come towards you.

He walked purposefully, his usual grumpy face set surprisingly naturally as he advanced towards you.

"Ah, you're back," he sighed as if pleasantly surprised to see you both here, "how was the mission?"

"Excellent," Jess affirmed, "we've just finished the report, the anomaly has been taken care of as it should have been since we arrived."

He nodded, his serious face opening a control pad to check what she was saying and opening the file in question, pretending to read its contents. He had the impression that everywhere he looked the image came right back to him, on every tile, on every screen, everywhere in his mind.

"That's good work," he breathed.

"Damn right," nodded Jess. " Well, I'm off to join my own little demon, take care you two."

"See ya," you replied as she headed for the exit.

He wondered by what superhuman strength he managed to remain unwavering and stoic.

You moved closer to him, hugging his back and comforting yourself in the embrace.

"How was your day?" you asked, squeezing him in your arms.

Unwavering and stoic, Miguel, you have to remain unwavering and stoic.

You put your hands on his body, and with one touch his concentration was simply wiped out.

He turned to you, smiling a strange, uncertain smile as he stroked your hair, a little tense.

"You know how it is, just a lot of work," but his eyes were watching yours strangely, a flash of a vision where they were filled with desire looking back at him.

You studied him for a moment, noticing how distracted he seemed, his eyes looking at you in a strange way. You could feel a kind of desire there, a kind of longing, but you couldn't work out what it was.

"Is... everything alright?"

He shuddered, obviously his little show wasn't going to last much longer. He broke away from your embrace, he couldn't keep looking at you like that.

"Hey," you said softly, "you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Could I tell you this ? he wondered. He looked at you for a moment, another flash of you all moaning and covered in hickeys and marks on your body as you breathed his name. He looked away, closing his eyes in the hopes the flashes would stop.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak about this..."

But how he wanted to speak about this, to tell you how much he wanted to fuck you until you were full of him, until the only thing present in your mouth was his name and how much he wanted to see the sight of your round belly.

But you wouldn't listen to his silence. So you walked over to him and took his hand.

"Miguel, look at me. you asked, and he looked at you, his visions mingling with the reality where you were looking at him, worried. "Tell me."

He sighed. He couldn't run away from his ideas forever, run away from these images that he wanted to see in reality and not just in his mind. He wanted to raise his idea from the theoretical to the practical, and it was with an almost guilty breath that he admitted:

"I want to breed you."

There was a slight silence, his eyes plunged into yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. But above all he was met with confusion.

"What's breeding?" You had an idea of the term, usually used animalistically for the subject of... reproduction and maintenance of species. But just to be on the safe side with Miguel, you preferred to ask him anyway.

His lungs swelled like sails, did he really have to go through this?

"Why don't you ask Lyla what it is?" he suggested.

"Because I want to hear it from you, with your words" you assured him, your tone a mixture of strictness and curiosity.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek, slightly afraid of your reaction. You were practically hanging on his every word, waiting for him to explain.

"Breeding is... the act of a male and a female animal having sex, also known as mating, to reproduce..." he explained, pausing, "and procreate."

Your eyes widened slightly, and the possibility that he had overheard your previous conversation with Jess came to mind. All the same, you looked at him almost inscrutably, and he couldn't work out what you were thinking.

But now that the words had been said, he could no longer hide, no, he no longer had to hide. His thoughts were finally out, burning on his skin and lips.

He moved forward a little more, his gaze suddenly darkened by the desires he was no longer hiding.

"I want to fill you up with my cum and make sure you get pregnant."

Your lips were parted, your surprised eyes looking into his, black with desire and longing. A silence filled the air, both your hearts beating loudly in both your bodies. Miguel waited for an answer, unaware of the warm cloud that had settled in your lower belly.

He chuckled a little, an understanding smile gracing his lips as he said:

"See, your silence tells me enoug-"

"Breed me," you cut him off.

He stopped moving immediately, the statement immobilising him just like when he had understood what you and Jess were talking about.

Had his mind and his fantasies come together to play tricks on him? Or had you actually agreed with what he'd just said?

"What?" he said, his pronunciation almost slurred as he turned his attention to your next words.

"Breed me, Miguel" you repeated, determined as you swallowed in anticipation. "I want to carry you... in me."

The gleam in his eyes was almost predatory, but after all, wasn't that the very essence of breeding? The raw nature of it, the bestiality, the quenching of the oldest instinct that ever was.

You only had time to see his eyes turn red as he lunged for your lips, kissing you with his mouth wide open as your teeth almost clashed and he attacked your tongue.

The power with which he kissed you made you take a step backwards, but you weren't going anywhere, because Miguel immediately placed his hand in the small of your back to make sure he had you close to him.

He let out grunts between kisses, his hunger for your skin lengthening his canines as they brushed almost dangerously against your tongue.

Then he lifted you in one swift movement, placing you on his shoulder as he headed for the door leading to his quarters, his impatience growing faster than ever. You bit your lip, already swollen from his kisses, his hand gripping your thigh firmly as he led you to the bed.

He laid you down, following every movement of your body as he kissed you again. He stood back for a moment, watching your body.

"Do you have sentimental value for your suit?"

"What?" you asked, confused by the sudden question.

"Just answer," he asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean it's old but I can live withou-"

You hadn't even finished your sentence when he ripped off your suit with an ease that sent shivers down your spine, ripping the fabric covering your cunt, tearing your panties and throwing all the rags into the rest of the room.

"No questions about the sentimental value of my underwear?" you laugh lightly.

"I'll get you some new ones," he breathed, a carnivorous sneer inhabiting his lips, "I'll take great care in chosing them."

You swallowed as he kissed your neck, nestling in and marking your skin with thirst. He straightened to kiss your lips, and whispered against them:

"Turn over, get down on your elbows and knees".

You complied, his instructions increasing the size of the cloud of heat in your belly. You placed your folded arms flat on the sheets, your knees slightly apart.

"Lift your hips for me, nena," he commanded in a tone as soft as cotton.

You listened, arching your back as you lifted your hips, your ass gloriously up just for him to fuck. He swallowed, his hand coming to grip one of your buttocks and pulling it apart, pressing it between his fingers and gripping your skin full hand.

"Already so good and wet for me," he mused, one of his fingers passing between your folds.

Of course you were already wet, the way he had introduced the concept to you making you all fuzzy and warm in your belly. You'd never been against the idea of Miguel being a bit more violent, and to be honest you were excited by the idea of him being so from now on.

Once he'd coated himself sufficiently, he pushed one finger into you, soft moans falling from your lips filling the room. He added another one, and your lust was growing by the second. You were getting impatient too, but you couldn't help noticing that Miguel simply couldn't wait any longer.

Miguel was always very keen about taking his time, preparing you well apart from the few moments when one of you needed a quicky, but here eagerness was getting the better of him, and above all his most instinctive desires buried deep inside him had taken the reigns of all his actions.

The thought of him being in you through your core made him feel so drunk on you. These ideas had already been marinating in his mind for a while, it had only taken this conversation between you and Jess to flip the switch. And he observed in adoration, seeing you like this, underneath him with your much smaller frame, sitting up and ready to take him.

"Hands behind your back."

His orders became more and more urgent, his tone wavering with envy. It was impossible for him to formulate a whole sentence.

So you laid your face on the sheets, cheek pressed to your side as you brought your hands behind your back, joining your wrists together like you were imagining yourself handcuffed. You shivered as his hand, whose fingers had previously been inside you, reached out from between your folds and took both your wrists at the same time, locking them in this embrace. His hand was obviously big enough to hold both your wrists together and prevent you from breaking free from his grip.

He had locked you completely.

He had blocked out any possibility of you making a move other than squirming around him. Miguel would never tire of this control, this hold he had over you right now. You were his, nobody else's, and he would let eveybody know this by fucking his seed into you and get as many babies as you wanted.

That's when you felt the head of his dick coating itself with your juices, preparing to burry himself into you. You couldn't see Miguel like this, but you could hear him. Dark growls vibrated in his throat, deeper than you'd ever heard them before, and it felt intimidating.

He thrust, pushing his tip into you, and you let out a groan of relief that sank into the fabric of the sheets. You breathed softly, letting Miguel's thick, long cock sink into you. No matter how many times you had done it, taken him like that, you still couldn't get used to it.

His lower belly finally touched the skin of your ass, his dick deep inside you. And you felt him pressing against your stomach. You knew that if you brought one of your hands to your stomach, you'd feel the shape of his cock against your skin.

He was so deep in you, an almost bestial growl escaped him as he slowly began to pull back before thrusting in hard.

You let out a little cry of surprise and pleasure that echoed around the room, and he repeated the same gesture. He kept bearing down on you until he touched your slick on his lower belly and pulling away, pushing back in the next second until it'd touch his balls.

Your body was burning, unable to do anything but arch your back more and groan. Your hands were gripping the void, and the impossibility of finding a foothold in all this was making you feel out of control. But you were enjoying the sensations he was giving you, and so was he.

He listened to the symphony of your voice as he picked up the pace, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping all tight and warm around him was absolute perfection to him.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his first cum would hit, but he needn't have worried. Miguel could go on for a long, long time, and he just hoped that you could keep up, although he had no doubt that his best girl would live up to his expectations.

He could no longer string a sentence together properly, the words he was trying to whisper as he sank deep inside you coming out as if chewed up by his long fangs.

He grunted, his rhythm and the tilt of your two bodies giving you both exceptional sensations. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to burst as Miguel came closer.

And the world stopped spinning for a second.

You came together, your walls closing spasmodically around him as you felt him spill into you. Because that's what you wanted, right ? That's the one thing you desired, and he was going to give it to you entirely.

He pulled out, just for the pleasure of seeing the work he had so long dreamed of seeing. And the satisfaction was superb, his white creamy cum slowly pouring out of your wet cunt, still pulsing with desire.

A dark laugh rose from his throat as he sank back into you and you let out a startled moan. He lowered himself, his lips pressing against your ear.

"I hope you thought of six names."

It would be a long, long night.

