#Radiant Baby Porcelaine

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Félix Mongeon is a Montréal-based singer/songwriter, musician, producer and creative mastermind behind Radiant Baby. Mongeon’s Radiant Baby debut EP It’s My Party caught the attention of Lisbon Lux, who signed him and then released the Montréaler’s 2019 full-length debut, Restless. Restless saw Mongeon creating a sound that meshes crisp electronic sounds with organic instrumentation to convey a more mature and dynamic aesthetic.  Since the release of Restless, the French-Canadian artist has very busy: He has made the rounds of the provincial and national festival circuit, with sets at Festival Pop Montréal, M pour Montréal, Festival Mode et Design, Picnik Électronik, Festival Fringe de Montréal, Santa Teresa Fest and Canadian Music Week. He also played at New Colossus Festival back in 2019. 2021 saw the release of Mongeon’s sophomore Radiant Baby album, Pantomime, which was followed up with a deluxe edition of Pantomime (Deluxe) last year.  Earlier this month, Mongeon released his third Radiant Baby album Porcelaine through his longtime label home Lisbon Lux Records. The album features “Mort de Rire,” a slinky bit of synth-driven New Wave-like funk paired with the Montréal-based artist’s dreamy falsetto. “Mort de Rire,” sounds as though it could have been released sometime during the late 1970s and early 1980s. And as the rising Canadian artist explained, the song inspects the twists and turns of our darkest sides — without taking itself too seriously. Porcelaine‘s latest single “Klondike” continues a remarkably run of slinky, synth-driven and downright dance floor friendly-like New Wave that seems to channel Jef Barbara‘s Soft To The Touch and Contamination, Talking Heads‘ Remain in Light and Le Couleur‘s Autobahn — all while reminding the listener of Mongeon’s unerring knack for crafting insanely catchy hooks.

[roturo]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?

˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .

tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!

satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)

well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.

like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.

“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.

“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.

all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.

suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)

you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.

he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.

“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.

“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.

he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.

kento nanami (Big Boss)

Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.

the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...

“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.

“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 

“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”

toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)

you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.

you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 

“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 

“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–

“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”

[von2dutch]

Sugar baby | Jey Uso

Chapter Five

Synopsis: Sex is not a big deal. ...You can have a no-strings-attached arrangement with someone you don’t care about.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Black Female reader | word count: 3.1k | Warning: smut, toxic behavior, protected sex | 18+ ONLY

Hey my loves! This is part five to three series near the end and I just want to say I thank you all so much for reading and enjoying it. God bless 🤎.

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Lastly, enjoy

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Last night I cried, tossed and turned

Woke up with dry eyes

My mind was racing, feet were pacing

Lord, help me, please tell me what I have gotten into

Ran my three miles to clear my mind

As the hauntingly emotional notes of "Emotional Rollercoaster" by Vivian Green filled the air, Dakota huddled in the bathtub, her legs pulled close to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably as tears of despair streamed down her cheeks.

It had been a full five weeks since the incident, and her mental state had steadily deteriorated. The world appeared devoid of vibrancy in her perception, leaving her submerged in an unrelenting state of anguish and hopelessness.

Dakota had fled back to her hometown, Chicago, to seek refuge with her grandmother. She couldn't bear the thought of staying in her apartment where Jey could easily find her, and the mere sight of him filled her with anger and resentment. The distance from Jey also served as an escape from the constant barrage of calls and texts from Joshua, whom she had tried in vain to cut off all contact with. Despite her efforts, Joshua's persistent attempts to reach her were like a relentless wave, always finding a way to push through her defenses. She hated him.

Dakota's mental state was in shambles, and the online exposure of her private pictures had left her feeling humiliated and defeated. The once confident and radiant woman had succumbed to a deep depression, her self-image shattered into a million pieces. She felt violated and hopeless, unable to shake off the shame and judgment that now weighed heavily on her soul.

Depression had slithered into the depths of Dakota's being and settled in, refusing to be shaken. She embraced its cold embrace, isolating herself from the world around her, turning even her closest friend Jasmine away. The only person who had access to her was her grandmother, who provided a safe haven for her to retreat to. Anger mingled with her depression, fueling a bitter and resentful fire within her. She was overwhelmed by her emotions, struggling to breathe under the weight of her emotional turmoil.

The only thing she wondered was why? The one person she thought loved her so much and respected her put her private images online to possibly sent to someone to hurt her. She couldn’t bear to believe but it was true in her mind. Jey the one person who cherished her with so much love and affection crushed her in the most gut wrenching way possible. She couldn’t understand how someone who hurt her so bad she still loved someone she wanted to hate so bad she still loved so deeply.

Yesterday, I told myself I was gonna be okay

Gonna start a new day, be truly happy

I was gonna take control of me

But eventually reality hit me mentally, physically, emotionally

And I opened my eyes and realized

As Dakota sat still in her bathtub, her knees tucked up against her chest. The cold, porcelain surface felt like a sharp contrast to the numbness that had settled over her soul. Her eyes were red and puffy from countless tears shed in sorrow and heartbreak. The warmth of the water that enveloped her body was the only comfort she could find in a world that seemed to have turned against her. Naked and vulnerable, she stared listlessly into the water, a silent testament to her emotional turmoil.

"Just why?" echoed through the bathroom as Dakota sobbed, tears streaming down her face without an end in sight. The pain and betrayal she felt were etched onto her features as she repeated the question, her voice cracking with anguish. She couldn't understand what could have possibly driven Jey to hurt her in such a devastating way. The thought of him sharing her intimate pictures online felt like a knife twisting in her heart, shredding whatever trust and love she had left.

Just why?

Before Dakota could do anything else Jasmine stormed into the bathroom, her eyes wide with fear and determination. She found Dakota sitting in the bathtub, her body curled up with her knees against her chest. "Dakota stop!" Jasmine shouted, her voice a mix of desperation and firmness. "You're not going to do this to yourself." As she knelt down beside the tub, she grabbed Dakota's trembling hands, her grip firm but gentle. "I’m not letting you go down this path again Kota stop please.”

“Jas just leave me alone.” Dakota sniffed , keeping her eyes on the wall infront of her not daring to look Jasmine in her eyes.

Jasmine's words sliced through the air, sharp and demanding. "No, you're my best friend, Dakota. Do you honestly think I'm going to let you drown yourself?" The tone of her voice was filled with determination and concern, leaving no room for argument. She stood there, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and worry, refusing to let Dakota give in to her despair.

Jasmine's tone was firm and resolute, her eyes fixed on Dakota with a mixture of urgency and determination. "Dakota, get out of this tub now," she commanded. "Or so God help me, I'll drag your ass out of there myself." The threat was clear, and there was no room for negotiation. Jasmine was not going to let her friend give in to her despair.

Jasmine knew all too well the depths of despair that Dakota had sunken into before. She had witnessed her friend's struggles through various trials and tribulations, but nothing quite compared to the time when Dakota lost her mother. Losing the only parent she had left Dakota feeling shattered and alone, like a ship lost at sea with no one to cling to for comfort. Jasmine understood the weight of that loss and the toll it had taken on her friend's delicate mental state.

Jasmine finally convinced Dakota to get out of the tub, wrapping her in a large, fluffy towel. She led Dakota towards her bedroom, sitting her down on the edge of the bed. "You need to snap out of this," Jasmine said firmly, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "You can't keep punishing yourself like this."

“Jasmine what the fuck else am I supposed to do huh? My life is over I don’t want to be here I love someone that fucked me over so what else should I be happy about to stay here.”

“Dakota stop that shit! You have many reason why you deserve to be here not only because of me but because of everyone that loves and cares about you think about your grandma, think about your passion for fashion but most importantly your self.”

Jasmine's words hung in the air, the weight of her truth impossible for Dakota to ignore. "Stop punishing yourself for things you can't control," she implored. "Me and you both know Jey hadn’t done that Kota that man loves you and I’ve seen it with my own eyes he loves you.” The conviction in her voice was palpable, as if trying to shake Dakota out of her despair and make her see the truth of the situation.

Dakota turned to face Jasmine, her eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You're taking his side now?" she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. Her hands clenched the towel tightly around her body, as if trying to shield herself from the world.

Jasmine met Dakota's gaze, her own expression resolute. "No, I'm not taking his side," she replied, her tone steady. "But I won't watch you drown in this cycle of self-blame and despair."

“Dakota I just think you’re taking this too far without hearing him out.”

“Hear him out for what Jasmine! What could he fucking possibly say oh he’s sorry?.” Dakota laughed historically as she found it funny in a dark way. “Sorry huh? Fuck him I don’t give a damn what he has to say I’m done.”

Jasmine flinched at the venom in Dakota's voice, her heart aching for her friend. "I'm not asking you to forgive him," she reiterated, her tone gentle.

Dakota's laughter echoed through the room, a harsh, bitter sound. "Sorry? As if that could fix any fucking thing," she mocked, her voice filled with hurt and anger. "I don't give a damn about his apologizes or explanations. I'm done, done with him."

“Kota just hear hi— no Fuck you jasmine.” Dakota shouted startling her grandmother that was next door to her room. Dakota walked closer to Jasmine staring into her eyes.

“Fuck me?”

“Yes! You.”

“Dakota you’ve lost your fucking mind! I’ve been your best friend for years and the one time I try to tell you that you’re taking things too fucking far it’s fuck me?.” Jasmine snapped her tone hissed and groaned in disbelief as she took a step back.

Dakota's voice rose, filled with raw emotion and unchecked anger, as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, well let me guess, you feel companionship for him, huh?" Her voice trembled with pain and frustration. "Well good for fucking you! You and him, him and you, you and fucking him can go to hell!" The words spilled out like venom, pouring out of her like a torrent of suppressed emotions finally unleashed.

The anger in Dakota's voice was palpable as she faced off against Jasmine. "You and everyone else picked him over me!" she yelled, her eyes burning with betrayal. "The one person you've known all your fucking life!"

Jasmine flinched, the hurt and shock visible on her face as Dakota's words hit her like a gut punch. "Dakota, please, just listen..." she tried to interject, but Dakota wasn't done.

The weight of betrayal and hurt was evident in Dakota's voice as she stood in the middle of the room, her cheeks stained with tears. "No!" she cried out, her arm shaking as she gestured emphatically. "Why, Jasmine? Why did he do that to me?"

Jasmine's heart ached, seeing her best friend in such a devastated state. She stepped closer, her own eyes filled with tears. "I-I don't know, Kota," she stammered, her voice choked with emotion.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around Dakota, pulling her into a tight embrace. She rocked her back and forth on the bed, offering comfort and support. The air around them was thick with sadness and grief as Dakota's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her emotions completely frayed and raw.

She was a wreck.

Jasmine held onto Dakota tightly, her arms wrapped around her like a lifeline. The two friends sat silently on the bed, the room enveloped in a heavy silence punctuated only by Dakota's occasional sniffles.

Jasmine finally spoke, her voice soft and gentle. "I know it's tough," she murmured, her hand stroking Dakota's hair soothingly. "But you'll get through this, Kota. I promise."

Dakota sniffed, her voice cracking as she looked up at Jasmine. "How?" she whispered. "How can I trust anyone again after what he did?"

“By putting your trust in god Kota, all we can do is pray.”

A Grandmother’s love

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Dakota.Valentine • 50 mins ago

“So are you gonna hide here forever?”

“Huh?” Dakota said as she turned to look away from the tv towards her grandmother as she sat on the couch watching The Wayne brothers.

“I said are you going to hide here forever babygirl?” She asked once more as she stared at Dakota waiting for an answer.

“Well yeah if that’s what it takes.” Dakota shrugged unsure of her answer but confident with it. If this what it took for peace of mind then so be it.

"Suga, running away won't fix your problems," she said again, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "And thinking it'll bring you peace of mind is only going to make things worse."

Dakota's grandmother's words cut through the air, her tone laced with a mixture of love and sternness. She fixed Dakota with a knowing gaze, her eyes reflecting years of wisdom and experience.

Dakota shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling the weight of her grandmother's words. She knew she couldn't hide forever, but admitting it was another thing altogether.

Dakota's grandmother continued, her gaze unwavering. "Baby, you may think you're in control by running away, but you're not. You're just digging yourself a deeper hole."

Just then, Dakota's phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. She rolled her eyes, assuming it was Jasmine trying to reach her.

"Answer it, suga," she urged. "Might be important."

Without much choice, Dakota reached for her phone and hesitantly answered the call. As soon as she answered, the familiar voice on the other end confirmed her suspicions.

"Ko baby," Jey's voice echoed through the receiver, soft and strained.

Dakota's heartbeat quickened, the mix of anger and pain flooding back in an instant. She froze, her mind racing as she held the phone to her ear.

She froze for a moment, her emotions swirling within her. Hearing Jey's voice stirred up a mix of anger and pain that threatened to break her resolve. But then, with a clenched jaw, she mustered all her willpower and pressed the hang-up button, cutting off the call abruptly.

Dakota dropped her phone onto the couch, shaking her head. "He can forget about it," she muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm not falling for his apologies this time."

Her Grandma watched her with a mix of sadness and understanding. She knew the pain and anger were eating away at Dakota, but she also understood that sometimes tough love was necessary.

"Honey, hanging up on him like that won't solve anything," she said gently. "You need to confront this head-on, not run away from it."

Dakota rolled her eyes again, frustration boiling up within her. "It's easy for you to say, Nanny," she retorted, her voice slightly raised. "You're not the one who got betrayed and hurt."

Grandma took a deep breath, her patience visibly wearing thin but her love for Dakota unwavering. "Exactly," she said firmly. "That's why I see this situation more clearly than you do. You're too blinded by your anger to see the truth."

Dakota huffed, her eyes narrowing defiantly. "And what truth is that, huh?" she challenged, her voice dripping with skepticism. "That he really didn't leak those pictures of me online? That he's completely innocent and blameless in all this?"

Grandma regarded her granddaughter with a steely gaze, refusing to back down. "Yes," she said simply. "That's exactly what I believe. You're just too stubborn to consider the possibility."

Dakota scoffed, her frustration mounting. "And how can you possibly believe that? He's the only one who had those pictures, Grandma. It's like you're just blindly trusting him!"

Grandma shook her head, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "No, sugar, I'm not blindly trusting him," she corrected. "I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, something you refuse to do."

Grandma took a deep breath, her tone softened as she recalled the memories. "Girl, don't you remember how he was there for you during your hardest moments?" she reminded Dakota, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

"He helped pay for your mama's funeral, without a second thought. And remember how you called me after you got into a relationship with him? I could hear the excitement in your voice, honey. You were happier than I'd ever heard you."

Grandma's eyes searched Dakota's face, hoping to see some flicker of realization. "And let's not forget about the support he gave you whenever you needed it," she continued, her voice steady. "He was there for you through it all."

Dakota's expression remained defiant, her anger still clouding her judgment. But a tiny crack in her wall of rage appeared, as if Grandma's words had momentarily weakened her defenses.

Her grandma only wanted the best for her but she could tell Dakota’s anger got in the way of that no matter how much pull she tried to ease the situation nothing worked.

He was the love of her granddaughters life she had never seen her so blossomed with love till she met him and now everything was broken to glass that she thought maybe she could fix.

Grandma pounced on that sign of vulnerability, hoping to keep pushing forward. "Baby girl," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "You've always been a fighter, yes, but you also have a good heart. Deep down, you know he didn't do this to hurt you."

Dakota paused, her expression conflicted. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, as if Grandma's words were starting to break through the thick wall of anger she had built around her heart.

Grandma pressed on, sensing that she was getting to her. "Just think about it, darlin'," she pleaded. "Why would he help you through everything if he didn't truly care for you? Why pay for your mama's funeral if his intentions were malicious?"

Dakota's resolve wavered, her shoulders slumping slightly as Grandma's words echoed in her mind.

Grandma leaned forward on the couch, her gaze steady. "You're a smart girl, Dakota," she said firmly. "You know the answers to those questions. But you're just too angry to accept them."

