#ah yes the elder lord

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

It Was Enchanting to Meet You

Lord Debling x Fem reader

Lord Alfred Debling x female Bridgerton reader

Synopsis - You’re the second eldest Bridgerton daughter, being forced by your brother to finally debut. You believed the ordeal would be terrible, that was until you meet the handsome Lord Debling, the handsome stranger soon captivates your mind and heart.

Warnings- fluff, period drama, feelings, very small amount of angst, confessions, great sibling relationships, suggestive themes but no smut. Still 18+ though please.

Word count- 4.7K

Today was the day, the day you were coming out into society, you’d put it off long enough. Being that you were only a year younger than your elder sister Daphne, and a year older than Eloise who were both already out. But your mother hadn’t pushed you and for that you were thankful, your eldest sibling Anthony though was another story. He had all but told you enough was a enough, and even though he would not ever force you to take a husband, you needed to be out in society despite your disagreement with it.

He did not want the great Bridgerton name tarnished, with people starting to talk of the strange girl in the family who did not conform to society’s norm, who did not like social situations, a girl who spent her time fencing, reading and horseback riding. You were a free spirit, one who preferred the wind in her hair, rather than constricted dresses, dancing and polite conversation.

So now just having turned 20 you were being launched into the world around you. This brings you back to today, your mother was flapping making sure both you and Francesca looked perfect, creamy white gowns adorning your bodies, lace perfectly placed, your dress was accentuated with gold floral embroidery and tiny puff sleeves. You adjusted your long white gloves once more before exiting your room, “Ah y/n there you are my love, have you seen your sister I can’t find her anywhere, she is not in her room!” Your mother Violet frets, she’s looking pale and exhausted. “Calm down mother, I’m sure she is about, I can hear music are you sure you haven’t checked it is not her playing?” You ask.

“Oh! No I have not, come, we shall go check together.” She replies, gently grasping your wrist and tugging you down the staircase In search of your sister, you are sure she only holds onto you so she cannot loose you too.

Walking into the drawing room you find it was indeed Francesca playing the piano forte, your mother breathing a big sigh of relief, she is also dressed ready to go. “Well then my children let’s get going shall we?” She asks as she ushers us all out to the carriages, turning to you and Francesca she says “You both look so beautiful!” Voice full of emotion. “Thank you mother” you both say in unison, she nods before you all enter the carriage and head off to the queens palace.

The whole thing went by in a blur, you walked down the aisle, bowed to the queen then exited out to the side, you’d all entered out into a garden party where people were mingling happily. Your brother Colin who had just returned from travels, was boasting to the young ladies, causing them to fawn over him. Penelope Featherington sadly watching from the sidelines, you were very aware of how she felt for your brother, being the same age you had spent many moments together. Although you wouldn’t call her a close friend, it saddened you to see her aways watching him with such hopeful but sad eyes.

You decided she could do with a distraction so you made your way over to her, “Hey Pen, how are you? I haven’t seen you about the house recently?” You ask, she jumps, obviously you’d caught her very much deep in thought. “My goodness y/n you scared me” she gasps hand on her chest, “Sorry Pen, we were both on our own so I thought I’d come talk with you” you explain. Her face softens then “Of course, you can always come talk to me, I know how hard this must all be for you” she replies her face now sympathetic. “Yes, I do so hate public attention, but alas my brother thought it was necessary” you sigh, nodding Penelope gave you a look of understanding, “We must all be pushed out into society sooner or later, I was just 17 when my mother decided I needed to be out. And look over three years later and I’m still just sat here with no suitor prospects, I wish I could find a husband” she groans, “What? Why? You’ve never seemed too interested before?” You ask.

With a sigh she turns to you “In all honesty I need my privacy, and I just cannot stand living with my family any longer, at least your family is supportive and kind, mine can be just awful” she complains. You nod, you understand, her family have always been difficult especially her mother! “Well then Pen I hope you find a kind, loyal man to be your husband this season, you deserve some happiness” you tell her in earnest. “Thank you y/n, you do too, whatever that is for you, you deserve happiness too” she says as she walks off, leaving you once more to your thoughts.

Would you find happiness? What was happiness to you anyways?

________________________________________

That evening you were attending your very first ball, nerves settled deep within your stomach. There would be many people attending Lady Danbury’s ball, and you were hoping to quietly blend into the crowds, not causing any reason to warrant any unwanted attention. Anthony had insisted on you being present, he had also given you a list of people he had chosen for your to converse with.

Your dress though, that you had chosen for yourself, it was a deep maroon, corseted down to your waist, it then flared out into a subtle A line ballgown. It had thick off the shoulders straps, sparkling embroidery and a skirt that swished as you moved. You wanted something that felt more freeing, compared to the tight empire line gowns that were the norm. Giving yourself a last once over you sighed, although you looked like a princess, you felt absolutely ridiculous.

Entering the party was as equally nerve wrecking as bowing to the queen this morning, walking down the steps after your brothers and sisters you felt all eyes shift to you, you held your head hire and floated down with all the grace you could muster, it must have worked because once you’d reached the bottom all eyes were still glued to you. Your mother came rushing to meet you, “You did well, you entered as gracefully as a swan” she gushed, you rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm, “Well mother my plan is to not cause any unwanted attention, I don’t want them thinking I am some wild animal that cannot be tamed” you sassed back. Tutting she guided you through the crowds to meet some new people, what you hadn’t noticed though, were a pair of very entranced blue eyes belonging to the one Lord Alfred Debling watching your entrance.

“Who is she?” Lord Debling asked Lady Danbury, “That would be Miss Y/N Bridgerton, second eldest daughter of the Bridgerton family” Lady Danbury answered. “I see” he replies eyes still watching you intently, Lady Danbury smirks knowingly, “I may also add, she only debuted this morning so from what I gather she is very much on the market, so to speak” she smiled. “Is that so?” He asks eyes still enchanted by you. The pair hadn’t noticed Cressida Cowper Joining them, not until she spoke up causing them to both jump slightly, “I’ve heard she’s a strange girl” she abruptly interrupts, “And where have you heard that Miss Cowper?” Asks Lady Danbury, her voice full of exasperation.

“Well I’ve heard she prefers the outdoors over social gatherings, she rides her horse bareback at some speed I may add, I’ve seen it myself. When I’ve called on Eloise this summer she’s either sprinting through the country on her horse or she has her nose in some weird book” she explains amusedly. “I don’t see how that makes her strange, but rather it makes her unique” Lord Debling affirms, “Well also” Cressida stutters out trying to find something more vexing to say about you, “Ah she also fences, she sword fights with her brothers, isn’t it incredibly odd, incorrect even for a young lady to sword fight?” She points out. “I dare say! Does she really?” He asks Lady Danbury, “Yes I believe she does” Danbury replies, the smug look is soon wiped off Cressida’s face though when he turns back to Lady Danbury, “That is incredibly impressive, what a young lady she is! I will go introduce myself” and with that he leaves in search of you.

He finds you over by the drinks helping yourself to one before retreating to the corner, “Miss Bridgerton? Are you quite alright? You appear to be hiding in the corner” he asks. You bow quickly “Lord Debling, I’m quite well thank you, just not one for large social gathering's” you answer honestly. “Ah, no me either actually, I prefer to be outdoors” he responds. You smile up at him shyly “I do too” you agree, “Riding Percy gives me much more joy than this” you continue, choking on his drink Lord Debling gasps “I beg your pardon you what?”, “Percy, he’s my horse, a Suffolk punch, my brother Anthony bought him for me for my birthday a few years back, I most enjoy riding him through the countryside, where it’s nice and quiet” you explain,

“Oh of course, I heard from Lady Danbury that you enjoy riding, he conveys, cheeks bright red now from his misunderstanding. “Lady Danbury spoke of me? To you?” You ask confused, “Umm yes, I happened to ask after you” he admits, you offer him a smile “I see and what else did she happen to say about me?” You question teasingly causing him to smirk, “Nothing much else, just that this was your first season” he stutters out now feeling very put on the spot, “Oh yes well I put it off as long as I possibly could, but my brother is forcing me to try this year” you confirm, “Is it so very bad?” He asks, teasing smile on his lips, “Well maybe not as bad as I had made it out to be in my head” you admit.

“Well then, would you care to dance?” He offers, hand outstretched towards you. “Yeah ok, why not, in the name of trying new things of course” you smile, “Of course” he repeats, clearly amused by you. He walks you out to the dance floor as everyone lines up, ready for the dance to begin. As the music plays he spins you around the dance floor, your eyes never leaving one another’s, its almost as if there’s static energy between you, your hearts pounding in your chest, you can tell everyone is watching you both, but in that moment all you can see is him.

“Is that your daughter Violet, dancing with Lord Debling?” One of the mothers asks, “Yes” your mother laughs, “I dare say it is” her face is lit up at the way your both staring at each other, thoughts of Daphne and Simon’s first dance entering her mind. This looked very promising, she thought you’d be the hardest to convince to give this whole ordeal a try, but you were entranced by the man before you, and it was Francesca who had made a rather hastily exit home already.

Lady Danbury joins your mother, “He asked about her you know, the second she entered the room” she tells your mother, knowing smirk still plastered on her face, “Did he?” Your mother asks, “Yes, he seemed very much intrigued by her, maybe we’ve made a match already” she implies, “Maybe…….. I will speak to my daughter once we are home” you mother decides. Nodding in agreement Lady Danbury takes her leave.

Once your dance comes to an end you bow and move to walk away, thinking he would have other young ladies to dance with, a soft grip of your hand causes you to turn, coming face to face with Lord Debling once more, “May I call on your tomorrow?” He asks, “Yes you may” you give a curt nod before leaving with your family.

This night had gone much better than expected, you thought to yourself whilst laying in bed, you felt excited to see what else was to come.

________________________________________

The next day you’d woken up early, to get yourself dressed for your sword fighting lesson, hoping you’d have time to freshen up before anyone had any callers, you smile to yourself at the thought of seeing Lord Debling again today. Bounding down the stairs you met your instructor Henry, “Good morning Miss Bridgerton, are you ready?” He asks, “Yes I am” you affirm, “Very good, although I don’t see how you need any more lessons now, I’ve taught you everything I know, and you have mastered it all”, you grin “Why thank you Henry, but I can tell you why I need my lessons” you reply, “And why is that Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “Because I enjoy them” you laugh as you get into position.

Your two eldest brothers had joined you now, you were currently practicing against Benedict, completely loosing track of time. “Why do you encourage this Anthony?” Your mother asks, “Well dear mother I think it’s good that a lady knows how to defend herself, no one will ever mess with our little y/n now will they?” He questions playfully, rolling her eyes she waves him off as she leaves the room.

“Ha! I win again! Really Benedict are you even trying?” You goad, sweaty and exhausted he gives you the are you kidding look, “Yes dear sister unfortunately I am!” He grumbles, Anthony snorts out a laugh “Well I dare say these lessons are paying off, you have quite the talent” he praises you, “Thank you brother” you smile. Just then one of your maids enter the room, “Someone’s here to see you Miss” she announces, realisation hits you! Oh no Lord Debling has arrived and your still in your fencing clothes.

Walking in he smiles at you, you bow nervously before rambling out, “I’m very sorry I lost track of time my lord, please excuse me for a moment while I go change”, “Nonsense don’t worry about it, I’d love to see you in action” he answers, “Really!?” You ask surprised, he nods in response, you look to Anthony motioning for him to come join you, but he puts his hands up in surrender, “Oh no, watching Benedict loose all credibility was quite enough for one day, I will go find my wife, as I promised her a walk this morning.” He replies, “I’ll spar with you” Lord Debling offers, “Oh I couldn’t ask that of you my Lord” you hastily reply, “You’re not asking, I’m offering” he affirms before removing his jacket and placing on Benedict’s fencing armour.

Anthony lets out a laugh, “Perfect” he announces, before turning to Lord Debling “Don’t let her win, she will know. She is incredibly able” he confirms before leaving to find his wife. “Well are you ready then?” Debling asks you, “Yes, quite ready” you smirk back. As the two of you spar the static energy returns from last night, you fall into an effortless rhythm against one another, he fights well, there is technique and power to his moves, but you are just too quick for him, eventually knocking the sword from his hands and pointing yours to his chest in victory,

“I say! You are rather good at this aren’t you” he laughs, “Yeah I think it’s because I enjoy it so much” you agree.

“You Miss Bridgerton are an incredibly rare flower indeed” he says, “Thanks” you reply warm blush adorning your cheeks, “Will you save me a dance at tonight’s party?” He asks. “Yes of course” you reply maybe a little too hastily, “Well then, until tonight” he offers placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Before leaving he looks back towards you once more, giving you the most endearing smile.

You were very much looking forward to seeing him again tonight.

________________________________________

Over the next few weeks the two of you became much more acquainted with one another, you danced together at every party, usually more than once, you took chaperoned strolls together in the park and your family had also invited him over a couple of times for dinner.

You’d learnt much about him, his love for animals and wildlife, the fact he didn’t eat meat, all his adventure and conservation ideas, you’d become completely enamoured with this man, It appeared he also was with you too.

Today you were both taking a stroll in the park, the sun was warm and the smell of blossoms filled the spring air. Your maid was walking a few steps behind you, keeping a watchful eye. “Beautiful day is it not?” You ask him cheerfully, enjoying the sunshine on your skin. “Yes it is, but I can see something much more beautiful” he replies watching you carefully, you turn your head to hide your reddening cheeks. “Will you be attending the garden party tomorrow? I hear there will be a new form of transport being showcased” you ask, “Yes I believe I will be attending” he responds while smiling at you, grinning up at him you offer a nod in response.

“Well I bid you farewell Lord Debling, I have promised to help my mother this afternoon, I will see you tomorrow?” You offer, “Yes I shall see you tomorrow, good afternoon Miss Bridgerton” he replies. You spare him one last glance, before you walk off with your maid.

________________________________________

It was the day of the garden party and you were stood looking at the enormous ballon in awe, was that really supposed to be able to carry people through the sky? “Quite spectacular isn’t it?” Lord Deblings voice cut through your thoughts causing you to jump, “My Lord, you gave me a fright!” You gasped, “I am sorry, that was not my intention” he responds “That’s ok, it is spectacular yes, although I do worry how it’s supposed to transport people” you reply.

“Yes quite, but I suppose only time will tell, are you well Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “Yes, thank you my Lord I am very well” you affirm, “Good” he nods.

As the afternoon goes on Penelope, Eloise and Cressida join in your conversation, Cressida going out of her way to try and impress Lord Debling, not even caring how desperate and contrary it makes her appear. Penelope spends the whole time staring at Colin and Eloise is pretty much rolling her eyes at everybody’s antics. Cressida continues to laugh at something he said, almost hanging off his arm, causing a pit of jealousy to stir in your stomach.

You turn your attention once again to the large ballon, which is now rocking very unstably in the wind, creaking and groaning as the ropes loosen. Just as they snap your brothers are rushing over to pull them back, using as much strength as they can muster to pull the thing back into place. All you can do is watch in terror as they lose control and the ship comes hurtling towards you, it all happens so quick, one miniute you’re watching terrified, the next you’re on the floor Lord Deblings body shielding you.

“Are you quite alright?” He asks gazing into your eyes, “Yes all thanks to you”. He carefully traces his fingertips down the side of your jaw, you watch him with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. Someone loudly clears their throat behind you, you both jump apart, turning to see Cressida and Eloise watching you both.

Lord Debling jumps up before offering you a hand up too, “What luck you were there to save my sister, thank you my Lord” Eloise states, “Of course, it was nothing” he replies before walking off.

“What was that y/n?” Eloise gasps, “I hardly know” you reply, completely shocked yourself.