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july-19th-club · 1 month ago

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a while back i read jane eyre for the first time since high school in anticipation of watching the 2006 wilson/stephens miniseries. it's incredible to reread these classic novels as an adult, because while i got all the words and understood the *content* as a teenager, i didn't at all find the book interesting or fun to read. anyway i think one of the reasons that book stood the test of time isn't so much the gothic intrigue and how fucked up rochester and his wife are . he sucks so bad in so many ways . but he keeps needing rescued from stuff and only jane can do it . he fucking breaks an ankle falling off a horse early in her employment with him and she's the one who helps him back to the house . his attic wife sets his bedroom on fire and jane's the one who finds him and puts it out before he dies of smoke inhalation . then attic wife sets the house on fire after jane leaves and the whole place burns to the ground, grievous death and permanent injuries, etc, etc. jane comes back yippee everything's okay again! austen heroes don't get wounded like that because they're far too sedate and busy engaging in social seasons and heathcliff is like not wounded physically so much as destroyed emotionally . but this dude strikes the balance for readers who best enjoy when a man is collapsing of various problems and literally cant survive a day without some governess to pour water on his four-poster so he doesn't fry to a crisp

ALSO . i particularly was interested in the passages just after jane first meets him where she talks a lot about how if he was a normal polite person, or even just like a normal Lord with like, a sense of propriety and good manor house manners, she'd have been shy and awkward and uncomfortable and would have hated him. but i think where some interpretations get it wrong is that she doesn't think his rudeness is HOT. she thinks it's good for her own confidence, in that she knows her own self-esteem and social comfort levels are so low that all the scripts of peerage and society make her crawl into herself and disappear. she doesn't know how to follow the scripts convincingly, she's been emotionally abused her whole life so she has no sense of self-worth, but he doesn't follow the script. which means she doesn't have to worry about following it either. which does wonders for her confidence levels because when she can just act in ways that make sense to her rather than second-guessing whether she will be Approved Of, she can actually be a person. and that's what she first appreciates about him: his ability to (more or less without trying or even noticing) facilitate that for her.

"The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something, trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive."

#like she genuinely is not Brooding Guy Hot #she's like. guy with no social graces got me feeling confident about my own lack thereof!#and 'random asshole needs a hand and i provided it. damn this whole taking actions of my own volition thing feels good'#otherwise this book is like. ~okay~ . but it does have a surfeit of rescuing this guy . which is what im there for in the first place #jane eyre #q

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nebulaeternal · 2 months ago

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✧༺┆✦Reflections of Desire✦┆༻✩

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: smut, jealous sylus, mirror kink, slight bondage, breeding kink, orgasm denial, orgasm control, mirror sex, porn w/ little plot, alcohol mention. ―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: While attending a high-society event, Sylus experiences a slip of professionalism as he slowly becomes consumed by his jealousy and his fantasy after watching his partner in crime flirt with their target. ―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 4.3K ―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Hello! This is my first real post on here. It's been a while since I've written so it may be a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy! (I did go back and edit this a couple times cause I kept getting ideas, so if you’re revisiting, I hope you enjoy~) ―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Version, Twitter(come interact with me!)

During the time that you’ve known Sylus, it was an intriguing fact that the crimson-eyed crow had harbored a fascination with mirrors. If you recall correctly, he had several decorative mirrors placed meticulously throughout his mansion, either adorned with beautifully intricate details or simple sleet yet elegant designs. While it was in the nature of a crow to collect shiny objects, for a man like Sylus it was somewhat out of character for him.

You hadn’t given it much thought–that is, until you caught him gazing intently at you through the reflection of the mirror, as you put on the finishing touches to your makeup. Your eyes locked, and you watched as a smirk creeped onto his face, shamelessly checking you out. You rolled your eyes and returned to the task at hand–your makeup.

Slowly and deliberately, you brought the lip gloss to your lips, applying it in a rather sensuous and seductive manner, something Sylus took great pleasure in watching, captivated by the way your lips moved against the tube. His mind slipped, losing himself in thought, indulging in the fantasy of kissing you, stealing your breath right from your lungs, watching as your lips grew glossy and plush, like pillows he so desperately wanted to lay his lips on.

“Ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.” you chirped, turning on your heel to face him. Sylus remained silent, his gaze darkening and unyielding, eyes slowly trailing down your figure. He savored the way your custom-tailored dress clung perfectly to your body, memorizing the way it twisted and curved over your skin.

He couldn’t resist the pull, the sound of his polished dress shoes clicking against the floor. Your eyes followed him until his body was pressed flush against yours, arms slipping around your waist. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ll never get tired of this.” He says just above a whisper as his face hovered only inches above yours, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

A light blush crept onto your face, a smirk gracing your features as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. “For you, Love? I’ll do it again and again.” you teased, lips brushing lightly against his. You knew exactly what that would do to him and it was driving him crazy.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, gazed locked and burning with an intense flame of passion, tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sylus’s arms tighten around you, as he backed you into the vanity mirror behind you, taking a quick glance at your reflections, noting how small you were against him.

Moments before desire flooded his senses, he cleared his throat, pulling back slightly, composing himself a little. “We better get going or we won’t make it at all.” His voice was low and gruff as he pulled away, fighting to keep his desire under check. “Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm, ready for you to take it.

You smoothed out your dress before linking your arm through his, taking your customary place at his side. Sylus led the two of you out the door to his Maserati, opening the passenger door with practice elegance. Like the gentleman he was, he ensured your dress was carefully tucked inside before gently closing it and heading around to the driver’s side.

He slid into the car and started up the ignition before taking off with speed. As he drove, the two of you reviewed the details of the mission–after all, that was the real reason you were headed to the damn party to begin with. “Stay close when the targets bite.” you remind him, almost shivering at the thought of how many creeps lurked out there.

“You know how men can be,” he said, flashing you his signature, confident smirk. “Now Sweetie, you know I would never leave your side.” He added smugly, causing you to giggle despite the slight tension that lingered in the air.

Upon arriving at the party scene, the place was dimly lit, small talk and occasional laughter filling the otherwise quiet atmosphere. You exchanged a final nod with Sylus before parting ways to carry out assigned tasks. You positioned yourself at the bar, using Sylus’s black card to buy yourself a drink, all part of the elaborate ruse you were crafting.

The bartender returned with a glass of red wine, and almost on cue, one of your targets slid up beside you. What’s a beautiful lady like you doing all alone at the bar? No escort?” he asked, his eyes greedily taking you in. You raised your wine glass to your lips, meeting his gaze while you sipped at the deep red liquid.

Feigning interest in the unfortunate man, you lowered the glass and replied, “Just enjoying a quiet moment,” your voice as smooth as the wine you just tasted. You flashed an innocent yet seductive smile, Bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, taking a sip watching him intently. He had taken this as an invitation to lean closer, his breath reeking of cigarettes.

“You don’t seem like the type to be alone.” Fighting against the urge to curl away from his antics, feeling disgusted by his behavior. Your eyes scanned his figure up and down, slowly trailing, such a convincing act you put on. “Maybe I was just waiting for the right company.” You tease, chuckling whilst you swirl the wine in your glass before gently setting it down again.

The man before you gave a smirk, convincing himself that he was winning his way into your–well panties. “Well, it looks like you’ve found it.” Giggling at his comment, you proceeded with your playful banter. Sylus was on the other end of your meticulously concealed earpiece, listening to the exchanges that occurred between the two of you.

That last giggle you let out fueled the fire of Sylus’s growing irritation. He groaned in frustration–after all, that playful behavior was typically reserved for him and only him, however, he was there to help complete a mission, and he could not by any means, let his possessive nature get the better of him.

As luck would have it, you managed to extract the information you needed from the pitiful excuse of a man, before putting on one final Oscar-worthy performance and bidding him a farewell. As you walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The tension finally leaving your body as you headed towards the bathroom to escape the noise.

With a clearer head, it dawned on you that you had not heard from Sylus since your flirtatious incident with the man at the bar. Ultimately, it was not the most pressing matter, knowing that he could handle himself. You’d look for him after taking a moment to breathe and splash yourself with some cold water.

As you turned the corner to the bathroom, a firm grip seized our arm, spinning you around before cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your attempt at a cry for help. Panic surged through your body, heart thumping out of your chest.

With wide eyes, you found yourself face to face with none other than the crimson eyed man, his appearance almost disheveled as he pressed you against the wall. Relief washed through you as you realized it wasn’t an intruder. Gently, you pulled his hand away from your mouth. “God, you scared the hell out of me, Sy.” you said, eyeing him up and down. His usual composure was replaced with something more desperate, needy even–breath ragged and raw, need lingering in his gaze

“Sorry, Love, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he murmured, his voice almost breathless, something you found rather amusing. He was usually so poised. He placed his hands on your hips smirking, questions arose within you.

“What happened to y-” your words were abruptly cut off as he swiftly pulled the two of you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, still turned to the door while you turned to the sink to splash some cold water on your neck.

The faucet handle squeaks to a stop. Once more, you caught Sylus’s reflection in the mirror, his gaze boring into yours, burning with intensity, just as he had earlier that evening. His eyes roamed hungrily over your body, watching the tendrils of hair that stuck to your damp neck, water droplets slowly trailing down your skin, pooling in the hollows of your collarbones. The sight before him was too tempting for him to ignore, his clothes feeling unbearably tight and restricting against his body. He could no longer resist his urges.

Hearing the all familiar click of shoes against the floor, his steps grew closer, once again taking in the sight of your body from behind. You attempt to turn around and meet his gaze but was promptly interrupted by his deep sultry voice, soft yet commanding, all while his hands slipped onto your hips, steading you by the hips “Don’t turn around..” he murmured as he pulled you closer to him.

His crotch was pressed against your bottom, chest flush against your back. Your face began to burn, you could feel him, all of him. Instinctively, you exposed your neck to him, to which he eagerly latched his lips onto the skin where your neck and shoulder meet, eyes boring deep into you. He took pleasure in watching every second of what he was doing to you, seeing how your eyebrows furrowed upwards, in such a pleasurable manner, one he found cute. Your jaw went slack as the air was filled with your pants and gasps.

You moaned softly as you felt the suction from his lips against your skin “Sylus..not here-” attempting to steal a glance at his direction but was quickly interjected by his hand gripping your jaw gently yet firmly, turning your head back towards the mirror “Eyes on the mirror, Kitten.”

Before you could even protest, the man drew out, yet another moan from your lips, littering your neck with kisses and love bites. Your body grew weaker with each passing second, feeling yourself begging to crumple from the pleasure. Bracing yourself for his lustful antics, you put your arms on the sink, propping your body up while his arms trailed and roamed. “Sy…hng..wait..” you were hushed once more. He bared his teeth, revealing his subtle fangs that you love so much, and sunk them into your skin, effectively hushing you momentarily. “Shhh, let me have this. I didn’t like the way you were flirting with that man.”

The mirror before you was already starting to fog up. Had it not been for the rapping of fingers against the door, it would have only gotten foggier, immediately alerting you two that your time was up. “That’s ok, we can finish this up at home.” Sylus then picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you blushing and covering your face as the man waiting outside the door witnessed the scene and almost went pale.

“Sylus! Put me down!” you whined and protested, thumping your smaller fists against his strong back, but the man was on a mission and had only one thing on his mind. You. His hand came up to firmly slap you on the ass, causing you to squeak, effectively shutting you up and keeping you still. Getting to the car, he placed you gently in the passenger seat of the car and went around the front before getting in the driver’s seat, not hesitating to start the engine before speeding off once more.

