Goigle Drive Can Eat My Shit

this is so good 🙏🙏🔥🔥💥💥

Oml, I am so sorry, I remember sending it to this blog but I have crappy internet in my area. If I remember right it was an albedo x f!reader one, so they get invited to a annual prom in monstadt, and as the day approached albedo had to finish up some works and lost track of time and reached there a late and thought the reader left or is angry, but instead met up with the reader still waiting for him all dressed up breathtaking and cheerful to see him, and his heart is filled with warmth and so they just danced under the moon with just both of them and sharing a few romantic moment. I hope this one makes sense and it sends. Thank you and sorry, I am dumb for waiting like almost a month and a half instead of just asking. Thank you, I hope you like this request too.

WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE

━━ ☆ PAIRING: albedo/fem!reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: fluff

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: dreams don't come true in a crowded ballroom. rather, they come true in a silent dance under the moonlight — somewhere in between the ocean waves and the seashore or perhaps, in between sol and luna. it's a fairy tale crafted perfectly by a pair far too gleeful at midnight with only loose scientific discoveries to accompany them by.

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: established relationship, reader wears a dress

the cathedral's bell rang thrice as the clock strikes twelve but your glass slippers didn't crack.

your voice was still whole as you hummed a casual tune and your eyes were wide open — awake and alive — as you let your gaze dance along the shadows of the night. your lips taste of honey-dipped chocolates, not poison and the rose in your hand did not wither like a tragic game of 'he loves me, he loves me not.' he does. you know he does. the answer would always be 'always.'

it's not wishful thinking — it's not a heartbroken woman's ode nor is it a desperate attempt to make yourself believe that his feelings for you are still existent in this reality. it's the truth, unadulterated and unbothered by his lack of attendance. he loves you because there's still the skip in your pulse whenever you picture his amused smile. he loves you because the world was lit up with glorious pastel shades just as he painted it when you first met. you know he loves you because he wouldn't be jogging up to you in a rush that he never found to be practical if he didn't.

"well, aren't you out of breath."

he told himself it's because of how he ran across the courtyard — five minutes and three seconds faster than what he would've called comfortable but the sudden buzzing in his fingertips told him otherwise. he's not much of a poet and the best that he could muster is a quiet 'you look beautiful' and yet, you beam at him as if you just heard a hundred and one lines that compared you to the sea of stars above.

"cute... who would've known that you're quite the charmer?"

"i'm not." he took your hand that was splayed into his view in an invitation. "i'm just being factual."

"how daring."

daring is a word reserved for a prince charming aboard a white horse; a word used for all the times he climbs up the vines to catch a glimpse of the smile that fills his heart with mirth. it's a clash of swords and an arrogant smile and it's safe to say that daring isn't albedo. albedo is a prince — proclaimed by everyone but him — who rides an intricately patterned flower to fetch you a fresh red apple. he walks you to and fro your home because he can't bring himself to leave just yet, the same way he can't bring himself to tell you his desires either. he dislikes confrontation, choosing instead to hide behind an interesting report and an uncomfortable smile of gratitude when someone 'gives him too much credit.' he's curious — experimental — but never daring. if anything, he's a little bashful and meek especially when he takes the spot right next to you just as he was doing so now.

silence wrapped you like a familiar friend, bringing focus to the way the fountain pools at its bottom, leaving occasional kisses on the patches of bare skin you have left uncovered in your dress. it's not uncomfortable — nothing ever is when it comes to him — but you felt like he had something to say so you carefully leaned your weight into him, shoulders touching as you peered at him inquisitively.

a pause. a little something to gather his thoughts. "are you mad at me?"

"do i look mad?"

"no."

"then i'm not."

he's always found you a curious little thing but sometimes, you prove to be more complex than the universe itself.

"you're furrowing your brows again." albedo felt his lips quirk up as you leaned in to smoothen down the small patch of skin in between his brows. "there! better."

"you're a strange person."