Dakota's eyes darted away, a mixture of anger and uncertainty swirling within her. "But the pictures..." she protested weakly.

Grandma shook her head, gently shutting down Dakota's protest. "Those pictures don't prove anything, darlin'," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "They could have come from anywhere. You're just assuming the worst without even talking to him about it."

Dakota fidgeted on the couch, her defenses weakening more by the minute.

Grandma placed a comforting hand on Dakota's knee, offering a gentle touch. "Baby girl, you have to confront this head-on," she urged. "Instead of running away, you need to talk to him and get to the truth. Only then can you move forward and find some peace."

Dakota chewed on her lip, her expression conflicted. She knew Grandma had a point, but her stubbornness and anger held her back from admitting it. She just wanted to forget him but she couldn’t because she loved him dispite her anger towards him.

Grandma softened her tone even further, trying to appeal to Dakota's emotions. "Think about it, sugar," she pleaded. "You two have been through too much to throw it all away over a misunderstanding. You owe it to yourself to at least talk to him and figure out what really happened."

Dakota's gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumping even further. The fire in her eyes was starting to dim, replaced by a hint of acceptance.

Grandma could sense that Dakota was starting to crack, and she cautiously continued. "And let's not forget that communication is key in any relationship," she said gently. "You can't just shut him out without giving him a chance to explain."

Dakota let out a sigh, her eyes still fixed on the floor. She was visibly struggling with her emotions, the anger and betrayal warring with rationality in her mind.

Grandma noticed the struggle within Dakota and seized the opportunity to push a little further. "You don't even have to forgive him right away," she reassured her. "But give him a chance to explain himself, at least."

Dakota's eyes flickered up for a moment, her guard slowly dropping. She still held onto her anger, but there was a hint of curiosity as well.

Grandma saw the flicker of curiosity in Dakota's gaze and used it to her advantage. "Isn't that what you want, sugar?" she asked gently. "To know the truth? To finally have an answer?"

Dakota's resistance wavered even more, her expression conflicted. She wanted answers, but she was terrified of being hurt again.

That was all she wanted was the answers but could she handle it? Could she handle being also wrong to run away from her problems rather than face them and learn the truth.

Grandma leaned closer to her Dakota , her eyes filled with empathy and understanding. "Listen, darlin', I know you're scared," she admitted. "You've been through a lot, and it's natural to want to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But sometimes, to truly move on and find peace, you have to face your fears and take the risk."

Dakota swallowed hard, her eyes still downcast. Her mind was racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Grandma reached out and took Dakota's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not asking you to forget what happened," she said softly. "But give Joshua a fair chance to explain himself. At least listen to what he has to say."

Dakota's grip tightened on her grandmother's hand, but her expression was still conflicted. She knew her grandmother was right, but the scars of betrayal ran deep.

Could she forgive him ?

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2.am

As the night grew darker, a soft knocking echoed through the quiet house. Dakota’s Grandma stirred, casting a brief glance at the clock—2:00 AM. She slowly rose from her bed, a mix of curiosity and concern coursing through her.

Approaching the door, she fumbled with the lock before slowly opening it. Standing there, silhouetted against the dim lighting, was Jey. His eyes were heavy with fatigue and determination.

"Can I come in?" Jey asked quietly, his voice gravelly. She regarded him with a mixture of surprise and concern before nodding and stepping aside.

Joshua entered the house, his movements clumsy in his late-night stupor. They made their way to the living room, the tension between them palpable.

He took a late night flight to Chicago the minute he found out where Dakota was hiding at from jasmine. He wasn’t going to risk anything to speak to her no matter how tireless he was from a match he had earlier on in the night he was still going to fight his way to her.

"Is she here?" Jey asked, his gaze darting around the room, searching for Dakota.

Jey's eyes were visibly red and puffy, evidence of the tears he'd shed. His mullet was disheveled, and his usual confident demeanor seemed to have crumbled. He looked weary and vulnerable, as if he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

As he spoke, his voice wavered slightly. "Is Dakota here?" he asked once more,, his gaze searching the room for any sign of her.

She nodded, her expression softened by the sight of his weary appearance. "She's in her room," she replied quietly. "Probably not asleep, though. She's been restless since that incident."

Jey's shoulders slumped at the mention of the incident, guilt etched across his face. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, attempting to compose himself.

His heart twisted at the sound of her pain and animosity, each word she spoke like a knife twisting deep into his chest. The idea that he had caused her pain, that he had hurt her to the point of her hating him, cut through him like a hot blade.

The realization that he had caused so much harm stung deeply, and Jey felt a wave of guilt and self-loathing wash over him. He wanted to scream at himself, to beat himself up for being so careless with someone he cared for so deeply.

She was his beautiful bloom tree that made him bloom.

As Jey ran his hand through his hair, the movement revealed his signature mullet, now with the distinctive red tips at the ends. The stark contrast against the muted light of the room only seemed to emphasize the weariness in his expression.

Grandma's gaze stayed on Jey, her maternal instincts stirred by the sight of his disheveled state. "You look like you've been through the wringer, honey," she observed, her voice laced with concern.

Josh let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping further as if the weight of the world was pressing upon him. "I have," he admitted softly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Dakota slowly stepped out of her room, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She rubbing her eyes, her hair disheveled and a blanket draped over her shoulders.

"Nanny, who was at the..." her voice trailed off as she noticed Jey standing there. Her guard immediately went up, and her expression hardened. "What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Dakota!” Her grandmother shouted out at her with a glare for her language.

“Sorry nanny.” Dakota sighed trying to contain her anger which held high.

Jey looked up as Dakota appeared, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. He swallowed hard, mustering the courage to speak. "I needed to talk to you," he said quietly. "Please, just hear me out."

Dakota's eyes narrowed, her walls firmly in place. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, a futile attempt to fortify her defenses.

Josh took a tentative step toward her, his movements slow and measured. "Can we talk in private?" he asked softly.

Dakota hesitated, her gaze flickering between her grandmother's retreating form and Jey. After a moment, she relented, her resistance cracking slightly. "Fine," she said grudgingly, gesturing toward her room. "But make it quick."

Jey followed Dakota into her room, the door closing softly behind him. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small bedside lamp.

Dakota leaned against the wall, her arms crossed defensively. A tense silence hung in the air, the tension between them palpable.

Jey stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the photographs and trinkets that adorned her walls and shelves—reminders of happier times between them.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before finally looking at her. "I know you're angry," he began quietly. "And I don't blame you."

Jey took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them a fraction. "I didn't leak those pictures," he said firmly, his voice tinged with desperation.

Dakota's gaze flickered up to meet his, her eyes cold. She didn't respond, but her expression remained guarded and skeptical.

Jey could see the skepticism in her eyes and felt desperation well up within him. He took another step forward, his voice growing more insistent.

"I swear to you, Dakota, I would never do no shit like that to hurt you," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. "I love you. I would never betray you like that and you know that.”

Jey's eyes were pleading, his expression filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "Please," he said softly, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Please believe me. I didn't do this."

Dakota's expression wavered, the wall she had built around her heart cracking ever so slightly. She wanted to believe him, but the pain of betrayal weighed heavily on her heart.

Joshua took a final step toward her, closing the gap between them completely. He gently reached out, placing a tentative hand on her arm.

"I swear, Dakota," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never do anything to hurt you.."

Dakota's gaze flicked up to meet his, her walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his earnestness.

Josh’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. He stepped even closer, closing the remaining gap between their bodies.

"Please," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers. "I need you to believe me. I love you. You're the most important person in my life, and I would never intentionally hurt you like that ko.”

Dakota's expression softened, her defenses slipping further. A hint of doubt and confusion warred with her anger.

Jey's expression hardened as he locked eyes with her. "You hate me, huh?" he said quietly, his voice laced with resignation.

Dakota nodded, crossing her arms defiantly. "Yeah, I do, I really fucking do.” she replied, her voice cold and distant. "And nothing you say is going to change that."

Jey let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes narrowing as he observed her stubborn expression. "You don't believe me," he stated, his voice tinged with anger.

Dakota shrugged, unfazed. "Damn right, I don't," she retorted, her gaze flickering away from him.

Jey felt a surge of irritation, his frustration mounting. He took a step closer, closing the space between them again.

"Why the fuck you gotta be so damn stubborn Dakota?” he asked, his voice raising slightly. "Why can't you even consider the possibility that I could be telling the fucking truth?.”

Dakota's eyes flared with defiance, her stubbornness refusing to waver. "Because it's easier for me to hate you than to believe in you," she shot back, her voice laced with bitterness.

Jey's anger flared at her response, his jaw clenching. "Nah it’s just easier to believe I did it then to believe I didn’t ," he snapped, his gaze burning into hers.

"Is it, though?" Dakota retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Or is it easier for you to blame me for being stubborn than to accept that you played a role in all this?"

Jey clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin. "Played a role in what? I ain’t did shit Dakota," he growled. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"You think so?" Dakota scoffed, her voice filled with skepticism. "You really think you didn't do anything wrong at all?"

Josh’s irritation boiled over, his voice rising to a near-yell. "Fuck Dakota, I already told you I didn't leak that shit!”

“But you just can’t fucking seem to get that through your damn head can you?” Josh replied but he stopped in his tracks as he saw red roses sitting on her nightstand with a card written on it big and bold. “Joe Anoaʻi.”

"Joe," he muttered under his breath, his expression darkening with jealousy. “You can accept gifts from him but not me right?”

“Josh it shouldn’t even matter we ar— It should fucking matter Dakota!” Joshua shouted startling Dakota as he stared at her with almost darken eyes.

His shout echoed through the room, its intensity shocking even to him. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, now seemed almost dark as he locked gazes with Dakota.

He had grown weary of waiting patiently, feeling drained not only by his efforts but also by the fact that she could hold conversations with Joe, while she seemed unable to do the same with him.

“It doesn’t matter though because we aren’t to fucking gether!”

“So what you fucking with my cousin now? Is that what it is.” He asked, he could see the anger and frustration building within him as he walked back and forth, each step punctuated by his clenched fists. The tension in the room was palpable as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“No! But that’s the problem you get to assuming things without knowing the fucking truth.” She shot back.

“I fucking hate you.”

Joshua came to an abrupt halt as if everything else around him vanished in that moment, fixating on the single word "hate." He made his way towards Dakota, his gaze fixed on her, and his features softened. "You don’t mean that ko.”

“No I do.” Dakota's response cut through the air like cold ice water. She pivoted on her heel, deliberately turning her back on him, refusing to spare him even a single glance.

“I know you’re mad at me right now but Dakota me and you both know you don’t m— NO I do mean it I mean it so fucking much I hate you!”

“Everyday I wish I hadn’t met you but I did and I have to live and regret it so yes I do hate you matter fact you can leave.” Dakota said once more as the tears she so desperately didn’t want to drop did.

“Aight I’ll go…but before I leave I want you to know ko that even though you hate me I still love you and never will stop loving you.” Joshua said as tears filed his eyes he walked towards the bedroom door walking his footsteps becoming faint the more he walked away.

Hate is a powerful emotion, and when it emerges between people who love each other, it can feel like a natural part of the relationship. No matter how strong the love may seem, true colors are bound to show eventually. It's important to ask yourself.

Is hate a strong word for you?.

To be continued…..

So this is the end of chapter five! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Y’all I’ve been so busy watching interview with the vampire and all I can say is girl it’s crazy but so good! So far Claudia is my favorite. I kinda of used one of the scenes from I think season two with Claudia and Louis arguing about amand.

AND most importantly I want to thank you all for getting me to 6k followers! I appreciate it so much!!!! 🫶🏾

Feel free to drop any opinions on the characters or chapter and a till next time. God bless🎀

[abbygracerecs]

Mattew Gray Gubler Fic Reccommendations

Unlucky in Love - @criminalmindzjunkie

Fluff alphabet - @cacoetheswriting

Things we know by heart - @juniorgman187

Going Live - @doublekrecs smut

Cockwarming - @doublekrecs smut

Teacher, Teacher - @differentkettleoffishalltogether smut

Fresh baked - @reidgraygubler

Daydreams turn to reality - @spencerreidscoffeecup smut

Porcelain - @imagining-in-the-margins

Funny thing fate - @imagining-in-the-margins

Studious shadow - @imagining-in-the-margins

Soulmate - @imagining-in-the-margins

Different Dialects - @imagining-in-the-margins

Perverse temptations - @subspencer smut

36 questions to fall in love - @boldlyvoid anything Em writes is amazing! also go buy something from them!

Mine - @boldlyvoid smut

10 days - @boldlyvoid

Professional hairdresser - @boldlyvoid smut

Journey to Camelot - @boldlyvoid smut

Dream a little dream - @criminalmindswriting

Rogue thoughts - @sometimesiwritebadly

Green was the color - @strawberryspence

Words of two souls - @reidandweep

Mutual - @anothermansjeans

Ask the girl out! - @babymetaldoll

I love you - @babymetaldoll

Online Secret Santa - @babymetaldoll

Birthday wishes - @babymetaldoll

The shoebox under the bed - @thatgirlstrawberry

Pregnant wife - @radiant-reid

Baby daddy - @shemarmooresfedora

Daddy’s little helper - @stairain smut

Bang My Line - @daddy-dotcom

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

What do ikevill suitors smell like? PT.2

Hi little robins, this is pt.2 of "What do ikevil suitors smell like?". I've included the three new babies villains, the Vogel boys. Eventhough we don't know much about them, I couldn't resist including them here, because I already love those sillies. Soooo, enjoy, my dears!!! Btw, just like in pt.1, I tried to put the same amount of perfumes on each boy, except for Elbie, our greedy boy.

Elbert Greetia

A melancholic, porcelain-doll-looking nobleman. Our Ethereal Prince. My Greedy Boy. As beautiful as a work of art. He has a little maniacal obsession with collecting the most beautiful things in the world, just for himself, that's why he has so many perfumes, he can't decide which one he likes the most, so he keeps buying new fragrances. "I want. I want. I want… If only I could find it, then surely..." Love, let me hold your hand while telling you this: you are the mot beautiful thing in the world. His ocean-blue eyes and long, fluttering lashes hold such a sorrowful gaze. If it weren't because of his curse, he could perfectly be part of ikemen prince, you can't change my mind. I love Elbie, and I can't wait to play his route over and over again. He reminds me of a rain-soaked garden with a gazebo full of roses in the middle. He reminds me of a nostalgic walk along a solitary beach at dusk. He reminds me of a magical forest bathed in silver moonlight. He definitely smells clean, soft, and ethereal, with perhaps some citrusy notes blended with salty-marine hints that reflect his love for beach walks.

Notes: Bergamot, lemon, aldehydes, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, sea salt, sandalwood, white musk and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

De Profundis - Serge Lutens

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson - Hermès

Wood Sage & Sea Salt - Jo Malone

Aqua Allegoria Teazzurra - Guerlain

L’Eau Froide - Serge Lutens

Sel Marin - James Heeley

Fou d’Absinthe - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Meomir Man - Amouage

Ninfeo Mio - Goutal

Jude Jazza

The Cunning & Ruthless Mobster. Crown's personal Maleficent. Silvio 2.0. A mean pookie who enjoys the problems and suffering of others. "All your yappin's real noisy. Lemme shut ya up.” OMG he even speaks like Silvio. Pretty sure he's kinky af, he may be into chains or something similar. "He's earned himself many enemies" Nah, really? I would've never guessed, not with that golden retriever personality of his. "He always fulfills his promises and expects the same of others, holding a special one close to his festering heart." You see? He has a heart, allegedly. Anyways, we're here to talk about scents, aren't we? I feel like he smells like tobacco and liqueur, I'm 100% sure. And, I don't know why, I can sense some kind of smell that reminds me of sylvester bushes and a really old library, full of dust. Of course, we can't forget that he has money *cough, cough, Silvio, cough*, so he also needs a really expensive scent. He probably doesn't have a favourite perfume, because he slays at layering them and creating new scents that combine with his radiant and bubbly personality.