The two of you arrive back at his mansion, the twins waiting to greet you both. Giving you no room to speak to the two, Sylus picked you up and slung you over his shoulder whilst he tossed them the keys to his car. Kieran fumbled to catched the keys, watching the two of you disappear into the distance. Without saying a word, they understood exactly what their boss wanted.

The two of them waved at you, snickering at what they could only guess was about to happen between the two of you. Having given up ages ago, you now lay limp on his shoulder, the ache of his rigid structure digging into your belly. You watched the familiar rooms and decorations pass as he walked you back to his room, where he tossed you gently onto the bed. His lips were quick to latch onto yours, his hand resting on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a heated kiss, the silence of the air being filled with ragged breaths and lips smacking.

Pulling away from you, you could see the lip gloss now staining his lips, a red and glossy streak outstretched past the corner of his mouth. He leaned back down for another, not giving you much time to breathe, your flavor too intoxicating for him to get enough of. He took your lips with a hunger you knew deep down could only be satisfied in one way.

The noise of it all reached your ears, causing your face to burn even hotter whilst you felt his hands snake up your body, slowly peeling your dress off of you. His lips left yours and began to trail down your body, taking his time with each kiss and bite he planted against your skin “You’re so beautiful, I could do this all night long.” He murmurs against your skin, bringing the strap of your dress lower and till he could slip your breasts out.

You and Sylus may have done this a couple times, yet you found yourself still shy and blushing each time. He kissed his way down your legs, whispering praises and showering you with an affectionate lust. You couldn’t help but cover up, still feeling shy. Sylus then brings his hands to yours, gently holding your wrist as he pulls your arms away “Don’t hide from me, Love.”

Taking your wrists in one hand, he plants soft kisses on your skin, each kiss leaving your skin scorching hot. He then pins them above your head, leaving his other hand to roam freely, exploring your nearly naked body. His lips eagerly latch onto your nipple, causing you to moan and arch your back, further shoving your breasts in his face. “Sylus~” the sound of you moaning out his name was driving him up the wall and it only made his blood run hot through his veins, he couldn’t stay away and it spurred him on further.

Letting your wrist go and holding your hips with both his hands, your fingers found your way to his hair, tangling in his silver locs while you get consumed wholly by pleasure.

You then see his eyes flicker for a moment, following his gaze, your eyes landed on the beautifully carved mirror with golden trimmings that sat not too far from bed.

He slips your dress off completely, scooting the two of you closer to the mirror. His lips never once leaving your body. Gently flipping you onto your stomach, his fingers delicately trace along your spine, while he takes off his tie.

“Put your hands out in front of you.” You do as he says without question and stick both your hands out in front of you. Mewling needily for him. He then leans over you bringing the tie to your wrist, binding them together “Face down, ass up.” His tone was commanding and gruff, causing the heat within you to rise. You shuffle and scoot, shifting your weight from your stomach to your knees and elbows, your pussy clenching around nothing as it dripped with your arousal.

Your scent hits Sylus’s nose, rushing almost immediately to his cock as he lets out a soft hum, watching as you flutter around nothing, almost as if it was an invitation for him to sink into your walls. Throwing caution to the wind, he quickly slipped himself out of his pants, unable to resist any longer, and positioned himself behind you. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but hide your face when the two of you locked eyes, seeing his body looming over yours with an insatiable desire.

Placing his palm on the small of your back, he guides your body lower as his throbbing erection laid between your ass cheeks. Gripping your chin he turned your head, forcing you to look at the reflection. “Watch.” He growls into your ear, that was not a suggestion, it was a command. The head of his cock teases your entrance while your face begins to contort into a pleasurable expression as you feel him slowly sliding into you. You can hear a stifled groan escape his lips as he pushes himself to the hilt, letting out ragged, needy breaths, a string of expletives following before he finally bottoms out.

He was kind enough to give you a few moments to adjust to his size. Slowly, he pulled out, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you, a force so strong, your body lurched forward. Unable to catch yourself, you tried your best to support your body with shaky arms. The instant pleasure that came to you from his forceful thrust had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and spit dribbling down your chin.

He caught a glimpse of your blissed out face, smirking whilst he continued to thrust into you, his pace picking up as his gentleness was now replaced with an almost jealous vigor. You struggled with keeping your eyes trained on the mirror ahead of you and proceeded to bury your face in the mattress in an attempt to muffle your cries as well as hide your embarrassment.

You felt his hand snake around your neck pulling you out of the mattress and into the air, having your body nearly pressed up against his. He turns your head to the mirror once more “Be a good girl and watch how I fuck you.” but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You knew it would be the beginning of your unraveling and you had only just begun.

“N-No ah!” Sylus gave one particularly hard, angled, purposeful thrust, forcing your eyes to fly open and look at the sight before you. Your neck was littered with marks and bites from earlier that night while he drove his cock further into you, watching you cry out in the reflection of the mirror.

“Now, was that so hard?” he purred out, feeling you clench impossibly tighter around him whilst you watched both your bodies collide in a sweaty tango. You were too lost in pleasure to even answer his question. Jaw hanging slack, more moans spilled from your mouth while your mind went blank.

“Answer me.” He shoved himself even deeper into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you cried out, tears brimming your eyes “No! It wasn’t-” A satisfied smirk made its way to Sylus’s face knowing that only he could get you like this. Absolutely needy and desperate for him, too sex dazed to think about anything else besides the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

“Letting that disgusting man near you like that..and flirting with him,” He leaned down, his pace unrelenting. Whispering in your ear “It was on purpose wasn’t it?” You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed teasing Sylus, but had you known you’d be punished like this tonight, you might have reevaluated your decision.

You never thought Sylus to be the jealous type, yet here he was, plowing into you with such vigor and possession, ridding your brain of any of the occurrences from earlier that night, only able to think of him and the way he ravished your body.

“Wasn’t..on purpose, hah-” you moaned out, feeling yourself nearing your peak. Sylus took note, accustomed to every little change that happened within your body. “Liar.” He felt the slight twitch of your walls around him. He picked up the pace, pounding into you deliciously, the restriction of your cunt, wrapping him like a vice, enticing his own release, but he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

“Sylus!” You scream out, feeling yourself nearly coming undone. Like the evil bastard he was, he slowed down before coming to a complete stop, watching your worm in frustration, chasing your fading climax before huffing out. “Why?!” your hips chased his own as he pulled away slightly, still attempting to seek out your release.

“Because teases don’t get what they want.” He retorted now, turning you on your back. You were now staring into his eyes, dark and clouded with lust. The look on his face only making you want to submit to him, his power something that you could never challenge, even if you wanted to. “Sy-aahhh.”

Your attempt to call out his name was swiftly disrupted by him sliding back into your slick, sensitive walls, Pushing your thighs up, knees almost at your head. You clenched tightly around him, feeling as if you’d come undone right then and there. “Sylus, please-please let m-”

He put a finger to your lips, hushing you one more time. “You’re going to be a good girl and take what I give you.” He’s now grabbing your tied up wrist, pulling you onto his cock as he grits his teeth. “And don’t you dare cum until I let you.” You whimpered at his request, but what could you do besides hold of the best you could.

You didn’t notice it at first, but when you finally opened your eyes fully, the air left your lungs at the sight before you. “Sy, when did you-ah~have-“ he quickly interrupted you, still thrusting in and out of you. “Had it installed..while we were out..”he groaned. Your heart beats fast out of your chest staring at the reflection.

If you didn’t have a thing for mirrors before, you definitely did now. Eyes trained on the mirror in the ceiling, watching his back muscles tense and flex as he plowed into you. You wanted so desperately to wrap your arms around him and claw his back but you can’t.

Oh how you’d love to see his skin littered with scratch marks. Especially from this view, red marks against his pale skin would be such an enticing sight. The thought of it making you clench even harder around him.

“S-Sylus. Hands. Please?” Mewling out, hoping he pities your desperate cries. Grunting, he shakes his head, hips still thrusting mercilessly. “Not…yet..kitten.” You clenched around him harder, listening to the skin slap and seeing his reflection in the mirror above.

Sylus was attuned to the little changes in your body, how whiny you’ve become, gaze fixed past his head, feeling you constrict around him tighter than before “You like it?” He asked, beginning to smirk. All you could do was nod your head yes as his pace was relentless.

He continued thrusting vigorously into you, the feeling of pleasure running hot in your veins as you let out the most satisfied moan. Sylus watched, moans spilling out uncontrollably whilst your mind got clouded with pleasure, watching you get lost in the feeling of his cock driving deep into you and whatever fantasy has you so dazed.

Watching you so lost in pleasure began to make his own desire rise as his thrusts became more forceful and intentful. Not sure how much longer he could last, he tugged your bound wrists harder, slipping his other hand down to where the two of you were joined, thumbing your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Your body began to convulse and twitch uncontrollably, your moans only getting louder and higher in pitch as your legs began to tremble. You looked into his deep crimson eyes, tears brimming your own as you silently begged for him to let you finish, unable to say much besides babble incoherently.

His thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own climax, feeling your gummy walls starting to restrict around him once more. Pounding into you mercilessly, glancing up at the mirror near the bed, he watched how your body squirmed and writhed against his steel strong grip.

Unable to hold off much longer, Sylus bends down and whispers into your ear, urging you to cum for him. “Mm-be a good girl for me, Kitten. Cum for me.” he chanted over and over into your ear, his mind starting to go blank from the pleasure as his climax approached, hips moving faster and sloppier.

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer. Letting go, you finally hit your climax, cumming hard whilst your body trembled and your eyes rolled back, tears staining your cheeks and spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. “Sylus!~” You moaned his name one final time before your body went limp.

Hearing you moan his name like that was something he couldn’t resist, his hips moving quickly and erratically as his own orgasm teetered on the edge. It took one last involuntary squeeze from your pussy for him to spill his load inside you. Groaning and moaning as his hips jerked, shoving his seed deeper into you, while he pulled on your restraints, pulling you further onto his cock, before collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lay there, panting, breathless, and absolutely fucked out. Bodies quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you open your mouth to speak. Your throat was dry and your voice was hoarse. “You were that jealous huh?” Sylus rolled his eyes at your question.

Pulling out slowly, hissing at the way your walls clenched around him, almost as if inviting him back in. He undid the tie cuffs he had made before picking you up and heading to the bathroom.

“Shut up..” he scoffed as a smile creeped onto his face.

#Sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #smut #fanfic #sylus x reader #lads #lads sylus #lads fanfic #lads smut #qin che #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace

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forkingandcountry-if · 4 months ago

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For King and Country is an 18+ period low fantasy fic which seeks to combine the extensive background work and history associated with high fantasy titles such as LOTR with more ‘realistic’ storytelling and settings. It may contain distressing content like depiction of regressive attitudes (sexism, misogyny and prejudice), major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, abuse and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

Remember those long summer days when the countryside was green and life was still young, when you were but a little culver and all the world was promised for you.

But summer has ended. Amidst the furore and tumult, autumn crept in unnoticed, finding you unprepared, still a greenhorn.

Now, the old order is dead, yet the Empire endures. In this new and uncertain world, what are you willing to do for your King and Country, O little culver?

Ah little tragedies, that you could not remain in the safety of your family's country manor, that they could not shield you once again from this world.

You must take to the capital at once, like all men and women of good birth, for king and country and the glory of the commonwealth! The spirit of progress and change has swept through the nation. The heady days of revolution are long over, and the streets have been washed clean of blood and filth. Invited to serve in the King's Army and attend university as a ward of the king, you must answer the King’s call. Navigate and become increasingly entangled in the web of intrigue, gossip, violence, and ideas that swirl around the nation. Enter a society radically different from the one you were raised to expect. These are the years that will decide your fate and that of your fellow countrymen. Act wisely, for it is not often that the world is within your grasp.

Features

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Assume the identity of a citizen of noble birth and experience the story through their eyes.

Romance one of seven ROs or engage in a polyamorous relationship with a pre-selected two of them. The only possible poly route is the Young King and the Queen Ruler.

Practice and specialise in the skills of the King's Army with the option for swordplay, marksmanship, offensive galderquid and diplomacy.

Define your political leanings on the leading issues of your time.

Debate, engage and make allies and enemies with the various competing factions and interests that flock to the city.

Study at Pyrenne University, earning your lecturers admiration for your diligence, intellect, ambition or adventurousness or cruise through relying on your wealth and ability to hide.

Help to stabilize or sabotage the Empire.

Don't lose your head.

Critical Lore*

Talent

Galder denotes the practice of magic within our nation, a discipline requiring extensive study and mastery. The ability to manipulate Galderquid, the fundamental essence of magic, is a rare and intricate skill, demanding years of rigorous training to achieve even moderate proficiency.

Every individual possesses a basic affinity for Galderquid, but those with exceptional potential are identified through comprehensive evaluations conducted by village or city physicians around the ages of 12 or 13. These assessments determine the individual's capacity for advanced magical education.

Upon evaluation, candidates are assigned a national rank based on their proficiency. Those demonstrating exceptional aptitude are offered state-sponsored education at the Pyrenne Univetsity at the age of 18. Others are placed in various other institutions or may pursue private tutelage.

Galder is often referred to as the "fifth philosophy," characterized by its non-intuitive nature. Mastery requires adherence to rigorous methodologies grounded in reason, first principles, and established precedents. The study of Galder encompasses several specialized fields, each with distinct applications and techniques:

Sympathetic Galder: This field focuses on influencing the minds of individuals or animals. It includes practices such as illusion creation, language translation, emotional manipulation, and sleep inducement.

Transmutative Galder: Involves altering the intrinsic nature or form of objects. This process generally relies on the principle that the original and transformed items must possess equivalent 'worth.' The approximate worth of common subjects of transmutation can be found in any good transmutation book.

Invocation Galder: Pertains to the summoning and manipulation of natural elements, including water, earth, fire, and wind.

Clerical Galder: Associated with the Church, this field is predominantly closed practice. However, educational institutions provide instruction in healing and charming, which are also fundamental aspects of clerical magic.

Archery: Involves the use of Galder to manifest a bow and arrows composed of energy. These projectiles deliver significant blunt damage upon impact but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by bow-masters.

Blade-Use: Similar to Archery, this field focuses on creating blades, swords, or daggers from Galder. These weapons inflict substantial blunt damage but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by blade-masters.

The Second Civil War

The Second Civil War, sometimes known as the Revolution is recognized as having commenced approximately ten years ago and concluded two years later with the ascension of King Edmund I of House Wynd. The conflict was precipitated by a series of critical events and widespread discontent among the populace throughout the entire reign of the King Wulfric I Wynd regarding the laws of his government and his conduct as monarch.

The Second Civil was notably ignited by the previous monarch's decision to disinherit his eldest daughter and legitimise his illegitimate children thus making them heir presumptive. This controversial move generated significant unrest among the yeomanry and laborers, who perceived the monarch's actions as unjust and contrary to ecclesiastical teachings. Particularly in redeemist cities across the Empire, widespread protests ensued, leading to the deposition and, in some instances, the defenestration of local officials such as Lord Mayors, Sheriffs, and Governors who supported the king and a state of national emergency being declared with martial law being invoked.

A general, Walthe Courtney, who had previously fought in the unpopular Eleven Years' War on behalf of the crown, emerged as a pivotal leader of the revolution. Utilizing strategic peasant uprisings and sieges, Reval's forces delivered decisive blows to the royalist regime. The revolution culminated in the fall of the capital during the Siege of the King's Seat.

Following the war, a great council of all the great houses instituted several significant reforms. While the monarchy was retained, it was now bound with the monarch being bound by the Grand East Code. In accordance with the written will of the disinherited princess, who died on the battlefield during the conflict an exception was made to place her youngest brother, Edmund, then only 17 years old, on the throne.

The bicameral parliament was replaced by a unicameral national assembly with expanded suffrage of yeomanry and labourers with certain amounts of land. The sole eligibility criteria for parliamentarians are citizenship, attainment of the age of majority, no debt owed to the crown with elections held every eight years.

General Walthe Courtney was appointed as Lord-Protector of the Realm with extensive powers throughout Edmund’s reign and continued as Commander of the Armies for the duration of their tenure. Furthermore, the Pyrenne University was opened to all individuals of suitable skill, not limited to the children of nobility.

Under the new provisions, all children from great houses or those vassal houses with an annual income exceeding 1,300 libre must receive training and serve in the King's Army and live as wards of the king upon reaching the age of eighteen. The official language of the proclamation declares it to be in the national interest that the next leaders of the regions and nations of the Empire know personally their king and capital but the aim is considered to be preventing another war.

The King's Council is required to be include the Premier elected by the eligible electorate. The Premier recommends people to be members of the King's Council although the King is not bound to accept. The King retains the authority to appoint cabinet members from outside parliament, early precedent set by King Edmund I Wynd suggests that he will appoint those recommended by the Lord-Protector.

The King's Army and Pyrenne University

The King's Army, colloquially known among the common folk as the Small Army or King's Life Guard, serves as a voluntary armed force in peacetime within the Empire. Its primary role is to function as a national guard, maintaining peace and order across the extensive and diverse territories of the Empire and swear loyalty solely to the King.

During periods of peace, the King's Guard is comprised of volunteers who contribute to the stability of the nation. However, in times of war, the monarch is vested with the authority to implement conscription, thereby obligating the great houses to raise men to fight for their king.

Following the Great Council of 421, significant reforms were introduced regarding service in the King's Guard. Those heirs of great houses are now required to complete four years service and training within the King's Army as wards of the king although this time can be commuted upon ascension as Lord/Lady Paramount of their house. This training is relatively light compared to full military training, designed to balance the economic and educational responsibilities of these citizens with their military duties.

Pyrenne University is a theological university founded in the year 262AR by Tristan of Pyrenne, a master of theology and galder and was recognized by the King as a royal college in 289AR. It's Faculty of Theology is unrivaled across the entirety of the world and is considered one of the foremost institutions for education in galder, theology and philosophy.

Pyrenne admits its students on the basis of the national ranking system and the census taken each year, those students with a sufficiently high natural affinity for the study of galder are offered a place in which to study it beyond the common extent offered by tutors and hedge-witches.

Pyrenne has in recent years, following the second civil war and the increase in punishment by religious courts for physicians who attribute false rankings, with an increased student cohort particularly from the yeomanry and international scholars though the large majority of the general cohort remains largely consisted of the children of nobility.

Beyond its Faculty of Theology, Pyrenne University is one of the foremost institutions driving forward the development of innovations regarding farming and building, mechanics and the engine'ering class that has developed in major cities across the Empire.

Situated in the capital city, Pyrenne University benefits from its central location in what is often regarded as a hub of youthful energy and societal activity. Its reputation as a center for young nobles and genteel individuals enhances the college's role as a key venue for social introduction. It is frequently heralded as a place where the most advantageous social and matrimonial matches are made, positioning it as a pivotal institution in shaping the elite's social landscape.

The Empire

The Empire, as it is commonly known, is a vast realm governed by the Nine Paramountcies and the Imperial Household, all of whom rule from the King's Seat. This grand structure of power was forged between the years 23 ANU (Anno Non Unitus, or Year of the Ununified) and 1 AR (Anno Rex, or Year of the King) through the conquests of King Adan I, who earned the title "the Unifier."

From its inception, the Empire adopted an expansionist stance, which has characterized much of its history. This policy of territorial growth has been met with widespread approval among its citizens, largely due to the substantial wealth and resources it has brought to the nation. As the largest empire in the world and the unifier of the continent, it has established itself as the dominant lingua franca of common, further solidifying its influence and stature.

Throughout the Empire's history, the Imperial Household and the title of King have primarily been held by House Galagar, reigning from 1 AR to 399 AR, and later by House Wynd, from 399 AR to 438 AR. There have been instances where other houses acted as regents, temporarily holding the title on behalf of House Galagar, such as House Cruller (348 AR-352 AR) and House Abbey (9 AR-13 AR & 154AR-155AR).

Despite its vast wealth and dominance, the Empire has faced relatively frequent rebellions in its paramountcies where calls for independence have persisted. Historically, these uprisings have been met with swift and overwhelming military responses. However, recently in 399AR during the Wyndham Rebellion, King Hendrick the Conqueror succeeded in overthrowing House Galagar and replacing it with his own house who have led the empire since.

*The lore detailed here is accurate but also only extends as far as the protagonist's knowledge of these subjects at the present time of the fic, some detail will be lost or may have been withheld from the MC and they may have misconceptions.

Romances

When the advisors are not praising his good sense, nor the bards his mirth, the church his piety or the poor his generosity, the question emerges just who is King Edmund I Wynd?

The young king thrust into a position of power who uses it as well as he knows how, having learnt from the mistakes of his grandfather and father and the long shadow of war that is still cast over the continent?

Or is he merely the figurehead, installed after a turbulent civil war, a king whose true authority has been surrendered to the councilors around him, contenting himself with the trappings of kingship rather than its substance?

Alas who is to know?

