#ikemen angst

[kibby-reaper]

is this how we hope his route is eventually gonna go

- mod kibby

[omkookie]

⌕ :IKEMEN_VILLAINS

⌕ Dumb ikevil memes

YANDERE

You're not getting away! You're his. / Liam

Insanity / Elbert

ANGST

...

SMUT

Hate sex pt 1 / Roger, William, Alfons. (Angsty)

Hate sex pt 2 / Liam, Elbert, Jude. (Angsty)

So beautiful / Elbert

Pervert!Alfons

The ex doctor / Roger ⚠️ (Dubcon)

I don't think we'll ever be done with you / Jude, Roger, and Ellis together ⚠️ (NONCON)

[missaengg]

The Empty Hearth

16 Days Until Christmas: Fireplace Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Shoutout to @wistfulwanderingone for inspiring today's fic ❤️ Featuring: Ikemen Villains Ellis Twilight x f!reader Tags: major angst, depiction of strangling and violence, reader/MC death Word Count: 1046

A chill hung in the dark room. A chill that would disappear if a fire blazed in the fireplace. But the fireplace burned nothing, just as cold and empty as the room in which it sat.

A lone, young man shrouded in the darkness lounged in an armchair before it, staring blankly into the grate. His eyes were still. Devoid of any warmth or emotion, save for just one.

Regret.

Faintly, somewhere in the depths of his bleak mind, he heard the sound of a young woman’s cheery voice calling his name – yours – one he thought he’d forget with time.

* * *

“Ellis,” you sweetly called out to him, patting the space next to you. “Come join me.”

A bright smile glowed on your face, even brighter than the fire flickering in the fireplace and filling the room with a cozy, golden warmth. A smile Ellis always looked forward to. A smile meant just for him.

Ellis joined you, settling in under the blanket that you had draped over your lap, and as you snuggled into him, resting your head on his shoulder, his heart stirred. The heat radiating from the fireplace felt hot against his face, but the side of his body that touched yours burned even hotter.

“Ellis,” you whined.

Ellis looked down at you. You, with an adorable pout on your pretty lips and a plea in your gorgeous eyes. Ellis immediately understood what you were asking for, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, one you leaned into with a pleased hum.

It always amazed him how perfectly your bodies fit together, almost as if you were made for him. He loved the way your body seemed to always want to curl into his. How effortless it was to hold you in his arms.

He glanced down at you, taking in how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, a radiant smile on your lips, a blissful sigh floating from your slightly parted mouth. You looked at ease, at home, the way you always did when you were in his embrace.

All Ellis wanted was your happiness. Your happiest moment. The happiest you.

Happiness for you, but not for him. Never for him. He wasn’t allowed happiness – it was beautiful on others, but on him… it was ugly… selfish… an abomination.

“I love you, Ellis,” you softly murmured, breaking Ellis out of his brooding. “I’m so happy right now.”

A sudden chill ran down his spine as if he took a plunge into a frigid bath filled with ice. An evil urge bloomed with him, hooking its claws into his chest, so deep he could barely breathe.

‘Preserve her,’ the voice inside him whispered.

Not yet. Ellis shoved the urge back down, burying it as far as he could back into the deep abyss of his mind. She wasn’t at her happiest yet. Not yet.

But something inside of him knew he was deluding himself. He was trying to prolong the inevitable. He knew that deep down in his frantically beating heart.

“Are you… are you the happiest you’ve ever been?” Ellis asked hesitantly.

Half of him hoped you would say this was the happiest day of your life, but the other half desperately prayed – screamed – for you to stop there, to not say the words that he feared would come next.

You nodded, oblivious to the war raging in his head and tilted your head to meet his gaze. “I’m so happy I could die.”

He barely heard your answer over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

He shivered, a mix of anticipation and dread coursing through his veins. The voice within him screamed, ‘Do it, do it now!’. You’d finally said the words he’d been longing to hear, but despite hearing them, he still couldn’t bring himself to do what needed to be done.

“Ellis, are you okay?”

Your quiet, concerned question lilted into his ear, and then you looked at him, peering at him with concern and love in your gorgeous eyes.