"that's not how you say thank you."

the teasing lilt in your voice had him shaking his head as his gaze falls back to your conjoined hands. "at the very least, aren't you going to scold me?"

"for what? for being so overly passionate in your work that you forgot that you had to waste your time at a party you couldn't care less about?"

he would've worded it with more finesse but the meaning still holds true so he nods in reply.

"actually, i was hoping that you wouldn't come. i don't want to force you into anything you wouldn't enjoy but knowing you, you wouldn't let me go alone either."

albedo shook his head again, half in amusement and the other half in something he couldn't quite decipher. he was right. you are strange. he could only think so much of the rumors and whispers that most likely floated around you when you came in without him by your side before he lightly grimaces and yet here you were, still as blithe as ever.

"although..." he knew you well enough to know that there is danger in the way your lips twisted into a mischievous grin. "i have something in mind if you still want to make it up to me."

"and what may that be?"

"a dance."

"a dance," he repeated, his eyes blown wide by just a fraction because of all the things he expected you to ask from him, a dance was not one of them.

"now, don't look at me like that! i'm sure you'll do well!"

albedo chuckles because he knew that he could trip all over his feet and you'll still tell him he did well. without much of another word, he lets himself be tugged along — lets his head tip down to your hands as he pressed a kiss out of courtesy.

"see? you're a natural."

"i've read about it once."

now that was a surprise. "since when have you read books about dances?"

"not dances, fairy tales. i figured that it would come in handy since you're so fond of them."

"aha," you averted your gaze from him as your smile softened to something timid, "you didn't have to do that for me."

"i wanted to." it took you by surprise but you were able to catch your steps as he spins you around, hands immediately dropping down to the small of your back to pull you back in.

"no, you... you really didn't have to. you're fine as is. you don't have to do all those fancy things the princes do in the books."

"in alchemy, results do not come out of thin air. rather, results are a product of an equal exchange. just as how a warming bottle's luminosity varies from the number of flaming hot stamens used, the same goes for relationships if i'm not mistaken."

you hummed in reply, "i suppose you're not wrong but life would be so much easier if there's a science to feelings."

"would you still fall in love with the idea of love if you are always given a uniform answer?"

you rose a brow at albedo's subtle challenging tone. "who knows... what about you? would you still love me if you've already solved my being?"

"i would."

"oh? but weren't you just going on and on about finding the truth behind this world?"

"i would've already found my answer when that day comes."

you're glad that albedo was a gentleman — that he didn't comment on the way you missed the beat in your footwork.

"you sap."

his eyes shone like teal fluorites at your words but you'd much rather describe it as the soft gradient between the blues and greens of the endless oceans. they're beautiful and they deserve only the brightest sun. you're a little bit of a poet yourself so with a cheesy grin you repeat your words — louder this time but quiet enough for them to be only reserved for him.

"then... will you be my sun?"

he said it with the intention of flustering you because he finds that his heart swells at the sight of your eyes widening in shock but in a way, he wasn't wrong. if his eyes are the ocean then you are the sun that makes them glimmer under your radiant light. you are the heat that rests in his chest — the same one that leaves his mind hazy with condensation and finally, you are the warmth that paves a way for gentle showers; to precipitation that keeps his ocean-deep eyes full of love, of trust, of contentment, of a yearning for more.

"gladly."

the night sun — the stars that came in the form of the fireflies — illuminated your skin and bones with a summer glow. it's fitting, albedo thinks, as he twirls you to the music of the cicadas. on this midsummer night, he stares at you as if you are the lighthouse in the dark and you — you stare at him as if he is the crashing tides against pearl white stone. it's laid low and bare from the silver tone of the moon that made him look ethereal, even more so than usual.

a dream. that's what he looks like but by the way he stares at you with thinly-veiled adoration, you knew that he feels the same. if his love for you was only a theory then this was the evidence that turns it into a law; an absolute truth that would remain to be true even if you flip and twirl the world upside down. he sways you to the sound of your gentle song, a love song whose lyrics are laid forgotten in some distant corner of your mind because at the forefront of it all was his name, stroked in the same elegantly rushed handwriting of his.