Name: King Edmund I Wynd

Age: 21

Height: 6'5

Appearance: Edmund stands at a 6'5, noticeably lanky although his seemingly permanent jaunty posture appears to cut an inch or two of him. He possesses short bronde hair styled in such a fashion that it appears wind-swept and fashionably ruffled with various products used to achieve the effect. He possesses a lean athletic physique although it is evidently achieved through some sort of diet or exercise for aesthetic rather than being muscles created by years of work. He nearly always has a relaxed expression with a smile and his pale face is framed by his grey eyes.

(he/him) poly-route, solo-route

Tropes: Life of the Party, Commitment Issues

Could it be that she, the queen consort, wields the true power behind the throne, acting as a surrogate for her kind lord, who never could bring himself to grasp the reins of authority?

She possesses the strength and allure of a king in her own right. Under her vigilant oversight, the king’s armies have routed the empire's foes, and now her gaze turns inward, determined to root out the treacherous elements within the realm.

Yet, amid her march towards peace at the end of a sword, there are those who seek to see her order destroyed. How long can it last? A queen consort without an heir, without children, lacking a direct claim to the throne, aging, and some even question her bond with the king himself.

Name: Veronica Abbey-Wynd

Age: 36

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Veronica stands straight at a tall 5'9 although her heels often push her to 5'11 or even 6'0. She has long wavy chestnut brown hair although more often than not it is in an updo of some sort for practicality. She has a healthy physique with faint lines and wrinkles, with an olive skin as well as doe-shaped deep brown eyes. Somehow a picture of beauty and severity, all the soft lines of her body somehow harsh.

(she/her) poly-route, solo-route

Tropes: scary hot, masc women

Walthe Courtney, Commander of the King’s Armies and Protector of the Realm, emerged as a formidable figure in the Second Civil War. Leading the rebels with unmatched martial prowess, he earned the acclaim of being the finest swordsman in the land. His valor and leadership were instrumental in overthrowing the usurper-king and restoring order to the fractured realm.

In the aftermath of the bloody conflict, he was celebrated as a folk hero—a commoner who rose to lead his people to victory and bring about a semblance of peace. His contributions were rewarded with knighthood and elevation to nobility, an ode to his honour.

Now, as Protector of the Realm, Walthe ensures the continuation of stability with a steady hand. Yet, despite his efforts, a persistent thorn remains, a challenge beyond even his considerable grasp, casting a shadow over his otherwise successful stewardship.

Name: Walthe Courtney

Age: 43

Height: 5'11

Appearance: Walthe has short, practical wavy black hair streaked with grey throughout, reflecting years of experience and hardship. their muscled, well-built stature is a testament to their years of service. He has warm tanned skin, indicative of his heritage being from the centre of the continent. His light green eyes stand out against his rugged features, with a determined, piercing gaze.

(he/him/they) solo-route

Tropes: The Stoic, No Sense of Humour, Heroic BSoD

From the day his family and house declared for the usurper-king, it was clear that Lorn Greenspan, the youngest of seven brothers, would be sent away as a ward.

Only eight years old, he had to play his part, leaving behind the familiar chill of his home—its cold peaks and harsh landscape fading from sight. He was a pawn in a conflict he could scarcely comprehend

His father had told him plainly that he must be strong—because until the day their house bent the knee, Lorn would remain a ward, and his father had no intention of surrendering.

Forced to adapt, Lorn became useful, talented, indispensable—not out of love for those his family would call captors, but out of necessity. Now, he stands as your closest advisor and a member of your house in all but name—cool, calculating, indifferent. Yet beneath that icy exterior burns a quiet resolve. Though he never expects his father to yield, he is determined to see his homeland again, even if it means waging war to bring it to heel.

Name: Lorn of Greenspan

Age: 18

Height: 6'0

Appearance: Lorn has a thick head of dark chestnut hair, gently wavy, it is always styled fashionably with pomade and volume. He has a tawny complexion and almost amber, brown eyes that if you didn't know him you'd think were perpetually concerned and caring rather than probing and scanning. Though under his stylish clothes you couldn't tell it, his body is lean and athletic from harsh training.

(he/him) solo-route

Tropes: advisor-turned-lover, secretly-in-love, black cat

The unbroken line of Galagar Kings may have fractured at Kirston Wall, but the proud Highland rulers never truly relinquished their claim. To them, Hendrick the Conqueror and his descendants are nothing more than traitors. Yet, they understand that a king's throne is grounded in the right of conquest, and so they bide their time, quietly assembling their forces, tempering their men, and honing their blades.

Preparing for the inevitable clash, they drill relentlessly through lashing rain and violent gales, each generation more convinced of their righteousness and the frailty of their enemies. The realm may slumber in uneasy peace, but in the Highlands, war is always on the horizon.

Kent Galagar, the young Lord of Kirston, was shaped by this belief from childhood. His father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather—all were kings in their own eyes, their thrones stolen by usurpers. To Kent, acknowledging this truth makes you an ally, a friend. To deny it brands you an enemy, destined to be crushed when the time comes.

For Kent, proud, arrogant, and stubborn as he may seem, the world is divided by a simple truth: those who support the Galagar claim, and those who will fall before it.

Name: Kent Galagar

Age: 18

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Kent possesses a mane of thick, raven-black hair, often left loose or tied back with a leather strap. His skin is scattered with freckling, with a pale complexion. He has piercing blue eyes and a gaze that can shift from arrogant levity to fiery determination in an instant. His powerful frame is unmistakable, with broad shoulders and a chest that strains against the fabric of his tunics. His physique is defined—broad-shouldered and muscular, but not overly so, with a build that suggests both agility and power. His movements carry the confidence of someone who knows his strength and is unafraid to use it.

(he/him) solo-route

Tropes: Intense, enemies to lovers, jerk with a heart of gold

The nobility are arrogant, cruel, greedy, scheming, and foolish—qualities Arfryn has learned all too well through her peripheral access to them. Her current place among them is no accident but the product of the sweat, blood and tears of her entire family.

Born to a guildman father and a common mother from the east continent, Arfryn witnessed firsthand how the shifting tides of national conflict mirrored the fortunes of her own family. Every struggle either bolstered their wealth or teetered them on the brink of ruin, a fate shared by the yeomanry at large.

Her father, Jasper Caldwell, is the first Premier elected from the Small Parliament, a yeoman elevated by the newly enfranchised class. He has—in no uncertain terms—made it clear that his own position hinges on the peace of the realm.

Arfryn, understanding these dynamics, sees through the superficial grandeur of the nobility. Though she finds them to be the very embodiment of arrogance and folly, she is determined to bend them to her will. For now, she plays the game—offering smiles, be gracious, and dance while they are watching.

Name: Arfryn Caldwell

Age: 20

Height: 5'11

Appearance: Arfryn has a striking presence with her rich, deep brown skin and loose, jet-black braids that cascade down her back. Her eyes are a penetrating dark brown, revealing a sharp intelligence behind a charming, amiable demeanor. She dresses in elegantly simple fabrics that highlight her natural grace—always muted and refined to suit her surroundings but always at the very forefront of courtly fashions. At 5'11 her movements are deliberate, blending seamlessly into the nobility’s world, designed to make her easy to like and hard to hold grudges against.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: Steel Magnolia, Dark Feminine

In public Dean Champion is everything a Lady-Knight should be, prodigiously skilled with both galder and weapons, valiant, chivalrous and extremely popular amongst all who meet her or have the chance to witness her in action.

She like many knights is also spoiled to a fault, her suits of armour gleaming and her squire-boys tasked with keeping them so, as they are expensive and extravagant. Indeed she wears them because all people like a performance.

In private, Dean has dedicated herself entirely to her studies at Pyrenne University, determined to learn all there is about the study and practice of galder and perhaps indeed the deeper secrets that only the great masters know—all the better to become both loved and indispensable to the state.

As the younger sibling of a line with many children, she does not expect to ever inherit and nor does she ever want to, she is entirely content with her career as a tourney knight and the life she's lead in the King's Seat thus far. Indeed Dean has long been utterly convinced that she'd make an awful Lady Paramount, she is convinced utterly that all those like her that revel in the spectacle, the fervor of battle and tourney alike are utterly unsuitable for such position.

Name: Dean Champion

Age: 19

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Dean has long deep auburn hair, typically braided for both practicalities sake and fashion, with strands often escaping to frame her face. Her skin is fair as if she'd somehow escaped the sun of both her home and the tourney. Her pale green eyes are bright and framed by dark eyelashes. Dean's build is athletic and commanding, showing off the results of rigorous training and combat practice, yet she carries herself with a grace that befits her status as a renowned Lady-Knight. Her entire demeanor projects a sort of graceful confidence, like that you'd expect of a Prince of ages past.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: The Lady and Knight, Knight in Sour Armour

Fran has long understood that she commands little respect at court—indeed, as a bastard, she finds herself dismissed even within her own family. Yet there is one, a young Lord who is but a child, who gave her legitimacy, who looks up to her, and has earned her unwavering loyalty. Her beloved little brother.

It is for him that she accepted the king's invitation to the King's Seat, to train in the King's Army. She wants to be his eyes, his ears, and his sword.

True loyalty is a rare commodity among the highborn, for what do they owe anyone but themselves and their own appetites?

She is content to endure their scorn and wear the title "Loyal Hound" with pride. After all, what insult lies therein? A good hound is strong, lethal, obedient, loved, loyal, and free to roam so long as it always returns. And return to him she will.

Name: Fran Radwell-Cadderly

Age: 18

Height: 5'7

Appearance: Fran's dirty-blonde hair is cut short, falling just above her shoulders—a length chosen for practicality rather than fashion. Her complexion is fair, lightly sun-kissed from time spent outdoors, with a few sun-spots across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a dull blue-green, carrying an intensity that contrasts with her otherwise unassuming features. Her build is lean and wiry, reflecting a life of rigorous training, with a strength that belies her slender frame. Though she dresses simply, her presence is commanding, a blend of quiet confidence and restrained power and it makes her feel much bigger than the 5'7 she stands at.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: Guard Dog, Loyal Companion, Golden Retriever

Additional

Demo: out now!

Pinterest: not yet available

Art: not yet available

Feedback Survey: not yet available

All Asks and Reposts are appreciated, work will be slow but steady and a demo should be ready shortly!

ask me lore questions please, I have far too many notes on this.

#current wip #interactive fiction #status: wip #choicescript #for king and country #forkingandcountry-if #if demo

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niqhtlord01 · 11 months ago

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Humans are weird: The Scope of our Existence

Alien: *Goes for walk through park*

Alien: *Sees human friend sitting on bench near pond feeding strange animals with crumbs and goes over to them*

Alien: Greetings friend Jim.

Jim: *Turns head* Oh, hi Gilmek.

Alien: What are you doing?

Human: *Turns back to feeding animals* Pondering existence and my place in it.