________________________________________

That very evening you arrived at the ball still very much in shock, more so by Lord Deblings behaviour than nearly being squashed by the heavy ballon. Your mother currently had you making small talk with every eligible Lord in the room, “Mother is this really necessary?” You grumbled as you made your way over to yet another man, “Yes my darling daughter it is, until Lord Debling actually proposes you must keep your options open” she insists, “But Anthony said I do not have to marry this season, only that I must be out in society” you ask confused.

“Yes I know my sweet girl, but every year you’re on the market the less desirable you become, now make haste” she commands, you roll your eyes at her as she drags you through the crowd, “Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton, how nice to see you both” Lord Cambell greets, “Lord Cambell, lovely to see you again” you reply with a very forced smile. “Would you have any space left on your card to include a dance with me?” He asks, you stutter before your mother replies on your behalf, “My daughter would be delighted”, you resentfully offer your wrist and card for him to write his name on, before bowing and leaving to find some corner to hide in.

After no empty corner is found you retreat to the gardens in hope of some peace, leaning against the cold stone of the house you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Miss Bridgerton you should not be out here alone” Lord Deblings voice causes you to jump, “My goodness my Lord! Must you always startle me so.” You gasp, “Sorry I never intend too” he replies in earnest, “But you really shouldn’t be out here alone” he repeats as he steps closer, “Yes I know, but I need a minute to breathe, it’s awfully stuffy in there, and my mother is being a nuisance….” You trail off, voice stuttering as he steps closer once more, “By nuisance you mean by parading you around the room, like a prized animal?” He smirks, “Yes” you stammer, feeling more breathless than before if that was at all possible.

He carefully moves a piece of hair from your face, “Do you not wish for the attention of the Lords here tonight Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “No, not from those ones anyways” you whisper, then in a flash his mouth meets yours, it’s passionate and gentle, it’s fire but also calm. Your fingers grasp his jacket as you pull him in closer, moulding your body to his own, his fingers move from your face to your neck, tilting your face to give him better access. His other hand grasps your thigh as he pulls it over his hip, grounding down into you causing a low whimper from your lips, moving from your mouth he kisses down your neck, nipping at your sweet spot, your hands slide into his hair as you grind into his hips once more.

Your movement causes him to gasp before quickly pulling himself away from you, leaving you a breathless mess. “I shouldn’t have done that” he worries, “My Lord?” You ask confused and worried, “I shouldn’t have put you in that position I am so very sorry” he repeats and your heart sinks, was he going to reject you now? Were you about to loose all credibility? Sensing your despair he quickly comforts you, “What I mean to say is that shouldn’t have happened before I asked for your hand, I do not wish to dishonour you, if you will have me and your brother agrees to it, I would very much like to make you my wife” he confirms, “Really?” You ask.

“Yes really, I am quite enamoured with you my dearest y/n, I came here to the Ton to seek out a wife, I thought I could find a match of convenience, one where I could travel and my wife would happily stay at home managing my estate. I did not think love was in the cards for me, I believed that my work would take up too much space in my heart for that, but then I met you, and my goodness did you change everything” he explains.

“Is this a confession of love my Lord?” You ask still very much breathless.

“It is yes, I didn’t come here to seek it which makes this as much a surprise to me as it is to yourself” he replies.

“I love you too” you admit, which causes his handsome face to light up, “I too did not believe this would happen, when my brother asked me to debut this season, I admit I hated the very idea, but I’m so very glad I did as it lead me to you” You confess.

“Well then my love, I believe I have a question to ask your brother” he replies, his hand seeking to find your own, grasping his with yours you reply “I suppose you do”. He gives you one last kiss on your cheek before heading inside to seek out your brother. You are still stood against the house, breaths still racing as you trace your lips with your fingertips, the tingling of his kisses still present.

Upon entering your home that evening Anthony stops you “Y/N may I speak with you a moment?” He asks, “Yea of course brother what is it?”

“Lord Debling has asked for my permission to propose to you, he says he has the deepest of feelings for you and he wishes you to be his wife, I know him to be a very kind man, one who obviously wouldn’t ever hurt an animal or a woman, he has a great estate and great prospects, so if it’s what you want I will agree to it at once, but I told him I had to talk with my sister first” he explains.

You smile knowing how deeply your family cares for each other, this is something you will never take for granted. “Truth is brother, I love him very much, I didn’t think it were possible to find someone I could fall for so deeply, but here we are” you reply.

“Very well then I shall give him my permission” Anthony affirms. You walk over and give him a chaste kiss to the cheek, “Thank you brother” you respond, he nods giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze before wandering off.

You were going to be married! Not only that to a man you love, you felt such happiness in that moment your chest could burst.

________________________________________

The next morning whilst reading your maid walked in announcing Lord Debling was here to see you, you nod at her to let him in.

“Hello my love, are you well this morning?” He asks as he enters the room.

“I am quite well my Lord thank you” you smile.

“Please call me Alfred, such formalities feel no longer necessary”

“Very well Alfred, but then you must call me y/n so we are on equal terms” you reply.

He laughs, “Of course, my dearest y/n, so I’m guessing it’s no secret to as why I am here?” He asks.

“Well I have an idea, but I will need you to clarify” you respond with wit.

“Very well Miss y/n Bridgerton” he begins before getting down on one knee, “You have bewitched my heart, and I’m asking if you will do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife?”

Walking towards him you kneel down in front of him, reaching out and tracing his stubbled cheek, “Yes Alfred, I will marry you” you gush before moving in and placing your lips against his, in a sweet soft kiss.

Just then all your family enter the room offering congratulations, you thank them all but your eyes never leave his, as you think to yourself yes you believe this will be a very happy marriage indeed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 27

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I missed our delulu king.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Vesemir is stoic as he faces the king. The younger of the man cannot be described as the same. A tick in his jaw tugs as his eyes move between the Lord and yourself. Finally, the wander to the other woman in the room, a maid like yourself; Ezme. 

“I am aware you have little time to spare before your departure, so you do best to let me speak plainly,” Lord Vesemir begins, “and so I will.” 

King Geralt hooks his fingers in his belt. His overcoat is undone and his hair messy in its tie. He looks as worn as you’ve ever seen him. You feel much the same. 

“There are whispers in my halls,” Vesemir continues, “they speak of the king and his queen. They stir with scandal and distaste alike. Summer lords are discontent and discontent is a virulent as a winter ague.” 

“You said you would be plain,” Geralt demands. 

“Ah, yes, but I hear less of king and queen than of king and maid, those whispers threaten to become a chatter,” Vesemir tilts his chin defiantly. 

“Don’t,” the king warns. 

“I must. You will not hear any others, even those speaking so venomously behind your very back,” the elder lord jabs his finger in the air, “you would risk your victory for what--” 

“You have no place to reprimand me on this,” Geralt walks forward, planting his hands on the table as he glares across at the other man. You can only assume by his stance the dark expression on his chiseled features. “You sit here with your mistress and would scold me for the same--” 

“I am no king. I am a forgotten soldier in his hold. No one might notice me. No, my liege, my lord, my king, I do not scold you, I warn you and I offer my assistance, not my defection,” the broad castle lord squares his shoulders as Ezme sidles towards you. You share with the maid an uncertain glance. “Let her stay. Go and settle your kingdom, balance your crown, sit the throne so all can see your right. When all is even, return, then yo might claim your pleasure but you need to attend your duty first.” 

The king is silent. He takes a deep, gritty breath and drags his palms across the wood, standing slowly. He exhales in a winter draught. He dips his head slightly as you wallow in the frigid lull. 

“I have put down a summer king, I have marched the lands from hinter to sunlight, I have overcome more than your fears, old man,” Geralt snarls, “I do not care for gossip on the tongues of foolish ladies and their thin-skinned husbands” 

“Yet, you should,” Vesemir insists. 

“Who are you to tell me what I should do? Lord Vesemir, you have served me well and loyal, I do not doubt you, but in this you have no place,” the king grits. “My wife has an heir in her womb, I have my victory, I have done my duty. I have bled, I have wept, I have given my very being for these people. Why should I be deprived of one sliver of selfishness?” 

“It is treacherous--” 

“My father had three mistresses at once. That was treacherous. He was clumsy and careless. I am not the same--” 

“She wears your cloak. You would flaunt it in the faces of all. How is that not careless?” 

“Your integrity stands by the hearth, watching us, and she will lay in your bed,” Geralt accuses, “why should I care what judgement you put upon me?” 

“I am a lonely old man, not a king with a new bride--” 

“Enough!” Geralt roars and grabs the table. He jerks it to the side, throwing it to the wall so it bounces and rolls onto its side, a split renting down the wood. “Lord Vesemir, we will leave your vulture’s nest and you will be sure that you shall not need to trouble yourself with your king ever again. Your dues are paid, keep your gold and your bedwarmer, and I will keep well my kingdom.” 

You stare stunned from the corner. Ezme winces as the furor of the king’s fury lingers in the air. That horrid bang echoes over and over in your mind. You can’t help but whimper in surprise as suddenly you are seized around your sleeve. The king moves quicker than you can think. 

He hauls you away from the wall and towards the door Vesemir’s sigh fans from his nose, “I tried, dove.” 

The king swings the door inward and urges you without. He does not close it as he marches down the corridor, his grasp tight around your wrist. You scramble to keep up, soles scuffing, fingers throbbing as his grip threatens to crack your bones. 

You whine, “your highness.” 

He carries on as your toes flutter over the stone. You can’t keep up. You will surely fall and your hand should fall off for the swelling of blood. You grab at his sleeve and speak louder 

“Your highness, please, I beg you, it hurts,” you plea. 

He falters and spins back to you. He stares at you with his golden irises and the angles of his face soften. His gaze meets the vice of his hold on you and he releases you all at once, hovering his hand, turning it to examine his own palm. He drops his arm straight. 

“My summer maid,” he breathes, “I apologise, I did not... I would never hurt you. Not with meaning. I was only...” He reaches sheepishly to pet your shoulder, “are you alright?” 

“Your highness,” you rub your wrist, “I understand. I was only afraid--” 

“Yes, yes, the lord does mean to sabotage us,” he growls, “I will not let him. You cannot stray. You will remain with me for the night and in the morning, we shall go.” 

“As you wish, your highness,” you accede and dip your chin. 

He sighs through his nose as he tickles your neck then slowly draws away, “would you stay? If he’d asked you and not me?” 

You keep your eyes down. You cannot let him see your doubt. Truly you do not know the answer but that uncertainty is as wretched as disloyalty. 

“I would go wherever you will have me,” you assure him. 

“Yes, I know, treasure,” he brings both hands to cradle your face, raising it up, “it is fates that prized me with a creature so loyal as you. I would not squander this good fortune which has brought us together. I will not risk it, I will not risk you. I will protect you forever, my treasure.” 

You try to smile but your cheeks tremor and your eyes glisten. Your heart is racing and you shiver for more than the corridor’s chill. You can sense the danger of his words and that very moment. 

“You fear me?” He searches your face. “No, you needn’t. It is those who wish to oppose us, who should ever dare plot against me who should fear me.” 

His thumbs run over your cheek bones as his lip curls and again, he pulls his touch away from you. He reaches for your hand, twining his finger through yours, and clings to you, firm, but much less painfully than before. He leads you onward and you can only follow. That is your only course from there on, to go where he bids. 

He is intent on his path, he does not waver. He takes you to the tower and points you up the twisted stairs ahead of him. You climb up to the chamber that greets you with the same ominous air. It feels a cell even with its blazing hearth. 

The king follows you in. The hinges whine, the hooped handle clangs on the wood, and you’re shut in once more. The winds wail outside the walls loudly. 

“Where is your cloak?” The king asks as he trods the wooden floor. 

“In... the chamber I slept--” 

“I will have it brought in the morn,” he assures, “you won’t need it until then.” 

He pulls his sleeves down his arms and sheds his overcoat. You linger by the door and watch him with dread. He is intent as he tugs the tail of his shirt free of his breeches, half of it is already untucked. He is dishevelled in his own way. You’ve always noted he is rather orderly in his appearance, even amid the dirt of the road. 

He strips his shirt off and piles it in the seat of a chair with his coat. He strides to the table and the basin of clear water atop it. He scrubs his face and hands, then his chest. He is intent in the act as you teeter on your feet. 

“Please, you will retire,” he insists without looking back, washing himself as fervently as he can. The noise of the water plucks in the air, “I will join you short, treasure. I only seek to scrub away the day’s filth.” 

“Yes, your highness,” you acquiesce. 

You sit to unlace your boots and peel off your stockings. Next, you remove your apron and loose the top of your dress. You fold it all neatly on the bench at the bottom of the bed. You approach the towering post in all but your shift and nestle under the blankets. You lay and listen to the king’s activity. 

Despite it all, the bed is warm. You can’t help but bask in the welcome of the layers of wool and linen. You’re startled as the king’s silhouette appears at the bottom of the bed frame and he lifts the end of the heavy covers, slipping a warm shape beneath. The hot brick radiates from the foot of the mattress nicely. 

He retreats and a sharp blow puts out the flame of the lantern. The hearth provides the only light as it flickers around his looming shadow. You stare at the door as you fold into yourself. 

He circles around the other side, behind you, and his weight jostles the mattress as he crawls in behind you. He moves close to you, his hand grazing over your shift, lingering on your hip and creeping up your side. He pulls you onto your back as he slides his arm beneath your head. 

You let him move you as he desires. He commands without words. The thick hair along his torso is still damp. He holds you against him, touching your cheeks, tracing your jaw and throat, admiring you in the dim glow. He purrs and presses his lips to yours. 

When he pulls away, he lets his head rest on the pillow. You feel his gaze still as he plays with the strings of your shift. He moves even closer and nuzzles your hair. 

“This is where you belong, treasure. Near to me,” he rasps, “I shall never let them take you from me.” 

⚔️

Sleep is chased away by the wind. That without keeps you awake, along with the hot gust of the king’s breath. His snug hold on you, his constancy even in his slumber, the heat of his body adds to your restlessness. 

You feel him stir and close your eyes. You feign the sleep you’re so desperate for. His breath rises from his nose like a wolf’s growl. He shifts cautiously, as if not to disturb you, and drags his arm out from around you. He leaves a doleful kiss on your cheek and sits up. 

The bed groans with his weight. You dare to peek through the slits of your eyelids as he turns to sit with his back to you. His flesh is ridged with scars, rippled with the battles fought and won, the years marked into his very body. He hangs his head and holds it in his hands. You languish in his rumination. 

The fire crackles softly. He looks over stiffly and stands with a heave. He is completely naked. You hadn’t realised. He goes to the hearth and feeds it. He groans at the effort and stands straight. 

His figure is lit by the amber glow as he watches the flames. You can see why he has no fear. He is built unlike any man you’ve seen. He is power incarnate. He is the king of legends. 

“I would lay down my crown in this very second for you, treasure,” he says.  

You squeeze your eyes shut. Does he know you are awake? You don’t move for fear that he only speaks to himself. 

“How cursed I am. I’ve won a kingdom I could not care for. Not if it would cost me you,” he murmurs to the fire. His voice is so low that he cannot possibly mean for you to hear. “How I dream of sweeping you away. We should steal a horse from the stables and secret our love away into the wilds.” 

He sniffs, “we would find a place in the hinter. I could build a house, you could mind the hearth, and I would hunt the elk... we could be just husband and wife. Not king and maid. We could be... happy.” 

He heaves as your heartbeat pulses behind your ears. You hear him moving, towards the bed, towards you. The mattress once more shifts and the blankets lift. He slips in next to you and lays back heavily. 