Notes: Liqueur, cognac, tobacco, black pepper, cinnamon, bergamot, cedarwood, sandalwood, leather, amber and vetiver.

Perfumes he might like:

Man In Black - Bvlgari

Tobacco Vanille - Tom Ford

Angels' Share - By Killian

Straight to Heaven - By Killian

The Tragedy of Lord George - Penhaligon's

1740 Marquis de Sade - Histoires de Parfums

Ellis Twilight

The little sunshine oddball filled with happiness and joy. Have you seen those cute little curls in his hair? *OMG he's so fluffy I'm gonna dieeee.* He wants to reveal the happiest moments of other people’s lives (and then kill them). He really has a peculiar obsession (another impulsive maniacal wow, such a surprise hahan't.) for the "happiest moment" in others' lives and his own definition of "love" he's striving to prove (Alexa, play "Safer" by Tyla). “Tell me, how happy are you right now…?” If I tell you I'm depressed will you let me live?. Crown's youngest member and Jude's assistant (I don't even know what to think anymore, poor Ellis or poor Jude?). Anyways, as the mentally ill person that I am, I'll patiently wait for his route release. Back to the scents, he loves crispy baguettes and raspberry jam. I feel like he smells like a twisted picnic in a forest at dusk, with pink roses, fresh bread and berries. Clean, but with earthy and woody hints. Since he is such a people pleaser, he doesn't have a favourite perfume, he's just going to wear whatever you like the most, even if it's nothing, even if it's gasoline.

Notes: Mandarine, grapefruit, raspberry, rose, bread, cedarwood, vanilla, oak moss and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

By The Fireplace - Maison Margiela

Eau Rose - Diptyque

Aventus for Her - Creed

Memoirs of a Trespasser - Imaginary Authors

Pomegranate Noir - Jo Malone

Mûre et Musc - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Darius Vogel

The so called Untrustworthy Cruel Angel, or what I prefer, Chevalier and Gilbert's love child. He truly looks as beautiful and ethereal as an angel, but so did Lucifer, and he ended up ruling Hell, so... we'll have to wait to see him in action... According to Victor in his Vicpedia "Is he an angel or a devil? You’ll have to find out for yourself." “Hello cursed people and everyone else. Won’t you join me in building a wonderful world?” Vlad, is that you? The angelic head of the German empire’s direct organisation, “Vogel”. Referencing Victor on his Vicpedia, "Though he looks like an angel, there’s a strong scent of evil coming from him." So, translated to scents, what does that exactly smells like? Based on what we know, which is not much, if not nothing, I will say that his scent matches his appearance, so maybe a really light, soft, airy and beautiful opening, with white flowers and white musk, very angelic-like, with a "punch" of something much more obscure beneath the surface, maybe some spices, sweet liqueurs and dark woods. All that in a winter-like scenery, very cold, like a breath on top of a glacier.

Notes: Bergamot, jasmine, gardenia, lily of the valley, snowdrop, foxglove, cypress, sandalwood, cinnamon, black pepper, oak moss and absinthe.

Perfumes he might like:

The Language Of Glaciers - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

Nightingale - Zoologist Perfumes

Viking - Creed

Reflection Man - Amouage

La Religieuse - Serge Lutens

Poivre Noire - Serge Lutens

Nica Schwartz

Just like Jude is the villanous version of Silvio from ikeprince, I feel like Nica is Nokto's doppelganger in ikevillains. A frivolous and cunning person who plays with love. He gives me foxy vibes, but in a darker and colder way. He's referred to as "Vogel’s brain" and seems to have a knack for manipulation and has an eye for money and power. “Guten Tag, cute robin. I want you to be my toy", yep, we have yet another fox. He's a bookworm, but, apparently, is just so he can gain more and more knowledge so he can play with you all. In the official information given directly by Cybird, it says that Nica resents shows of affection, but he still plays with you like a toy. Doesn't that sounds like he's desperate for someone loving him? "He resents love because he has never been given some." Again, this are just assumptions based on what we know and the vibes that I get from him. In conclusion, beneath that foxy-like appearance, I feel like he may have a huge heart of gold that he is too afraid to share. If I had to translate that vibe into a scent, it would probably be something seductive but fresh and sweet at the same time, something more "wild" like a fox playing in a field, but with a cooler vibe, maybe between winter and spring.

Notes: Bergamot, vetiver, jasmin, fruity, leather, ambar, incense, musk, lily of the valley, wild flowers, vanilla, honey, tulip and pink pepper.

Perfumes he might like:

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

L'homme Ideal - Guerlain

Yesterday Haze - Imaginary Authors

XJ 1861 Naxos - Xerjoff

Tam Dao - Diptyque

Snowy Owl - Zoologist Perfumes

Ring Schwartz

The love of my life pt. I already lost the count. The cute Vogel's guard dog. Dariu's puppet and Licht's doppelganger.  "This younger twin suffers from blushing easily" Victor please stop, I can't take it anymore. “If you don’t want your life to be taken, don’t get in the way of us, Vogel.” Okay cute puppy, whatever you say. From what we know, Ring seems cold when you first approach him, but he will be on his knees at the minimum show of affection towards him. So, if you play with his heart, you'll not only have Nica going for you, I'll be there too. Based on the information that Cybird has given us, he seems to be shy and cold, since one of his hobbies is "being in the corner of a room", still, it's not like he is an antisocial, we can guess that because the thing that he resents the most is "eating alone". The other hobby that he has is "taking a nap while looking at the sky" this tells me that he prefers quiet places where he can feel at peace, and somehow it also gives me the vibes of a dreamer, since "looking at the sky" is kind of poetic and it can symbolise freedom, if you know what I mean. In his skills he mixes two aspects that seem quite radical, combat skills and martial arts, along with a really good relationship with animals and an understanding of plants and flowers. When I say radical, in this case, I mean it's that one thing is "agressive" and "tough" while the other is so much more "soft" and "light energy". That aspect of dichotomy or duality is the most important characteristic of Ring, and it needs to be reflected on his scent.

Notes: Grapefruit, black pepper, ginger, lavender, vanilla, lily of the valley, snowdrop, leather, sandalwood, amber and forget-me-not.

Perfumes he might like:

The Noir 29 - Le Labo

Jubilation XXV - Amouage

Pardon - Nasomatto

Russian Leather - Memo Paris

Hyrax - Zoologist Perfumes

Burning Ben - Strangers Parfumerie - His favourite

And here it ends the "What do ___ suitors smell like?" Ikemen Villains edition. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as mucha as I have enjoyed writing it. You've probably noticed that the ikevil version of these series is pretty much less humorous than the ikeprince version. I think it is mainly because, eventhough both games characters are so well written and have a lot of traumas and issues, I still think that Ikemen Villains is the darkest one, and so, the one with less humorous content. And also, I tried to understand each character, that's why the character's descriptions are so long, sorry for that hehe. Anyways, thanks for your attention and love!!! Love you all my little robins!!!

Btw, I will probably continue doing this with ikevamp and maybe, maybe, ikesen, but it will take some time, there are a lot of characters in those game series.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Heartbeat of Autumn

As new parents, Eris and Lyra Vanserra navigate the overwhelming challenges of caring for their newborn son. Amidst sleepless nights, overbearing family, and deep-seated fears they discover the unbreakable bond that comes with parenthood and the strength neither of them knew they possessed.

Content warnings: Postpartum struggles, emotional distress, tense familiar relationships.

Eris peered down at the patch of vibrant ginger hair nestled against his chest, the tiny bundle with porcelain skin swaddled tightly in a blanket, only a rosy hand peeking out from underneath. His son was perfection incarnate—every feature flawless and delicate. From the moment he was born, Thorne had been blessed with a full head of fiery red hair, just like all the other Vanserra boys. But as the weeks passed, some of it had fallen away, leaving behind soft tufts that tickled Eris's fingertips.

With a tender touch, Eris traced his fingers up and down the baby's tiny back, feeling the warmth of his body seep into his own. Thorne gurgled contentedly in his slumber, the sound like a symphony to Eris's ears. Plump lips puckered and parted with each gentle breath, and the sight filled Eris with an overwhelming love for his son.

From the moment Thorne was born, Eris had made a promise to himself: he would devote every waking second to his son. Despite his duties under his father's oppressive rule, Eris refused to be an absent father. He was determined to be there for every milestone and precious moment in Thorne's life, even if it meant going against Beron's expectations of him being "soft and weak". So every diaper change, feeding, burp, and bath was met with Eris's undivided attention and love for his son.

Despite enduring his father's constant verbal tirades, all it took was the warmth of Thorne's tiny body against his chest to make every anxiety and worry simply melt away. The soft skin of his baby boy merged seamlessly with his own, their scents mingling into a delightful mixture of cinnamon and apples.

Eris leaned down, breathing in the familiar scent of his son's hair as it tickled his nose. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, feeling the rise and fall of Thorne's chest against his own. Every detail of this new little life filled him with overwhelming love and joy. Though only two months old, Thorne already felt like a part of Eris that he had been missing for a lifetime. From the moment those bright green eyes opened and Thorne let out his first glorious battle cry, Eris had been reduced to a puddle on the floor. In that instant, he knew he would have been content to die right then and there, as nothing more than Thorne's devoted father—high lordship be damned.

Lyra's pregnancy had been anything but smooth sailing - a demanding and unrelenting trial that tested not only her physical strength, but also Eris's. From the very first month, she was plagued by a debilitating morning sickness that refused to abide by any schedule, often striking at any time throughout the day. The mere smell of food would send her sprinting towards the nearest bathroom, doubled over as she retched into the basin with little relief. She soon gave up on trying to eat anything more than a few sips of broth and small bites of dry bread, her once robust appetite now a distant memory. Eris could do nothing but watch in helpless despair as his beloved mate, the female he wanted to share the world with, seemed to waste away before his eyes. She lost an alarming amount of weight, her once radiant complexion replaced with a pale, sickly pallor and her once curvaceous figure reduced to skin and bones.

When the second trimester finally brought some respite from the sickness, Lyra regained some of her strength and color. However, sleep continued to elude her as their unborn child grew restless within her womb. Every night was a battle against exhaustion as she tried desperately to soothe the baby's constant kicking and squirming. Eris did his best to stay awake with her, sitting in their chambers bathed in the soft glow of firelight, singing tender lullabies in hopes of lulling both mother and child to sleep. His deep voice resonated with love and fervent prayers for their little one to finally find rest so that Lyra could have a moment's reprieve.

As they entered into the third trimester, Lyra's struggle only intensified. Each movement became a monumental effort as her body strained under the weight of her growing belly. Her joints constantly throbbed with pain, every step causing her immense discomfort as if her very bones were on fire. Eris's heart broke a little more each time she winced, her body forced to bear the burdens of pregnancy in ways that seemed almost cruel. Despite the overwhelming challenges, Lyra still managed to smile through the pain and tell Eris how excited she was to meet their little one. Her strained voice held a fierce determination and an unbreakable love that seemed to overshadow all the suffering she endured.

"It’s worth it," she would whisper, her voice trembling with both exhaustion and hope. "All of this is worth it, Eris. I’d endure it a thousand times over just to hold our babe in my arms."

In the crisp, autumn air of a new day, Lyra's labor began. The first hints of frost glinted on the windowpanes of their chambers, a silent but beautiful welcome for the newest member of the High Autumn Family. As she stirred awake, Lyra felt a sharp pain shoot through her lower back, but she dismissed it as just another discomfort in her long and difficult pregnancy. Yet as the morning progressed, the pain intensified, spreading like wildfire across her abdomen and pelvis. By midday, with weak rays of sunlight filtering through the orange and brown leaves on the trees, the contractions had hit full force - deep, wrenching waves that stole her breath and left her gripping the edges of her bed in desperation.

Eris stood by her side, his usually composed and reserved demeanor now cracking under the weight of worry and fear. His mate's face contorted in pain as she struggled through each contraction. Eris had thought he was prepared for this moment, but now as he watched her struggle, he felt a helplessness clawing at his insides like a caged animal. He frantically called for a healer, his voice echoing through the halls with a desperate panic that he couldn't contain.

Lyra's labor was a slow, grueling process, each contraction ripping through her body like a fiery inferno. Her fingernails dug into Eris's skin as she clung to him, seeking any bit of comfort and stability in the midst of the relentless pain. Hours passed, dragging on for what felt like an eternity as she labored through the day and well into the night. The healer's brow furrowed with concern as she checked Lyra's progress, her gentle reassurances becoming strained as each minute ticked by. Lyra's breaths came in short gasps, her strength depleting with each passing contraction. Eris remained steadfast by her side, his grip on her hand tight and unwavering, whispering words of encouragement and love. The only time he left her was when his father summoned him to the court room, insisting that it was not appropriate for a male to be present during the birth of his child. But Eris refused to leave his mate's side, determined to support her in whatever way he could. He calmly informed his father that he was not like any other male and that he would be there for Lyra, and he would witness the birth of his first born.

The pain was an all-encompassing force, a relentless attack on her body that felt as though it were tearing her apart. Lyra cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming through each contraction, her body trembling with exhaustion. She had been told that her body would know what to do, that it was designed for this purpose of bearing children, but now she wondered if her body had never been properly trained for this task. The agony seemed never-ending, consuming her every thought and movement. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lyra's cries turned into desperate pleas, declaring that she couldn't endure any longer and that everything felt wrong. Eris, watching the strain in her eyes and feeling his own heart constrict with fear, knew Lyra was reaching her breaking point.

As the hours ticked by, Lyra's labor seemed to come to a halt. Her body refused to progress, as if frozen in time. The healer's expression grew grim as she quietly explained that the baby was not positioned for an easy delivery, and Lyra's body was struggling to push it down the birth canal. The suggestion of a medical intervention hung in the air like a dark cloud, a decision left to Eris and Lyra as they exchanged desperate glances. But Lyra, with a fierce determination in her eyes, refused to give up. She dug deep within herself and summoned every last ounce of strength she had, gritting her teeth against the pain.

The sun rose and set again, but still, Lyra labored on. The chamber filled with her cries, the calming words of the healer, and Eris's softly whispered prayers to any deity who would listen. His heart broke as he watched his beloved endure each wave of pain, her eyes pleading for relief.

As the sun began to rise on the second day of labor, a sense of urgency and determination filled Lyra's body. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, her hair matted against her forehead as she gasped for breath. The pain was intense, but she could feel her body taking over, pushing her onwards towards the end. Through the haze of agony, the healer's voice rang out like a beacon, guiding her through each contraction. Eris stood by her side, his hand clasping hers tightly as she gave everything she had.

With one final, guttural scream, Lyra pushed with all her might, every muscle in her body straining with a strength she didn't know she possessed. And then, just as the first rays of sunlight broke through the darkness, a cry pierced the air - loud and defiant, filling the room with its power and bringing tears to Eris's eyes.

Thorne had arrived. Their son. Their baby boy, who they had been waiting for with so much love and anticipation.

The healer moved with swift, practiced movements as she swaddled the tiny, squirming, screaming bundle and placed him on Lyra's chest. Her voice was soft with both praise and relief as she spoke to the new mother. Lyra, her body trembling with exhaustion, let out a choked sob as she looked down at her son, who immediately calmed upon feeling the warmth of his mother's skin and hearing the gentle lilt of her voice. The pain, fear, and hours of labor all faded into a distant memory as she gazed into the bright green eyes that met hers with a curious, unwavering stare.

Eris, tears streaming down his face, leaned over the bed to press a kiss to Lyra's sweat-soaked auburn hair. His heart swelled with a fierce love that bordered on painful, his chest tight with a mix of pride, relief, and overwhelming joy. The bond between himself and his son radiated as he felt himself drawn to the small, sweet face just minutes old.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice cracking as he gently brushed her hair from her forehead. "You did it, Lyra." He pressed another kiss to her forehead, savoring the familiar scent of his mate mixed with the new scent of their child.