Gilmek: *Confused* Is this a human joke?

Jim: No, I am being perfectly honest.

Gilmek: *Stares at animals, then back at Jim*

Gilmek: If that is true then why do you feed these creatures?

Jim: They’re called “Ducks”.

Gilmek: Why then do you feed these ducks if you are pondering such philosophical matters?

Jim: *Shrugs* It helps me put things into perspective for myself.

Gilmek: *Sits next to Jim* How so?

Jim: *Throws oats and watches ducks eat them up.*

Jim: What do you think of these birds?

Gilmek: *Watches ducks eat the oats* They seem primitive in nature, yet beautiful to look at.

Jim: They have been around far longer than the human species as a whole and predate many other species on our world.

Gilmek: And?

Jim: And they have largely remained the same for the last few thousand years compared to humanity.

Gilmek: I guess.

Gilmek: Different species progress along different points of development and evolution; yet your species has far outpaced their development so why compare to them?

Jim: Because if you take a human from three thousand years ago and drop them in today’s society, or handle it the other way around and drop someone from today three thousand years in the past; chances are high that they would not be able to survive.

Jim: But ducks?

Jim: You could drop a duck from today’s age five thousand years in the past and it would feel as at home as it does right now.

Jim: *Looks at Gilmek* How can we possibly compare to that?

Gilmek: *Opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself as he ponders the statement*

Jim: *Tosses more oats* “How fleeting are all human passions compared with the massive continuity of ducks…”

Gilmek: Did you make that?

Jim: *Shakes head*I’m not nearly as poetic.

Jim: A human author named Dorothy L. Sayers wrote that one.

Gilmek: They must be popular in this time for you to remember it.

Jim: They wrote it four thousand years ago in year of 1935 on my world.

Gilmek: *Looks at ducks again*

Gilmek: You humans have a somewhat disturbing and intriguing relation with your planets animals.

Jim: *Chuckles* You should see what we do with our cats?

Gilmek: Cats?

Jim: Furry creatures about yay high *holds hand below knee* and covered in fur.

Gilmek: How do you treat them?

Jim: We dedicated a few gods around them at one point.

Gilmek: ………

Jim: Come to think of it they may have never gotten over that with how they still treat us in return for our love.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #Ducks are Eternal

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lacamorte · 4 months ago

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~ The White Lotus of Shuang Hua

Luo Binghe, being the Emperor of the united realms, has to congregate not only with the demonic aristocrats, but also the human ones. Seeking assurance that he did indeed unite the realms with good intentions, they urge LBH to take a spouse from among their own high-ranking families as a gesture of good will. At this point LBH has accepted that this will be another instance of the world throwing one pretty sister or another into his lap, and agrees to have a meeting with the female aristocrats.

When they arrive at the venue, LBH takes note of a group of very well-dressed young women in a courtyard, each holding fans of varying make in their delicate, manicured hands. In front of them is a lady wearing a lightly beaded weimao, who moves her fan between her fingers with remarkable skill, tapping it and flicking it with ease. She stood out for the simple design of her robes in comparison to the others who wore more ornate clothes — that, and the immense spiritual presence that she had. A cultivator, no doubt. She spoke clearly and sternly, sleeves gently swaying with her movements as she seemed to instruct the other ladies.

One look is all LBH needs to know that yes, this is the one he's here for.

She was quick to notice their approach, the bead strings of her weimao lightly clinking as she turned and raised her cupped hands to salute. The other women copied her example, but with not nearly as much elegance.

"This one greets the Emperor," one of the ladies spoke demurely, the others following suit in quiet murmurs.

Instead, LBH turns to the veiled woman, who after rising from her bow swiftly opened her fan in one smooth movement as if to cover her already veiled face, before pausing and lowering it as she realized the redundancy. LBH suppressed a wry smirk. A shy one, huh?

"Are these the flowers from which this lord is to make his selection?" He inquires politely, attempting to meet the lady's eyes from behind her veil. He catches a glimpse of pink lips before the fan is raised again.

"Merely buds as of yet, I'm afraid," her voice is very soft, a contrast to her earlier demeanor, as if speaking for him alone to hear with his demonic senses. Binghe notices the glint of a spiritual blade resting on her hip, almost hidden by her robes. Binghe's eyes glint with intrigue.

"The young mistresses await further inside, my lord," the aristocrat beside him explains. "If Junshang would follow this one—"

Binghe hums. "No need. I'll take this one."

Everyone seems to take a second to process his statement. Then, they collectively turned to the object of Binghe's attention — the lady in the weimao. The lady herself can only squeak in surprise.

The aristocrat startles, before laughing nervously. "Ah, Junshang, that is—the White Lotus of Shuang Hua is only temporarily in our employ, but—"

Ah, so she is a renown cultivator — and with a title, no less. Perhaps he'd spent too much time away from human society, to have not heard of her. "There is no need for further discussion. This lord has come to select a wife at your abode, and now I have." Then, he archs a brow imperiously. "Or are you refusing my choice?"

The man is sweating. "By no means, my lord! Rather, er, my lord seems to have misunderstood, Shen-xianshi is a ma—"

Master cultivator? Binghe scoffs. As if he hadn't already sensed the woman's immense spiritual presence. "Yes, I had noticed. It is of no concern to me." He waves a hand dismissively. "Send the other women home. Xianshi will be returning with me."

The aristocrat lights a candle in his heart in despair for his fellow men — especially for Shen-xianshi. Lord Luo, that's no sister you're taking as your wife — that's a man!!!

aka: LBH mistakes SY for a woman and says he'll take cultivator SY as spouse in compliance with a political arrangement. Not wanting to anger the demon emperor, the aristocrats quickly find a genderbending artifact for SY and send him off to join LBH's harem.

#mxtx svsss #shen qingqiu #svsss #bingqiu #shen yuan #bonus points if instead of an aristocrat its just sqh guiding lbh #luo bingge #binggeyuan #kind of #can you tell that i couldn't think of a town name for sy's title

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starrysunbeam · 2 months ago

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astrology observations 9

˚₊‧꒰ა ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

•leo south node/aquarius north node people need to feel special. they spent past lives in upper society (some even come from royalty), or having some sort of status symbol. they need to learn about different walks of life in this incarnation, & help society progress as a whole- moving from self-centeredness and embracing community.

•pisces moons make up some of the most prolific artists and creatives - elvis, frank sinatra, michael jackson, leonardo da vinci, edgar allen poe, patti smith, joni mitchell and robin williams. these natives aren’t just creative visionaries, but also rather receptive to collective energy, making them skilled at capturing cultural dynamics.

•aquarians make up many true crime content creators. this makes complete sense to me as they are adept with technology and are intrigued by subjects that are hard to fully understand (i.e. true crime, the paranormal, cryptids, conspiracy theories, etc)

•moon in sagittarius or the 9th house🤝running away from home (even if temporarily)

•most taurus moons and mercuries make up their mind about their values early in life, and don’t like their views being challenged by others.

•virgo midheavens get depressed when they don’t have a consistent & productive routine. they also constantly want to get better at what they do, very high standards for themselves.

•in my opinion, those with afflicted mars placements (especially moon-mars aspects) tend to have physical reactions to heavy emotions - aka psychosomatic illness

*reminder, all astrological health observations should be taken with a grain of salt*

#astrology observations #astro observations #pisces moon #aquarius #virgo mc #sagittarius moon #moon in 9th house #aquarius north node

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tulipatheticee · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I had an idea of Eloise x fem reader, reader being Queen Charlotte’s daughter. They get caught together, and readers mother suggests marriage. With that Eloise and reader start the acceptance of the same sex love/marriage.

love story e.b

eloise bridgerton x queen charlottes daughter! reader

synopsis; In the heart of Regency London, Princess Y/N, daughter of Queen Charlotte, and Eloise Bridgerton find themselves entangled in a clandestine romance amidst the glittering balls and gossip of high society. Their love defies conventions and faces scrutiny, ultimately prompting Queen Charlotte to propose a marriage that could change society's perception of same-sex love forever.

word count; 5.3k

master list

a/n; i went a little ham on this one, i was not joking when i said wlw unlocks something inside of me

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

In the bustling midst of London’s social season, Queen Charlotte's daughter, Princess y/n, found herself at the centre of attention. Raised amidst the pomp and protocol of high society, she was no stranger to the expectations placed upon her. Attending debutante events was simply another facet of her role as the queen's daughter—a duty performed with grace and an impeccably polished facade.

It was at one such event, a gathering of debutantes adorned in their finest, where y/n first noticed her. Eloise Bridgerton, amidst the sea of hopefuls vying for attention, stood out not just for her striking beauty but for an air of defiance that seemed to hover around her like an invisible shield. Eloise, with her quick wit and sharp tongue, had garnered a reputation as the most outspoken and unconventional of the Bridgerton siblings—a title she wore proudly, much to her mother Violet's simultaneous exasperation and admiration.

From across the room, y/n observed as Eloise engaged in animated conversation with other debutantes. There was a sparkle in her eye and a hint of mischief in her smile that drew y/n's attention irresistibly. Eloise's laughter, free and unbridled, cut through the polite chatter of the event like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. For a moment, y/n found herself captivated, her gaze lingering longer than was strictly polite.

Meanwhile, Eloise, amidst the whirl of introductions and compliments, couldn't help but notice the queen's daughter. Elegant and composed, y/n exuded a quiet confidence that commanded attention without demanding it. Unlike the other debutantes who fluttered around Eloise, y/n stood apart, observing with an intensity that hinted at a keen intellect beneath her composed exterior.

Their eyes met briefly across the room—a fleeting moment charged with unspoken curiosity and intrigue. It was a simple exchange, unnoticed by the swirling crowd around them but leaving an indelible impression on both Eloise and y/n. In that brief encounter, something stirred, a silent recognition that hinted at possibilities yet unexplored.

The grand presentation at the Palace was a spectacle to behold. The ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers and opulent decorations, filled with the crème de la crème of London society. Eloise stood in line, fidgeting with her gloves as she prepared to be introduced. Her mother gave her a reassuring smile.

“Stand tall, Eloise,” Violet whispered. “This is your moment.”

As Eloise stepped forward, she caught a clearer sight of Princess Y/N, standing beside her mother. Their eyes met once again across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Y/N’s gaze was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the intimidating grandeur of the palace. Eloise felt an inexplicable pull towards her, something she couldn’t quite understand.