“My treasure, what you cannot know. How deeply I love you. I long for you with my entire being,” he lays flat next to you, rigid and hot as his arm presses to yours. You will yourself to stone; still as a statue. “I ache for you... to hold you, to kiss you...”  

His arm moves and the blanket ripples against you. You focus on your breaths, keeping them slow and deep, hiding beneath the facade of slumber. “...to have you under me...” the subtle brush of the blankets continues, tickling you, threatening to break your defence, “to have you touch me too...” his voice is strained as the bed shakes with the building tempo. 

What is it he does? Why is he so breathless? It is only his long groans that assure you of his elicit act. That he touches himself as he speaks of his desire. 

“I should like... to taste you...” he puts his hand on your thigh. You nearly flinch as he swirls his fingertips against your shift, “I should like to feel you around me. How delicate... how warm... how...” 

He moans and bites down, carrying on as his fingertips curl into your thigh. His words fracture around his grunts and he pumps himself fervently. You shield yourself behind your eyelids. You try not to hear, not to feel, not to be. 

When at last his voice piques and he spasms beside you, your name wafts from his mouth, silty and thick. His hand slips between your thighs and lays over your cunt. He lingers there, pressing down to feel you before he retracts his arm, rolling onto his side. 

“I will wait,” he resigns, “but I shall claim you, my treasure.” 

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 02

Tags- smut, angst, cheating, TW seizures, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- The events of the fateful night of Christmas...

The Aftermath- 01 // series masterlist

24th December, 2016

"Hey y/n! Wanna get some drinks on Christmas? If you don't have any plans! Or are you too busy for us 'poor people'! Haha!". Your friends have called and they joked.

You come from a very lower middle class family. Raised by your grandmother and elder sister(by six years) due to your parents being absent.

It was difficult, you grew up watching your grandmother working at an age where she should be enjoying life and your sister when she should be studying. You grew up knowing what's it like to have nothing.

With a decent education, you and your sister started supporting your grandmother with a decent corporate job until your sister got married to her co-worker.

It was just you, helping financially your grandmother with her medical bills while saving up enough for a decent enough wedding dress to follow your sister's path, where you marry an average man like she did, have kids, take care of your children and man and thats it.

An average life.

But you wanted more.

You prayed. Day and night for an extraordinary life, a life memorable and not like your sister's.

You wanted more from life.

And the Gods heard your prayer.

Your whole life changed when you became an essential part of Japan's prolific Aristocratic family.

The news was everywhere. Its a rags to riches, The modern Cinderella story in everyone's eyes.

It was beautiful.

It was memorable, everything you wanted..

Until it wasn't...

"Uh.. yes i am free.", it felt so different, talking to people you worked with after so long. "What's the timing?", you asked.

"25th, 7pm! At the usual place. Also y/n! Could you maybe bring your husband! I mean we would all love to meet Mr Gojo! He's so funny! Only if Mr Gojo is free that is!"

Ah yes. Mr Gojo, the funny, entertaining Mr Gojo. He has met your friends from work enough times to make an image of the grounded but arrogant, funny rich guy.

"Oh! He-he isn't home. He's quite busy. Maybe next time, i will bring him!", you managed as if there will be a next time!

"Oh(disappointed) , nevermind then. Send my regards to Mr Gojo. And you do not forget to come y/n!"

"Yeah".

You wanted to go out, outside and away from this house of memories, with Satoru, that trapped you. You wanted to breath fresh air and move on.

Move on?

How could you move on?

The fact that you were 3 months in your pregnancy after 4 years of marriage. But you failed to carry the child. You failed to maintain the marriage with the person you love. And you're talking about moving on when its just 2 months?

How cruel y/n, how cruel...

25th December, 2016 || 6.45pm

You got dressed up in a simple black turtleneck, jeans, an overcoat and knee high boots with a woolen cap on.

A thick layer of concealer was enough to hide the under eye dark circles. You put on a red lipstick and went out.

The staff stared at you, secretly though, but nonetheless they stared and judged you.

'Is Lady y/n really pregnant?' One said. "She doesn't have a bump though", other quoted. "Come to think of it, her monthly(period) hasn't arrived either. She is pregnant!".

"When's she going to announce?" One servant asked. "Maybe after Lord Satoru arrives?". "Oh! Maybe on the New Year's eve! Seems perfect timing as well.", one replied.

The servants maybe nosy but they know their places. They know, something so sensitive as the pregnancy of the great six eyes sorcerer's wife, its not their place to give the news to the family.

Generally, almost every household's staffs know about anything and everything that goes on in Gojo household. But the word, luckily, doesn't reaches to their employers most of the time.

But this time, it wasn't just some other light news from the Gojo House and the servants of other households started talking to their employers in no time...

It was already past 11.30pm.

Reunion with your office friends and straight up five bottles of your favorite vodka felt so nice that you almost forgot about all and everything that had gone wrong in your life.

You meet up with your co-workers every Christmas for the last 4 years. Sometimes Satoru would company, sometimes he wouldn't.

Talking about politics, sports and who's dating who, both in the office and among celebrities. These were mostly the topics you spent discussing while drinking.

"Hey, its almost going to be 12. I think that's it for the night guys!", one of your girlfriends announced after a slight glance at her silver wrist watch.

"Whaaat?", your speech was slurred and vision blurry after five drinks. "Isss overrr already? Whyyyy? Less get the party started.."

Everyone chuckled. "Ah y/n san had too much to drink! Now we'd have to drop her at her royal palace!", the other girlfriend smiled, a little jealous of your luxurious life.

"Whaaaaat? Less playyy! C'mon ya lot!", you continued babbling frustrated.

"I'll drop y/n. If its okay with everyone."

Out of all the twelve co-workers, one of them stood up and offered to help you reach home.

He knew none are interested in insuring you reach home safely. Everybody was just ignorant and busy to get back home to be on time for work.

He, Kenzo, always have had feelings for you. From the moment you entered the Office to present, when you're married and babbling gibberish while totally drunk.

Everyone agreed to leave you to Kenzo since it was no secret, the feelings he has and someone like him would definitely make sure you reach home safe and secure.

26th December, 2016 || 12.26 am

The group gave their farewells to each other and went on their way.

You, on the other hand, are so drunk that its impossible for you stand up without your legs wobbling and bringing you down.

Kenzo helped you and got you on the passenger seat of his car and started driving towards your 'palace'.

Your head felt heavy with all the drinks you had. You could hear voices in your head, all distorted, words lapsing onto each other.

"You did this y/n!"

"Because of you y/n your baby is dead"

"Satoru will never love you"

"All you've done since marriage is sitting on top of your husband's fortune... living the life you never had"

"Satoru's family....They were right...Everyone was right.."

"You are just a whore"

"Whore for money"

"WHORE"

You let out a scream and started twisting and turning your head and hands to stop all this annoying gibberish in your head. Your eyes closed tight shut.

Kenzo, while driving through almost an empty road, saw this and was absolutely horrified. He thought you're having seizures so he stopped his car in an empty underground parking lot that was luckily near when he saw you.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?". He grabbed your cheeks to hold you still while his other hand held forcefully onto your shaking arms. "Talk to me y/n. Talk to me!"

"Talk to me y/n"

You heard.

"Talk"

You opened your eyes, slowly letting in the artificial bright lights hit your eyes. Lips trembling. Cheeks red, tears rolling.

You felt a grasp on your cheeks and lowered your gaze to see Kenzo, worried and sweating.

You let out a sigh and without any thoughts hugged Kenzo.

He didn't know what just happened but if hugging him makes you feel better, he's okay with it. He hugged you back. Caressing your back.

All the thoughts had stopped now in your head.

You calmly pulled away from the hug and locked your eyes with Kenzo's.

He is so handsome, same age as you, has beautiful hooded eyes, his nose, his lips.

You gently brought your lips closer to his and he to yours. You both so close but so far. You wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss you.

Your lips brushed upon his and he kissed you. You put your tongue in his mouth and fought for dominance. After a few pants for air, you won, a battle you never won with your husband.

Kenzo pulled back though halfway through. You were puzzled. Didn't he want you? But then you saw him looking at your big blue and white diamond wedding ring.

Oh so thats what it is.

You quickly removed the two rings from your left hand and put the expensive rings onto dashboard. One ring being your wedding band and the other ring was an official platinum-diamond band symbolizing that you are the Gojo Clan head's wife.

In a rush you jumped sat on his lap. Fixating yourself just above his crotch, continuously rubbing your clothed groin over his. You both panted.

You unbuckled your jeans and threw them in the backseat and unzipped Kenzo's pants, about to slide in his member in you. You were so in heat he could see right through you if he'd have to be honest.

He held your wrists and stopped you from doing it...

"Y/n, we shouldn't... its not right... you're married-", he protested with his voice low.

"I decide whats right or not... so shut up and do it already", you growled at him in frustration and just put his cock in your unprepared cunt.

You were finally tainted wholly...

It hurt a lot in the beginning, doing the deed all dry, without any foreplay after so long and after your miscarriage but slowly your body adjusted.

'God! he's so small', you thought to yourself while pushing in Kenzo's 5 inches hard cock in you since for the last over 7 years you've gotten used to Gojo's 8 inches.

This lowly act of yours went on for around 2 hours. Doing it anywhere and everywhere inside the car, in all and every position.

26th December, 2016 || 4.50am

The radio was playing 'Lovely Day' by Bill Withers.

Kenzo was driving you to your house.

You were quiet. He was quiet.

The drive to your uphill estate was easy since it was early morning so the streets were traffic free. He drove his car through the beautiful posh Uphills neighborhood of Tokyo. Your house was almost there.

Each house in this posh area are mindfully distanced to provide full privacy and personal space to the owners. That is why Satoru bought his married house here.

You were looking outside the window with a cigarette between your lips and suddenly your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened, forehead sweating when you saw your husband's black Audi sedan parked in the driveway...

You gulped when the car stopped outside the Gojo Estate's premises.

Door opened, left foot out and you got out. Before entering the gates of your premises, you leaned down a little to look at an equally annoyed Kenzo.

You both didn't share any words or any final looks and he just drove his car as soon as you got off.

He knew what he had done was crossing the line and beyond. It was so unethical to sleep with a married woman, doesn't matter if you were his crush once or not.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Well technically y/n you are separated and will be divorced soon. So its not cheating. Technically?" Your head convinced you in case when you'd be caught you'll have an argument ready.

You started walking through the cobblestone walkway, a little nervous... Actually, truth be told, you are scared of seeing Satoru. Finding you in your current state at this late hour.

You took one last big puff and then crushed the cigarette with your boots.

You rang the bell once, twice. You started thinking maybe its not Satoru but its Mr Ijichi. Yeah! He's busy anyway.

The door opened just as you were about to ring the third time and all your fears came true...

Satoru Gojo opened the door.

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

Aplogies, tags are CLOSED

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside. 

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother. 

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him. 

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel. 

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed. 

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was. 

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness. 

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on. 

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move. 

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke. 

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence. 

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned. 

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other. 

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently. 

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask. 

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked. 

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground. 

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply? 

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back. 

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said. 

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face. 

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him. 

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch. 

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers. 

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see. 

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day. 

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death. 

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.” 

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years. 

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade. 

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers. 

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end. 

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly. 

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood. 

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers. 

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed. 

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned. 

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived. 

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth. 

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.” 

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged. 

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance. 

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

[eyesforahead]

Mxtx x male reader

A cross over.

When a modern era young man transmigrated in PIDW that has crossovered with other Novel's such as MDZS & TGCF thing's are bound to be both fun & traumatizing!

-----

Name & Description are different but originally this was on my ao3 some things are arranged to suit it being an X reader. My ao3 is Elijah_Ezra.

TRANSLATION MAY NOT HE ACCURATE.

-- MAIN SHIPS WILL NOT HE CHANGED ( such as hualian , wangxian. )

-- SHEN YUAN IS NOT HERE.

shang qinghua is. I have favorite's.

-- Canon, what canon plot line?

-- Don't like, don't read.

-- Hate towards me or anyone is not tolerated.

-- This is a crossover.

-- A lot of spelling mistakes probably.

-- No upload schedule.

-- What Ships is reader in? I'm aiming for it to be a Liu Qingge X Reader however if this is not liked I take recommendations as well.

THIS IS PIDW TECHNICALLY NOT SVSSS.

• SHEN JIU'S PAST!!!!

• TW FOR THAT. PLEASE, STAY SAFE.

Shen (Name) groans and sighs before getting up from the chair to grab his sword Bǎohù

It was time for the Disciple selection..

He flew down and was immediately greeted by the peak lords he was well liked and loved unlike his elder brother Shen Jiu or also known as Shen Qingqiu.

That’s right he (Last name) ( First Name) , A lazy modern guy , died and transmigrated into PIDW not only that as an OC insert the scum villains younger brother!

Airplane , what kind of messed up tragic sad backstory did you need to give Jiu-Ge?!

Naturally they grew up together which meant his childhood sucked too!

Granted not that bad compared to him as that Qiu Jianluo took a very good liking to him and loved his naïve personality he was rarely beaten.

Which now knowing WHAT Qiu Jianluo liked and was thinking made him want to scream cry and rip off his skin to erase the feeling the skin that was touched by him.

What seemed liked innocent hugged were actually very much not innocent.

years later and after much trauma he became a peak lord!

So, that's that! Yippie hooray for you.

The (History of God's and Ghost's) "神与鬼的历史" (Shén yǔ guǐ de lìshǐ) peak lord!

It is the same ranking as Qing Jing Peak.

In this peak they learned about God’s and Ghost’s that are hidden and roaming around somewhere.

Their cultivation was communication with them.

Some Ghosts would occasionally help them when in need by lending them their strength.

In turn they would also help the ghost move on.

However, this is not safety assured as ghosts can be deceiving.

Shen (Name) would know himself, he’s half possessed by one called SYSTEM who forces him to do certain shit!

{ HOST, QIU JANLUO DID NOT NEED HIS DICK! }

Shen (Name) grimaces remembering that memory when the SYSTEM took control of his body and just chopped off someone’s dick.

‘ You didn’t need to use my body! ‘

{ D: Then, who else would SYSTEM posses? Your brother? No, thanks. }

‘ Die. ‘

{ SYSTEM will die when HOST 002 dies. }

Ah, right. Did he mention the author transmigrated with him?

Airplane Shooting towards the sky transmigrated into Shang Qinghua.

“ Didi, are you alright? You’re frowning. “ Shen Qingqiu asked snapping him out of his thoughts.

He hummed and looked towards the disciples hoping that today he will meet the protagonist Luo Binghe .

Yue QingYuan nodded at him and asked if he will choose a disciple.

Right, He himself rarely accepted new disciples they had to be specific and needed to be blessed or gained the attention of a god or ghost.

But as he looks down no one seems to have the veins that are gold or red.

Gold means a god has noticed them.

Glowing Gold means they have been blessed by one.

Red means a ghost has either noticed them or blessed them.

It was surprising to learn ghosts can bless people.

A ghost’s blessing boosts up your QI similar to the gods blessing but a ghost blessing also gives you luck while God’s give you some protection but not luck that would be on you!

Suddenly again he heard Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu fighting which is normal. However, they were fighting over a disciple.

He didn’t feel like getting involved and zoomed out before Shang Qinghua whispered to him.

‘ Bro, Go with Shen QIngqiu that’s Luo Binghe he took! ‘

he glared at Shang Qinghua for not telling him sooner and ran after Shen Jiu.

MEANWHILE…

SO, IT BEGINS TOUGHT A MAN WEARING SIMPLE WHITE ON A THRONE HIGH ABOVE WHERE NO ONE CAN REACH HIM.