"i have a gift for you," he whispered out of nowhere as his hand moves to gently caress your cheeks.

"what for?"

"it's customary for the 'prince' to provide a flower for the lady so i brought you one..."

"oh my!" a gasp tears through your form as you eyed the unfamiliar flower in his hand; the prettiest you have ever seen. "i have never seen this one before... it's so beautiful!"

"it's a new species we discovered. over the past few days, we have been conducting experiments to formally publish it in the next month's journal. i decided to name it after you."

"albedo you..."

he swiftly wiped away the tears that are welling up in your eyes. "i could never be the prince charming in your books nor would i ever aspire to. i don't know how to profess my feelings nor can i promise you that you'd never dance alone again but even so... i'd like for my affections for you to never die so i wrote it in a place i know it would never do."

it's so easy to be swept away by his eyes, by the dance, by the rhythm of your hearts, by love. you, a mere woman, a little bit dazzled by the way the lamp lights seem to grow in radiance, anchored yourself to his chest. with both arms wrapped around his neck, your movements dulled to a simple sway but the feeling of wonder and wholeness never left.

"a pretty flower for a pretty girl; an equivalent exchange."

the cathedral's bell rang thrice once more but your fairy godmother didn't take him away.

cinderella is fast asleep with her mascara running down her cheeks but here you were, wide-awake and beaming as you mumbled a quiet joke that really wasn't that funny. he shakes his head in amusement — not at the joke but at your giddy state and you wonder if this was the kind of love ariel yearned for. in retaliation, you press a kiss on his jaw, and the way his breath hitches tastes like apples redder than snow white's lips.

you don't have a talking teacup to tell you that he's your own kind of fairy tale but you figured that part on your own because the flower in your hand and the text it left on history's pages are its own kind of devotion. a promise. a truth. an i love you. always.

━━ ☆ NOTES: sorry for the wait!! some mishaps delayed this for far too long and i'm just praying in my hands and knees that this was worth it bc i kinda think it isn't. thank you for requesting, i hope you liked it, and have a nice day!

━━ ☆ OOGA? BOOGA!: rb to get a kith~

tagging @rasbeaii bc this is the one albedo fic i deprived you off

WHAT THE HELL did tumblr not save my completed draft or something fuck me

i'm officially starting the most boring part of my life. working in a 9 to 5 job counting the stock of products in the company until its dinnertime and writing excel reports during OT.

being a fresh graduate of college, i have chosen to be an intern at utopeeia sdn. bhd to afford my meals and detergent.

the scariest part is the introducing yourself part. hobbies? favourite colour? it's hard to choose, as i am a multi talented individual and likes every colour because i'm not biased.

hey, im ____. i like public speaking, skydiving, writing essays, angering my boss and other scary and extreme things.

yup, im going to let that be my future coworkers first impression of me.

all right, so for the next few days, i'll write my experiences with my friends in the corp!

kazuha

- sometimes helps me with my reports when he's free (such a sweetheart!)

- i WILL give him chocolate on valentine's!

- writes everyone poems on their birthdays

- treats coworkers to dinner

- in a party, always the sober one

-

itto

- will ride a scooter after work or put me in a trolley and push me into a puddle

- lets our onikabutos battle, he treats the battles like pokemon eraser battles. his onikabuto almost got confiscated once

- pranks our boss sometimes (i don't know how he got his hands on a fake cockroach. as far as i know, he can't save money for shit.)

- always in the pantry

- is the one who stocks up the shared fridge

albedo

- he's very normal.

- he sometimes acts so different from his usual self i kind of suspect he just got tired and slept in bed the whole day and his clone comes in the workplace.