Just as Eloise was about to be presented, the attention of the room shifted abruptly. The queens guards charging through the doors, whispers of “Lady Whistledown '' spread like wildfire, next thing you know, the queen is declaring she's seen enough and everyone is dismissed and Eloise found herself relieved of the spotlight as gossip overtook the ceremony. The mysterious writer had once again stolen the show, and Eloise couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the diversion.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

But you were everything to me

I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

The opulent ballroom of Lady Danbury's estate shimmered with the flicker of candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation. Eloise Bridgerton, dressed in an exquisite gown of deep emerald silk that Lady Danbury had insisted upon, moved gracefully amidst the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the assembly of London's elite.

The event was a dazzling affair, attended by the highest echelons of society, each guest meticulously adorned in their finest attire. Yet amidst the glittering array of guests, Eloise's eyes sought out a familiar figure—Princess y/n, who stood with Queen Charlotte, radiating an air of quiet elegance that set her apart from the throng of debutantes.

Eloise couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in her chest as she made her way towards y/n, navigating the maze of guests with practiced ease. Her heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement, unsure of how their conversation at Queen Charlotte's debutante event would influence their interaction tonight.

Meanwhile, y/n observed the revelry with a regal composure, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Eloise amidst the swirl of dancers and the lilting strains of the orchestra. The princess was acutely aware of the scrutiny she faced as Queen Charlotte’s daughter—the expectations of duty and decorum that shadowed her every move. Yet amidst the splendour of the ballroom, y/n found herself drawn to Eloise’s spirited presence and unguarded authenticity.

Violet Bridgerton, determined to secure another diamond among her brood, guided Eloise through the throng of guests towards the queen and y/n. Eloise, begrudgingly adorned in an elegant gown befitting her station, maintained a facade of polite disinterest as Violet introduced her to the queen and her daughter.

"Your Majestys, may I present my daughter, Eloise Bridgerton," Violet announced with practised grace.

Y/n, acknowledging the introduction with a nod, offered a polite smile that barely concealed her curiosity. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bridgerton," she greeted eloquently, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her royal stature.

Eloise, though outwardly composed, felt a rush of nerves mingled with an unexpected flutter of excitement. She had anticipated the formality of the introduction, yet y/n's presence seemed to alter the air around her, making her acutely aware of every gesture and fleeting expression.

"Likewise, Your Highness," Eloise replied with a hint of her trademark wit, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Though I must admit, I am more accustomed to lively debates than royal audiences."

Y/n's smile widened subtly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I look forward to those debates, Miss Bridgerton," she replied in kind, a gentle challenge underlying her words.

The exchange, though brief, left an impression on both women. For Eloise, accustomed to the constraints of societal expectations, y/n represented a refreshing departure—an enigma wrapped in regal poise and quiet strength. And for y/n, intrigued by Eloise's spirited demeanor and quick intellect, the encounter ignited a curiosity that lingered long after the ball had ended.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

As the evening progressed, Eloise and y/n’s paths collided again near the elaborate dessert table adorned with crystal bowls of sugared fruits and delicate pastries. Eloise, emboldened by Lady Danbury’s encouraging nod from across the room, approached y/n with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, nerves tingling beneath her skin.

“Your Highness,” Eloise greeted warmly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness despite her best efforts to appear composed.

y/n turned towards Eloise with a gracious smile, her eyes alight with genuine interest. “Miss Bridgerton,” y/n replied with a nod of acknowledgment, noting the subtle tension in Eloise’s stance.

Their conversation flowed with the ease of familiarity yet tinged with the underlying currents of unspoken desire and mutual intrigue. They exchanged pleasantries about the music, the decorations, and the latest society gossip, each word carrying a weight of unspoken meaning that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Eloise, ever the conversationalist, couldn’t resist steering the discussion towards a topic that had intrigued her since their first meeting. “Your Highness, I must admit, I found your observations on the latest literary sensation quite captivating,” she remarked, her tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

y/n chuckled softly, appreciating Eloise’s intellect and the genuine interest she showed in their previous conversation. “Ah, but Miss Bridgerton, I fear my views on literature may not always align with conventional wisdom,” y/n replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

Eloise leaned in slightly, her gaze locking with y/n’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Isn’t that the beauty of literature, Your Highness? It allows us to explore different perspectives and challenge our own beliefs,” she countered, her voice laced with a mixture of admiration and genuine curiosity.

Their banter continued late into the night, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that hinted at a connection deeper than mere friendship. For Eloise, y/n represented a kindred spirit—a beacon of hope amidst the rigid expectations of London society. She found herself drawn to y/n’s quiet strength and unwavering authenticity, traits that resonated deeply with Eloise’s own aspirations and struggles.

In those stolen moments between dances, y/n found herself captivated by Eloise’s infectious enthusiasm and fierce determination. She admired Eloise’s courage to challenge societal norms and speak her mind, qualities that set her apart from the polished facades of London’s debutantes.

As the evening drew to a close, Eloise reluctantly bid y/n farewell with a promise to meet again soon. Their parting left y/n with a lingering warmth in her heart—a feeling that defied the constraints of duty and hinted at the possibility of something more.

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Eloise and y/n found themselves entangled in a web of conflicting emotions and societal expectations. Despite the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them at Lady Danbury's grand ball, both struggled to come to terms with their growing attraction.

In the days that followed the ball, Eloise couldn't shake the memory of y/n's enchanting smile and the way her eyes lit up with intelligence and charm. She found herself stealing glances at y/n across crowded ballrooms, each stolen glance fueling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Meanwhile, y/n wrestled with her own tumultuous emotions. As Queen Charlotte's daughter, she was keenly aware of the scrutiny her actions faced. The prospect of scandal and disgrace haunted her thoughts, casting a shadow over her budding friendship with Eloise.

Their paths crossed again at another glittering social event, where Violet Bridgerton, ever the matchmaker, introduced Eloise to y/n in hopes of sparking a connection. Eloise's heart raced as she exchanged pleasantries with y/n, their conversation laced with a subtle undercurrent of tension and curiosity.

Later that evening, as they found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom, y/n couldn't help but voice her uncertainties. "Miss Bridgerton, do you ever feel... conflicted?" she asked tentatively, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Eloise hesitated, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. "I... I suppose I do," she admitted softly, her gaze searching y/n's face for any sign of understanding. "This world we live in—it's so... unforgiving."

y/n nodded in silent agreement, her fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her gown. "Sometimes I wonder if... if we're meant to feel this way," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise reached out, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I don't have all the answers, Princess," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I know that when I'm with you, everything feels... different."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Danbury, who swept y/n away to greet other guests. Eloise watched as Lady Danbury whisked y/n away, her heart sinking with each step that carried them farther apart. Alone in the bustling ballroom, she found herself drawn to a quiet alcove, seeking refuge from the swirl of conversations and glittering chandeliers.

Leaning against a draped curtain, Eloise closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Thoughts of y/n consumed her mind, their unfinished conversation lingering like an unspoken promise in the air.

She traced the intricate pattern of her gown absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to y/n's earnest question. Do you ever feel... conflicted? And back to her own comment before the conversation ended, when I'm with you, everything feels... different. How would y/n have responded to that? Did she feel the same way, or was Eloise's heart leading her down a path fraught with uncertainty?

The memory of y/n's smile flickered in her mind—the way it lit up the room, reaching out to Eloise like a beacon in the darkness of societal expectations. They had danced around the edges of something profound, something that could alter the course of their lives forever.

Lost in her reverie, Eloise was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to find Benedict Bridgerton, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Sister, are you all right?" he asked gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

Eloise managed a faint smile, though her heart still raced with unanswered questions. "I'm fine, Benedict," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Just... lost in thought."

Benedict studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Is it about the Princess?" he ventured cautiously, knowing his sister well enough to sense when something weighed heavily on her mind.

Eloise nodded slowly, unable to suppress a sigh. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "We were... talking. About feelings, I suppose."

Benedict arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Feelings?" he echoed, prompting Eloise to elaborate.

"I told her... how I feel when I'm with her," Eloise confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then Lady Danbury interrupted us, and I never got to find out how she feels."

Understanding dawned in Benedict's eyes as he took in Eloise's words. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Eloise, you know what they say about the young Princess," he said gently. "She's smart, perceptive. She'll understand."

Eloise managed a weak smile, grateful for her brother's reassurance. "I hope so," she murmured, her thoughts still lingering on y/n's last words to her.

As the ballroom bustled around them, Benedict offered his arm to Eloise. "Shall we join the others?" he suggested, his tone lightening with an attempt to lift her spirits.

Eloise nodded, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes, let's," she agreed, linking her arm with Benedict's. Together, they returned to the lively gathering, though Eloise's thoughts remained with y/n—wondering, hoping, and silently yearning for their next conversation.

I got tired of waiting

Wondering' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Days passed after the interrupted conversation at Lady Danbury's ball, each one stretching with anticipation and uncertainty for Eloise. She found herself eagerly attending every social event in hopes of catching another glimpse of y/n, her heart skipping a beat whenever their paths crossed across the crowded rooms.

It was at a smaller, more intimate gathering hosted by the Featheringtons that Eloise finally saw y/n again. The evening was alive with music and laughter, the air fragrant with the scent of gardenias and the promise of summer.

Eloise stood near the refreshment table, feigning interest in the punch bowl as she discreetly watched y/n across the room. y/n was engaged in conversation with Dowager Violet Bridgerton, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of crystal glasses.

Summoning her courage, Eloise took a deep breath and approached them. "Excuse me, Mama, may I steal the Princess away for a moment?" she asked politely, her voice betraying none of the nervousness fluttering in her chest.

Violets eyes flickered mischievously as she glanced knowingly between Eloise and y/n. "Of course, Eloise," she replied with a knowing smile. "Take her—though I warn you, Her Royal Highness has been entertaining us all evening with her wit."

Eloise felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards her mother as y/n turned towards her, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight. "Miss Bridgerton," y/n greeted warmly, setting down her glass to face her fully. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

Eloise swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of her confession at Lady Danbury's ball. But still she continued to escort the Princess through the crowd until they were outside in the garden, under the nights sky, completely alone.

"I wanted to apologise for our conversation being cut short," she began earnestly, meeting y/n's gaze with sincerity. "I... I meant what I said. About how I feel when I'm with you."

y/n's smile softened, her eyes holding a hint of something that made Eloise's heart skip a beat. "Miss Bridgerton,,," y/n replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the lively chatter around them. "I've been thinking about that conversation too."

Relief flooded through Eloise as she took a step closer to y/n, their proximity sparking a warmth that spread through her veins. "Really?" she asked, unable to contain the hope in her voice.

y/n nodded, her expression gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that mirrored Eloise's own feelings. "Yes, really," she confirmed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Eloise's arm. "I didn't get to answer then, but... I feel something too."

Eloise's heart soared at y/n's words, her fears and uncertainties momentarily forgotten in the rush of emotions. "I'm glad," she murmured softly, her gaze locked with y/n's. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel, or... if we could even..."