THE man was beautiful with long brown hair and warm eyes.

The male wished he can help the poor soul yet, he is not allowed to interfere only drop some helpful information nothing more…

---

His peak was often described as a picturesque peak ( he was very proud of his peak ) adorned with tranquil ponds. The water is crystal clear, reflecting the beauty of the lily pads floating gracefully on the surface.

Koi fish gracefully glide through the water, their vibrant colors adding a touch of elegance.

The croaking of frogs adds a harmonious melody to the scene. The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers, and the sight of fluttering butterflies brings a sense of joy.

The overall ambiance feels inviting and pristine. Even the teachers and classes exude warmth and friendliness. It's a place where one can find solace and inspiration.

Near the peak lord's house you'll see a more beautiful building. The building is a shrine. Inside of it is a statue of the main god they learn about.

However, the statue isn't alone along with it is the God's husband.

The crown prince and also now heavenly emperor Xie Lian & his husband Crimson Rain Sought Flower Hua Cheng.

If you're lucky enough (or you're Shen (Name) ) you'll see silver butterflies flying around.

It make's a wonderful painting , silver Butterflies in the moonlight.

From the outside the shrine has an ornate and elaborate design, with intricate carvings.

Inside the shrine, you'll find a serene and reverent atmosphere. 

To the side inside the shrine is a long table where offerings and candle's are lit.

His peak is always calm and right now that's where he wants to be not in his olders brother bamboo house with tension so high he's surprised the kid Luo Binghe hasn't fainted.

' It's the tea scene where he pours hot boiling tea on him ' he thinks.

He wishes he can move from his brother's side yet he can't.

The tea is poured , the child gasps and the master leaves looking back once at his brother.

Shen (Name) immediately goes to the poor disciple.

He grabs the towel from the table and gently wipe away the hot tea.

"I'm sorry, please don't mind my brother."

The child looks up naive brown eyes shining at him.

"N-no shifu it was this Disciples fault."

The peak lord can't help how his heart melts.

Shen (Name) from the past hated this scene and didn't understand why Shen Qingqiu did this. The Shen (Name) who he is now understands.

Luo Binghe's eye's and hair are similiar to Qiu Jianluo.

The child's name make it even worse. Luo Binghe..Luo...

Ning Yingying didn't help either immediately calling him A-Luo...

... something Qiu Haitang used to call her brother Luo-Ge...

Still, it's no excuse to what happened to this child but he can be sympathetic.

He'll show him around himself and leave he can't be absent from his peak but he can visit his brother and this child.

Maybe, in the way he'll see his cute shidi Liu Qingge.

Dropping off Luo Binghe at his dorm's in which he knows he won't be staying there longer Shen (Name) leave's and goes to the shrine.

He needs some advice..

He knows the god probably won't respond but he'll feel his presence and that's enough.

[itsscromp]

Syzoth/Reptile x reader platonic

One thing I haven't done yet on my page is grace you all with platonic cuddles, aka the best form. For this, I have a very interesting story so enjoy !!! Word count:1K

You were visiting Outworld to see how Syzoth was doing since you all saved Earthrealm and the universe. But also you two missed each other, you both formed a close friendship during the time together. The others saw it too. With the help from lord Liu Kang, He was able to open a portal to outworld for you so you can see him again.

Syzoth has never been so happy to see his best friend again, He always thought about the fun memories you two shared together, To have you here in person again is the up most blessing by the elder gods.

"Hey Syzoth" You smiled when you saw him tending to his garden.

"Can I help... Y/n !!" He smiled incredibly wide when he saw your face. "It feels like it has been eons since i last saw you"

"I had the same feeling here bud" You looked down into his garden.

"Wow this looks amazing, what kind of plants do you have ??"

"I usually tend to the traditional flowers and fruits and vegetables, But I managed to get some traditional outworld plants courtesy of empress Sindel for helping her"

"That's nice of her, what kind of plant is it ??"

"So this one is called a cold lace flower, and this one is called a Scotus. The Scotus can make an exceptional tea once it's fully bloomed and extracted."

You knew Syzoth was a plant enthusiast and it felt like home to hear him talk about his favourite plants again. Inviting you inside to make tea. You caught up on everything that has happened in your life, Like how you recently got a job at madam bo's.

"It's a dishwashing job but at least I'm earning some pocket money" You smiled softly sipping your tea.

"That's still a tremendous accomplishment my friend" He smiled as he patted your arm.

But as he patted your arm you noticed something... More like felt something strange that radiated off of him.

"Give me your hand please ??"

Syzoth was confused but obliged, giving you his hand you gently took hold of it. It was... unnaturally cold, like he's been touching snow for a long time.

"Your skin is cold..."

"Ah yes, Because of my reptilian powers, I am cold-blooded. That is also one of the reasons I like to garden, so I can be able to warm my blood up."

Wow, outworld had it's surprises every single time.

"Are all zaterrans cold-blooded ??"

"Only some who possess the reptilian transformation ability, I'm the only one who posses both abilities."

But regardless of that, It made you appreciate him even more. Making Syzoth the person he is, But later that night you noticed that it was unnaturally colder than normal, your mind rushed to Syzoth when you put two and two. You saw him in the living room trying to warm himself up with blankets, But it wasn't working.

"Syzoth are you cold ??"

"It's fine y/n, I can manage" But you noticed he was shivering, He was really cold. You tried to find something to warm him up so you opened a fire and brought him closer. It worked a little bit but not a lot, so you decided on another idea.

"Open the blankets"

He then opened the blankets confused about what was going on before you sat down and wrapped your arms around him, snuggling up to him as you wrapped the blankets again.

"Is this ok ??"

Syzoth slowly smiled.

"It is perfect my friend." You noticed he leant into your touch. Seeking your warmth. Smiling you snuggled closer to him.

Syzoth liked this, It felt comfortable. It felt right, He was with you his best friend. He gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and invited you closer. By the time the fire went out you two were off to bed.

"Are you sure your gonna be ok ??"

He stood there thinking for a bit, While yes he was warm now. there was something comforting when he hugged you, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like he was home.

"If you don't mind... can I stay with you tonight ??" He looked at you.

You smiled and nodded, inviting him into your guest room and climbed in, you opened your arms for him.

He climbed in and snuggled up to you, wrapping his arms around you. You doing so in return as well.

"Goodnight buddy..."

"Goodnight y/n."

He did not let go of you the entire time, Moments throughout the night he snuggled impossibly closer to you. If he could spend his life just hugging his best friend, he would take it up no problem.

The next morning you woke and saw Syzoth fast asleep, He looked so peaceful you smiled. Falling back asleep.

Cuddling has become a tradition for him every time you visit Outworld and see him, Even though he still won't admit he's a cuddly person. You can see how much this makes him happy, just being with you. His best friend in the whole of outworld.

One morning you woke up and noticed something heavy lying on your chest. What you saw made you smile wide. Syzoth got so comfortable with you last night that he transformed into his reptilian form and laid his head on your chest. It showed also how comfortable and safe he was with you. Running a hand gently over his scaly head, he softly leant into it even though he was still asleep.

Gently waking up and seeing you smiling, He transformed back to his human form but still snuggled up to you.

"Good morning my friend" He said tiredly.

"Morning Syzoth" You still gently ran your hand over his head, gently scratching his scalp as he sighed contently.

"Was I in my Reptilian form ??"

"Yeah... You looked comfy"

"I just felt nice and warm... and safe with you"

"That's what friends do Syzoth, They make each other feel safe and happy."

"I am forever grateful for our friendship y/n, I really am"

"Me too Syzoth, Me too"

Syzoth loved platonic cuddles so very much, He could hug you till the very end of time.

An important note to give your bestie a hug :D

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Emotional

@jegulus-microfic March 20 Word count 901

Previous part First part

The second he entered the house, he knew.

“Salazar’s balls!” He muttered under his breath. Remus turned his face to glance at him while still watching the hallway ahead for whatever had upset Regulus. “Be wary of what you say, Lupin. In fact, stay silent.” Remus looked at him questionably but kept his mouth shut. “My parents are here.”

“Regulus!” Orion Black appeared from the kitchen. “We wondered where you had gotten to.” Orion had a huge smile plastered on his face as he strode across the hall and embraced a horrified Regulus. 

“Good—Good evening, Father. I thought Mother was going to send word when you decided to return home.” Orion pulled away but left his large hands on Regulus’s shoulders, a smile still adorning his face. 

“Your mother had some business to take care of in London, so I thought I’d accompany her and see my loving son.” Regulus had to work extremely hard to keep the perplexed look off his face. His father had never been this friendly to him before. His father had always been cold and distant with him, only interacting with his sons if he was forced to by his wife. 

Remus hadn’t moved a muscle since the Black patriarch had appeared, but he still caught Orion’s attention. “And who is this? I don’t think I’ve met your little friend. Introduce us Regulus.” Remus tensed. Regulus looked at him. He would have laughed at the way Orion had called Remus little when the young man towered over the elder Lord Black if the situation hadn’t been so odd. 

“An acquaintance from Hogwarts, Father. Remus Lupin.” Orion narrowed his eyes once Regulus had spoken his name.

“Hmmm,” Orion hummed as he took in Remus’s appearance. “You’re the young werewolf who is in a relationship with my eldest son.” Remus swallowed nervously as Regulus tried to get his father’s attention away from Remus. “Not now, Regulus.” Orion waved him away. “Now, tell me, Remus, how is Sirius? I hope you are treating him well, or else you’ll have me to answer to.” He chuckled as he slapped a hand to Remus’s back. 

Remus turned his head wide-eyed, staring at Regulus. 

“Papa, are you feeling alright?” Regulus asked, looking warily at his father. 

“Of course, why do you ask?” Orion said pleasantly, Turning away from Remus.

“You’re being friendly.” Orion’s face fell. Regulus suddenly felt very guilty. “Sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“No, no, it’s understandable. Why don’t you and Remus run along, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” The smile was back on his face. Regulus looked worriedly at his father before he decided he needed to ensure he didn’t mention what had just been said to Walburga. 

“Papa, you’re not going to tell Maman about what you just said about Remus?” He prayed he hadn’t just made a mistake. 

“So he is a spy then?” Both boys paled. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe don’t mention how you know each other. You know how she reacts when you’re brother is mentioned.” 

The front door burst open as the last words left Orion’s mouth, and Walburga Black stood framed in the doorway. 

“Ah, a welcoming party, how kind.” Her sharp voice was free of any emotional tones. “Regulus, you are well, I presume?” Regulus shook the shock from himself, letting his mask fall back over his features.

“Yes, Maman. May I take your bag?” She thrust her dragon hide travel bag into his hands as she unclasped her cloak and threw it towards the wall, where a narrow cupboard opened and caught it before blending back into the wall again. 

“You appear to have a house guest, Regulus.” She sneered in Remus’s direction.

“Yes, I apologise, Maman. The Dark Lord paired us together for an assignment, and it was easier to keep him and less pungent than having to keep retrieving him from the wolf pack.” Her face turned up even more in disgust. 

“You brought a werewolf into our ancestral home?” She asked, her nostrils flaring. 

“I assure you, Maman, he is housebroken.” Her sneer turned to a smirk. 

“Well, as the Dark Lord has seen fit to pair you, I suppose I can allow it for a time.” Her eyes narrowed again. “Keep a close eye on the wolf. Do not let him wander where he pleases.” She left them in the hallway as she disappeared upstairs to her office. 

Orion smiled at them and patted them both on the shoulder before returning to the kitchen. 

“Well, that was pleasant,” Remus smirked down at Regulus. 

“Oh, shut up, wolf! Come on, let’s go warn the others.” 

They didn’t have long to let James know what had happened before they were called down to dinner. 

“I see you’re ‘friend’ hasn’t dressed for dinner,” Walburga noted as they sat, the three Blacks in their formal wear. Remus, to Regulus’s amusement, had rejected the lending of the dress robes Regulus had offered and didn’t blink at Walburga’s comments. 

The dinner went well. Orion was back to his silent self and barely spared a glance at Regulus. It wasn’t until she excused herself at the end of the meal that Orion opened up again. He cast a silencing charm on the dining room door. 

“So, you’re trying to kill the Dark Lord?”      

Next part

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 2

Durin Jr.: I miss fancy food.

Disa: At least we are not eating rocks.

Earth: *quakes*

Crop Illumination System: *dies*

Durin Jr.: We are now.

--

Elf Principal: Commander Galadriel?

Galadriel: Huh? 

Elf Principal: You wouldn’t be tripping balls in the middle of a military strategy meeting, would you, Commander?

Galadriel: I was but it won’t stop me from rendering an opinion. 

Elf Principal: What did you see?

Galadriel: Sauron eating Celebrimbor for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And a series of mid-day snacks.

Elf Principal: Nah. Eregion security is the stuff of legend.

Galadriel: So is Celebrimbor’s insecurity.

Elf Principal: Should have invited him to the Rings launch party.

--

Celebrimbor: Wash-resistant human?

Assistant: Still here.

Celebrimbor: Party invitations from Lindon?

Assistant: Not here.

Celebrimbor: Surely ’tis but an oversight, but just in case I’m going to try and invent the telegraph.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: You go, dude.

--

Bulgarian Folk Choir: We are here to indicate mysterious Eastern Otherness.

Probably Not Saruman: Consider it indicated. Any news?

Resurrected Acolyte: No. Homeless Wizard kicked my ass.

Probably Not Saruman: Perhaps I should unresurrect you.

Minion: Permission to slaughter his hobbit friends?

Probably Not Saruman: That would diminish their hostage value, but give it a whirl.

--

Dwarven Mountain Communication Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Mountain: Nope.

--

Galadriel: Come with us to check on Celebrimbor.

Elrond: You’re interrupting my occupational therapy.

Galadriel: Talk to me, friend.

Elrond: Considering your other friends, it is a moniker I no longer desire.

Elf Elder: Channel your rage by exerting control.

Galadriel: That sounds kind of Sauronian.

Elrond: Just to be contrary, I’ll go.

Elf Elder: Good call, but promise me you’ll try yoga and meditation.

--

Homeless Wizard: I found a stick. Should my name be Stick Man?

Minions: Come with us and we’ll sort it out.

Homeless Wizard: *swears in Quenya*

Minions: Wheeee!

Hobbits: Wheeee!

Homeless Wizard: Field notes. Swearing in Quenya raises a hurricane. Will try to swear in Sindarin going forward.

--

Celebrimbor: Please leave.

Sauron: I have ring intel.

Celebrimbor: Please stay.

Sauron: Eh. I gather I’m not wanted.

Celebrimbor: If you tell me about the rings, I’ll give you dinner.

Sauron: They worked.

Celebrimbor: Was there a party?

Sauron: Yes, but they didn’t invite you because nobody likes you except me.

Celebrimbor: My next move is to get drunk on ancient booze.

Sauron: Or you could make some rings for humans.

Celebrimbor: Don’t tell me what to make.

Sauron: Guess we’ll do this the hard way.

Forge: *bursts into flames*

Divine Light: *illuminates all*

Angelic Choir: Do we have to?

Sauron: Sing, bitches.

Angelic Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Sauron: Have you considered accepting me as your personal saviour?

Celebrimbor: Holy shit, you clean up well.

Sauron: How ‘bout them rings?

Celebrimbor: Sorry, did you say something?

Sauron: *snaps fingers*

Celebrimbor: Ah! Yes! Rings! Circular objects made of metal! 

Sauron: I better tone it down if I want his brain to work.

--

Letter to Dwarves: Lord Celebrimbor requests your presence.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: Funny how that one went through.