You looked beautiful.

So beautiful he wanted this moment to last forever.

Before he could stop himself, his hand was wrapped around your delicate throat, his slender fingers gouging into the soft flesh. As if in a trance, he watched your small hands fly to his hand and claw at his hold, but they were no match for his strength.

Terror and confusion swirled together in your wide eyes, your mouth round, your lungs desperately trying to draw in the oxygen it needed.

“El… lis…”

Ellis didn’t stop until the last of your breath left your body, until your heart stopped beating, until your eyelids fluttered closed and your body slumped over, held upright only by his crushing grip.

He gently laid you out on the blanket, tidying your dress and folding your hands over your stomach, one hand over the other. He tucked your hair behind your ears, running his fingers through your silky locks and smoothing off the wayward strands clinging to your brow. 

You looked as if you were sleeping.

Forever peaceful. Forever calm. Forever happy.

Just for him.

* * *

That was the last time he heard you call his name.

Ellis took in a shuddering breath, his fingernails digging into the coarse fabric of the chair’s armrests. This was what he did. He preserved people at their happiest. He’d never once had second thoughts, and yet…

He missed you terribly.

He missed the way you’d call his name, the way you’d beam at him and smile, the way you’d nestle against his chest and lay in his arms.

He missed the feeling of your lips against his, your scent tickling his nose, your warmth bleeding into his body.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to miss you like this… but he did, and the knowledge that he’d never get to hold you again drove him insane. Ever since he watched the light in your eyes dim, a twisted despair took hold of his heart, refusing to allow him to forget.

A solitary tear slipped down his cheek, and a mirthless laugh tumbled out of him.

Maybe this was what he deserved for taking your last breath… a life of loneliness without you by his side.

[crimsonchili]

Cybird has my LIFE, if they make more Nokto moments like this one

[fairylibe]

phantom of a hand.

856 words. angst. very tiny spoilers for alfons’ rt. features: “alfons sylvatica” × gn! reader.

꒰ summary ꒱ you go to the festival and feel a phantom of a voice; you go to the room and feel a phantom of a hand.

that pie throwing festival was fun.

“your face’s wide open!” the splat of pie cream could be heard as something collided with your face before you could dodge.

“one point for the red team!”

there was little time to wipe your face clean; plates of pies were being thrown everywhere in the open park, and you hardly wanted to miss out.

you could always take a bath afterward. that’s what you had always done, after all.

…wasn’t it?

“take that!” you shouted, bursting into laughter as the pie you threw flew in the air in an arched trajectory before falling flat on someone’s chest.

hearty laughter and shouting could be heard across the entire park. you could dodge some shots — though maybe at the expense of another person — but right now, in this very moment, you just wanted to relish in the lively noise.

a sense of urgent desire drove your actions. it was as though a phantom was beside you, whispering the very words, “there is nothing more important than living in the moment, (y/n).”

because you knew that when everything ended, you would walk into the quiet of the city.

it was a strangely familiar sensation, as though you had walked these very streets, after the very same festival, sometime before. you had placed your arm on the rail somewhere near the lamppost that was about to light up the streets in lieu of the sun, looking out into the city from a distance.

it was all too familiar, yet foreign at the same time. or perhaps, something was missing, as though you were missing a single piece of a puzzle.

the picture was mostly complete, except for one thing.

but what was that thing?

every time you passed around this bridge, even during the day, you would feel a tiny twinge in your heart. it was like someone was wringing it.

someone you didn’t know.

you had a feeling you were forgetting something that truly mattered to you.

the ache was always there, but for some odd reason you couldn’t quite pin down. the ache morphed into pain, opening a hole in your heart, until your vision blurred.

was it because of how quiet and somber your surroundings had become after engaging in something so boisterous and lively?

only the gentle breeze could answer, drying your cheeks of the tears that fell.