- doesn't ever come to our after work parties

- everyone always talks about his "angelic" voice when he's not here

- he's easygoing and is very cheeky IF you know he's joking and being smug

- always gives away candy? why does he have so much of them???

scaramouche

- our bad tempered boss

- scolds us for scaring the customers when it's him who scared them away.. rolls eyes

- he's too grandeur. his whole room is made of glass, an amateur way to display wealth.

- noone likes him except our super straight coworker nina who gushes over every boy who passes by her even if they're assholes

- probably has a wife somehow. (we stole some glances at his photo frame on his desk and it was some wedding photo?! and he was kissing the bride?!)

- at least he's generous and doesn't give us a shitty payroll for the fussy things he makes us do

ganyu

- she is super sweet so she gets bullied

klee wanted mcdonalds but albedo said there’s food at home

based on this post by @incorrect-genshin-impact!!

Cuddles and Games

Spreading your extremities out on the bed like a starfish, you relax against the delicate and rough surface of the freshly washed bedsheets. While on the verge of dreaming, you curse as your imaginary meal in a fancy restaurant disintegrated into ashes as Bachira jumped on the bed enthusiastically, your eyes popping open in a flash.

"Yayyy! Let's play," he said while turning his head away from the Nintendo Switch in his hands to smile cutely at you, his fingers magically still pressing the buttons on the console. Because his neck was resting on your left forearm, you turned to your left and wrapped your other hand on his chest, head positioned on the bone of his shoulder so you were wrapping him up with your body like a blanket. He smells so good, like honey and rain.

"Hey you, wanna play? I'm playing FIFA!!" he pat your head with one hand. Burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder to find the comfiest position like a mole digging through dirt, you shake your head super fast! "Awww, I knew it! When you're awake, we'll play Wii Volleyball, okay? I know you love it."

You fell into slumberland with his leg hooked around yours, and you didn't even notice he stopped playing to clasp his arms on your back and fell asleep himself too. Knowing you would wake up to immense fun with your favourite game and favourite person making fire commentary on the gameplay, the nap was good.

sappho

Bruh iwas wondering at 12am randomly why I keep getting lesbian allegations and BRO I FOUND OUT MY SAPPHO SIGN FOR FUN like i legit thought i was a pisces sappho or something and that it wasnt important in my chart THEN IT WAS ACTUALLY IN GEMINI CONJUNCT MY SUN AND VENUS AT 1 DEGREE WTFFF 😭😭😭😭 NO WONDER

3 signs you have self worth 🫵💆

(IN MY OPINION & WHAT WORKS FOR ME). WHY DO YOU NEED SELF WORTH? to develop CONFIDENCE, prevent yourself from being manipulated & to CONTROL YOUR MIND.

you can also share your own experiences! i would love to read about other people’s point of view :)) don’t be scared, we are all connected as beings inhabiting earth~; i love everyone !! 👯‍♀️💓

1. YOU DO NOT CARE 💅💁‍♀️

i do not care if i’m being too loud, cringe or hyperactive. as long as it causes no harm (mentally!), you do not need to care about other people’s opinions. though your actions need to be REASONABLE. DO NOT neglect your duties as a human!! i love being silly in class, it’s nice to vibe around while spreading love~!

2. YOU TREAT YOURSELF WELL 💆‍♀️💝

you do not do things that make you feel like shit. do not validate habits that drain your energy & bring you discomfort. addiction is bad, kids. so, treat yourself nicely & do things that benefit you! 🌟🪴 you are a plant, and you WILL water yourself with CLEAN water.

for me, i find comfort in eating, doom scrolling & fortune telling, but it makes me feel DRAINED. nevertheless, i still do it because i have yet to identify the CAUSE of my addiction: my NEED TO SELF SABOTAGE & NEED FOR VALIDATION. to treat yourself well, provide YOURSELF with the VALIDATION you need. nothing will be found outside yourself, what you need can always and will only be found within.