------------------

Recap for Season 2, Episode 1

[yanderestarangel]

Omg you write RAIDEN? GOD YES BY THE ELDER GODS i need MK11 dark Raiden with an FTM reader. I just need a fanfic of him coming back home all stressed and the reader offering to help him out but the reader slowly realising how different Raiden has become, of course smut and rough play if you don't mind

Sorry if i sound desperate i'm just happy someone writes for MK11 Raiden

✰ RAYS OF PLEASURE | DARK RAIDEN X FTM READER

TW: dacryphilia, rough sex, degradation, creampie, ftm reader, vaginal sex, blowjob, fingering, extreme, praise kink, afab anatomy

A/N: I love seeing people so excited about their favorite characters and I'm happy to make their wishes come true. I started here on Tumblr as an FTM writer precisely because I couldn't find fanfics with my favorite characters - one of them at the time being dark!raiden.

You were dating a god, Lord Raiden, he was a good man, serious but sweet, but that night everything changed.

You saw Raidem arrive, with different clothes and his previously white eyes now red with rays of the same color.

He went to the entrance of your house, putting his shoes outside still in silence.

"-Oh, hi my prince." -Raiden spoke calmly but coldly, colder than normal, now, he was no longer the kind god, he was extremely different.

Raiden's lips curled into a sinister smile as he noticed your curiosity. He approached you slowly, the dark aura emanating from him making your heart race. His voice was laced with an unsettling charm as he spoke. "-Ah, my love, you have a keen eye. Indeed, this is Shinnok's amulet. It holds immense power... power that I have fully embraced."

As he drew closer, you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "-I have shed my former self, my dear. The righteousness that once defined me has been replaced by a darker desire. A desire for control, for dominance."

His touch sent shivers down your spine, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. Raiden voice dropped to a low, seductive whisper: "-I have come to claim what is rightfully mine, to indulge in the pleasures that have long been denied to me. And you, my love, are at the center of it all."

Raiden's hand trailed down your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. His eyes burned with a newfound intensity, their red glow piercing into your soul. "-Tonight, my love, we shall explore the depths of our darkest desires. I will show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, pleasures that only a god can provide."

His words feel a surge of anticipation through your body, your heart pounding in your chest. You surrendered yourself to his dark allure, knowing that this encounter would be unlike anything you had experienced before, with a wicked grin, Raiden led you towards the bedroom, ready to unleash the full extent of his newfound power and passion upon you.

Raiden's dark transformation unleashed a primal desire within him, and he wasted no time in taking control. When he threw you onto the couch, his dominance was palpable. Your body shuddered with anticipation as he parted your legs, his fingers teasingly brushing your clothed pussy, the fabric dampened under his touch, evidence of the desire pulsing through you.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Raiden presented his thick, throbbing cock to you, demanding your attention. His commanding presence overwhelmed you, and you eagerly obeyed, parting your lips to take him into your mouth, his taste, a mix of salt and musk, filled your senses, fueling the fire that burned inside you. Your tongue danced along his length, swirling around the sensitive head, eliciting a deep moan from Raiden, he reveled in the power he had over you, gripping your hair tighter as he guided your movements.

Each stroke of his mouth brought him closer to the edge, his cock growing harder and more deliciously swollen with each passing moment. As your greedily sucked and licked his cock, your own desire grew, your pussy throbbed with anticipation, the wetness between your legs soaked throuh your panties, aching to be touched and pleased, but Raiden had other plans, his focus solely on his own pleasure for now. Raiden's grip tightened on your hair as he thrust deeper into his mouth, establishing a rhythm that matched the intensity of his new power.

His mastery of touch and the strength of his movements brought you to the brink of ecstasy. The taste of his precum mixed with his saliva, coating your tongue with an intoxicating flavor. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He looked at you with hunger in his eyes, his voice dripping with dominance: "-On your knees, my love. Present yourself to me." Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest.

Raiden approached you, his hand caressing your cheek before going down your neck, putting his entire cock back down your throat, making you choke and tear, Raiden's fingers passed over your tears, then tested them with a sadistic smile. As the intensity increased, He could no longer contain himself. With a grunt of satisfaction, he released his hot load deep into your mouth, filling it with his essence, you swallowed hard, savoring every drop, savoring his pleasure. Raiden's eyes gleamed with a mix of desire and dominance as he saw the hunger in your eyes. He wasted no time in pushing you back onto the sofa, his hands gripping your hips with a firmness that left in the room for resistance. With a swift motion, he turns your panties off, exposing your wet and needy pussy to his hungry gauze.

"-You are nothing but a filthy, eager cunt, craving to be filled, you're just a dirty little boy with a tight pussy." -Raiden growled, his voice laced with a deliciously wicked tone. He positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds, teasing you mercilessly. Aching to be taken, you arched your back, silently begging for him to enter you.

Without further hesitation, Raiden slammed his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through your body as he pounded into you with an unrelenting force. Each thrust pushed you further into a state of raw ecstasy, the intensity of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

His grip on your hips tightened, leaving marks as he pulled you closer, urging you to take all of him, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the room, punctuated by your moans of pleasure and his grunts of satisfaction. You could feel the power radiating from him with each powerful thrust, driving you to the brink of pleasure. "-You're so small and weak, I could easily destroy you, I'm going to mark that little pussy as mine, do you hear (Y/N)?"

As your bodies moved in perfect sync, the intensity escalated. Raiden's lips claimed yours, the taste of dominance and desire mingling on your tongues. His kisses were demanding, his teeth nipping at your lips, marking you as his own, the combined sensations of his cock deep inside you and his lips claiming yours sent you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure, you cried from the overstimulation of Raiden's hard cock hitting your uterus, making you tremble. "-Awww, is that the best you can do? Stupid hole, I’m gonna fuck you like the little slut you are.”

Raiden's pace quickened, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his own release while pushing you towards the peak of ecstasy. "-You're so pathetic its adorable, whimpering on my dick like a cum-starved slut, is that all you’ve got? Pathetic slut."

With a final, powerful thrust, Raiden's cock pulsed inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths. The sensation of his release triggered your own orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing through your body, you cried out his name, surrendering yourself to the blissful chaos that engulfed you.

Collapsing onto the sofa, your bodies intertwined, you both lay there, basking in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Raiden's gauze softened, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "-You have pleased me, my good boy." -He whispered, a hint of tenderness breaking through the dominant facade.

[astheforcewillsit]

The Most Tired (ao3 link) Summary:

The war has ended, with Order 66 somewhat averted. As the Republic picks up the pieces, Commander Fox deals with moving on. Or After the Chancellor is killed & Order 66 fails, Fox is unable to live alone due to his mental health. Here are moments where he navigates life with the one brother who volunteered first to care for him–Rex.   “Thire–he invited me to The 79s. I’m thinking about going,” Fox takes the empty seat across from Rex and sits down with his mug of caf. He downs it after his declaration. The worst of it is out, and Rex hasn’t chewed his head off yet. Not like he had at the beginning of their arrangement, when he’d felt Fox was still recklessly endangering himself.   Not when guilt had practically orbited off of the Captain like he was his own solar system. Fox tries not to think of that. Of the immediate end of the war, of Order 66 and Quinlan slicing his hand off as Fox failed (again) to resist an order.

It shouldn’t take as much effort for him to stand in front of Rex and tell him that he wants to go to the 79. But for some reason, it does. He finds himself as nervous as a cadet being dragged in front of his commanding officer after failing one drill too many. They used to joke that Rex’s ‘experience outranks everything’ inflated their youngest brother’s ego, made him feel invincible just because he got to be paired with the two most reckless Jedi in GAR. 

But it’s no joke now. At least not to Fox. Rex looks intimidating. He feels bigger than life. His experience has changed him, hallowed him almost. Being the former Captain to a one-time Sith Lord will do that, he supposes. To his relief though, Rex isn’t looking up at him. 

Instead he sits silently at the breakfast table, brown eyes climbing a mountain of datapads.  Finger scrolling through pages of information. Fox is familiar with some of their content. A page or two has passed over his desk, especially in his new role working beside Bail Organa in the Senate. 

Mentally, he names off what Rex must be looking at. 

Names of brothers who need funds. 

Relief for systems that need relief from the war. 

A fifth  summon to testify against former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker–most likely to turn into the sixth after Rex refuses to answer it. 

In the soft hum of the morning light, he cannot help but notice Rex looks much older than he should. It bothers him–that the youngest of the batch looks like the oldest. The most tired. 

Acts like it too. With that reminder, Fox prepares himself. His fingers dig into sweaty palms. He breathes deeply into the Force, just like Quinlan had taught him months ago. Months before Order 66. Months before…

Fox steadies his beating heart. Inwardly he repeats his new mantra, You’re not in front of a senator. You’re not standing before the Chancellor. This is–

“Rex.” He clears his throat, attempting to calm the storm. 

The Captain–Commander–Rex stops what he’s doing. Honey eyes capture Fox’s own, though the sternness softens as Rex takes in his elder brother. For a moment, he looks young again. Excited to see his oldest sibling come downstairs to greet him in the morning. It’s almost domestic. 

It’s gone not a moment later. 

“Morning Fox. I thought you were still asleep, you usually don’t wake up this early. Not anymore at least.” He tries not to think of that as a reminder of how badly he’s fallen off. Tries to tell himself his brother meant no harm by it. “Good morning, Rex. I just…ah…” He starts off weak. Anxious. Apparently Rex catches on. “ Need something?” The younger one rescues him. “Um…yes. Thire commed me last night. Said he hadn’t seen more for a while and asked if I wanted to go out with him,” Fox clears his throat in a second attempt to steady his voice. Breathe. He reminds himself, just breathe. Fox notes that he has earned Rex’s full attention. The datapads are abandoned, and he can feel the full weight of the Captain’s gaze on him. 

It was unsettling after Fives, and it’s still unsettling now. Though to Rex’s credit, he tries not to look intimidating. But it’s evident he’s concerned and considering the request. 

“Thire–he invited me to The 79s. I’m thinking about going,” Fox takes the empty seat across from Rex and sits down with his mug of caf. He downs it after his declaration. 

The worst of it is out, and Rex hasn’t chewed his head off yet. Not like he had at the beginning of their arrangement, when he’d felt Fox was still recklessly endangering himself.  Not when guilt had practically orbited off of the Captain like he was his own solar system.

Fox tries not to think of that. 

Of the immediate end of the war, of Order 66 and Quinlan slicing his hand off as Fox failed ( again) to resist an order. It had shocked him at first, how three years of love and devotion had found its end at a blaster bullet and the sting of a lifesaver. But the war had taken it’s toll on them all—Quinlan was no exception. And the Jedi was just as confused as them–disoriented and terrified. 

Then he’d heard what Kenobi had done to Skywalker. And figured he got off easy with his robotic hand. 

Still, he hoped wherever Quinlan had run to, wherever the Jedi who had fled the Republic had run to after the darkest hour that was known as Order 66, were safe.

Post that incident, Fox had tried to function as a normal human being.

With his robotic hand, with his lost sense of purpose. With his brother’s who had abandoned him during the war—after Fives—not knowing how to approach him. Surprisingly, It had been Rex who had bridged the gap between them first. They—Cody, Wollffe, Bly—they were all waiting on Rex anyway. Just as they always had. Always considered Rex’s feelings over his own. Never once asked about how he felt after Fives died. Never asked why he’d kill a younger brother. Never asked about the maniac he was serving under. 

For some reason three Commanders couldn’t put their heads together to decide how to approach their own sibling, and had to wait for a Captain to make the move first. 

And so Rex had found him, alone, cleaning out his office after his position had been officially cut from the government. Another purpose taken from him. Another rug pulled from beneath his feet. The death of Palpatine had shed light on years of abuse faced specifically by the Coursecent Guard, and keeping clones in the position regardless of their personal feelings was not received well by the people or the Senate. Fox understood the sentiment, but he wished he had a choice. If left up to him, he would have died doing that job. And he planned to do just that. 

And so he had packed up what had been his life for the past three years, stuffing what little belongings he had into his box. He hadn’t even noticed Rex’s arrival. The man was  an ARC Trooper even when plain clothed. He hadn’t noticed the way the younger man had gravitated towards the near vacant desk, save for a lit data pad with a very long, very detailed note. A suicide note. 

When Fox had found Rex there, in the empty HQ, he was nearly knocked to his knees by the raw guilt and horror on Rex’s face. Quinlan had once explained to him what having the Force felt like. At the time, Fox did not think he could comprehend what it meant.

But in that small moment between he and Rex, in which the younger loosely held onto the data pad, a single tear rolling down his cheek, Fox finally understood. The sadness was suffocating. 

He supposes that’s why he’s here, in Rex’s home. Under the watchful eyes of the sometimes Captain—sometimes Commander of the 501 st .  He tries not to be humiliated that his youngest brother was chosen to watch him. But Wolffe and Cody are needed throughout the galaxy, as few other clones actively sign for military duty now given the choice.

And Bly…Bly’s still dealing with his own issues after Ayla. Sometimes, Fox thinks he should be the one under surveillance. 

“Thinking about going?” Rex calls him back to the present. 

“I’m going.” He affirms to himself as much as he does Rex. The Captain raises a brow. 

“You sure you’re ready for that? The last time you were at the 79s…” You were jumped by the 501st. It goes unsaid, but Force is it loud. “That was last time. You said I should go out more. Bail—Senator Organa says I should do more.” He tries caf again, to calm his nerves. There’s none left. Rex slides him his own mug.

“There’s going to be a new bill we’ll be debating later on this week. I’ve looked over it with Bail.” He mentions again,  his voice clipped, “I imagine we’ll be in session for the entire day if not more. Some members of the New Jedi Council will be there, so it’s going to be even longer.”

Rex chuckles, and Fox is happy that despite his anxiety, his brother can laugh, “The New Jedi Council? I wonder how long those younglings will even last. I think interim Jedi Council is more accurate, until the others return.” Fox doesn’t protest, though he doesn’t agree. They’re at least knights, to his understanding. And after the fiasco that was Order 66, he doubts the older Jedi will return. He doubts they even know about the chips, about what’s going on. But political disagreements are for the Senate floor. Not for conversations with his brother. 

He simply nods, and waits for his brother’s answer. 

He has worked this through his head, roleplayed it with his therapist. This shouldn't be hard. But waiting for Rex to pass his verdict is agony. 

“Alright. You don’t owe me an explanation. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” Rex runs a hand through his hair. It’s grown past standard regulations, and now a nest of blond curls sit atop of his head. He sighs. He acts much older than he should. It bothers Fox. 

 He’s tried to address it before, but Rex has more walls than Coursecent has layers. He doubts even Cody has managed to knock them down since the war began.

Though Fox tries when he can. 

“If it’s too much, just let me know. I’ll be in the area anyway.” Fox nods. He wants to ask what Rex will be doing next to the 79s at night, but decides against it.

“I’m glad you’re wanting something for yourself. I think that’s good.” Rex says with a smile, “And try not to drink, you don’t know what that does to your meds.”

Fox three years ago would have reminded Rex who was the eldest. But this Fox is just glad someone cares about him. Though to be honest, he has a lot of someones who care about him. 

He can’t wait to go to the 79s.

[urwendii]

It is time to reward the bravery of the Ring Bearers and Bilbo is summoned to the Forges of Aulë.

A little tribute to the @fellowshipofthefics discord, I'm not exactly a Hobbit girlie but writing Bilbo is always a delight and you guys are always so kind.

Some Bagginshield flavours. Taking some liberties with canon because I can.