—

the room when you came in was empty enough to leave behind no sign of life. it was not dusty enough, however, to suggest any abandonment.

after all, you had always kept it clean.

you didn’t know why, but you felt a deep attachment to this room. when you asked around, though, everyone had claimed no one has ever occupied this room before.

was this also a feeling induced by another life?

you walked around the room, tracing your fingers around the spotless furniture. finally, your hands stopped on a black cloth that covered something rather tall and narrow, if the cloth could hug its edges. before, you had a strange feeling, much like what you had felt before in the city around the bridge, that you shouldn’t touch that cloth.

but today, you found the courage in you to defy that voice that told you otherwise.

gripping the black cloth, you pulled it toward you, removing it and revealing what was beneath it all along.

the sight took your breath away.

before you was a mirror, tall enough to reflect your whole person. yet, due to how shattered it was on the surface, your own reflection became distorted with the fractures in the glass.

it looked as though someone had punched through it.

but who?

against your better judgment, your fingers made their way to the mirror’s surface, feeling something like a magnetic attraction. but you ended up cutting one of your fingertips, causing you to wince and immediately draw back, the pain breaking you from the mysterious spell this “magic mirror” had placed on you.

when you looked at your index finger, red blossomed from where you had cut it.

“i do find it oddly curious how you seem to have a penchant for getting hurt like this.”

who was that? this voice…

“well? let me see the cut.”

that’s right… this voice… his name was——

your thought abruptly cut off there, and once again, tears started to flow, though it didn’t occur to you that you were crying until you heard yourself hiccup.

you raised your arm to your face, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. but alas, it was a futile effort.

“hehe, first you cut yourself and now you shed tears like this. you truly are a handful sometimes. and yet, i do find your tears ever so endearing.”

you no longer knew if you were crying because of the cut on your finger, or because of the phantom warmth you felt on your cheek from someone you no longer remembered.

but if you knew one thing…

it was that the tears couldn’t stop falling to the ground now — as there was no longer any hand to catch them.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @letter-from-afar @candiedcoffeedrops @.comment to be added or removed!

[rjthirsty]

H For Handicap

I've created an ABC list for Ikemen Prince ranging from humorous crack-fic ideas to the smutty, with a dash of drama and angst. 26 letters of the alphabet x 13 characters / 12 months = 1 year of drabbles, headcanons, and creating with these men in mind.

Tags: Angst, Disabilities, Post Canon, GN!Reader,

Chevalier

Chevalier stands from his throne, waiting for you to hook arms with him. The two of you have gone through this routine many times, it’s so natural at this point for him to escort you out of the throne room once you’ve finished the petitions and visitors that came for the week. He can hear you moving, and a moment later he feels your hand slide through his waiting elbow. As regally as ever, he descends the stairs in measured steps. Nine stairs. Twenty-three to the door. No one is left in the room save for Sariel, he always could feel the presence of others very well, even Four Eyes.

The feel of the floor changes under his boots. Through the palace the two of you stroll. Most people will move aside for the King of Rhodolite, so it is of little consequence to move less carefully in the hallways than the social gatherings full of nobles and other public functions where he continues to pretend nothing had ever gone wrong. The last ball you two attended, he danced across the floor cleared for just the two of you. You’d never know he had an impairment with the way he managed to lead you around the room. Then again, that was the point.

One-hundred-forty-two steps and you two came to a stop. The room he had designated for his own office was in front of him. Easily he reached for the handle and pushed the door out of the way. One person sat inside. Chev could tell from his faint cologne that it was Clavis, he could smell the products he used to tame his bedhead.

Confidently, Chev moved into the room and around the desk, fingers touching the edge of it to keep him aimed in the right direction. Eight steps. Two steps. Two steps. Without your help, he found a seat - his seat - where he would field visitors inside the palace. You took yours beside him where you managed most of the work he was unable to perform these days.

Clavis knew. Everyone in his closest circle knew, but the maids and other workers on the grounds didn’t. It was kept secret to keep the peace. If the world found out he no longer had his vision, there would be people aiming to use that to their advantage. It was easier this way. He didn’t need to see to be aware of his surroundings, or to use his intelligent mind.

Papers shuffled. People spoke. He heard most of them approaching before they entered and announced themselves. He often held documents that had no purpose for him to rifle through. Five pages. Seven pages. Two pages. You were the one that looked over them, or Clavis, or Sariel, even Leon when it came to domestic affairs. He had to trust all of you to be certain his standards were maintained, but through the brief overview any of you made, he could determine the best course of action without seeing the words.