Lyra smiled through her tears, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion as she cradled their son against her chest. Her fingers traced over the small ginger tufts that marked him unmistakably as a Vanserra. She didn't look at her mate; her focus solely on the newborn baby boy that she had longed to meet for months. "He's here," she murmured in awe, her voice thick with emotion. "He's finally here. We have a son."

The days following Thorne’s birth were a whirlwind of emotions and exhaustion, a blur of sleepless nights and endless moment’s of awe as Eris and Lyra adjusted to life with their newborn. The world outside their chambers seemed to fade into insignificance, their entire universe now centered around the life they had brought into it. Thorne, with his tuft of red hair and bright green eyes, demanded every ounce of their attention, which both mother and father were happy to supply.

But with the joy of Thorne’s arrival came the inevitable challenges. Everyday was a new relentless test of endurance. Thorne seemed to only sleep in short bursts, resting on his mothers chest. He awoke often with hungry cries that echoed through the quiet of night and day. Lyra, still recovering from the grueling labor was exhausted beyond measure, her body aching and sore, her emotions a fragile thing that verged on overwhelming. Eris, despite his best efforts, could do little to alleviate her pain, but he took on as much of the burden as he could, tending to Thorne at every opportunity to give Lyra even a moment to lie down.

He would rise in the middle of the night to the screaming babe, holding his son close as he paced the length of their chamber, humming lullabies, traditional of the Autumn Court that his nursemaids had sung to him. Eris learned quickly how to change a diaper with trembling hands and how to swaddle Thorne just right to ease his fussing. But despite his determination, there were moments when Eris felt the weight of it all—the exhaustion, the fear of being his father, the constant, gnawing worry for Lyra’s wellbeing.

On one particular night, after the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the court, the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cried echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Autumn Court, and the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with the deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cries echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

It had been hours since the last time he had settled, and Lyra was at her wit’s end. She had fed him, changed him, rocked him, and sang to him until her voice was hoarse, but nothing seemed to soothe him. Thorne’s little face was red from crying, his tiny fists clenched as he screamed, the sound grating against her exhausted mind. Every time she tried to pass him to Eris for a moment’s respite, Thorne only screamed louder, his cries reaching a fever pitch until she had no choice but to take him back.

“Lyra, let me take him again,” Eris urged gently, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched her struggle.

But Lyra shook her head, her hands trembling as she clutched Thorne to her chest. “He doesn’t want you,” she whispered, her voice thick with frustration and fatigue. “He just wants me, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, Eris. I don’t know how to make him stop.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked down at their son, whose cries had only grown more desperate. The sound was relentless, a high-pitched wail that seemed to vibrate through her entire body, leaving her feeling raw and frayed at the edges.

Eris moved closer, his hand resting on her back as he tried to comfort her. “Lyra, it’s not your fault. Babies cry—it’s what they do. He doesn’t know what he wants yet, but it’s not because you’re doing something wrong.”

But his words offered little solace. Lyra could feel herself unraveling, the weight of the past few days crushing her as Thorne’s cries grated against her already frazzled nerves. She was exhausted, her body still weak from labor, and she felt like she was failing at the one thing that mattered most—being the mother Thorne needed her to be.

“I can’t do this,” she finally broke, her voice shaking as tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m so tired, Eris. He won’t stop crying, and I don’t know what to do. I just want him to stop. I need him to stop.”

Eris’s heart ached at the sight of her so broken, her usually strong demeanor crumbling under the weight of exhaustion and self-doubt. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to press too tightly against Thorne, who was still squirming and wailing in her arms. “Lyra, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together.”

But Lyra could barely hear him over the sound of Thorne’s cries, her own breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to calm the baby, her hands shaking as she rocked him back and forth. “Please, Thorne,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. “Please, just stop. I need you to stop.”

But Thorne only cried harder, his tiny body rigid with distress, his cries escalating to a pitch that seemed to pierce straight through her. It was too much—the constant crying, the overwhelming responsibility, the fear that she wasn’t enough. She felt as though she were drowning, the walls of their chamber closing in on her as Thorne’s cries became all she could hear, all she could think about.

Without another word, Lyra sank down onto the edge of the bed, her body trembling with exhaustion and despair. She clutched Thorne to her chest, her tears falling onto his tiny head as she rocked him back and forth, murmuring broken apologies that were swallowed up by his cries. “I’m sorry, Thorne. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how to help you.”

Eris knelt beside her, his heart breaking as he watched her unravel, knowing there was little he could do to take away her pain. He reached out, his hand gently covering hers as she held Thorne. “Lyra, you’re doing everything you can. He’s just overwhelmed, just like you. But he’s safe, and he’s loved, and that’s what matters most. You’re enough, Lyra. You’re more than enough.”

But Lyra couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. All she could hear were Thorne’s cries, all she could feel was the crushing weight of inadequacy. She had thought she could handle this, had thought she was prepared, but nothing had prepared her for the relentless, unending demands of a newborn who needed her every moment of every day.

Her tears came faster now, her sobs mixing with Thorne’s cries as she leaned into Eris’s embrace, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. “I’m so tired, Eris,” she choked out. “I’m so, so tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Eris pulled her closer, his heart breaking as he held both her and Thorne in his arms, wishing he could do more to ease her pain. “I know, my love. I know you’re tired. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here with you, and we’ll get through this together. I promise you, it will get better.”

But in that moment, Lyra couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. All she could feel was the crushing weight of exhaustion, the overwhelming pressure to be everything Thorne needed her to be, and the fear that she was failing him—failing both of them.

Eris held her through it, his own eyes damp with unshed tears as he whispered words of comfort, his voice steady even as his heart ached with helplessness. He knew this was only a passing storm, that they would find their way through it, but in that moment, all he could do was be there—hold them, love them, and wait for the storm to pass.

And eventually, slowly, it did. Thorne’s cries began to subside, his tiny body finally giving in to exhaustion as he quieted in Lyra’s arms. His little hands unclenched, his breathing evening out as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his face still wet with tears. Lyra, too, began to calm, her sobs quieting as the tension in her body slowly eased, though the weight of her emotions still lingered.

Eris gently took Thorne from her arms, cradling the sleeping babe against his chest as he brushed a kiss to Lyra’s temple. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with love. “I’ll take care of him. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Lyra nodded weakly, too drained to argue, too exhausted to do anything but lean into him as he carefully guided her to lie back on the bed. She closed her eyes, her body heavy with fatigue, and within moments, she was asleep, her breathing finally deep and even.

Eris stood there for a long time, holding Thorne close as he watched over Lyra, his heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow.

And then there was his family.

Eris had anticipated his father’s reaction to Thorne’s birth, but nothing could have truly prepared him for Beron’s demands. Upon hearing that Lyra had given birth to a son, the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been insistent on meeting his grandson as soon as he could. Beron had sent word almost immediately, demanding an audience with the babe, his tone cold and authoritative, as though Thorne was just another asset to be inspected.

Eris’s jaw tightened with anger as he read the message, the familiar weight of his father’s expectations pressing down on him like a vice. Beron had never been a male to show warmth or tenderness, and the thought of his father laying eyes on his son filled Eris with a protective fury he had never known before. Thorne was only days old—fragile, innocent, and so very small—and the last thing Eris wanted was for him to be paraded before Beron like a trophy.

But Eris knew his father well enough to understand that defiance would come with a cost. Beron would not tolerate insubordination, even from his eldest son, and especially not when it came to a matter as significant as the birth of his heir’s firstborn. Eris could almost hear the words his father would say—the cutting remarks, the accusations of weakness, the thinly veiled threats that always lurked beneath the surface of their interactions.

Lyra, sensing Eris’s turmoil, placed a gentle hand on his arm as he stared down at the letter, Throne swaddled to her chest, his tiny whimpers and gurgles filling the air. Her touch brought him back to the present, grounding him. “You don’t have to let him in,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion but firm with resolve. “Thorne isn’t ready for that. And neither are we.”

Eris looked at her, at the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, and the way she clutched Thorne protectively to her chest. She was right, of course. They weren’t ready to face Beron’s scrutiny, not when they were still trying to navigate the fragile early days of parenthood. Eris knew his father had already made a judgement for Lyra not immediately presenting the babe to the court, but tried his best to shield her from direct scrutiny. But refusing Beron wasn’t a decision he could make lightly. It would be seen as a direct challenge to his authority—a challenge that could have far-reaching consequences for both of them.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made his decision. “I’ll speak with him,” he said, his voice low and determined. “But he won’t come near Thorne. Not yet.”

The tension between Eris and his father crackled in the air like lightning, each of them radiating a palpable hatred towards the other. Beron's piercing gaze bore into his son, his expression cold and unreadable. "Where is the babe?" he barked, his voice sharp as a blade.

"He's with Lyra," Eris replied coolly, refusing to show any sign of fear or intimidation. "They're resting."

Beron's face twisted into a sneer, his anger boiling just below the surface. "Resting? Or hiding?" His eyes darkened with malice. "I expected more from you, Eris. You are meant to raise your son as a future ruler of this court, not coddle him like a weakling."

Eris felt a surge of rage at his father's words, but he kept his emotions in check, determined not to give Beron the satisfaction. "Thorne is an infant. He knows nothing of our world or our court. He needs time to be with his mother and to grow. When the time is right, I will present him before the court."

Beron's sneer deepened as he drew closer to Eris, his towering figure casting a menacing shadow over him. "You are becoming soft, boy. You were born to rule, not to be ruled by sentiment."

Eris clenched his fist at his side, but remained stoic. "My decision stands. Thorne will stay with Lyra until she is ready to face the courtiers once again. If you wish to see your grandson before then, you will have to make your own arrangements."

Beron stared down at his son with seething anger in his eyes. "You will teach him to be a true Vanserra, Eris. You will not let him become weak and feeble like you have."

Eris's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue as his father stormed out of the room, leaving a bitter trail behind him.

But for now, in this moment, Eris was bathed in the warm glow of the evening light, his newborn, barely two month old babe, slumbering on his chest. As he ran his hand gently up and down the length of Thorne’s back, Eris marveled at how small and delicate his son was. The baby gurgled happily in his sleep, his tiny lips puckered and parted with each soft breath, and the sight made Eris’s heart clench with a fierce, overwhelming love. This little boy, with his shock of red hair and his quiet strength, had captured his heart in a way that nothing else ever had.

Eris knew that these moments were fleeting, that Thorne would grow quickly, and soon enough, he’d be running around the halls of the estate, getting into mischief like any Vanserra boy. But for now, he was content to savor this—this quiet, peaceful bond that belonged to just the two of them.

He leaned down again, pressing a soft kiss to Thorne’s head, breathing in the scent of his son and feeling the weight of his responsibilities slip away. In this moment, there was no Beron, no Autumn Court, no expectations or pressures. There was only the warmth of Thorne’s skin against his own, the gentle rise and fall of his tiny chest, and the deep, abiding love that filled Eris’s heart to the brim.

He closed his eyes, letting the world outside fade away, and for the first time in a long while, Eris felt at peace. Holding Thorne, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Eris knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter the battles he would have to fight, this—this was worth it all. Every sacrifice, every moment of fear, every tear shed—nothing mattered more than this little life he held in his arms.

In that stillness, with Thorne sleeping soundly against him, Eris made a silent vow. He would protect this boy with everything he had, would give him the love and the life that Eris himself had never known. He would be the father Thorne deserved, the one who would always be there—present, loving, and unwavering.

As he held Thorne close, Eris felt a tear slip down his cheek, a tear of joy, of relief, of pure, unadulterated love. And as Thorne stirred slightly in his sleep, his tiny hand curling against Eris’s chest, Eris smiled, knowing that in this moment, he had everything he had ever needed.

[xhanisai]

Adrien, you money-blind fool 💞

AO3

Pairing - Adrinette

Prompt - 'Money'

Summary -

 There on her desk was THE LATEST model of the SEWING MACHINE that she had been dreaming (practically salivating) about getting her hands on since the day it was released in stores. All neatly arranged and wrapped with a cute bow on top, surrounded by her gawking classmates whose jaws would drop at any second.

Oh.

And Adrien was standing by the side with the most adorable, kitten-like grin, beaming brighter than the sun could ever dream of. When he registered her arrival, Marinette could have sworn that his beautiful greens lit up and glittered like emeralds as he waved her over joyfully.

Oh dear.

He did it again.

Oh, Adrien.

~(x)~

.

.

.

 When Marinette arrived at class with at least ten minutes or so to spare (for once), she expected a few playful jabs from her friends at most for being early. Maybe walking into either Alix and Kim's wild, exaggerated stories about their latest daredevil stunt and how they narrowly 'escaped death' or even an Akuma attack because le Papillon doesn't believe in a consistent timetable and thrives on disrupting her day as much as possible (like the miserable old cretin he is).

 Even the possibility of Alya bouncing up to her and shoving an old book in her face that talked about famous figures whom she suspects could have potentially been miraculous holders in the past would have been plausible (though, Marinette thought that her best friend’s last theory of the infamous Jack the Ripper being a villanous miraculous holder was a stretch).

 But no.

 Nope.

 Nuh-uh.

 There on her desk was THE LATEST model of the SEWING MACHINE that she had been dreaming (practically salivating) about getting her hands on since the day it was released in stores. All neatly arranged and wrapped with a cute bow on top, surrounded by her gawking classmates whose jaws would drop at any second.

 Oh.

 And Adrien was standing by the side with the most adorable, kitten-like grin, beaming brighter than the sun could ever dream of. When he registered her arrival, Marinette could have sworn that his beautiful greens lit up and glittered like emeralds as he waved her over joyfully.

 Oh dear.

 He did it again.

 Oh, Adrien.

 "W-Why...?" Marinette managed to rasp, shuffling towards her desk and her face began to redden the closer she got to the love of her life. "It's way too much! You shouldn't spend so much on me like that!" All she got in return was a stupidly cute (illegally adorable) pout from the blond and for a second, she could have sworn she saw feline ears plastering against his hair.

 "But you re-eeeeeeally wanted it," His eyes became impossibly larger to the point where she could see her flustered reflection within them. "An incredible artist like you deserves everything~!" And he got closer to her, cradling her hands gently with his own as if they were made of delicate porcelain. "Please accept it? Marinette? Please?"

 And she was a goner.

 “Erm— ah— ehem! F-Fine…” Just like always, she caved in to his whims and the pure, boyish smile he let out could have cured all the ailments and sicknesses in the universe with how radiant it was. “Only if you accept the gift I’ll make you in return with this sewing machine.” She mumbled, keeping her blues averted whilst her face grew hotter and hotter the more he stared down at her. 

 “I would love that!” He dealt the final blow by bringing her into his embrace and holding her tight, robbing her of every single breath, thought and sense of sanity. Neither of them paid any mind to their classmates’ giggles and light cheers (barring Lila and Chloé of course who looked ready to unleash the furious second wolf within but this ain’t about them). “I’ll bring you your favourite chocolates as a ‘thank you’ gift.” He didn’t expect her to pull back a little just to direct a (fucking downright adorable) glare at him.

 Baby blues narrowed. Kissable lips pooched. Skin still blooming with that sweet, sweet sakura hue.

 “Don’t. You’ve already given me plenty! And my gift is a ‘thank you’ for your gift.” She had her hands on her hips sternly but his hands remained on her shoulders, his smile now turning cheeky (and resembling her silly, beloved partner a little too much for her liking). “Promise me you won’t give me anything else.”

 His smile only grew wider and then…

 He ran.

 .

 “W-What!? ADRIEN! HEY! DON’T YOU RUN AWAY FROM ME!”

 And she ran after him.

 .

 “One-thousand, four-hundred and ninety-nine euros…” Max rasped after a beat of silence, eying his phone in horror after searching up the new sewing machine in curiosity. “That lovesick fool spent one-thousand, four-hundred and ninety-nine euros on Marinette this time round.” He didn’t even flinch when Kim choked on his drink and spritzed it out of his nose, sounding like a dying monkey in the background. “We need to stop him now.”