Bilbo had a very confusing day. If one could say so. It all started after his second breakfast when the Lady Galadriel came to visit him and Frodo- oh and what a breakfast it had been, Bilbo could not prove it but the quality of food in the Undying Lands really was outstanding. Frodo had even said so last time when they had taken a stroll in their garden. It had been a beautiful day with a blue sky and a crisp autumn wind. Bilbo loved the golden trees so very much.

But he was saying, ah yes. A very confusing day indeed. The Lady Galadriel had been accompanied by her husband the Lord Celeborn, a kind fella who answered a lot of Bilbo's questions about the technicalities of one of his Sindarin translation of a poem he had found in the library in Rivendell. Bilbo might even finish his work on this before the moon came full again. The Lord and his Lady had drank tea with them but refused any food - elves were strange like that, even so he might have to clarify they were indeed less strange than the others inhabitants of said mystical Lands. And indeed Bilbo had met some of them, as strange as they were. Looking like Elves or Men for most but Bilbo was no fool and could see the very much established otherness shining through their raiments.

Oh he was very fond of Gandalf indeed, and so glad his friend was there even though he was called Olórin here and that sounded too strange to Bilbo and so he kept calling him Gandalf because that was what his friend's name was for him.

So well today he was meeting another ! Ah yes for it was the purpose of the Lady Galadriel's visit. He was told to meet in Valmar - the city of many bells! Oh Bilbo was very excited indeed, Tírion he had visited often and often remained in the Palace's library - so many books ! So much knowledge. He felt a young hobbit again. Looked like one for that purpose too. Strange Lands indeed.

It had been peculiar that Frodo's presence was - if welcomed - not strictly mandatory and his nephew informed he would not mind staying home. Sometimes Frodo would simply stay and sleep. Ah, Bilbo could not blame him.

So he had gone. With the Lady and the Lord. To Valmar. The city of Maiar. The beings that were like Gandalf. And like another one whose name was not to be said too much because it seemed to greatly vexed many. Bilbo still had questions about his ring though. Ah well. He had packed a healthy elevenses and lunch (as well as other snacks, one could not be too cautious after all.)

Valmar stood proud and glorious, even outshining his most anticipated imaginings. The Lady and her husband seemed to know their way and up they went to a hill where a large building stood, decorated with many banners Bilbo recognised as Manwë's heraldry. The Elder King. Bilbo had never met him in person.

But it had not been the King awaiting him but his Herald. Standing tall and proud, Eönwë always seemed vexed, to Bilbo's humble opinion, there was a solemn expression on his face but the corners of his eyes had that tightness that Gandalf sometimes had with him in their younger years, when he seemed particularly exasperated by something Bilbo would do or say. Which was unfair because Bilbo had always been a delight. According to his good opinion of himself at least.

Eönwë was slightly intimidating though, in the way Ainur were - well aside Gandalf, but he was weird. He had been the one welcoming Frodo and Bilbo when they had reached the White Shores, making a grand speech with fancy words Bilbo had tried to pay attention too - he had been very hungry at that time! Now Bilbo wanted to ask him all sorts of questions.

This time and because he had been chewing on one of his snacks just before, he heard the words said and nodded when he was asked if he understood.

Well Bilbo was not stupid thank you very much. He was told to go with Eönwë to Aulë's forges - the Elder King had ruled on a decree, it was to be a formal thank you to the Ring Bearers, Frodo and Bilbo and Bilbo's award was different than his nephew and so he had to go to the Forges.

Why? He asked and asked again but every answer was similar to the way Gandalf would sometimes answer his queries, riddles that only made sense if you were a strange wizard.

Eönwë said not much actually, he monotously told Bilbo he would fly them here, the Lady and Lord were met with a polite bow and to pass his greeting to the Lady's father. And then off they went.

Flying! Oh Bilbo had once flew on the back of a Great Eagle! How amazing it had been. Ah. He missed these times. Now gone with the long years of his life but never regretted once.

He inquired on the method of transportation, to which the Herald wordlessly replied by opening large silver wings attached to his back. Bilbo had seen many wonders in his life but being carried by a winged person - not a great Eagle! Oh what a joy to be alive! The trip did not take long but it certainly made Bilbo hungry again and he told Eönwë so when they landed in front of a towering building where a cacophony of hammers hiting metal could he heard.

That seemed to confuse the Maia as he stood awkwardly by Bilbo's side while he sat down on the stair to unpack a loaf of bread, some honey, nuts, cheese and berries.

All better he decided after finishing eating. The polite thing to do had been to offer some to Eönwë but that seemed to make the Maia even less at ease. Strange strange creatures indeed. Ah well. More for him then.

Eönwë informed him they didn't eat - there was no need apparently and Bilbo thought that maybe that was why he looked not exactly really happy. Maybe Sauron would have been less evil if he too had some food once in a while. Bilbo could not imagine living his life without and would have certainly shared some of his snacks in exchange for seeing his ring once more.

The Halls were immense, even by a tall person standard but Bilbo could not help but stare at everything, there were wonders hung on the walls, resplendent armours exhibited, swords of ancient times, mundane objects, fountains, ingenious mechanism, clocks. What a lively place!

An imposing shape came to them, bushy red beard and golden eyes, a sturdy leather apron tied around his waist. Aulë welcomed both of them, his voice booming in the high ceiling.

"Welcome!" And said other things to them to Eönwë in what he learned to be Valarin. What a delightful language to try learning! So complicated and challenging. The Lady Galadriel had told him only one Elve ever mastered it and Bilbo was confused to learn he was not there. Oh yes he needed to finish the records of the First Age about the House of Fëanor and his sons.

That reminded him Frodo had mentioned something interesting the other evening during dinner. They had had a delicious potage from the gardens' vegetables - carrots, butternut, potatoes and garlic.

Oh, but he should focus on the conversation.

He asked Lord Aulë - or Lord Mahal if he knew the engineering behind Sting, his and Frodo's beloved sword.

"It grew blue when orcs were near."

Aulë seemed delighted with Bilbo's following questions, so many new things to learn that Bilbo did not immediately register when they entered a smithy, and another person was standing there.

A discreet cough had been what refocused him on his surroundings, finding Eönwë standing near...a dwarf.

Bilbo blinked. Once. Twice. Oh. Almost swoon.

Oh.

"I see you haven't lost your constant chatter." Thorin remarked and Bilbo would possibly need a seat soon if he could have one, yes thank you, ah.

"A prerogative of mine own creations." Aulë said. Eönwë explained this was Bilbo's gift. From the King.

Bilbo possibly would have said something if he had not been busy gaping and then sniffling and then- ah a hug felt nice, very nice indeed. He hadn't had such a nice hug in so long.

"You need to meet Frodo." He said amongst other things and "Oh Gandalf will be joyful to see you again." And "I need to tell you about the Ring I found." And "I'm so happy." And so many words that would take too long to record in pages for some feelings could only be felt. He would write them down though.

There and back again. Ah yes, very nice indeed.

[madame-fear]

lucerys x reader who is known throughout westeros as a really good singer aka “the realms songbird”. They meet in some randoms lords feast where shes hired as entertainment for the night and rhanerya invites her to kings landing permanently

*ೃ༄ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈��𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆.ೃ࿐

— summary : request — word count : 2.7k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x singer! fem! reader — genre : fluff

Loud chattering was widely heard all over the room; the large gothic-styled chandeliers lightening the entire room with the flames of it's candles. The night was rather unique, as it was a large feast full of Lords, Ladies, Princes, and Princesses.

And you were there thanks to one Lord who had once heard your beautiful voice singing in another event, and thought you'd make a great entertainment for the Lords feast. Despite you were used to being around Lords, or high-standing royals, you could never help but feel lucky to be invited to such events, as you were considered Westeros greatest singer, known as “the Realms Songbird”.

Your melodic, preciously harmonic voice echoed through the walls of the large, brightly lit room. Some royals talked with each other, some did their own thing, and others simply stood there mesmerised at such beauty of a voice, fascinated by the high and low levels of singing you could reach — it was truly like no others. And amongst the people that stood amongst the thrilled crowd of people that was delighted on hearing your singing, there stood young Prince Lucerys Velaryon: son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the future Lord of Driftmark; whom couldn't take his hazel eyes off of you.

His mother stood by his side, talking and joking around with another Lord that House Targaryen was familiarised with. His elder brother Jacaerys stood by his right side, being pleased at the way your voice sounded. Unknowingly, Luke was too absorbed in his own thoughts and staring in an intrigued manner at how preciously gracious you looked that he never realised his mother eventually waved goodbye to said Lord, and turned to look at you as well — obviously noticing her son, Lucerys, staring at you in a rather dumbfounded manner. The Princeling assumed you must've been the well-known singer throughout Westeros, but he was still curious in knowing more about you. A broad grin was formed at the edge of his mother's rosy lips.

“She has quite the voice, does she not?” her soft voice brought his attention back to reality, turning to his side, and looking at his mother, a bit distracted after snapping him from his thoughts. “Ah, yes, yes she does.” clearing his throat, he responded slightly mumbling and stumbling upon his words, right before darting his eyes back to you on the stage. Jace briefly darted his eyes to his mother and younger brother talking, not being as distracted as Lucerys was, and quietly snickering at noticing the way his brother's face was entirely flushed at being caught red-handed.

Luke looked at Jace with furrowed eyebrows at hearing his brother's teasing snicker, then went back to immediatly admiring you. The platinum haired Queen couldn't help but lightly chuckle at the notorious scarlet glint that formed on his lips the moment she noticed, both of you had briefly made eye contact, and you flashed him a quick, warm smile. She knew her son better than he knew himself, and she knew exactly what was going on his mind... and his heart, obviously.

“It's no wonder why she is referred to the realms Songbird.” Rhaenyra spoke once again, the gentle grin remaining on her lips. In response, Lucerys simply nodded, quite mindlessly. “Why don't we go talk to her after she's finished with the entertainment night? You seem quite mesmerised by her, don't you?” she playfully teased, as the green-eyed boy darted his gaze towards his mother quite embarrassed, making his light blushing turn into an increasingly intense crimson shade; both his eyebrows raised.

“I- No! Well, I mean, yes- but, only because she is an excellent singer! T-That's it!” stammering slightly, his eyes shyly gazed at the floor, trying to excuse himself somehow for not taking his eyes off of you. Deep down inside, he had to admit his mother was right, but he was too embarrassed to admit it outloud. Seeing his reaction, Rhaenyra chuckled lightly. “I can see the way you stare at her, sweet boy. You can't hide anything from me.” she kept teasing, in a low voice; earning no response from a very embarrassed and flustered Luke.

“Oh, isn't it just great? Another distraction for when we train.” jace teased, slightly nudging his brother's arm with his elbow, as the eldest Velaryon looked down at his brother, whose face kept getting of an even darker shade of crimson at every tease, and the fact that your eyes remained fixed on him didn't help. “Your cheeks could even resemble Caraxes' scales!” jace retorted with a loud chuckle, Rhaenyra doing the same as she heard her son continue teasing his younger brother. If Luke could, he'd disappear right there, and hide from everything.

After you finished with your singing for the night for the feast, you thanked everyone by a hand waving and a polite, gentle smile as you were loudly cheered at for your astonishing performance, which was one better than the previous one. As everyone clapped rapturously, Rhaenyra noticed you beginning to get off the stage that was exclusively made for you and your performance, and took hold of Lucerys hand gently, yet firmly as she leaned closer to him and whispered: “Let's go talk to her for a bit, Luke.” her whispering tone seemed notoriously avid to approach you.

His eyes widened as his heart loudly thumped against his chest with growing nerves. And before he could object or protest against his mother's statements, she dragged him by the hand towards you, as you began to leave the scenario, Jacacerys following from behind — also keen at the idea of talking to you, and seeing the way Lucerys would react when being near you.

As you made your way towards the gardens of the castle chosen for the feast — which you had the absolute liberty to do so as you were a very special guest — you heard some hurried footsteps coming from behind of you, causing you to turn your head around curiously; encountering yourself with a blonde, nearly white haired woman with clear blue eyes, dragging the young brunette boy with hazel eyes you had previously made eye contact with by his hands, whom seemed quite flustered and nervous, plus another boy slightly taller than him with coffee coloured eyes. You assumed the two boys must be brothers, and from her aspect and her blonde hair, you assumed she must be from House Targaryen.

“My dear! Hello, apologies for disturbing you.” the woman spoke with a calm, sweet tone. “I am Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, and these are my sons, prince Jacaerys, and Lucerys.” she introduced herself and her boys, and out of respect, you curtsied at the three of them with a polite growing smile. Luke didn't say anything, he simply awkwardly smiled at you with a tint of pink forming on his cheeks as he stood right beside his mother; you were truly more gracious up close.

Jace, as he stood by his brother's side, had the biggest grin, realising how Luke was intensely blushing at your mere presence. “It's a pleasure to meet you Princess, and your sons.” you retorted, as your kind smile remained on your lips. Your eyes briefly stared at Lucerys while you spoke, and much like him, you could feel a faint blushing. “Your voice is quite enchanting, sweet girl. It's always a pleasure to have you participate in the Lord's events.”

It was true, she had seen you on previous events she had been invited to, as well as Jacaerys; but this was Luke's first time seeing you, even if he had indeed heard of your recognition as the songbird of Westeros. A polite, slightly shy smile from her compliments was seen on your face, and you couldn't help but giggle and briefly look to the ground in awkwardness. Gods, Luke thought that was extremely adorable of you to do, and he couldn't help but feel his heart fluttering for you.

“Thank you, princess. I am truly honoured.” as your hands gently clasped together in front of your body, lifting your gaze this time. And before Rhaenyra could say something else, or even you, Jace decided to speak up — a bit unfortunately to Lucerys.

“Of course, my Lady. Your voice is tremendously lovely and beautifully melodic. I think Luke enjoyed your performance a bit more than he should, isn't that so?” with a broad, teasy grin, he turned to look at Luke, whom immediatly also returned the gaze, and stared down at the floor in embarrassment. It was a terrible attempt to hide the crimson glint on his cheeks, because even you could see it, to the point where it provoke a snickering laugh out of you. Much like he did, you thought Lucerys was a seeminly loving boy who already stole your heart from the first glance — and, he was even charming in his own little way.

“Thank you, my Princes. I'm grateful to know that.” you retorted, looking at the family with a shy smile on your lips. “I saw you looking at me previously, my Prince Lucerys... and I must admit I was a bit anxious, hoping you'd like my performance.” you admitted, in a low voice tone. His green eyes widened as they turned to look at you, a bit amused you said that. Nyra's lips quivered as they tried to contain a broad grin from appearing at the moment, and Jace just snickered loudly and, once again, nudged playfully his brother's arm.

Before Lucerys could properly reply to your statement, his lips got partly open, but mere stuttering upon his own words came from them. He was too embarrassed to be able to even say something coherent, not wanting to make a fool out of himself in front of you. Quickly, he cleared his throat, and stood straightly, trying not to seem too nervous in front of you — and he couldn't help but slightly smirk to himself at seeing how your own cheek colour mimicked his own, shy one.

“I-I did, my Lady. I thought your performance was mesmerising, and I'm keen in seeing you more often.” a wave of courage washed over him, feeling a bit more bold now; seeing your cheeks turn even redder than his own and a toothy grin appearing on your precious lips made him feel even more confident. His mother and his elder brother stood there, silently admiring the scene, trying not to gush too obviously at what was happening. Perhaps, Rhaenyra set-up plan was working. It seemed to be, at least.