Anything requiring a signature would be seen to at a later time, when no one else was around to witness the way you guided his hand to the place for him to mark his name. He had never looked warm when he looked at anyone but you, so no one can tell from his uninterested stare that he can’t actually see them. It’s easy enough to tell where they’re located, people make an exorbitant amount of noise just existing.

The day finally draws to an end. Sixty-seven steps to the staircase taking the two of you to the next floor. Twenty-two stairs. One-hundred-eleven steps to your shared bedroom. Nothing moves inside this room. Everything is kept in exactly the same place so that Chevalier can manage his own routine without the need of baby-sitting. That is how he feels. He knows he should be grateful for your compliance, but he can’t help but feel resentment for himself and his need for you.

You read to him. It’s a much slower pace than he used to read silently to himself, but hearing the words come from you makes it more than tolerable– it’s pleasant to listen to your slower cadence. He misses the faces you’d make when you read, the emotions that would cross without you even realizing it. Gently, he cups your cheeks and finds your mouth through the measure of his touch.

He misses your bright, clear eyes. It’s only darkness now. You’re not as easy to read anymore. It’s more difficult to judge how you’re feeling. You have had to become more honest with him in order for him to continue to feel connected, because otherwise he just knows you exist in a capacity nearby. He knows you’re there, but what was it that your smile looked like again?

What was the face you’d make when the blush would crawl across your skin as you two made love? He can hear your sighs and your moans, and they’re as lovely as ever, but when was the last time he saw you intoxicated with lust? If he had felt like he was fumbling before with physical intimacy, he was even more clumsy now that nothingness existed in the spaces between you and him. Groping in the dark only to bump into your form in a place he hadn't predicted.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Flickering Light

Fandom: Ikemen Prince • Character Pairing: Leon Dompteur X OC (OC Named Carla) • Other Characters: Gilbert Von Obsidian, Chevalier Michel • Tags: Established Relationship; Angst; Hurt and Comfort; Angst and Feels; Memory Flashbacks (if stories featuring physical fights/abuse trigger you, don’t read); PTSD; references of slavery and refugees; Leon route spoilers • Word Count: ~2950

Synopsis: The Sunshine prince battles darkness in Obsidian with the help of his fiancé Carla. A crumbling tower triggers childhood flashbacks for Leon he’s tried to forget.

Alternate Synopsis: With the amount of trauma associated with Leon’s childhood, coupled with an inability to discuss it out loud due to circumstance and *insert hero archetype tendencies to not easily admit weakness*, I’m convinced Leon would have some significant PTSD. And memories he’s suppressed. This is a story about how he might deal with that with a loved one.

Want to learn more about Carla and Leon? Check out these stores: Seeker and Simmer

Folks Who (Might?) Appreciate This Story: @reborn-elven-spirit @candied-boys @wistfulwanderingone @x-daedalus-x @ikeprinces-stuff @violettduchess @aide-falls @animehusbandharem @the-bird-and-the-flute @sh0jun @5mary5 @queengiuliettafirstlady @sonicsquid3000 @ikemenlibrary @eventinelysplayground @lorei-writes @dear-sciaphilia

…

“A rather bold request. I’d expect nothing less from his lioness.”  

Leon’s arm wrapped protectively around Carla at Gilbert’s needling. She and Leon, along with Yves and King Chevalier, were in an audience room within the Obsidian Castle, serving in Rholodite’s delegation finalizing a cooperative agreement with the nation of soldiers and steel. Carla stared unblinkingly back at the world-wide disaster. “Not really. Rhodolite is about to enter a peace agreement with Obsidian. That agreement is with the country, not just you.”

“But I am Obsidian.” Gilbert tapped his ebony cane on the floor to emphasize his point. “And so are you, little cub. You’re as much Obsidian as the half-mast mongrel there.” Gilbert did not bother to contain his disdain of Yves, whose cheeks flushed irritably. 