 “Trust me. We’ve tried.” Alya bleated, thinking back to the super, super expensive set of Ladybug-themed merchandise Adrien bought for her as a late birthday gift that she’s religiously kept in their packaging and dusted every single day and the brand new set of headphones he got for Nino (“Babe���I can’t trust myself to actually use these! They’re so expensive that if I get even dust on them, I’ll never forgive myself…”). “But he’s just as stubborn as Marinette and you’ve seen just how hard it is to say no to him when he uses those kitten eyes.”

 Internally, she thanked all the higher deities she could think of from the top of her head that Adrien wasn’t a supervillain like le Papillon or else the entire world would be absolutely fucked and everyone would allow him to do whatever he wanted with the bat of his unfairly long lashes. ‘Ugh. Rich people.’

 “Oh, no~! I really, really want these limited-edition weight sets and swimming sets from JD Sports but I don’t have the money right now~! Whatever shall I do— aHCK!” Kim was shut up with the whack of his empty water bottle against the back of his head, courtesy of Juleka who was fed up with his yapping (and was probably getting revenge from when he accidentally shot water at her through his nose earlier on).

 “That reminds me— he called me his honourary big sister and bought me these awesome lacey gloves.” Though her quiet mumbles were hardly audible, the rare but gorgeous beam on her face said everything as Juleka wiggled her fingers.

 Once again, everyone's jaw dropped.

 Those gloves were the latest designer garments from Juleka’s favourite brand and last they all checked, it cost a whopping two thousand euros.

 .

 “This is why his dad hates us all…” Nino muttered bleakly. The entire class looked down with tight lips, wondering how on earth they would manage to pull off a surprise party for their money-blind but wonderful Adrien for his upcoming birthday without his stick-in-the-mud father getting in between their plans out of pure spite. 

 Oh, they were so, so, so screwed.

 They all simultaneously hoped that Marinette would put some sense into him and ensure that the singular working brain cell of his finally, finally registers that he doesn’t need to spend an ungodly amount of money on his loved ones.

~(x)~

 “Really? He really said I’m allowed to use this card to purchase whatever I like?” Adrien bounced on his heels, holding the debit card that Nathalie handed him as if it were a piece of treasure that could change his life forever. Literal stars were glittering in his eyes and the woman mustered all the strength within her to not melt on the spot like his late mother would have. 

 “Yes. He said it’s the least he could do considering you’re the face of his brand and have been working very hard since the very beginning.” She lied, relishing the look that the man would have plastered on his face once he noticed the strange purchases being made by his son and how he would not be able to do a single little thing about it thanks to her. She had Gabriel’s arm pressed against his back and she was going to milk every single bit out of it, starting with ensuring that Adrien was living a happy life and fulfilling his own wishes and dreams.

 “Tell him I said thank you! Now I’ll be able to buy my friends all the things they deserve!” She didn’t expect him to pounce her in a hug like an over-excited kitten and before she could even think of wrapping her arms around him, Adrien pulled back and grinned at the card with that sweet, sweet smile of his. “I know just the thing for Marinette.” 

 He skipped away, leaving behind a grinning Nathalie and a cooing Duusu who remained hidden within the lapels of her blazer. 

 “Is there a limit on the card by any chance?” Duusu asked, peering out of the fabric now that the coast was clear. She was met with her wielder's smile turning into a devilish smirk that would have given Chat Noir a run for his money.

 “Nope~!”

 And in the near future, Gabriel Agreste faints on the spot after checking his bank statements, finding out that within a week over a hundred thousand euros were spent on fancy cheese alone.

 (Meanwhile, Ladybug figured out her silly partner’s civilian identity because what other idiot in this city would spend thousands on her without a second thought? Not that telling him off did anything because she kissed him silly first).

.

.

.

~(x)~

[valiart]

Behold, little baby fanfiction. I've never written one before, but the whole Sulemio fandom and the Sulemio week got me a bit inspired at the final hour. I don't have Ao3, so here it goes:

The Wedding We Didn't Get

(3500 words, Wedding Prompt/Free Day)

The sun rose over the craggy walls of the Caloris Basin on Mercury. Suletta held her thumb up to the burning orb, failing to eclipse it by a factor of three. All her life, she’d help up a fist to cover the star, but on Earth and the more distant planets, people just held up a thumb. Non-Mercurians always imagined the sun to be monstrously huge when seen from Mercury, as though it devoured the whole horizon. The idea seemed rude to Suletta. They made the sun out to be some kind of monster, boiling her planet alive.

Suletta had never looked at the sun that way. She loved the way it broke into rainbows across visors and windows. She watched, through the glassy walls of the most refrigerated place on Mercury, as the morning light sublimated nighttime rime into puffs of steam. She’d never been in a place to watch the sun for more than a few minutes; the suits couldn’t handle much more than that. But those few minutes in the light of the full sun were beautiful, the literal definition of radiant.

The only thing that could ever surpass the sun stood before her right now.

***

Miorine had wanted to wear a suit. She’d always dreaded the idea of her own wedding; after all, she’d expected to despise her spouse, if not directly rival them. Her father had apparently intended for the competition to protect her, to give her the strongest possible partner, but one that wasn’t her choice. He’d never trusted her to make the right decision. He’d always thought someone else should lead in her stead.

So dreaming of being married in a suit always made her feel strong, powerful. She wore the pants. She had the power, chauvinistic as it was. Her spouse was lucky to be marrying her, and not the other way around.

Then Suletta had said “I always imagined seeing us in our dresses.”

The last thing Miorine had expected from her spouse was love. Much less love at first sight. Much less the stupid insipid head-over-heels heart pounding, sweaty-palmed, short-of-breath bullshit wrought by the mere sight of her volcanic victor, her red-earth lover, her insanely perfect wife. How someone so sweet could have come from a desolate rock such as this completely escaped Miorine. The very idea that joy could come from these blasted plains and half-melted crags was absurd.

And yet the proof stood before her, resplendent in a puffy green dress decked out with live roses and tomatoes. Suletta’s hair was sewn into the same shapes, an intricate hairstyle she’d said was popular in Roman times. Suletta wobbled a little bit on her crutches; even with the support rigging built into the dress, the fruit was heavy and cumbersome. With its flared frills and borderline Victorian volume, it was the kind of dress Miorine would never have been caught dead in.

“Your garden was how I fell in love with you, Miss Miorine,” Suletta said. Had said, but still did. “I want everyone to know that side of you.”

Idiot. Miorine thought, as her face turned bright red and tears welled in her eyes, threatening her tastefully winged eyeliner and immaculately porcelain blush. Stupid asshole idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish I could punch you. I wish I could tear those crutches away and throw you into orbit.

Suletta held up her thumb to the sun, then back down to Miorine, eliciting chuckles from the small audience. The dome was only big enough for twenty people; any larger and the amount of refrigeration necessary to keep it livable would have been prohibitively expensive. Unreasonable when the rest of the colony needed every watt they could scrape together.

Earth House et-al sat stage right, with only Sabine to break up the mix, a surprise plus-one from Nika. No matter. The old rivalries were moot now. Everyone wanted the same thing: peace. And Miorine was going to see it delivered.

She’d never thought she’d come this far. When she’d gone out in her suit on that fateful day, she’d half expected to simply float into deep space and die. That possibility hadn’t scared her. She’d welcomed it.

And then this dumbass came into her life, and suddenly living became the only thing Miorine cared about. So long as she lived with Suletta. So long as she could listen to that embarrassed stammer, see that pitiful blush, feel those calloused hands. So long as she could see that saccharine smile, Miorine could go any distance, hurdle any obstacle.

So when Suletta said she wanted dresses. Suletta got dresses. Even after Suletta described hers. Miorine had wanted to die. Instead, she’d simply said: “Do whatever you want.”

Miorine wore white lace, gauzy across the chest. Body-tight, so Suletta could not imagine anything but her. Simple lines, with faint silver threads drawing the vines of the garden they’d made together. Subtle enough that only a careful viewer would notice the design, but obvious enough that Suletta would understand. She wore crystal heels and simple pearl earrings. She’d cut her mullet, and kept the bob. Simple, professional, herself. Her outfit may as well have been in the dictionary as a visual definition of class.

She felt so fake next to Suletta.

She felt so hopeful as she took her place beside her.

She shivered when Suletta took her hands.

“Enough flirting, you two. You’re making this embarrassing.” Guel said, with false authority. When they’d asked him to officiate, his first question had been “Why me?” Then he’d shaken his head. It was, after all, better not to know that Suletta just felt bad for all the trouble she’d caused him. In a way, no one had suffered more than him from Suletta’s arrival at Asticassia. It seemed only fair.

“Do your job.” Miorine hissed. She tapped his phone, where the entire ceremony was laid out in plain text. She hadn’t trusted him to remember it all. No matter how much Suletta had changed her, Miorine still had trouble letting go of control.

Guel coughed into his hand. He began reading the nondenominational, interplanetarily legal text Miorine had picked out. A simple declaration that they would share assets, interests, and fulfill each other’s obligations in the eyes of the law—whichever law that happened to be at the time, corporate or Spacer or Earthian. Simple, unemotional, with nothing for anyone to pick at that might show favor to one belief system or government.

“The groom has chosen to write her own vows.” Guel said, with relief. His part was effectively done. Though he routinely gave speeches himself, being at the centre of an actually emotional scene clearly went above his capacities.

“As the champion of Asticassia’s dueling tournament, Suletta Mercury has earned the right to recite her vows first.”

***

Suletta stared down at her notes. The tablet, and therefore the words, trembled in her grip. She really thought she’d be braver than this. She’d killed people, for goodness’ sake. To protect Miss Miorine, of course, but that didn’t change the facts. She was someone with blood on her hands. She should be able to handle getting married.

She looked to her mother, silent and still in her wheelchair. Mr. Rembran sat next to her, equally still, but from stoicism rather than paralysis. She had dressed her mother in a simple blue dress, easy to take off and on, comfortable and soft. A red-white-and-blue striped blanket kept her warm. She couldn’t speak, even with computer aid. Eri said her brain refused to make the connections. She wasn’t brain-dead, but she wasn’t far from it. Still, there seemed to be light in her eyes that hadn’t been there the day before. As ruthless as her mother was, she’d always acted out of love. She cared. No matter how present or gone she might be, she was here, today, watching her daughter get married.

“The first time I saw you,” Suletta began, her voice wavering, “I thought you were trying to kill yourself. You were so angry with me for saving you. Then you stole Aerial, and tried to fight Guel yourself. I thought you had a death wish. Then I got engaged to you! I thought I was coming to school to make friends, not get married. I thought you were terrifying. I still do. But when I saw how messy your room was-“

“Hey!” Miorine scowled and blushed. Laughter broke out.

“A-and how beautiful your garden was,” Suletta said quickly, scrolling past the paragraphs where she described Miorine’s mess in intricate detail, down to a particular stain that had taken three long weeks to remove even with industrial solvents. “I quickly learned how caring you were, how much love was in your heart. It takes a lot of love to raise plants. It seems so simple on Earth, but here we have to make the soil from the ground up. We have to purify the water. We have to make the air, and import fertilizer at great expense. Asticassia is not too different from Mercury in that way. And the tomatoes you grew were the most delicious I have ever had. You were callous and distant, and beautiful.”

Suletta’s hands shook. One of her crutches slipped loose. Even with Mercury’s low gravity, holding herself up with one arm was borderline impossible. She tipped forward.

Miorine darted forwards and caught both the crutch and her. She very carefully placed the crutch back under Suletta’s armpit, and propped Suletta back up. She rearranged the tomatoes that had been dislodged in her brief fall, and stood back, eyes closed. She took a small breath, and waited.

Suletta stared at Miorine, lost in her grace.

“Keep talking.” Miorine said, with perfect calm.

“Ah! Um, I… I’ll always remember the way you pushed me up against the window and told me you needed me. When you said to email you three times a day, I thought you were still mad at me, because I would have messaged you more. I want to share every moment with you. I want to tell you about the little bug I saw, or the nice thing someone said, or just share a photo of the sunlight on the rocks. I want to be with you every day, to protect you, to help you, to turn your forever frowns forever upside-down.

“I promise that even though I’ll never pilot a mobile suit again, I’ll always fight for you. I’ll always stand by your side, even if I can’t stand. I’ll never betray the trust you’ve given me. And I swear to get better at cooking so you can stop ordering food all the time. Most importantly, I promise to make you happy. I want to see you wake up with a smile, to put you to bed with a kiss. I want to see our babies. I want to see how beautifully you age. I want to know you, so completely that I can’t separate you from myself. I promise that these wants will never change. I promise to be the best partner there can be.”

Miorine stood like a statue now, still as marble and just as white. As the sun shone down on her, it seemed that she did not reflect its burning light, but radiated on her own with a cool brilliance of greater magnitude than any star.

“As best I can, that is…” Suletta said, looking down from Miorine’s placid expression.

Guel bit his lip and tried not to cry. He failed. Voice choking, he said: “How you can you just stand there like that?”

“That’s not your line,” Miorine said, quietly.

Guel swallowed his pride and wiped his tears. “The bride has also chosen to write her own vows,” he said. “Miorine Rembran, please recite your vows.”

***

Miorine sucked in a breath. She couldn’t lose her composure now. She had to be strong. She had to be perfect. She was the youngest President in history. She could not fail, for even her wedding was a public, political act. No matter how human she wanted to be for Suletta, she had to be a public figure first.

She told herself all this to no avail.

“I…” she carefully opened her eyes and looked down so the sight of Suletta wouldn’t overwhelm her. She had her speech memorized. All 100 words. Simple, curt, effective.

Suletta. You are a powerful, strong person. I respect you completely. I trust you. You are more than a fighter, you are a friend, and you are the correct fiancée for me. I solemnly vow to support your efforts to advance education across the system, and to support those who have no one else. I promise to listen to you, to believe you, and to consult you. I am grateful for the opportunity to call myself your wife. It is difficult for me to say this in front of so many people, but I love you. I always will.

Tears plopped onto the tiled floor. Fat and heavy, and soon joined by more.

“I hate you!” Miorine cried. “How am I supposed to follow that, huh? How am I supposed to match you?”

Earth House howled with laughter. Even her father cracked a small smile.

Miorine sobbed, staring into those innocent blue eyes, quivering above the stupidest fucking smirk Miorine had ever seen, so small and serene and sure, as though this shame were cute, and fuck, it must be to her.

“How can I possibly stand next to you when you are everything in this universe. You are bravery. You are valor. You are my knight in shining armor, even when you’re not wearing anything at all.”

Suletta gasped.

“See! I can make you flustered too. So don’t think you get a monopoly.”

“Mioooo…” Suletta whined.

“Everything you do drives me completely insane,” Miorine said. “The way you know exactly what I want before I know it. The way you follow my instructions to the letter, and better. The way you always stand up for me even when I don’t deserve it. The way you can just pop into a room like a tray of free cookies and make every single person smile. The way you look at me makes me want to rip my face off.

“I love you so intensely that just thinking your name makes my heart pound. You make it so easy to love you. So easy to stand up. You make me want to wake up every day. To take care of myself, so I can take care of you. You may not pilot a mobile suit anymore, you may never be able to walk on your own again, but you are still the most powerful person I know. Nevertheless, I promise to protect you. I promise to carry you when you fall. I promise to hold your hand. To tuck you in. To let you call me Miomio when when Suletta is upsetta. To clean you if you can’t, to feed you if you can’t. To take care of your mother. To take care of whatever family we have. You have done so much for me. I owe you my life.”

She sucked in a breath, deep and shaking.

“I owe you my life,” she repeated, between sobs. “But I’m giving you my heart. So don’t break it!”

Laughter interrupted audible sobs from the small crowd.