3. YOU CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU EAT 🍽️

i dont know why, but eating healthily (veggies) give me such confidence and comfort! it is so therapeutic for me to eat veggies. you also have to identify what food makes you feel like shit. for me, it's cookies and snacks. AVOID WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT!! unless you do not mind feeling like shit. as they say, you ARE WHAT YOU EAT! reward yourself for having an awesome day with eating Healthy~ Show ya body that u Love em!!!

Thank you my most reliable slave. THIS IS SO FUNNY THO (NOt posting on X cuz my crush's friends are on there 🙏)

i want scaramouche to humiliate me at the top wangshu inn like pleasee dial my number 😍😍

This could’ve been better but I’m dep*essed 🤪✌🏼

pairing: ??? scara’s ur captain and ur a soldier

tw: language, he’s ovbs humiliating u

wc: 382 yikes

You could feel the burn in your thighs the higher the stairs went. Looking over to the side at your friend, you kind of grimace as he seemed as cool as ever. “I hate when we get stationed here!” You whisper. Your friend shrugs as everyone keeps on. “Lord Scaramouche never lets us take the elevator like he does! Why do we have to take the stairs?”

It seemed like the stairs would never end. Your legs grew heavier and heavier with each step, your thighs trembling underneath you. But finally the peak of the stairs came into view. As expected, your captain did not wait for all of you there. “Of course he isn’t here,” you continue to complain to your friend as you reach the top. “He’s just like Captain Tartaglia. I bet you he’s up there flirting with the staff—”

“Excuse me?”

Your squad halted. You look back up at the stairs where your captain stood with his arms crossed and a deathly glare in his eyes. “S-Sir, I—”

“You dare compare me to some half-wit, inexperienced twenty-something baby who couldn’t handle being swallowed up by the abyss, ass-chasing rookie?” Scaramouche took a step down and halved your squadron to meet you face to face. “Tartaglia would’ve killed you right on the spot, soldier. You’re lucky that I choose to punish you outside of the public eye.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. His eyes were sharp and menacing. You felt sweat rolling down your skin underneath your uniform every time his eyes twitched. “I-I’m sorry sir!!”

“You wanna take the elevator so fucking bad? Then take the fucking elevator!”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as he yelled at you. But was he being serious? “I can…take the elevator?”

Your captain smiled, almost innocently. But you knew that there was nothing sweet about his grin. “Yes, private. You can take the elevator down and walk back up the stairs once more. We will be waiting.” Scaramouche turned then to walk back up the stairs.

“B-But—”

Your captain stopped where he was on the stairs and looked at you over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up and do as I say, you incompetent piece of shit!”

You let out a heavy sigh and grimace. “Y-Yes sir…”

awesome

taking scara on a desk in an office (mby its his idk) but hes making sm noise yk his lil underlings can hear him yikes kinda embarrassing !!

hbd again bro i cant believe my gift for u is this <3

minors dni ♡ fingering, handjob, exhibitionism, the way tht this is more dynamic exploration than smut omfg

“yah, do you want to get found out?” the face you’re making means you’re thinking of stuffing something between his teeth, and scaramouche only smirks and moans louder with the next come hither motion your fingers make.

“geez… okay. if you’re that shameless,” you sigh, shifting your weight and letting him slide off the desk a bit so his feet touch the floor, your thighs still in place to keep his legs apart. “gotta keep the devil happy, i guess. but… you know…”

scaramouche slams his hand down on the surface he’s laid out on, drool spilling over dark wood as your two fingers become three, stretching him out faster than you would normally, when you aren’t a little irritated. when he’s less of a brat than he is now, using his harbinger status to call you out of training for a quick fuck. you asked if he was still mad about getting his ass handed to him in front of an audience. if cutting your training hours was some roundabout way to let him catch up.

“what makes this any different from getting your ego reamed for everyone to see,” you wondered aloud while watching him shed only his shorts and the underwear beneath. “with you, everything’s a spectacle.” you sounded exasperated.

still locked the door behind you, though.