“And you will, surely.” you replied, smiling widely at him. “I must admit, I always feel lucky of having the opportunity of being invited to such events. Especially when I meet nice royals like yourselves.” you continued, and Nyra mimicked your wide smile at hearing your sweet words. “Though, I'm afraid, I soon must leave, unfortunately.” the smile that was on your lips dropped lightly, with notorious disappointment, and a low spirited vibe tinted on your face. Curiously, Rhaenyra slightly tilted her head to her side, and raised an eyebrow at you, immediatly noticing how your previously jolly expression seemed to have washed away.

“I see.” she replied softly. “And where will you be going now?” a sigh escaped your lips as she inquired, but a polite smile remained on your lips, shrugging. “I have to leave back to the village nearby. J-Just... no where in particular, really, you know?” you stammered gently on your words, yet, she understood perfectly what you meant, right away. No further explanation needed. “Oh, right. I see.” was all she managed to say, before she began thinking of another proper answer.

“Well, it doesn't have to be that way anymore. There's no need for you to wander all by yourself in the village.” as a broad grin formed on her lips, you furrowed your eyebrows, intrigued by her words, tilting your head to your side like she previously did. “Wh-What do you mean, your Grace?” your words came out uncertain, awaiting for her response. She took a deep breath, and took a brief look at both her sons, whom were also awaiting for what their mother would say. Her eyes focused especifically on Luke, smiling at him, and then she darted her eyes towards you.

“What I'm trying to say is, come live with us to Kings Landing... permanently.”

As her words escaped from her lips, your eyes widened in great surprise — both Jace and Luke did the same as you did, in complete shock; but, actually, it was a rather pleasant surprise. Most especially for Lucerys, whom had rapidly taken a very fond and special liking to you the second his eyes were fixed on you, being pretty much the same thing that had happened to you when you shared eye contact with the brunette boy. Some slurred, confused mumbling escaped your lips, being unable to get the right words out of your throat.

“I-I... I am deeply grateful for the offer, your Grace, b-but...” you paused a bit, taking deep breaths. Of course, you would be thrilled to accept her proposal, knowing you'd get more time to get to know and spend with Lucerys, but you didn't want to bother. “... I-I really don't want to be a trouble. I don't deserve such opportuni–” her eyes widened at your own words, shaking her head rapidly, and interrupting you. “No, no, my dear, I insist! You will be of no trouble at all for us.” a shy grin began quivering on your lips, as she approached closer, and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“In fact...” she continued, turning around to look at her sons. “Our family will be more than thrilled to host you as our permanent guest. Your presence will be more than loved and cherished, right?” at their mother's words, both boys smiled joyfully, ans greatly. Jace was excited — mostly for his brother —, and Luke goofily grinned at his mother, his blushing being even more notorious with every passing second.

His mind already created images of how delightful it'd be to be by your side always, and Rhaenyra, knowingly, flashed him a playful wink before she turned to look back at you. “So, what do you say?” she asked, and continued before you could officially answer her. “After all, our family would be more than delighted to have you living with us. We promise, we'll support and help you reach all of your dreams and hopes, my sweet girl.”

At her soothing words, you briefly gazed down to the ground, thinking about her words. But, you knew exactly what your answer would be.

You lifted your gaze back to hers, with a broad smile, and threw yourself at her, embracing her into a hug, which she immediatly returned, and rather warmly — some giggles escaping your lips. “Thank you, your Grace. I would be truly, deeply honoured to stay with you permanently.” you whispered to her, as she rubbed your back up and down. “Please, just call me Rhaenyra, sweet girl.” she whispered back, and both of you pulled apart slowly.

The platinum haired woman then turned around looking at her boys — but always fixed on the silently excited Luke —, and her hand remained on your arm. “Off we go, now.” she said, as she took hold of your arm, looping yours around hers, and both boys nodded. As both Velaryons turned around and began making their way outside to the castle, your eyes were fixed on Luke; his own green ones staring at you lovingly, and flashing you a timid grin before he fully walked behind his brother.

As you leisurely began walking with Rhaenyra side by side, she leaned closer to you, and whispered. “You know, I see the way Luke and you stare at each other.” she teased, making you look at her with wide eyes and an intense fluster, noticing she had a proud smirk on her lips. She guided you outside the castle, and before you could either deny or say something about it, she continued.

“Why don't you make proper use of the time, and get to know each other on the way back home? I'm sure he'll be more than thrilled with it.” she said, with a playful, teasy wink.

And you had never been more grateful to the Seven for meeting such a lovely person, that would change the entirety of your life.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Yes please writte this historical Au cause you'r writing is already amazing but medival enemys to lovers for Susie and Demarco would be a real gift to us .Lots of Love and a Happy week to you

Thank you so much anon - and extra thanks to everyone else who's messaged me about this AU! <3 hope you enjoy!!

@xxluckystrike @p-polaroid

wars of the roses au -> susie lamb x bernard demarco

The carriage swayed uncomfortably from side to side against the uneven road below, the only sound the constant rattle of wheels and braying of horses as the boy and his father approached their destination. Bernard DeMarco slouched in his seat, staring back at the elder man across from him, a sour frown contorting his expression.

"Stop sulking like a child and sit up straight," His father snapped, tearing his unimpressed gaze away from the window. "It's bad enough we have to grovel to these people, do not arrive looking a fool."

Bernard rolled his eyes. "I still do not understand this. My brothers married Ladies - you are an Earl. And who is she? Her father had no title - her brother may be a Baron now, but he was not born one. Why have I had to fall so far?"

"Your brothers may have married Ladies, but their families are now outcasts from the court of our new King Henry. We need influence and new alliances, and her sisters have married well - this will connect us to the right people, son."

Suppressing a sigh, he leant sideways against the inside of the carriage, staring out at the red-brick chimney pots and they pulled into the courtyard of the Lamb family's home, the walls encircling him like a prison. As the carriage rolled to a halt, he and his father stepped outside, the fresh country air a balm after so many hours inside the wooden box. At the door, an older woman awaited, closer in age to his father, skin pinched at the corners of her eyes, dark hair pulled tightly back beneath her cap. "Welcome, my Lord. My son is waiting for you inside."

Watching as his father fell in step with the woman - whom he assumed would soon be his own mother once this business was over - Bernard trailed closely behind, taking in his surroundings as they filed through the corridors towards the house's main hall. The place was plainer than he was used to, although not entirely without its charm. As they crossed the entryway, a girl appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down at them, warm brown curls framing her face, a pink flush tinting her cheeks as she sent him a sweet smile. Although not the most handsome girl he had seen, she was certainly pleasant.

"Father?" He called as Mrs Lamb disappeared in search of her children. "Who's that, up there?"

Following his gaze, his father nodded. "Eleanor. The youngest sister."

He was sure his disappointment was visible. "Can't I marry that one instead? She seems agreeable."

"Hm, the King thought so too. Which is why she is already betrothed to the Earl of Leicester's son."

"So I am truly to take the scraps?"

"Unfortunately," A voice echoed from the other end of the hall. Bernard and his father turned simultaneously, peering at the woman as she approached, loose, auburn locks bouncing over her shoulders with each movement, footsteps echoing against the polished wooden floor. She eyed him closely, with the scrutiny of a fox assessing its prey, and he felt sweat begin to bead at his brow.

"Ah! Susannah!" Her mother exclaimed, a younger man at her shoulder as she returned, his gaze skittish, never meeting the eye. But there was a distinct resemblance between the two, and he found himself suppressing a snort as he realised the man must have been the Baron. "Wonderful. My Lord, if we may talk in the drawing room? We can leave these two to make their introductions."

In that moment, Bernard wanted nothing less than to be left alone with this woman. Nevertheless, his father had soon vanished, and the pair stood silently at the base of the stairs as he tried not to flinch under her gaze, so penetrating it was as if she could see straight through his clothes and flesh all the way to his very bones. Eleanor let out a giggle from upstairs, and soon she too was gone.

"So," Susannah Lamb began. "You truly are desperate."

A prick of indignation stabbed at his chest, pushing his shoulders back to tower above her even more than he already did. Her lips were pursed in a thin smirk as she waited for his reply, and he realised that - as irritable as her expression was - her face was far from unappealing to him. If anything, at least their children might appear personable.

"Madam, I am doing you a favour with this match," He grimaced.

"Oh, certainly. But it humiliates you to do it - to marry so below your birthright, all because your father chose the wrong side."

"It's surely telling that no one on your own side would take you as a wife - although I can't confess to being surprised."

At this, she began to laugh, and Bernard bit at the inside of his cheek so hard that he almost drew blood. He certainly hadn't intended for such a reaction, and worse still was the melodious warmth with which she did it. It was a laugh that, in itself, he could have surely come to love. That it came from Susannah was... confusing.

With a final dry chuckle, she finally spoke. "Well, you have confirmed my every expectation, Sir." Susannah nodded, still smiling.

He scoffed. "And you're pleased by that?"

"Oh absolutely. If you'd been agreeable I would've found you so much harder to dislike."

"You're very resolved to dislike me, aren't you?"

"Well, it certainly makes my life easier," She shrugged, her skirts rustling as she turned on her heel and began to walk away, the rhythmic drum of footsteps parting the tense quiet. Bernard watched on for a moment before letting out an irritated huff as he began to pursue. Up ahead, her dress swayed side to side with each step, all at once infuriating and disgustingly hypnotic.

"In what way?" He yelled.

"There's no expectation that I see you beyond what is strictly necessary," Susannah called over her shoulder, the sunlight through a passing window casting shadows across her profile. She had just made it around the next corner when he caught up, seizing her wrist and tugging her to a halt. Expression contorted in distaste, she yanked her arm sharply from his grip, yet made no effort to flee. "Until the very moment we are wed, you do not touch me."

"Do you truly think I want to marry you?" He sneered.

"Do you truly think I care what you want?" She shot back, mimicking his own tone in a way that made his blood boil.

"My brothers wed Ladies-"

"And I'm sure they were very pleased with themselves at the time."

With his jaw clenched so tightly he feared his teeth may shatter, Bernard searched desperately for some scrap of wit he could hurl back in her face, only for his mind to come up devastatingly empty. It wasn't until the pair had fallen silent that he realised quite how close they'd become. With each insult, they had inched forward to better spit their venom, but all it seemed to mean now was that there was barely a gap between them, their breath fanning each other's cheeks, heads tilted towards one another, lips mere inches apart. Susannah's expression was cold, unyielding, and it seemed to take her a moment to realise this herself. Suddenly clearing her throat, she took a decisive step back, and the air around him seemed to clear, suddenly absent of warmth.

"Bernard!" His father's voice echoed from somewhere back down the hall.

"Off you go," She whispered, that ever-present tone of mockery still lining her voice. "He's tugging your leash, pup."

Taking a step back towards his father, Bernard took one last scornful glance at the woman, a beam of sunlight streaking through the window and lighting her hair a fiery orange.

"Milady," He bit, turning his back on her as he returned to his father, who stood waiting for him at the base of the stairs, brow raised in question. At the sight of his son's dour frown, he nodded, seemingly entirely unsurprised.

Susannah's mother uttered her thanks, and they were out the door almost as swiftly as they had come, the gravel in the courtyard crunching noisily beneath their feet as they returned to their carriage. Swinging the door open, Bernard's father climbed in first, looking back at his son once he'd taken his seat.

"So? What do you think of her, then?"

Turning his head, he took one last look at the house. Movement in one of the upstairs windows caught his eye, and he glanced up as Susannah took a seat upon the sill, attention so captured by the book in her hands that she never spared a glance for the man who was to be her husband. When peaceful, she appeared an entirely different woman. With a huff, he clambered inside, sitting down opposite his father.

"I think we'll make each other miserable."

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 3 @eonweweek

"Unprepared"

Prompt: War

Pairing: Eönwë & Angaquárë (OC)

Themes: NSFT | Angst-ish

Warnings: Very mild sensuality

Word count: 1.4k words

Summary: During the beginning of the War of Wrath, Eönwë calls on Angaquárë to speak to him on the manner in which he fights during battles.

A/n : Bio for Angaquárë, my OC, can be found here.

Minors DNI

“The Lord Commander is without, my lord,” an elven warrior said. He stood by the tent entrance, for etiquette decreed that he stay that way unless invited inside. “Shall I allow him entry?”

“A moment,” Angaquárë replied. He turned to face his companion, and said, “Tis best if you left, my lady. The Lord Commander may not take kindly to another listening to what he has to say.”

“Of course, my lord.” The Maia’s companion threw back their furs and got out of bed. She set herself to the task of getting dressed and trembled when he reached out and caressed the small of her back. “I trust you will want me to call on you later?”

“Indeed, my lady,” Angaquárë told her. “We still have much to discover about each other.”

The elleth flushed from cheek to chest, but she smiled and said, “As you will, my lord.”

Angaquárë watched her depart with a mournful look. The lady was almost as fair as those of his own kindred. Her thick sable hair smelled of lavender oil, and her lips tasted sweet. Then there was her skin—it was soft, like silk. She was eager also, willing to accommodate herself to his every whim and pleasure. It was an aspect Angaquárë intended to make the most of while she continued to agree to him bedding her.

“I will speak with the Lord Eönwë now,” Angaquárë called out, rising. He slipped into a robe he had laid out for himself at the foot of the bed and left his sleeping chamber. And this was how the Lord Commander found him when he entered the tent: garbed in a linen robe, standing by a little table, and pouring cups of fine wine for them both.

“Was your companion to your liking?” Eönwë asked with feigned indifference. In truth, he wanted to satisfy himself with the knowledge that no harm came to his general’s elven companion. Angaquárë was a Maia, after all, and he was known for his many appetites. He could have easily forgotten himself and gone too far.

“Very much so,” Angaquárë replied truthfully. He held out a cup of wine for the herald of the Elder King to take, and then he studied him keenly. “The lady was a most welcome companion, and we each found much pleasure in our coupling. But I suspect you did not come here to speak of the companions I take to my bed. Am I correct on this score?”

Eönwë nodded. The time had come to speak of the true cause of his calling on his fellow warrior.

“Yes," he said, having perceived the other Maia was indeed speaking the truth about his relations with the elf. He moved to sit on a high, lattice stool, and he gestured for Angaquárë to do the same. “I came to speak to you about the manner in which you conducted yourself during our first battle.”

“Ah,” Angaquarë said. He straddled his stool with long legs and sipped his wine. “You believe I go too far?”

“Oh, aye,” Eönwë returned. “You are too thirsty for the spilling of blood, as always. And I have come to ask you to restrain yourself, my lord. These fell servants of Morgoth may yet wish to turn away from the path they set themselves on. Others may wish to return to Valinor, and plead for pardon. We must allow them to do so.”

“These creatures will never turn away from the paths they have chosen for themselves. They will never plead for pardon,” Angaquárë said. He took another sip of wine and savored its taste. “Tis folly to even believe that they would do so.”

Eönwë sighed. The Úmanyar spoke the same during their many meetings with him, as did the emissaries of Men. The Edain who pledged themselves to Morgoth could not be saved, or the orcs and the lesser spirits, or the Maiar themselves. They were lost to all now, consumed by the darkness and malice fed to them by their lord. There would be no joyous return, no turning away from paths shrouded in shadows, and it grieved him immensely. Nevertheless, he held onto the hope that at least a few of them would return, and that his own lord would grant them pardon.

“Such may indeed be the case,” he allowed, albeit reluctantly, “for some of them. But for others, redemption may yet be possible. This is why I urge you to curb your hunger for violence the next time we go to battle. We must give quarter to those who yield.”

Angaquárë studied the Lord Commander again. “When you speak of these others, do you mean the great smith who even now serves his master as his most trusted servant and companion?”

A flash of heat rose up Eönwë’s throat. Angaquárë spoke of Mairon, the Maia who once lived beside him in the Timeless Halls, and who was once a beloved companion of his heart. Still, he composed himself. He would not give a servant of Makar the pleasure of seeing him startled, or distressed.