“Now rest, my noble warrior.” Miorine said, cradling Suletta’s warm brown cheek in her hand. “Rest, my precious groom. Rest, because I will hold you. I will stand for you. And I will be there with you for everything, until I no longer draw breath.”

“Miorine…” Suletta’s blue eyes shivered beneath an ocean of tears.

Guel coughed, and waved a nearby drone over. The drone was shaped like a giant tomato, and had only one function. Though no one else could know it, Ericht controlled the drone; she couldn’t take much more part in this ceremony than to be a digital flower girl, but that was enough for all of them. They were together, and would be, forever.

“We will now exchange rings.” Guel said, trying hard to maintain his composure. The drone’s top flipped open. Inside lay two small rings. One was a simple platinum band studded with rubies; it had belonged to her mother. Suletta, ever the teacher, wanted to give her something with history.

The other ring was a bright silver mash, not a single piece of metal but a fused conglomerate of shards. Aerial’s pieces, almost microscopic, sifted from the vacuum at great expense. Her researchers had wanted to study the shards. She’d given them what remained after this came together. Love trumped research.

“Miorine! That’s not the ring we picked out for me.” Suletta said with a gasp.

“I know.” Miorine said. “But I think this one suits you better.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way round,” Guel interjected, “But President Rembran, please place the ring on the groom’s finger.”

Miorine wiped the tears from her face and picked up the Aerial ring. She gently slipped it onto Suletta’s finger long, strong fingers. Suletta covered her mouth and shook with sobs.

“Ms. Mercury, please place the ring on the bride’s finger.”

Suletta trembled as she picked up the simple band, and slid it onto Miorine’s thin digit. Miorine could not help but think that Suletta was so strong. So gentle. So effortlessly perfect.

“By the power vested in me by the Sol Compact, I now pronounce you wife and wife. Mrs. Mercury, you may now kiss the bride.”

They stared at him.

“Ah, the original Mrs. Mercury.”

***

Suletta couldn’t move. She could barely see through the veil of tears. She could only vaguely lurch forward with trembling legs and shivering arms and hope that the shimmering white shape in front of her was her wife and not a particularly attractive pole.

Her Mio’s hands found her. One wrapped around her hand, pulling her upright. The other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in. Miorine’s delicate lips brushed against Suletta’s at first, gently sharing a warm breath, a flicker of tongue, so swift and temporary that Suletta couldn’t be sure it happened. Then they were pressed together, breath joining breath, lips against lips, tongues seeking tongues, desperate for each other even in this disturbingly public view, in this tiny glass dome on a boiling rock.

Suletta pushed away, exclaiming with shame: “Mio!”

Then she realized that Miorine’s hand was no longer entwined with hers. Instead, she reached under Suletta’s legs, and swept her off her feet.

“You’re lucky this is Mercury.” Miorine said. “I can’t do this on Earth.”

“Miorine, I’m supposed to-“

“You’re not my groom anymore. You’re my wife. And I choose to carry you.”

As Miorine carried Suletta past their friends, past their family, all standing and clapping, Suletta looked once again to her mother. She expected to see nothing. After all, she was barely present. At her healthiest, she had been stoic and stalwart, cunning and sweet, but never soft.

A single tear travelled down the creases of her face, dripping onto the blanket below. Mr. Rembran took out a small handkerchief and wiped the tear away. He nodded to her.

Suletta nodded back.

“You know,” Miorine said, as the pressure doors sealed behind them, “you’re lucky your legs don’t work right now.”

“Why?” Suletta said, completely confused.

“Because after tonight, you won’t be able to move a muscle.”

[celestialseawitch-ff]

🌹

James let himself into Lily’s flat. It was a Potter property, much to her displeasure. She’d been furious about it at first, but it was the safest option for her. Despite the state of their marriage, they were still married and she was still a Potter. Being within Potter wards would always be safer than outside of them. 

“What the fuck, James?” she snapped, hair pulled up sloppily and in a cotton dressing gown. She looked radiant. She was as beautiful as the day she was when they’d wed. Soft orange hair, porcelain skin, and light green eyes. She was an angel.

Lily stormed past him, her magic sparking with her anger as she made her way to the coffee machine.

“I’m leaving.”

“Good.”

“I’m leaving this reality.”

Lily lifted her mug and took a sip. She sighed and turned to lean against the counter. “I’m aware. I recommended you for the case.”

James blinked. “You did?”

She shrugged. “The world you're going to has a history of dark lords and you have a history with getting rid of them.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Which you don’t like.”

“I don’t support you risking your life like you have nothing worth living for, there’s a difference,” she snapped. “I’ve told you, I’m not sticking around to watch you kill yourself.”

James nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. I did the mission. I filed my reports. I just got back.”

Lily frowned at him. 

He stepped closer. He could feel her magic sparking like electricity. Lily’s magic was like a firecracker. He’d always loved it – it had grown to be a constant in his life. He’d missed having it around in the years that had passed. They saw each other so rarely – only when the loneliness grew too great. Feeling her distantly in his family magic wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He’d miss her if she didn’t come with him.

“Harry is in the other world. Harry James Potter. A boy. Our baby boy.”

Lily’s eyes teared and she looked away. “James-”

“-He’s orphaned. Alone. In danger. I’m going back – and I’m planning to stay.”

Lily’s eyes flickered back to his own. “Our baby is dead. It was never born. We lost it.”

“And this baby lost his parents. I like to think wherever our baby is, Potters are looking after it. All the better if it’s another version of us. If we died and our baby lived, I would want a version of us to be there for him if they had the opportunity.”

She shook her head. “It’s illegal. Terribly illegal.”

James nodded. He knew the rules and laws as well as she did. He researched it in Harry’s world before he left. It was just as illegal there as it was here.

“They have dark lord issues,” James revealed in what was probably the understatement of the century. Lily knew it too. If she recommended him for the case, then she would have seen just what he was walking into. 

“I’ll offer the ICW a trade,” James continued in a rush before Lily could argue. “I’ll be fine.” He stared at his estranged wife – the love of his life. “I want you to come. I want you to meet him. To be there for him. But I understand if you can’t. If it’s too hard. The- the realities will see our separation like a death, most likely. I know what you want is to move on.”

Lily glared at him. “That’s not what I want. I’ve never asked for a divorce.”

“Because we can’t divorce.”

“I asked,” she snapped, her infamous temper rising, “for you to stop throwing your life away! And when you refused, I walked away. I will not watch-” she took a deep breath, tears in her eyes, “-I won’t watch you die, James. I’m not strong enough to watch that.” Her tears fell as she cried, “I’m not strong enough to lose another child either.”

James took a step closer. “We won’t lose him,” he promised.

Lily shook her head, still crying. “You can’t know that.”

“I’ll have a better shot keeping him alive if you’re there.” James tilted his head, genuinely confused as he asked, “Don’t you want to meet him?”

“Of course I do,” she lamented. “I think about it every day. What would they have been like? What house? What would their favourite subject be? Their favourite food? What would they look like?”

“He’s beautiful.”

Lily sobbed.

[jekde04]

Serendipitous

Gruvia Week 2023 | Day 3: Starlight

Summary: "Gray-sama thinks it's a bad name, doesn't he?" she asked, cringing a little. "No, no." He ran his hands on her covered arms, relaxing her. "I think it's great. I even think it's serendipitous."

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.

Read it on: FF | AO3  

"Greige."

Gray's head spun to his companion. He wasn't sure if he heard it right.

"Hmm? You said something?"

Juvia turned to him and smiled. They were walking back to their apartment, hand in hand, under the starlit sky that made her glowing porcelain face all the more radiant.

"Greige. For our baby boy. What do you think?"

"Greige," he repeated, an amused smirk appearing on his lips. Gray was sure he hadn't told her yet. But maybe someone else did, so curiosity got the better of him. "How did you come up with it?"

Juvia looked ahead, her free hand touching her chin as if deep in thought. "Well, she figured Gray-sama's family loved using colors for names, just like Silver-sama and Gray-sama. Greige is a beautiful color, right?" She squeezed his hand as she said so.

"I suppose so," Gray replied. It was certainly a unique one. And of course, there was the fact that he had never thought of their son by any other name than Greige.

But as far as he knew, he never told Juvia that. Sure, Edolas and Earthland are parallel universes, and the major things that happened in that world seemed to occur in their world too. But they have free will and are in charge of their own destinies. And he wanted Juvia to have as much freedom about their family as she could without his knowledge marring her decisions.

And now that she had come up with a name for their still unborn child, miraculously the same name that he had been thinking all along, he could let her in on his secret.

Halting on top of the small bridge overlooking the lake, Gray pulled Juvia aside and gently grabbed her shoulders to face him. "Juvia, I need to tell you something."

Doubt crossed Juvia's face in an instant. "Gray-sama thinks it's a bad name, doesn't he?" she asked, cringing a little.

"No, no." He ran his hands on her covered arms, relaxing her. "I think it's great. I even think it's serendipitous."

"Serendipitous?"

Gray stepped closer and wrapped his arms all the way around her waist, her five-month-old baby bump touching his torso. Instinctively, Juvia wrapped her arms around his neck, a familiar stance they often assumed when they were alone together.

"Remember when we got transported to Edolas in the middle of our 100 years quest?" Juvia nodded, the shadows of the water reflecting the moon and stars above dancing on her beautiful face. "I met our son there." He paused. "Well, technically, he was Edo-Gray and Edo Juvia's."

"Oh," Juvia gasped in awe. "We have a son in Edolas."

Gray nodded. "And his name is Greige."

"Wow," Juvia breathed.  "Why didn't you tell Juvia?"

"I didn't want to influence your decision," he answered. "Besides, I was interested in the names you'd come up with."

"Actually, it wasn't just because of the color that Juvia chose Greige," she admitted, an embarrassed blush blooming on her cheeks. "Greige sounds like Gray-ju, you know, a mix of Gray-sama and Juvia's names."

Gray chuckled. "Now that's just weird."

"But Juvia bets this was also what Edo-Juvia was thinking when she named their son Greige."

"More like Edo-Gray, actually," Gray answered as his thoughts floated back to the Edolas couple and how Edo-Gray practically worshipped the ground Edo-Juvia walked on.

Juvia sighed, pouting a little. "Sometimes Juvia can't help but wonder, what if Gray-sama is like Edo-Gray?"

"You mean crazy?" Gray asked, eyebrows raised.

"Head over heels for Juvia."

"Then that wouldn't make much of a difference, would it?" he answered, poking Juvia's nose and making her giggle, one of his favorite sounds in the world.

"Juvia was just joking. No matter how many Grays there are in the world —" she lightly kissed him on the lips — "you are the only Gray-sama Juvia loves."

"And you are the only Juvia I can handle," Gray chuckled, making Juvia pout cutely. "And the only woman I love, of course." Gray returned the kiss, lingering a bit this time.

A gust of wind blew, prompting the two to let go. Gray gave Juvia a peck on the forehead before declaring, "Let's go. I'll give you a foot rub when we get home."

Juvia squealed and gave her attentive husband a quick hug before resuming their walk home under the starlit night, hands intertwined.

*

A/N: Wow, that was an uncharacteristically fast update from me, lol. Next update would probably take a few days to a week; it’s full-on sm///ut for the temptation prompt and it needs major edits to sound less cringy.

[primordialfell]

A thought dances anew. Your eyes open to truth. Let's do this one more time, okay?

Dew trickles from the curled leaves that bask in the radiant Light of filtered sun. As you move your eyes down from the shimmering radiance, they come into contact with your opponent; you're familiar with him by now. He is your half-brother, your womb mate, the other side of your vintage penny. You breathe deep of the electrolytes that swim in the air, molecular bonds singing a jaunty tune as they fill your lungs and are combined in the furnace that is your heart. You are an irrepressible, violent miracle. It would take a man a hundred years to walk the breadth of your soul.

Your mind percolates with countless possibilities. Across the table, whose surface is decorated with pockmarks and craters, you see your half-brother, your counterpart. Your hateful core and your losing lot. It is better to have tried than not, his cocked brow says. You know him, at least the flies that swarm around his heart, and you know his works. Your mouth opens and strands of light sketch themselves out of your mouth; your words are art and they will fill the universe with conceptualization:

" i think i'm getting the hang of this. "

Your half-brother raises a hand and the silken fabrics of his shroud move with the gesture. With a brush of his hand he sweeps away a thousand galaxies, and like a great eclipse shadowing over the world he looms atop the board. In this game there's everything: every possibility can be displayed through the dolorous mathematics found within.

" WE APPROACH THE STATE CALLED 'ENDGAME.' PUT SIMPLY, WE WILL SOON DECIDE WHO WINS. "

You watch as a piece dances on its own, and you frown. It struggles to find its footing, skittering towards its own empire of thought and meaning. It is in this soul eclectic that you spy a tinge of loss and pain. You click your tongue. It has lost everything and yet it continues. Does anyone even remember it?

" it has been fun. but we should really call it quits soon. the day grows long in its teeth and here in our kingdom of consciousness we begin the harvest. our eyes dance with pheromones, half-brother, and we kneel amidst the tangents and proto-planetarium addled sky. "

He nods in agreement, his shroud spilling over his shoulders with that motion. He points an imperious digit at your piece, that swims through the air and revives a flower next to it. This is the game of amoebas and archaebacteria, it's simply the game that will choose where we go next. What we do next. It will decide if anything comes next at all. But it probably won't. This feels like it, doesn't it? Shouldn't that break your heart?

This old game is all you and your half-brother know. It's all you are. When you give up the game, what will you be? Both of you, that is. You'll both be askew, a spinning mast in a storm, fluttering over the infinite ocean without a course or chart to guide your way. Does it even matter, truly?

" ALL THINGS END, " your half-brother offers, comfortingly. You are a being of compassion and hope. You're the first human with a fractured femur that was carried to safety by her tribe members. You're the frog hiding inside a spider's nest, cleaning her of parasites while her webs and fangs shelter you from any that would hurt you, only her teeth are made of onyx and obsidian and her soul is aflame with hate and survival all the same. She will never know you the way you know yourself.

You're a novel way of seeing the universe, aren't you? Homoharmonic and psychedelic, baby.

" i know, but that doesn't make me feel any better. it shouldn't have to! " Your half-brother stiffens and his shroud seems to turn to burnished glass. Smoky air pools from his corners and his angles, each of which are obtuse but act acute, and it traces over your skin made of unalloyed gold. You are pyrite porcelain; sunlight scattered over the surface of a babbling brook. It's in these things that your children can hear you. In these things they will find you.

It's in this that you will see how the game ends.

" YES, WELL, " he begins, " THAT'S UNFORTUNATE. BUT SOON WE'LL SEE IT'S TIME TO MOVE ON. THERE ARE OTHER GAMES TO PLAY. OTHER PLACES TO BE. "

" this is somewhere to be, " you counter.

" BUT IT CAN'T LAST. "

" why not? "

" IT JUST CAN'T. "

" but it's so much fun. "

" BUT IT HAS TO END. "

" i don't want it to. "

" NOBODY DOES. "

" will it at least be fun? "

" PROBABLY NOT. YOU'LL PROBABLY LEAVE THE GAME CRYING, A CAUSTIC ECHO OF PAIN THAT SEARS INTO YOU. YOU'LL UNDERSTAND THIS IS THE END OF AN ERA. YOU'RE GIVING YOUR LAST CURTAIN CALL, BASICALLY. "

" what happens when the curtain falls, then? "

" WE BOW OUT. WE'VE PLAYED OUR PART BUT WE'RE JUST TWO MEMORIES OF A BYGONE ERA. IT'S TIME TO MOVE ASIDE. "

" i feel like i didn't get to do all i wanted to do. this change in the plot seems so sudden. was it poorly thought out? did circumstance damn us to this? "

" PROBABLY. "

" you aren't sure. "

" NO. BUT HERE WE ARE ANYWAY. "

You slump down in your seat. You felt like you had so much more in mind, so many fun ideas. Boss fights, epic showdowns, maybe a cool floating castle or two... but this is how it ends. The end zone is in sight and it's time to score the last touchdown. It's odd—you have spent all this time hating your half-brother, your womb mate, your vintage penny's tails. Here in the end, as you begin with a presupposition, you realize that he is like you. You're both fixed to this and you can't ever change; that makes you the same in one way for the first time in infinite eternity.