“how does this make sure people keep fearing you?”

you rub at his prostate, merciless little circles pulling out cracking whines and full-body shivers, making precum pool in the palm you have cupping and squeezing and twisting over the head of his cock.

“how does letting everyone know,” spreading your fingers, you scissor and stroke, and scaramouche makes a sound that has your breath hitching in your throat, “that you’re a slut for me, give you any power?”

his orgasm is sudden and violent, a punch to the gut. you jerk him off through it, humming idly as his cum splats onto the floor in ropes, and you go still when he starts rocking back onto your fingers just as he twists a bit to catch your eye over his shoulder.

his dick’s soft, his knees are wobbly, and his ears are most definitely red… but the grin stretches broadly across his face.

and he knows you’ll see it for the challenge it is.

“i’m the one keeping you here,” scaramouche wiggles his hips, arching his back while propping himself up with shaky arms, “aren’t i? you can leave anytime you want. you could’ve turned around the moment i pulled my pants down, called me a whore while you kicked the door shut behind you— you don’t even have to come whenever i call.”

you raise a brow and let go of him, and scaramouche rises to meet you, chest to chest. he teeters a bit, but then there’s that bone-deep satisfaction that stirs when your hands find his waist to help him steady. unconscious, unbidden, reflexive.

ah…

“face it, baby,” he knocks your forehead to see your eye twitch, “i’ve already got you.”

it’s quiet for long enough that he thinks you’ll actually leave before letting him get you off in return.

“you think so?”

think?

scaramouche forgoes an answer and smirks when your fingers dig in a little more, marking half-moons on his hips. “i know so,” he says, smug and firm and final while tipping his head back in that way he does whenever he makes to look down on you.

it’s all to spark that glint in your eyes, darling.

because there’s nothing like poking a bear he knows will bite.

Wriothesley Teaches You How to Fight Like A Pro

"First things first... fix that attitude of yours," Wriothesley grumbled, clad in his long-sleeved dress shirt, fitted pants and mechanical gauntlets. Slicking his hair back with both hands over his head, he groaned, "You don't even want to do this properly. Are you just here for me or what?"

Upon hearing that, your jokester ass laughed out loud and you clutched your clenched stomach bending over in joy. Wiping a tear from your eye, you muse, "Well what if I was?" and continued giggling with your feet circling in arcs like a dying roach.

Let's just say some people have a different sense of humour. You weren't even surprised when you lightly peeked with one eye at Wriothesley to find him glaring daggers at you with those striking eyes of his, because he has never appreciated your skibidi toilet jokes.

Even you knew his limits, and you didn't know him well. Just well enough to share drinks and inside jokes. For you, well was quality time and bouts of intimate touches. So no, you didn't know him well. You got up and sprung back into action, picking up some Gintama move you saw Chinese grandmothers do in Tai Chi. Hands in karate chop motion, you tornadoed to his direction and landed a foot directly in front of him, hand positioned directly before his nose.

Wriothesley scrunched up his nose and forced out a reluctant "Better, I guess," and lowered his head. Addled and confused, you tilted your neck to your side in a classic WHAT?! pose, then you heard a chuckle from somewhere around the room. Looking around, you said, "Well, I never knew you invited some others to our practises."

When he didn't respond, you turned back to him kneeling on the floor, gorgeous di-coloured hair sprawling out from his scalp. You squat with your legs open like a frog or sneaky spider in front of him, leggings stretching against your calf. Looking down at him, you saw a glimpse of his canine tooth revealed by a devilish grin. He looked up at you and laughed at your face, eyes closed all the way through in a joyful daze.

Sobering up, he projected with a husky voice, "So funny, are we?" and you could swear his Arctic glacier eyes thundered periodically, letting you in a world of dark, deep sea typhoons. "Let's see what happens when you face real danger. You think they would loosen their grip because you said something that started with ski, ended with di and rhymed with clinically? I'd like you see you £#¢¥ing try," he threatened gloomily, advancing onto you with a fat forearm.