“Hey, leave my fiancé’s mother and Yves out of this. Your conversation is with me.”  Leon shot a challenging glance at Gilbert. “And by the way, it’s Carla. My fiancé’s name is Carla. Not little cub.”  

“Ah, so Rhodolite’s lion marks his territory.” The corner of Gilbert’s mouth quirked in amusement. “No need to roar at me.” 

“I can’t really help it. She’s like the sun that I stand beneath.” Leon asserted with pride, the tension in the room lifting temporarily as he looked fondly at Carla. He turned back to Gilbert, his voice warm but with a firm edge. “So, of course I’m gonna have an opinion on how you speak with her.”

“She’d have to stand on a pretty large chair to stand beneath her. Heehee.” Yves bristled at Gilbert’s words. Carla squeezed Leon’s hand reassuringly, refusing to appear ruffled.

“Our agreement allows Rhodolite to visit medical and military facilities. I don’t see how Leon and I touring your southern regions contradicts that agreement.” Carla was taking a risk in asking, but another opportunity to freely explore Obsidian—including areas near the underground network she led for refugees escaping into Rhodolite—would not happen again soon.  

“Access goes through me. Paths to freedom are available because I allow them to be. Including those near the border.” A crimson eye narrowed slightly. “Things can always be worse. Networks…vanish.” Gilbert grinned, as if he hadn’t just hinted at knowing Carla’s secret.   

Who does Rhodolite belong to—the people that live there, those that wish to live there, or both?  That one question from Carla before they had become a couple had expanded Leon’s perspective. And without kingly trappings ensnaring him, Leon felt emboldened to lean into that perspective through unofficial channels. Including the underground network he now helped Carla maintain. The fact that Chevalier, who sat at a nearby table surrounded by paperwork, had not interrupted thus far gave tacit leeway for Leon to continue. “The agreement is between our peoples. As such, Carla and I should get to know your people. Including those outside the Castle. We can’t exactly do that cooped up here.” 

“And what is more important? Me or the people?” 

“The people.” Carla and Leon spoke in unison.   

“A pair as pure as ever. I just might puke.” Gilbert smirked. “A pity you wear black Prince Leon. White suits you and the little cub—ahem, I mean Lady Carla—more. Certainly, more than him.” Gilbert inclined his head towards Chevalier. “I see why you two gravitate towards one another.”

“We are like candles, each lighting the other.” Carla’s voice softened for the first time since talking with Gilbert. Leon’s hand curled towards her waist, pulling her close. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” Leon whispered.     

“Ridiculous.” A deep sigh penetrated the air. “Can we get on with negotiations?” Chevalier lifted his eyes from the stack of papers.      

“Your beastly king censures you.” Gilbert sneered, tossing a rolled-up piece of parchment in Leon’s direction. “Here’s the map of our southern lands. And passes granting permission to travel there. I’m sure you’re both eager to get going.”

“Just like that?” Leon lifted an eyebrow, catching the parchment. 

“I have more fun things to play with here.” Gilbert gestured to Chevalier and Yves in poorly concealed amusement. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he offered a final comment to Leon. “But remember this: Obsidian is a land known for darkness—even the brightest candles can burn out from what they see.” 

…

A week had passed since Carla and Leon’s meeting with Prince Gilbert. They were well-beyond the neat and orderly confines of the capital. Towns and villages were scattered across the increasingly barren landscape, with poorly maintained roads connecting them. 

The pair traveled by foot on a dusty trail, a smattering of gnarled trees dotting one side of the trail. The path meandered over mostly open land, littered with dead brush and dry grasses matted down from perpetual wind. Carla opened the map as they trekked along, head buried in the folds of paper. With a sudden THUMP, Carla found herself walking straight into the broad back of Leon. 

“Oomph!” Carla rubbed her nose and took a step back. She folded the map, placing it in her travel pack. “You OK?” 

Leon stood silently in the middle of the trail, a solemn gravity emanating from him. His expression was faraway and dark. 

“Is anyone there?”

A tiny hand reached towards the sky. Blistered fingers grasped at the emptiness around him before curling into his dirty palm. His hand fell to his side, brushing against the immoveable boulder he was tasked to transport to the Lord’s tower. The boy’s back flinched in anticipation of the abuse his handler would reap for not moving the rock in time.    