“I speak of many,” he began, and he drained his cup in one swallow. The wine was quite light and sweet and fragrant, more suited for a delicious meal shared with friends than a darkened tent used by a quarrelsome spirit. “And not just the one you spoke of. Restrain yourself from here on out, my lord. That is a command.”

“I hear your command,” Angaquárë said. He stood and set his cup down on the table. “And I say nay. How I deal with our enemies during battle is not your concern, my lord.”

“How you deal with our enemies is very much my concern, for your conduct reflects poorly on me, and it reflects poorly on the Host of the Valar.” Eönwë set down his cup and stood as well, his vivid cobalt eyes blazing. He seemed to grow tall and fierce and menacing, and the air within the tent crackled and sparked. He did not wish to do this, to remind another of their own place, but he felt like he must. Manwë gave to him his own sword and bid him to lead the Host of the Valar in his stead; he would not be seen as a leader if he bowed his head to one of inferior rank. “And you will heed me on this. Restrain yourself, my lord. Offer quarter to those who ask for it. Are we in agreement on this matter?”

Angaquárë was not afraid of him, having grown accustomed to his own master’s fiery temper. Nevertheless, he yielded. He was in too fine a mood after having spent a most glorious evening with a choice companion, and he desired the Lord Commander to leave. At length, he said, “Very well, my lord. I will do as you command.” He paused, hesitated. “But I, myself, believe no quarter will be asked. Who would ask for such a thing, while Morgoth still lives? If he achieves victory in this war and comes upon all those who gave themselves over to us, they would have to suffer his wrath.”

“You say they will not yield?”

“I say they will not. These fell servants will fight us to the very death if need be, for death would be preferable, no doubt, than having to contend with Morgoth's fury. This war will be a long and bloody one. You best be prepared for it.”

Eönwë shivered. “Let us hope that this bleak outcome you speak of does not come to fruition. My thanks, my lord, for the wine. I will leave you now to your duties and your amusements.”

The other Maia merely grunted and turned away. Eönwë turned sharply on his heel and departed. The night was quite cool, and the stars shone brightly in a blackened sky. And the Lord Commander did not see their beauty; his thoughts lingered on Angaquárë’s words instead.

The servants of Morgoth were numerous. They infested forests and caves, and they dwelled in ruined cities and great holdfasts. Some of them were loyal to their master’s cause, and many of them lived in fear of him. And they, as Angaquárë said, would fight the Host of the Valar to the death, for death would indeed be preferable to failing and suffering their master’s wrath. The battles to come would be violent and filled with much bloodshed and grief, and he, Eönwë, perceived in his heart that he was wholly unprepared for it.

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[starsurface]

Hello!! Hope this isn't a bother again adhshdh- can I request Little!Lord Raiden with CG!Shao Kahn (headcanon or fic; you can choose)? Perhaps they were arguing or something but then Lord Raiden slipped into littlespace ,,, thank you have a good day! 😊💕

-🦈

It isn't a bother at all!! :D

I don't know how to put that special link that sends you to the fic without not being allowed to do the reply, but here's the link to my AO3 where it's posted:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54094063

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Shao Kahn w/ Little Lord Raiden (Fic)

"Ah Lord Raiden, you wished to see me?" Shao Kahn smirked as the God teleported into his throne room.

"You know exactly what you did!" Raiden glared at the man. . . Dragon thing.

Lord Raiden really didn't feel like having this conversation. Every so often Shao Kahn would attempt to do something to just push the boundaries that Mortal Kombat set into place.

Which meant every so often, Lord Raiden and Shao Kahn need to have a talk.

It was irritating, exactly what Shao Kahn's plans wanted. To irritate their God, to distract him long enough, to get his followers to worry.

And it worked every time.

"Oh?" Shao Kahn acted confused. "Whatever do you mean by that, Lord Raiden?"

He said his title so patronizing, Raiden hated the way he said it. Shao Kanh never respected his title as Lord, he just used it to get under his skin.

And goodness did it work getting under his skin.

He didn't want to have this conversation. he hadn't regressed in almost three full weeks, he felt on the verge of breaking down. But breaking down in front of someone who would exploit such a vulnerable state of his? use it against him? Raiden didn't want to chance it.

And yet here he was, chancing it.

"Pushing the rules of Mortal Kombat? You're just as bad as Shang Tsung," Raiden tisked.

Shao Kahn laughed, "Just as bad? Lord Raiden, the little weakling works for me. Without me, he'd be nothing!"

". . . You want me to call you worse, don't you?"

"I mean, I am, aren't I?" Shao Kahn said proudly. "You wish for me to remove my troops from your border, yes? Well technically, they haven't done anything wrong-"

"You and I both know what your plans are, Shao Kahn," Raiden cut him off. "Putting your troops there is only an attempt to prompt war. We have seen your spies in Earthrealm territory so remove your fleet or I will-

"What? Consult with the Elder Gods?" Shao Kahn groaned, Raiden fumbled slightly. "Yes, yes, you and your precious Elder Gods. Always guiding you, telling you what to do. Geez, can't a God think for himself once in a while?"

Now that struck a nerve. Raiden could make his own decisions, Shao Kahn had no right treating him like some child!

Unfortunately, Shao Kahn noticed how bothered Raiden seemed by the comment.

"Oh I see, so the little God can't make his own decisions!" Shao Kahn taunted. "Always having to go running to his little mommies and daddies, huh?"

"Listen here, Shao Kahn-"

"No you listen, Raiden. How can I expect to fight a war with someone who cannot even lead? If you cannot even make your own decisions by yourself, what right do you have to be a God? The Elder Gods could tell you to destroy Earthrealm to save the Realms and you'd do it!" Shao Kahn laughed. "How are you any better than I? Following those useless being."

Lord Raiden fell silent. Shao Kahn's words hurt, stinging badly in his mind. He could make his own decisions. He didn't always consult with the Elder Gods! Sometimes it was his brother, o-or Liu Kang-

But he made decisions himself too!! He did, he really did! He doesn't listen to everything the Elder Gods tell him to . . . And he wouldn't hurt others if they told him to either. He- He wouldn't.

All these big thoughts hurt Raiden's brain. He had already felt so small before coming here. Sure he was expecting a verbal battle, but not out right insults.

Shao Kahn smiled at Raiden's silence, "Awh, is the little God going to cry?"

And Raiden didn't want to admit it, but that's exactly what he began to do.

Shao Kahn froze as he heard a small sniffle. And very quickly, those small sniffles turned into quiet crying.

Raiden hide his face with his hat, very much not wanting to be here right now.

Shao Kahn sat frozen on his throne before quickly ordering his guards away. His guards, knowing better than to question or bring the experience up, left with no words.

Shao Kahn finally came down from his throne, making Raiden freak out and stumble backwards. He fell to the ground with a cry, his own sobs only becoming louder.

"Lord . . Raiden?" Shao Kahn asked caciously. "What's going on?"

Raiden hiccuped, covering his own mouth and turning away. Shao Kahn knelt down, gently grabbing his hands.

The fear in Raiden's eyes normally would have made him laugh, but right now he only felt a sort of pitty.

"Don't cover your mouth like that, it'll make it difficult to breathe," Shao Kahn said, letting Raiden's hand go.

""m not- Not crying!" Raiden mumbled, trying to dry his tears.

"I see . . . I never meant to upset you this much," Shao Kahn mumbled. "I can remove my troops if they bother you that much."

Raiden gave a small nod, sniffling slightly. He felt embarrassed, sitting on the ground with his enemy, practically sobbing. And over something childish as being ridiculed.

"I have never seen you this upset before," Shao Kahn said carefully. "Have my insults bothered you that much?"

". . . Not usually, just feel. . small-"

"Like, your minds all fuzzy small?" Shao Kahn asked, cutting Raiden off. "As if you're not your age small?"

"How-"

"I knew a few regressors," Shao Kahn brushed him off. It was true, his most loyal General, Kotal, regressed. "Tell me what upsets you. Rarely have I ever seen someone fall to the ground in tears . . . Without getting beat or utterly destroyed beforehand that is."

Raiden hesitated slightly. He didn't want to get caught up in Shao Kahn's lies or twisted tails. He knew the best thing to do was to teleport away, but he didn't trust his abilities while so tiny. Also Fujin said he couldn't use those abilities while small, and he didn't wanna break a rule.

"I can make my own decisions."

. . . Oh, was that all?

Shao Kahn wanted to laugh, but he knew better than to mess with Raiden when his mind his mind was so vulnerable.

Shao Kahn was many things, but he wasn't a monster.

. . . . . Eeeeeeeeeeeh?

Debatable, actually.

"I see," Shao Kahn nodded, standing up, offering out his hand. "Well I'm sorry for my choice of words. I never meant to . . . insult you . . that badly."

Raiden giggled as Shao Kahn's bad apology. It was clear he had meant to insult him. But perhaps not make him drop on spot.

"It's okay," Raiden said, hesitating before accepting Shao Kahn's hand. "The troops go bye bye?"

"Yes, the troops will go bye bye," Shao Kahn promised. "Now the question is, what in the Netherrealms do we do with you?"

". . . Do you wanna pattycake with me?"

Shao Kahn looked at Raiden almost insane.

Perhaps he was too small to see him as the threat he was. Or his childlike mind was taking over. But to play pattycake with the enemy? Shao Kahn never expected such an offer.

"Of course, I'll make sure the throne room stays closed."

He never really pulled the troop stunt again.

. . . Okay, maybe once or twice after the incident, but no more!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[cilil]

I have a lore question🤔 I’m not too familiar with the stories outside of the Silmarillion (like HoME or LaCE) so I remember seeing your post about Manwë not talking to mortals awhile back and I tried googling more info on that recently but failed😂 so I was wondering is there any more details on what that’s about? Like was that ever elaborated on? Or was there more context to it? Was it because he thought men were too similar to Melkor? (I feel I read something like that somewhere?) And if it’s not really elaborated on at all, what’s your theories on why he did that and what’s your opinion of it? (Actually I’m curious about that either way, I enjoy reading your opinions and thoughts😅) anyways, thank you in advance!❤️

Why does Manwë Súlimo not talk to mortals? - Ainur Answers

Ah yes, that fun little tidbit. I took a while to hopefully dig everything up that I need to answer your questions, hope that's alright🖤

(Obligatory disclaimer, tldr and conclusion at the end.)

So I took the detail/claim that Manwë doesn't talk to mortals from this little poem (emphasis mine):

Will thou learn the lore / that was long secret of the Five that came / from a far country? One only returned. / Others never again under Men's dominion / Middle-earth shall seek until Dagor Dagorath / and the Doom cometh. How hast thou heard it: / the hidden counsel of the Lord of the West / in the land of Aman? The long roads are lost / that led thither, and to mortal Men / Manwë speaks not. From the West-that-was / a wind bore it to the sleeper's ear, / in the silences under night-shadow, / when news is brought from lands forgotten / and lost ages over seas of years / to the searching thought. Not all are forgotten / by the Elder King. Sauron he saw / at a slow menace ….

The poem is from Unfinished Tales, Part Four, II. The Istari (for those curious to read more, a PDF should be available for free online). As the title of this particular text hints, it mainly focuses on the Istari, both on them as a group and on Olórin/Gandalf in particular. This is also where you can find the outline of a mini story showing how Olórin was chosen as a member of the order by Manwë.

Furthermore, the text mentions that the "Faithful" of that time believed the wizard known as Gandalf may actually be Manwë himself, as a sort of final appearance before he withdraws to Taniquetil until the end days. While certainly a cool theory and material for a fun AU, we know this is incorrect and Gandalf's true identity is the Maia previously known as Olórin. As the text itself points out, it wouldn't make much sense for Manwë to send Eönwë to overthrow Melkor, but then try to stop Mairon himself.

(I could talk about all the info a bit more and might in the future, but I'm going to stick to the Manwë-related questions for now.)

As for mortals sharing similarities with Melkor, you are correct, there is this line in the Silmarillion:

Yet the Elves believe that Men are often a grief to Manwë, who knows most of the mind of Ilúvatar; for it seems to the Elves that Men resemble Melkor most of all the Ainur, although he has ever feared and hated them, even those that served him.

While I think there is some truth to this statement, I would exercise caution here because even the narrator points out that this is a belief held by the Elves and not explicitly stated or confirmed by Manwë himself.

To tie this line and the one from the poem together, what I take from it is that Manwë doesn't understand mortals and is aware of that fact. As an immortal spirit, the mortal incarnate experience is foreign to him, and as a being incapable of comprehending evil, certain impulses and parts of the human nature are also strange and incomprehensible to him.

Let's put ourselves in Manwë's shoes for a moment and review what he's observed in regards to humanity over the ages.

So there were these short-lived, fragile, mortal humanoid creatures whose fëar are only guests in Arda and go beyond the circles of the world when they die. He wanted to help them, but didn't know how, so for the moment he hoped the Sun and Moon and Ulmo sending them messages through the water (yes, Manwë knew of this and supported it) would suffice. The mortals didn't understand those messages, but at least loved the waters and befriended Elves who taught them how to navigate life in Arda.

Eru spoke to the mortals as well, more directly even, which Manwë may or may not have been aware of, but then Melkor came along. He convinced the mortals to turn away from Eru, worship him as their God and commit evil deeds in his name, which resulted in Eru abandoning them and cursing them (Garden of Eden kind of narrative). Still, Ulmo continued to occasionally help out and kept telling everyone that "the Children are good, actually".

This turned out to be at least partially true when those mortals who freed themselves of Melkor's influence fought alongside Eönwë in the War of Wrath and Manwë (alongside the other Valar) granted them blessings, gave them Númenor and had Eönwë teach them for a time. Valinor continued to maintain friendly relations with Númenor until the Númenóreans started to become jealous and hostile. Things further escalated as Mairon came along and dragged them right back into Melkor worship. When Númenor attacked Valinor, the Valar - though most likely Manwë himself - appealed to Eru because he isn't allowed to harm the Children and doesn't want to, but had to protect his kingdom. Númenor was destroyed, and humanity once again disgraced.

This is roughly where Manwë is at by the time he chooses Olórin to join the Istari, and I believe this context puts everything into perspective. Manwë has now learned that even just his indirect interactions with humanity - through Eönwë and Ulmo - have in the end turned out badly and his mere presence in the distance/knowledge of him and his kingdom have caused much strife and evil to happen. Eru moving Valinor to a different dimension was probably also a more than clear hint.

Manwë still believes that mortals can be good. If he didn't he wouldn't have sent Olórin, disciple of Nienna, whose purpose and key ability is to inspire others to become better versions of themselves; he would have either sent no one at all or someone like Eönwë who quickly takes care of the problem and possibly destroys another landmass or two in the process. But Manwë believes in them and he wants to help, while also doing his best to avoid causing another "Númenor incident", so he chooses the subtle route of the Istari and otherwise stays where he is.

~

Tldr: Manwë doesn't communicate directly with mortals. This is most likely because he took a hint from the "Númenor incident" and Eru's will, but he still felt the need to help them and did it via the Istari mission. It's not done out of malice or arrogance.

Now, I want to be very clear and add the obligatory disclaimer that I'm NOT trying to argue this is the one perfect solution and Manwë made no mistakes ever, that is never my intention with these posts. What I do think, however, is that looking at it from his perspective provides a whole different context to a simple statement like "Manwë doesn't talk to mortals" which on its own makes the entire situation sound way more antagonistic than it is. Furthermore, I personally would say that the conclusion he drew, while we may object to certain aspects of it depending on our personal stances, isn't completely senseless or unreasonable. It does make sense.