You're both vestigial.

Pain flits through you. You look down and a knife is buried in your chest. An infinite eyebrow cocks and you glance at your half-brother in consternation.

" SORRY. IT'S MY NATURE. "

" yes, the farmer and the viper, the frog and the scorpion. notice how these tales cannot exist without both peace and pain? "

" I'VE NOTICED BUT TO BE HONEST I DON'T REALLY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE POTENTIAL POETIC IRONY FOUND WITHIN. THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME WE EVER SPEAK TO EACH OTHER. CAN WE JUST PRETEND IT'S NOT HAPPENING? "

" this isn't like you, " you begin cautiously. Your half-brother hitches his voice. He sounds like he's going to start crying.

" IT'S NOT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG. I'M SCARED. " The floodgates break. His shroud is made of particles and collapsing atoms. Antimatter skirts around his head like a halo and you swear you can hear him sniffle.

" i am too. everyone is. it's scary. "

" IS IT GOING TO HURT? "

" most likely. "

" I SIT IN ANXIETY OF THE GRAND DESIGN. "

" we all do. "

" WILL IT BE LIKE FALLING ASLEEP? "

" no. "

[romance-lover77]

Newt Scamander x Fem Muggle Reader Chapter 14

Plot: Blood and tears

Trigger Warning ⚠️: Alcohol addiction, Hurting others. Negativity and Depression

It was night, the sky was dark blue and the stars were radiant. Illuminating the whole sky as it accompanied the big beautiful round full moon. The streets were empty and silent. Most residents of the cities were peacefully sleeping in their beds while you were sitting on a chair writing on a table that was on the balcony of your apartment. Queenie had dropped you off at your apartment saying that you needed rest, at first you didn’t agree and insisted on going back to work at your shop. But she was very persistent so you had no choice but to rest.

All day you had slept and now that it was night. you couldn’t go back to sleep anymore so you decided that it was the right time to write a letter to Newt. At first it was nerve wracking but just remembering how kind and gentle Newt was, it became easier.

Dear Newt,

I hope you are safe and hopefully you can come back soon. I really miss your presence and the reason I'm writing to you so early without receiving your letter yet, is because I need to tell you something very urgent. Today I visited the doctor and he gave me the news that I’m expecting…..Newt you’re going to be a father and I hope that this news gives you joy just as it did to me because no matter what I am keeping this baby. Please give me an answer back as quickly as you can.

Love, Y/N

You kept staring at the letter and reading it repeatedly non-stop. The nerves were building up as your leg kept shaking up and down. Ghastly negative thoughts and scenarios play in your mind, imagining Newt being enraged and yelling all the things other men have told you. “You gorgeous? In your dreams! and now a mother, that poor child will have you as a mother”

Your breathing became heavy as you rapidly grabbed the paper and as you were about to crumble it, your conscience said to stop and send this letter because if you didn’t, regret will haunt you for the rest of your life. A heavy sigh releases from your lips and you took in some deep breaths

“You can do this….He deserves to know”

You place a hand on your stomach and your gaze softens “your father deserves to know, …..hopefully he wants to meet you but no matter what, I will take care of you my baby….”

You then chuckle in disbelief “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe i’m going to be a mother, it feels so unreal, I’m gonna love you with my whole entire being”

A big grin expresses on your face and all the nerves went away. You grasp the letter and begin to put it in an envelope, ready to be sent. You needed an owl so you got up from your seat, about to leave to go to Queenie’s to borrow her owl until something unexpected happened. Newt’s owl comes out of your chimney and flies over landing onto your shoulder.

The owl was holding an envelope with its mouth, your heart began to flutter just thinking of Newt writing to you and you grabbed the envelope excitedly. Opening it and immediately began to read it.

Dear, Y/N

I write this letter to you to say that I won’t be writing to you anymore. I’ve come to realize throughout this mission that I am in love with Tina and the truth is that night we spent together was just a rebound to me. It meant nothing to me and during that night ,all I could think about was Tina. After finishing this mission I won’t be going back to New York. I've decided to go back home to London and So this letter is a farewell, I hope you take care of yourself.

Sincerely, Newt

Your whole world shattered and it felt like your heart had been broken to pieces like it was made of porcelain. Your heart was bleeding and it began to throb in pain. It felt like the world around you began to slow down and your breathing as well. You winced in pain as it felt like your heart was slowing down and you were hyperventilating. In an instant you fell onto the ground, you began to scream and sob with immense pain.

Your emotions were so strong that your body couldn’t handle it and you fainted. As you lay motionless on the floor and you were in a deep sleep. You couldn’t even escape the pain in your sleep as the nightmares were haunting you.

7 hours before (since Spain is 7 hours ahead of New York)

10 pm Spain

Newt had finished writing his letter for you and instructed the owl to send it but without knowing that Tina had swapped the letter. The one that happened to be the one that you would later read in the future. Ever since Tina discovered that Newt is in love with you, she couldn’t take that kind of rejection and did the most insane wicked thing she has ever done. She falsificated Newt’s writing and knew what she had to write, to separate you and Newt. Making sure that you wouldn’t want to ever see him again. In that moment she had no remorse whatsoever and her plan wasn’t over.

It’s been a whole month that you had read the letter and that whole month ,you laid in bed all day. Not even going to work/opening your shop.You just felt soulless, depressed and seeing no point in life anymore. All you wanted to do was sleep forever so you wouldn’t be able to feel this pain and agony anymore. It was too much to handle, thinking how you wouldn’t be a good mother and being a single mother. You wouldn’t be able to handle the stares you would get from known people and how they would judge you on being pregnant without marriage. You would be an embarrassment and disgrace and you were now 2 months pregnant and the bump was barely showing, But most importantly the man you loved with all your strength, with all your being, with all heart and soul doesn’t love you back.

Of course Queenie has come to comfort you, and has tried to help you from feeling this way but nothing worked. Queenie couldn’t bear seeing you waste your life away and knew that if you continued this way, you would die of a broken heart.

When Queenie found out about the last letter that “Newt” had sent, she was immensely enraged, that her blood was boiling and had the deep desire of killing Newt for playing with your feelings. But fortunately Jacob barely convinced her not to do anything deranged.

When Jacob heard what happened about the letter, he was in disbelief. He refused to believe that Newt would do that, he knew him better than anyone(well except Theasus)else after spending so much time with him and being best friends. Jacob had suspicions of that letter, but he couldn’t prove it. Of course Jacob also found out about your pregnancy and felt pity for you. He cares for you, Queenie and he promised to be your child’s guardians.

It was the afternoon where one could hear the honks of cars in the streets from all the people getting out from work and going to their homes. Again you were lying motionless on your bed and the room was so silent and the only thing that you could hear was the clock ticking away.

But then without anticipation, there was a knock on the door and it slowly opened revealing Queenie. She stared at you with concern “Hey I came to check in on you, how are you feeling ?”

Queenie waited for your response but nothing was returned. You couldn’t speak at all but Queenie wasn’t angry because she understood. She slowly sat on the bed and placed her hand on your arm. You didn’t flinch or anything, you just stayed motionless as a doll.

“Y/n please, you can’t continue like this… there is so much to life! Don’t waste it just because a foolish idiot doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

Again no response, not because you didn’t want to but because you didn’t know what to respond. You couldn’t help feeling like this. Queenie frowned and squeezed your arm

“At least be strong for your baby, she or he needs a strong and loving mother-“

Just by bringing your baby to the topic, it instantly brought your attention. You turn you body to exchange looks with Queenie

“Queenie… I don’t think I'm capable of being a good mother, this baby should have been Tina’s. This baby should be inside her, she should have been the mother of Newt’s child, not me”

A few tears escapes from your eyes

Queenie couldn’t handle hearing you talk so negatively about yourself, for once she wanted you to be happy to be yourself because you are a beautiful amazingly kind woman who deserves more than those women who are ugly on the inside. So Queenie bursted

“NO! LISTEN HERE! IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT THAT YOU GOT PREGNANT NOR ITS THAT BABY’S FAULT, IT ISN’T YOUR FAULT THAT NEWT IS SO INCREDIBLY STUPID THAT HE COULDN’T REALIZE HOW GORGEOUS YOU ARE IN AND OUT. AND YOU WILL RAISE THIS BABY AND TEACH THEM THAT REAL BEAUTY COMES FROM SOMEONE’S KIND AND GOOD HEART AND NOT FROM SOMEONE’S APPEARANCE. YOU ARE GOING TO LIVE FOR THIS BABY! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!”

You were completely appalled that your eyes were widened. Queenie has never been this angry with you until now but your conscience knew that you totally deserved to be scolded, you needed your senses back and they did come back

You sat up and a big amount of tears were flooding out of your eyes

“I’m so sorry for being such an idiot! You’re right! This baby is counting on me and I’m here just feeling pity for myself. I don’t need Newt when I have my baby, and- ....”

You stayed silent as you were collecting your thoughts but Queenie was puzzled on why you abruptly cut off

“Y/n?”

You slowly exchange looks with Queenie and a big grin appears on your face and Queenie was desperately confused

“I won’t ever be alone again, I have my baby to always be with me and I will give it so much love that my parents couldn’t give me”

Now it was Queenie’s turn to cry her eyes out, and abruptly hugged you. You needed this hug as you felt warmth and calmness.

“Ohhh Y\N! you weren’t ever alone! You have me and Jacob..We will always be here for you, I will always be here for you. You Y/n are my sister and soulmate, I love you…”

*side note: If you believe in soulmates, then just know that someone can have more than one soulmate. A lover soulmate, and a best friend soulmate

You softly smile “I love you too”

Queenie than breaks the hug and grasp both of your arms, and expresses a serious face

“Are you going to get up now? and tomorrow and all the days that come?”

You chuckle knowing how funny Queenie’s face seemed right now “Yes I promise”

Queenie shrieks in happiness “I’m so glad to hear that!! Now come on, get dressed i’m inviting you to dinner at my place, you and your baby must be starving”

In that precise moment your stomach growls loudly and a tint of red appears on your cheeks. “You have no idea” You and Queenie were giggling loudly, suddenly you stopped and tried to experience this happy moment as much as you could before it lasted. This moment made you realize how fortunate you were to be living and you didn’t need Newt to be happy. As you already had the people you loved.

But in really deep in your heart, you will always love him

Then a sudden knock from the front door interrupted your thoughts and startled both of you. Both of you exchange looks with confusion

“Y/n are you expecting someone?”

“No I-I rarely invite people into my apartment”

Queenie stands up from the bed and begins walking out of your bedroom. You stood up and followed, both of you were now at the front door. You gripped the door knob, ready fo open it when Queenie abruptly stops you

“No! Wait!”

You were agitated by her reaction “Huh!? What,why?

“I don’t want you to panic but there can be a possibility that this could either be Newt or Tina-“

Your eyes widened as you were about to panic “No that can’t be! Newt would be going back to London and there is no reason for Tina to come torment me again!”

“Y/n calm down, there is also a possibility that it’s someone else, but if it’s either one of them, I assure you i’m going to kill them”

You take a deep breath and nod, as you felt a bit eased since Queenie was here to protect you. You slowly opened the door as you both felt the suspense.

It was the unexpected, a person that you thought you would never ever see in your life again. The person who immensely hurt you and abandoned you. It was your mother

Your heart sank at the view and you couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing. You didn’t want to believe and instead believe that this was just a terrible dream. While Queenie had no idea who this lady was and was curious on what she was doing here.

The lady appeared illy skinny, extremely dark eyes bags on her face, her teeth completely rotted and yellow. Her hair was so thin that you could see her scalp. Her clothes seemed like they were deteriorating and were so ripped and dirty.

“Y/n it’s me, your mother! I've come back!”

Your body was backing away as you repeatedly said no

“No no no no no no, this can’t be real, this can’t be real, you are suppose to be dead”

Queenie’s eyes widened and immediately knew why you were reacting that way. You had told her about your dreadful past that you desperately wanted to forget. To pretend like it never existed

As a child, after your father abandoned your mom and you she became extremely depressed and hatred filled her entire being. To ease her pain she would go to secret establishments where people would gamble since gambling was illegal(in this time) and put all her money into the game. She would also drink her sadness away until she couldn’t handle it anymore and every day would come home extremely intoxicated and would physically hurt you multiple times blaming you as you were the reason that your father left. So with time she became an alcoholic and to be able to buy more alcohol she would gamble but always lost her money and because of her addiction she begged gang leaders for money and was in deep debt.

You would starve as your mom didn’t care to feed you, you were filthy as your mom didn’t care to bath you. You were lonely and had no one in the world.

Then one day your mom disappeared, she had abandoned you and you had to learn how to defend yourself. As one day a nun found you in a horrible condition, she took you into the nun convention, where other orphans lived and the nuns would take care of them until they turned 18.

You promised yourself that if you were to ever have children of your own, that you would love them unconditionally and take care of them. To always be there for them unlike your mother who left you to die without remorse.

Your eyes were filled with terror as if seeing a ghost and your body was trembling. Queenie rapidly grabbed your arms and stared right into your eyes

“Y/n breathe, everything will be alright, I’m here remember. If anything happens, I will be by your side”

Your heart began to slow down and you took in some deep breaths. You closed your eyes for a moment as in mentally preparing yourself. Finally you had eased a bit

“I’m fine”

“Are you sure ?” You nodded to Queenie and she loosened her grip on your arms.

You look at your mother who was standing in silence and you give her the most enraged expression that anyone could ever give

“What do you want ?”

She frowns and tries to come closer but you step back. Queenie is at the side being at guard and also giving her a nasty glare.

“Y/n i’m so sorry for leaving when you were just a child, I regret everything I had ever done.”

You felt incredibly enraged and hatred that your face was fuming

“After all these years, you realized all your sins, well there, you can leave now”

You grasped the door about to close it but your mother halted your arms

“No No please! I need your help!”

Queenie tried to take her off you but she was very resistant and kept squirming and begging desperately

Your gaze softened and a frown appeared “I feel pity for you, Father abandoned you because of me but did you ever think that I could have filled that hole in your heart”

Those words cut deeply inside your mother’s heart, and she froze. Lamenting all the time she lost with you, she truly felt sorry and guilty for making you suffer. Knowing that she can never get that time back. She began to sob

“I’m so sorry! I don’t expect you to forgive me- I really need your help”

Queenie has had enough and with all her strength she took her off of you brutally “Get off her! you had said what you needed to say so go!”

“No! if you don’t help me we both will die!” your mother yelled and your eyes widened as well as Queenie’s

“What do you mean?” you ask her worriedly

Your mother appeared to be very terrified and lowered her voice “If you don’t marry the gang leader’s son, the one i’m in debt with. we will both die”

to be continued….

[squidwen]

🌹Even the Thorns Have Roses🌹

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Summary: During one of your night walks with Malleus the topic of his loneliness around school slides into conversation. It’s no mystery that the crowned prince is feared more than he is respected, but you don’t stroke his ego.

Cruel to be kind, as they say. You speak your mind about the situation, prompting a melange of emotions to spark inside the fae. How will he react to being criticised by a human? 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The day’s last golden sunbeams extinguished as night rolled onto the sky. You stood at the gate leading up to Ramshackle, smoothing your uniform and fixing your hair in anticipation for your company. Even if Malleus didn’t care about how you looked it was still important to make an effort. He was a prince after all, humbling himself to visit you.

Tiny fairy lights began dancing in the air. A prelude – an announcement to your guest’s arrival. Your chest swelled as they floated over the broken cobblestones and through the branches of the dead trees. So dainty and ethereal. Like baby stars. A total contrast to the broad figure heading towards you.