Before she could finish, y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Eloise's cheek in a tender gesture that sent a shiver down Eloise's spine. "I want to find out," y/n whispered, her breath warm against Eloise's ear. "If we could be something more."

Eloise's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into y/n's eyes, seeing her own hopes reflected back at her. Without hesitation, she reached up to cup y/n's cheek, her thumb caressing the soft skin beneath her touch. "I want that too, Your Highness" Eloise admitted softly, her voice filled with newfound courage and longing.

Y/N smilied, her eyes lighting up. “Please, call me Y/N. Titles are so tiresome, don’t you think?”

Eloise laughed softly. “Very much so. I find this entire season tiresome.”

In that stolen moment amidst the music and the soft glow of candlelight, Eloise and y/n leaned closer together, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and the beginning of a love that dared to defy convention.

As they pulled away, breathless and smiling, Eloise felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Here, in the embrace of y/n's presence, she found not only acceptance but also the beginning of a journey she never dared to imagine—a journey of love, bravery, and the courage to be true to oneself.

They walked together in the garden, the conversation flowing easily. Eloise was captivated by Y/N’s intelligence and wit, and Y/N found Eloise’s rebellious spirit refreshing. As days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, but so did the confusion. Can this go on forever?

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gardens of Bridgerton House. Eloise and y/n sat side by side on the swings, their feet lightly touching the ground, pushing back and forth in a gentle rhythm. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the distant hum of London’s bustle, now just a distant murmur.

"I never imagined finding such peace in the heart of London," y/n remarked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she swayed back and forth. Her eyes wandered over the garden, where vibrant blooms danced in the gentle breeze, their colours vivid against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Eloise, her legs stretched out in front of her, kicked lightly against the earth to keep the swing moving. "It's my favourite place to escape," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at y/n. "Thank you for visiting me here."

Y/n turned to Eloise, her gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. She reached out, her hand finding Eloise’s, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through them, grounding them in their shared moment.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the only sounds the creak of the swings and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Eloise closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the serenity of the garden and the presence of y/n beside her.

"Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?" y/n asked softly, her voice filled with curiosity as she turned to Eloise, who was still lost in the quiet of the moment.

Eloise opened her eyes, her gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sun was painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. "I used to worry about it," she admitted, her fingers absently tracing patterns on y/n’s palm. "But now... I like to think that as long as we're together, we can face anything."

Y/n's smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting the twilight’s colours as she leaned her head against Eloise’s shoulder. "I believe that too," she murmured, her voice steady with a quiet confidence. "We'll navigate this world together, Eloise."

In the tranquil embrace of Bridgerton House's garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the blossoming love between them, Eloise and y/n found solace in each other’s company. The swings moved back and forth, a gentle testament to their growing bond, anchoring them in a love that defied expectations and embraced the courage to live authentically.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

One afternoon in the opulent drawing room of the palace, y/n sat with Eloise, their conversation light and filled with quiet laughter. The warmth of the fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows on the richly adorned walls. Y/n leaned close to Eloise, sharing a private moment, both girls peppering kisses over each other's faces, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's embraces.

Unbeknownst to them, Queen Charlotte had returned earlier than expected, her steps muffled by the thick carpet. She paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes catching the intimate exchange between y/n and Eloise. For a moment, she simply observed, her mind racing with the implications.

"Miss Bridgerton!" Queen Charlotte's voice cut through the air, startling both young women. Eloise turned pale, her heart sinking as she realised they had been caught. Y/n sat frozen, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Mother," y/n stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts. "I can explain—"

Queen Charlotte held up a hand, her expression unreadable. "There is no need for explanations, my dear. It seems the situation has clarified itself." She stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting between y/n and Eloise.

Eloise stood, her nerves taut with uncertainty. "Your Majesty, please understand—"

"I understand more than you might realise," Queen Charlotte interrupted gently, her tone softening slightly. She approached Eloise, studying her with a discerning eye. "Miss Bridgerton, do you care for my daughter?"

Eloise swallowed hard, meeting Queen Charlotte's gaze squarely. "Yes, Your Majesty," she admitted, her voice steady despite her nerves.

"And you, y/n?" Queen Charlotte turned to her daughter, her expression softening. "How do you feel about Miss Bridgerton?"

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mother, I... I care for Eloise deeply. More than I ever thought possible."

Queen Charlotte nodded, her features reflecting a mix of concern and contemplation. "Love comes in many forms," she said finally, her voice carrying wisdom earned through years of navigating societal expectations. "It is clear to me that your feelings are genuine."

Eloise blinked back tears, overwhelmed by her mother's unexpected understanding. Y/n reached out, gently squeezing Eloise's hand in silent support.

“But regardless, you both are participating in acts only those who are married should be. I will not accept a scandal.”

"Mama, what should we do? We can’t imagine life apart!" y/n asked, her voice tinged with hope and apprehension.

Queen Charlotte smiled softly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps it is time we consider a different kind of arrangement," she mused, her mind already formulating a plan. "One that will allow you both to live authentically, without the confines of societal scandals, the only right choice in these conditions." She paused (dramatic effect no?)

“Marriage.”

And so, in that serene drawing room of the palace, a new chapter began for y/n and Eloise—a chapter marked by acceptance, love, and the courage to challenge tradition.

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

In the warm, inviting drawing room of Bridgerton House, Eloise nervously clasped y/n's hand. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding an air of solemnity to the moment. Around them, the Bridgertons—Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and the younger siblings—gathered, curiosity etched on their faces.

Eloise took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I... We have something to share," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Anthony, ever the observant eldest brother, arched an eyebrow. "Go on, Eloise. What is it?"

Eloise glanced at y/n, drawing strength from their presence. "y/n and I... We've decided to take a step forward together. We're engaged."

There was a collective gasp of surprise from her family. Daphne's eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching for Benedict's. Benedict leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. Colin adjusted himself, trying to process the unexpected news.

With the initial shock beginning to subside, the Bridgertons exchanged bewildered glances, each processing the news in their own way.

"Wait, you two are... engaged?" Colin asked, his voice filled with surprise.

Daphne, recovering from her initial shock, spoke gently. "But... how? I mean, are you even allowed to... marry?"

Eloise smiled, a touch of defiance in her eyes. "Yes, Daphne. Queen Charlotte herself has given us her blessing."

Colin, adjusting to the news, nodded thoughtfully. "I see. It's certainly unconventional, but if Her Majesty approves..."

Anthony, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "Well, then. It seems we are in uncharted territory, but as long as you're both certain..."

Eloise and y/n exchanged a glance, their bond palpable. "We are," y/n affirmed softly.

"Eloise, are you certain about this?" Francesca asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Eloise nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, Francesca. I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

Benedict, always the voice of reason, spoke up next. "Well, this is quite unexpected, but if it's what makes you both happy..."

Hyacinth interjected, unable to contain her excitement. "Eloise, this is incredible news! I didn't think you'd ever settle down."

Anthony, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "Eloise, Princess Y/N, if this is your decision, then you have my support. Always."

Eloise squeezed y/n's hand tighter, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, Anthony."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted from confusion to acceptance. The Bridgertons, while initially taken aback, found themselves embracing Eloise and y/n's decision. It was a moment that marked not only a new chapter in Eloise's life but also a testament to the changing times—a time when love was beginning to transcend boundaries and expectations.

Outside, the bustling city of London continued its rhythmic pulse, unaware of the quiet revolution unfolding within the walls of Bridgerton House—a revolution led by two hearts brave enough to defy convention and choose love, in all its unexpected forms.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

Eloise stood by the window of their home, gazing out at the bustling streets of London. It had been nearly a year since their marriage, and the city seemed to hum with a different energy. Change was in the air, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what she and y/n had accomplished together.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Beside her, y/n stirred in their sleep, their features softened in the gentle dawn. Eloise smiled fondly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from y/n's face. They had been through so much together—the secret glances, the stolen kisses, the fear of discovery—and yet, here they were, stronger than ever.

Their marriage had sparked conversations across London society. Some viewed it with curiosity, others with disdain, but Eloise and y/n had found unexpected allies among their peers. Lady Danbury, always a force to be reckoned with, had become a staunch supporter, using her influence to deflect any lingering whispers of scandal.

As Eloise reflected on their journey, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they had come. They had faced challenges and uncertainties, but through it all, their love had remained steadfast. They had created a sanctuary within their home, where they could be themselves without fear of judgement or reprisal.

Outside, the city continued to wake up to a new day. Carriages rumbled past, merchants called out their wares, and London life carried on its bustling rhythm. Eloise turned back to y/n, watching as they stirred awake, their eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

"Good morning," y/n murmured, their voice still laced with sleep.

"Good morning," Eloise replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. They shared a quiet moment together, the warmth of their embrace speaking volumes where words fell short.

"I never imagined we'd be here," y/n whispered, their fingers tracing patterns on Eloise's cheek.

"Neither did I," Eloise admitted, her heart swelling with emotion. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

They lay entwined in each other's arms, basking in the simple joy of being together. Outside, the city continued its daily hustle, but in their sanctuary, time seemed to stand still.

In the weeks and months that followed, Eloise and y/n continued to navigate their newfound roles as partners in life and advocates for change. They attended social events hand in hand, their presence a quiet yet powerful statement of love and acceptance. Through their actions, they hoped to pave the way for others who dared to love outside of society's conventions.

Occasionally, they would steal moments alone, away from the prying eyes of society, to remind themselves of the bond they shared. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a stolen kiss in a secluded corner of a ballroom, every moment together reaffirmed their commitment to each other.

Their love story became a beacon of hope for those who yearned for acceptance and understanding. Slowly but surely, attitudes began to shift. Families whispered their support in drawing rooms, friends offered quiet encouragement over tea, and London society found itself grappling with the idea that love knew no boundaries.

As the years passed, Eloise and y/n's love story continued to unfold, weaving itself into the fabric of London's history. They faced challenges and triumphs together, building a life filled with laughter, companionship, and unwavering devotion.

Eloise often found herself marvelling at the resilience of y/n, their strength and determination a constant source of inspiration. Together, they navigated the complexities of societal expectations and personal desires, forging a path that defied tradition and embraced love in its purest form.

And so, in the quiet moments before dawn, as the city stirred awake outside their window, Eloise held y/n close, knowing that their love had not only changed their lives but had also left an indelible mark on the world around them.

I did not plan the lyrics around an epilogue and ran out HAHA oopsie

a/npt2; AHHH how did you guys feel about this, i tried to mot make it rushed i really wanted to start from the beginging and build their realtionship in a way a oneshot can, ive been considering writing a story once im done with these requests so we can get some better romance building then!!

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