You hastily avoided his arm by holding it back with both hands, but you never really won over the gymbros in arm wrestling, so you got overpowered instead. He locked his arm under your neck, lifting you up so your toes were dreaming of touching land, which never happened considering you were taller than the average population. His shirt sleeve was so distracting because it smelled like your cousin's detergent and made you wish you had money to afford laundry that was more than just rinsing fabric with water.

You felt like Loki being held by his neck by Thor, albeit being the superior brother in the situation. In every situation, actually. Loki just suited you better. Pranksters have your whole heart.

You snuck your hands under his arm and pushed outward with all your might, and he was still unyielding. Bruh, at this point you just gotta turn around and start pushing his chest away from you. That'd be more effective, right? Whose chest can withstand brute force? Well, not yours, to be frank. You can't even wrestle your cousin.

"LET ME... THE £@#& GO!" you yelled with your back against his locked hands in a smooth manoeuvre, and tried to push at his chest. Ew, this feels like molestation. Who cared about molestation when your life was being threatened by a raider!!! You don't care anymore, you went from poking his chest playfully to shoving the hell out of his dress shirt, and he stumbled, hands losing their grip.

Like a proud hen, you stood arms akimbo, head inclined as you stared Wrio down. Oh my effing god. He surged and started CHARGING at you!!! He threw himself on you like on those WWE Superslams and you flew with your back sliding on the floor. His arms were around you, then you realised they weren't around you as much as they were wrapped around an actual dagger. Oh archons!

If you were wrong in the head, you would think this was fun and mentally stimulating. It was a bit exhilarating, but you were fearing for your life here. Mr Puppy here looks like he would actually kill you here and now for saying skibidi toilet during a company dinner 3 weeks ago. Deeply stashed anger, am I right? Poor pup doesn't have an outlet to release stress, so he keeps it all pent up and explodes on you for a tiny joke consisting of toilet...

His knee kneeling in the space between your thighs, he seemed chivalrous and angelic and deadly. The light shining on him from his table lamp just further intensified the dark side of his face, unilluminated by anything. That pretty much sums up your first impression of him. Dark, sepulchral and a pain to be with. Now, you're wrong. This is fun.

"Alright, yes yes, I'm afraid I'm deeply invested now, Your Grace. Continue," you chirped happily from your position under the Duke's glinting knife. If you stole a jewel from the hilt now, would he realise? You were quite good at this gemstone side hustle of yours.

"Second of all, do not let yourself be vulnerable," he gritted his teeth and you wanted to caress his neck just right above your collarbone. "Well, I don't. I never open up to people! I consider it one of my great strengths-" you got cut off by his bejeweled dagger pinning itself on the fabric of your tank top like a dart pinned to a dartboard.

"Not what I meant," he offered, "but thanks for the invitation." Then he lifted a hand and punched you on your good side. Alas, no more side profile selfies!

You grabbed the gloved hand that was about to go for a second round of punching you with one determined fist of yours, unyielding in your grip. You observe Wriothesley's amusement, his face on top of you taunting. God, his lifted lips are so distracting in their angles, sharp at all the right places. Dangerous men should not have smiles more perilous than their charm.

Despite that, you shook him with your hand guiding him in the direction you wanted to go - in this situation you wanted him the floor where you previously were. Locking your elbow around his dangerous arm, you channeled enough strength to pull him down on the floor beside you. After the satisfying thud of your bully/mentor's back hitting the floor (his tough back muscles are probably fine), you swiftly roll yourself on top of him, legs clamped around both of his. Tank top strap slowly sliding down your shoulder, you dislodge the dagger on the floor and rest your elbows on the sides of his face. Curling his hair on the dagger's pointy edge, you look down, half-lidded, on his tired blue eyes and sadistically remarked, "Any tips for ending someone with a dagger?"