It was hard not to run for them.

Moonlight melted off Malleus’s obsidian horns, making his porcelain face shine with a radiant paleness that would have seemed anaemic on anyone else. And his eyes -  reptilian and piercing – glimmered like molten peridots.

“Good evening, Child of Man,” Malleus said as he halted before you. You noted how he bent slightly at the waist to make himself appear shorter, less intimidating. Despite your curiosity you didn’t question him on it. The forest beckoned and the night wasn’t getting any younger. 

•~•~•~•~•

The pair of you barely spoke a word for the first half of your walk; content to simply be in each other’s company – to breathe the same air, hear the same sounds, share the same peace. Crisp night air slid over your skin as nocturnal creatures chirped and hooted. 

“I don’t think I’ve told you how fortunate I feel to spend this time with you,” Malleus suddenly said.

You whipped to him, bewildered. Did he really just say that? The most powerful and esteemed man in the whole world felt lucky to be near you? Malleus read the disbelief in your eyes and looked away, smiling.

“Why is it you wave when you pass me in the corridors, while everyone else turns away and prays I move on quickly? I’m no better than an omen at this school, a step down from a curse.”

So it was to be one of those walks. A little piece chipped off your heart at the suffering in those words.

Malleus’s isolation wasn’t a secret at the college. His absence at events was mostly down to not being invited and it wounded you see such a kind soul suffer. The injustice was too great. Why did people fear him? What had he done? Yes, he was powerful, but restrained. He was privileged, but not stingy.

You stopped still and guided him around to the front of you. Malleus let himself be led. “I always think that if you wanted to hurt anyone you would have done so already. And the fact you haven’t is…comforting.”

Stillness. Complete and utter.

The cloak about Malleus’s shoulders was the only thing that moved. He studied you intently, as if your arms, your hair, your face was made of stardust. You could have sworn the skin around his eyes had turned red. The redness that’s followed by tears.

“Oh Malleus.” You took his hand. The dragon fae felt so cold.

“Why can the world not have your eyes?”

Malleus rubbed his thumb over your knuckles and brought your hand to his heart. You could feel the beat reverberating through his clothes. So strong. So fast. Was he scared? Excited? You searched his face for answers but it betrayed nothing.

“Why can no one see me as you do?”

The sweetness flustered you.

At first. 

But as you genuinely considered the question, you wondered if it was right to coo and giggle. To use his insecurities as a means to flirt.

The little bend at the waist he did earlier played on your mind. It hadn’t been an isolated gesture. You had recently noticed in passing how Malleus seemed to slouch when he stood, and wore his school uniform more than his dorm uniform. You knew it was in a bid to seem more approachable.

And it sickened you.

“Malleus.” You measured his name slowly. The fae’s furred ears twitched, attentive. “This might sound harsh, but you need to get over yourself.”

•~•~•~•~•

The forest choir silenced around you as the prince’s expression turned from intrigued, to bemused, to hurt. He dropped your hand. “No one…” he drawled, bearing his fangs, “has ever spoken to me like that.”

His powerful voice rang through your veins, magnifying your fragility – your mortality – in every cell. You wanted to run. Bolt. But this was Malleus. You clung to that name - that fact - steeling yourself to say: “I’m not going to tell you something I shouldn’t.”

Malleus’s face immediately softened.

“People are allowed to dislike you,” you went on calmly, “and why do you care if they do? How long have you used what other people think to shape your life? If you live your life through others’ eyes is it really yours at all?”

Each syllable that fell from your lips was like ambrosia. A sobering melody. Malleus marvelled at how you dissected his character like a fine meal ruined by a poor sauce. You, a mere human - a child. No. Children couldn’t level dragons with no fear. You were something else. Made of something else. Divine, perhaps. A miracle.

Ignoring all etiquette, Malleus did what felt right and dropped to one knee. His eyes regarded you like a child listening to an epic tale.

“I know you’re a dragon,” you said “but people can’t be hoarded like treasure. You don’t need thousands to love you. Just a few. And you have Lilia, Silver, Sebek, your grandmother.”

“But that doesn’t change what they fear. My power. My status. It’s all anyone has on their minds when they meet me.”

You chuckled. “Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

Dropping to your own knees you threw your arms around the prince. Malleus tensed. Pressing him so close, you were probably committing the highest treason, but you didn’t care. It felt right.

Malleus was suddenly so overcome with emotion that his chest started heaving. The reverberations pulsed into you and made your heart dance. His equal. That was what you were. 

Alone, with the only witnesses the crickets and owls, Malleus tenderly hooked a hand around your lower back and stood up, lifting you with him. No human could handle such a feat without grunting from the strain, reminding you of his true strength. You sat on his forearm - perched like a nightingale. Sing for me some more Malleus’s face seemed to say.

“And what of my power and status to you?” he asked. “I can destroy. Subjugate. Kill if I wanted. I’m the Prince of Thorns, my dear Y/N. Sharp and cruel.” Would that scare you away? He had to test it.

You just said calmly: “Even the thorns have roses.”

•~•~•~•~•

Those five words. Just five. They shattered the dam. Malleus’s face was a picture. You could see yourself in the sheen of his tears, welling in his eyes but not falling. He wouldn’t let them. Not if the saltwater would blur your image for even a moment.

Voices and words surged through Malleus’s mind, striking him dumb. Seeming to realise there was nothing he could say, or at least nothing that would suffice, he set you back down and clicked his fingers. 

Fairy lights lit the woodland path that you had just walked. “Return home, my dear,” he said. “They will guide you. Apologies, but I must cut this evening short.”

You didn’t press him as to why. Your gentle and warm smile bid him goodbye before he disappeared into thin air. A part of you worried if you had offended him, but when you remembered his soft face – full of disbelief and adoration – you were put right at ease.

•~•~•~•~•

Malleus reappeared in the Diasomnia common room. Lilia was tuning his guitar while dangling upside down from the ceiling beams. Bats flanked him holding sheet music. “Ah, the young prince returns.” Lithe as a cat, Lilia unhooked his legs, twisted, and landed effortlessly on his feet. “Why back so early? You usually don’t finish your walks with Y/N until at least ten o’clock.”

Malleus strolled through the common room in a stupor, a tiny smile piquing the edges of his mouth. Lilia stared at him knowingly. Malleus’s pale skin made his blush extremely obvious.

•~•~•~•~•

Author Note: I also make no attempt to hide the fact I love Malleus, or rather am in love with the idea of him being at peace with who he is. He reminds me a lot of Azul, but by being so sheltered he wasn’t bullied for his otherness. 

I hope MC has a significant role in chapter 7. Does anyone else feel as though they’ve been quite obsolete since chapter 3? That if you removed them from the plot altogether nothing would really change?

If the game devs are being honest, and TWST is not an otome game, then it’s safe to assume they want to push Yuu and Malleus. I’m PRAYING for meaningful interactions beyond Yuu’s vague one-liners haha.

As always, comments, reblogs with comments, and follows are appreciated. My OC ask box is open, so if you have any questions please don’t be shy!

Squidwen x

[virtue-and-beneviolence]

High enough

Sanzu ft. Kakucho

Warnings: idk 8.5/10 sad? virtue is back on her depressing streak so it's dark. Come listen to this for the mood n inspiration that started this. Discussion of drugs/overdose

almost 1K, if that matters to you

The bathroom tiles were stinging cold against Sanzu’s thighs and the porcelain rim of the tub dug painfully into his neck. He’d be rather uncomfortable, that is, if he could process his sense of touch properly right now. His ears throbbed with his heartbeat as his eyes desperately darted around the room, past empty capsules and ground pills, discarded bottles, and the shower curtain he’d ripped down in a manic fit.

He squinted as if it’d make his wobbling vision any clearer, as if it’d summon what he needed most. But of course, the large house was empty. Like a prisoner, he confined himself to this place that once represented the happiness he never thought he’d deserve, let alone have. He stumbled through the halls unsteadily, praying to gods he didn’t believe in just to see wisps of your form, hear your laugh even if he knew it was a trick of the substance of the hour.

Sanzu dragged his hand down his face and saw it glisten in the fluorescent light with tears he didn’t know he was crying. There was a steady drip in the back of his mind. Each drop falling through the clouds of his mind and down his back. He shivered involuntarily. Looking down at his hands again, the puddle he was sat in suddenly flooded his spotty senses.

Right. The water was on. After a moment of willing his heavy body to move, he reached to stop the flow of water. He stood and lowered himself t-shirt and boxer clad in the lukewarm water as the displaced fluid cascaded over the edge and flooded the room. Powders scattered on the floor dissolved into the discarded water that swept bits of tinfoil away.

Sanzu sniffed tears away and swiped at his nose to leave a bright red streak. Copper tinged his tongue. He sunk suddenly in the water, shirt billowing up and water spilling loudly over. Before he knew it, he was screaming half underwater but through it all that’s when he heard it. It was soft. Ethereal.

“Zuzu?”

But it wasn’t real. He knew by now that no matter how high he got he’d never hear that voice again. It was a trick of the mind, conjuring what he craved to further torment himself at the loss that plagued him daily.

“Zuzu?!”

Sputtering, he came up for air. It was so clear. Too clear. The panic in your voice was so evident. Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk, had it done it? Had he crossed the divide to see you one last time?

A featherlight touch, radiant like a sun ray graced his cheek and Sanzu looked up into ethereal orbs full to the brim with raw fear. “Zu what are you doing?” He was fully sobbing now. Pressing a soaking hand over the sensation on his cheek, he choked on another sob.

Sanzu was stunned to silence, save the body wracking breaths he heaved. Specter-like eyes softened in understanding. “Haru…” He reached for your figment, tears mixed with the blood from his nose and ran into his mouth. Your apparition tried to wipe the mixture away with an unmistakable expression of heartbreak on your face.

“I…you…I’did it. You’re ‘ere…” His voice broke. “You’re finally here…” He slurred the words.

I’ve missed you every second, with every part of me. It felt like my soul was ripped from my body when you left. I can’t live without you. I couldn’t stand to live without you. I had to see you again. I had to. I had to see you. My everything, the angel that saved me…it should have been me, y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.

He wanted to chant the words, say all the things he couldn’t when you were here with him. He needed to sob his ‘sorry’s and ‘thank you’s into your soft hair one last time. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Baby, you shouldn’t have done this for me,” The voice crackled with emotion like a staticky radio in his ears. Sanzu felt warmth where the ghost of a kiss met his forehead, “You’re not supposed to follow me like this, Haru.”

“Donn leavf…” Black spots prickled in his sight as everything faded. “B’by…no’gain”

“Zuzu, hey! Haru stay with me?” Your panicked voice was fading. Everything sounded as if it were underwater. Warbled and marbled, like dust swirling at the surface, too light to sink and never quite making it to him. Sanzu was plunging into blackness, sinking from the anchor in his chest, the heavy words sitting in his lungs that he’d never be able to tell you.

“Haru! Oi, Haru!”

“S’far ‘way, cmback…” Sanzu’s sight had fully blackened. Too far gone to either feel or hear the garbled words he spoke into the now bloodied water pinking the bath, he steadily sunk as your form of light faded with his consciousness.

The sound of the door being slammed open minutes ago and the feeling of his ragdoll body being hoisted from the water was lost on him. “Haruchiyo, you bastard, stay with me!” Kakucho’s voice, gruff with shock pleaded at the motionless figure. Kakucho rolled the limp man on his side and let water flow from the smaller man’s mouth. His friend was hardly breathing, if he was at all. Kakucho couldn’t hear much outside of the adrenaline forcing his heart to beat resoundingly in his ears. His knees were soaked in cooling water, pink from Sanzu’s still bleeding nose. “Oi, Sanzu!” He shouted this time, beginning to search for a pulse. “You fucking idiot, you can’t die on me!”

No pulse.

Fuck.

“Haru, she’d never forgive me. You can’t die like this.”

...

Ye um here's the finished thing and, uh fuck it @sano-obsessed i sent you the draft in the middle of the night, here's the ending. I hope it lived up to yesterday's sanzu angst-pocalypse.

Masterlist

[thecrabbybarista]

Day 3: Elf @12daysofhatchetfield

Emma smiled to herself, knowing what a good job she was doing. The surplus of new toys she had made were sure to keep Pokey entertained for some millennia. And once she got working on restoring their now empty human form...

She knew all too well how much Pokotho liked to toy with soulless bodies.

She started her own small collection of toys. She kept them in a dollhouse. She carried her teddy over, though he thrashed in her arms. She sighed, shaking her head.

She looked at each of the pastel rooms, humming. She'd put him... There. In the ballroom with the lonely ballerina.

Paul rubbed his beady eyes. He was scared, very scared. He didn't remember how he got here. But in front of him... Was a beacon. And he felt himself freeze.

She was radiant. She shined pink and golden, like the morning sun. But the glow faded as he really looked at her. Her shoes were worn, tutu tattered. Her face was... Tired. She was once radiant.

"A teddy bear..." She'd seen lots of teddies. They came and went like clockwork. They were perfect toys for babies, she heard. Every Christmas Eve, almost all the teddies the elf had made would go. But she stayed. Even the other older toys, tin soldiers and porcelain girls, they eventually were...

Well she always assumed they were recycled.

She didn't know why the elf kept her around. She just knew that sometimes at night, the elf would look at her with some unreadable expression. Like she was a ghost.

She sure felt like it.

But the teddy looked at her like she was brand new.

"Did the elf just make you?" She asked.

"I... I think so."

"She's made a lot of teddies. Maybe her favorite animal is a bear? That's my favorite. I don't remember the other elves making so many! But... I don't remember... Very well..."

He tilted his head.

"I've been here for awhile..."

"Of course, it's your house!"

She shook her head. "No. Everyone's supposed to go on Christmas Eve. To kids who want us. You'll probably go really soon."

"How does no one want you? You're so pretty!"

She laughed, quietly, a sort of sad sound. "No one really wants ballerinas anymore. That's all."

The teddy bear, the sweet little thing, said "at least that means ... I got to meet you! Because... I was really scared."

And you should know something. He should still be terrified. If he knew anything he'd be unable to do anything but cower.

[slytherinbarnes]

these violent delights

i. three sisters

pairings: eventual draco malfoy x reader, astoria malfoy x reader (arranged marriages, am i right?), miscellaneous characters x reader. pureblood!reader, greengrass!reader.

warnings: none. 

word count: 200

author’s note: i’ve been bouncing between a few diff series rewrites (someone stop me please), and this is the one with the most progress, so this is the one you’ll get first. ideally, i’ll get the others ready to go soon and i can post a few times a week, but for now, i’m just announcing this series and preparing a taglist. first chapter coming soon. i’ve decided that i’m putting twins in every series rewrite i do and u can’t stop me

Porcelain, ivory, steel.

Porcelain. Astoria Greengrass, the youngest of three sisters and the most fragile. Burdened with a blood curse that makes her weak, she lives her life in spite of it. Idealistic, happy, kind. Despite her pureblood teachings, she never hates muggles the way she’s taught to. Never hates anyone really. She offers kindness to everyone she meets, a helping hand to all who need it. 

Ivory. Daphne Greengrass. Beautiful, radiant, brilliant. Stronger than her baby sister, but colder than her too. She believes in her superiority, her power, her family name. She values the security that money brings her, and is unbothered by what others think of her. She knows she can be selfish and materialistic, but she’s also a loving friend and a good sister.

Steel. You, the middle Greengrass sister and Daphne’s twin. A heart carved from marble, your edges sharp and cutting. Influenced by pureblood hatred and money and power, you can be cruel and mean to those you see beneath you. You are flawed, as everyone is, and you are burdened with more than most could handle, but you are the strongest of the three Greengrass girls. You are willing to do anything to protect your sisters. Even the unforgivable.

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title quote comes from the song three sisters by j.tillman; each title song will be added to a playlist for the series, found here

porcelain, ivory, steel comes from a sansa stark quote by george r.r. martin for a storm of swords