“No,” the boy murmured. “Like that’s gonna happen.” A part of him wanted to scream, but why bother. 

The boy’s world tumbled into darkness. He would always be lost. Trapped. Alone. A piercing voice broke his train of thought, causing him to whip his head around.

“Leon?!”

Warm fingers grasped Leon’s hand, squeezing tightly. The faded blur of that childhood memory scattered as Carla’s fingers twined with his, anchoring him to the present. The heavy, bleaker emotions associated with the memory lingered still—clear, distinct, and real.   

Carla’s eyes followed Leon as he stared intensely at the horizon. In the distance stood a dilapidated tower, crumbling with age and decay. Several sections of the tower were missing, sooty stones tossed about the ground. 

“That tower. I’ve…I’ve been there before.” Leon’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper that faded into the wind.  

Carla’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. They were in a part of Obsidian neither had explored previously in their rescue missions. Most Rhodolite royalty had not been in Obsidian for non-war or espionage related activities for years. There was no way in which Leon could have been near this place before, unless…

Unless as a child. A slave. Carla’s eyes widened, comprehension dawning in rapid alarm. Leon’s jaw clenched, tightly ticking in a subconscious attempt to swallow the emotions burning inside. She turned her body, placing herself in front of Leon as if she could block the barrage of horrendous thoughts assaulting him.  

“Leon? Leon!”

He did not hear her. Leon’s body stiffened, his free hand clinching the hem of his traveling cloak to the point that his knuckles turned white. The little boy in rags reaching towards the sky was a memory Leon’s heart refused to let go. It was an incomplete memory—one that had battered him inside for years even as he tried to shut it out. But with the tower in sight, Leon now recalled more. His eyes were distant, as if watching a scene only visible to him.  

“BOY!”

His handler came rushing from the work site, face ruddy, shaking with fury. The workman did not call him by name. A name implied worth and meaning. The boy had none. The boy tried to fix an impassive mask on his features. 

“I’m almost done. See? See!” The boy barely suppressed the rising warble in his voice. 

Don’t show fear. Don’t show weakness. Don’t feel it. Don’t. Don’t.  

The boy pushed with all his might against the boulder, his shoulders and back scraping painfully against hardened jagged edges. The rock, as if mocking him, moved a scant few inches forward before lurching back to its original spot.  

“I see.” His handler rasped, eyes gleaming. “I see a need for motivation.” A massive fist came barreling from the sky. 

Don’t cry out. That’ll make things worse. So, so much worse.     

The boy crouched in a ball, hands covering his face in a feeble attempt to block the blow.

“Leon! Talk to me. Please.”

Carla’s voice was distant, echoing in the far reaches of Leon’s mind. Leon was crouched up against a tree, one of his hands gripping the roots of his hair. Where was he? How did he get here? He shrank into a tighter coil, bracing against an invisible threat. Leon’s golden eyes were dilated, nearly replaced with orbs of black.

“We walked away from the tower. You’re on the outskirts of a nearby forest. You’re safe.” With difficulty, Carla got Leon to a sitting position on the ground, his back leaning against the tree. His shoulders remained hunched, as if trying to make himself a smaller target.   

This…this was not her Leon. Present Leon Carla corrected to herself. The charismatic hero with a ready smile carried hidden darkness that dwelled deep in his mind. She had seen similar scenes play out before with others she had rescued from Obsidian. The most innocuous objects—teapots, riding crops, a lady’s red hat—could induce terror, pull people into harrowing pasts. Carla mentally added crumbling towers to clear blue skies, raw hide whips, and the smell of pine bark as triggers for Leon. 

Carla lowered herself so that she straddled Leon’s lap, her eyes the same level as his. Carla’s hands framed both sides of his face, stilling his movements so that all Leon saw was her. Leon blinked repeatedly, his shallow breathing eventually slowing, his glazed stare re-centering towards his beloved.   

“Carla…”

Her name fell from his lips, half despair, half hope. Not wanting to sink deeper into darkness, Leon reached out and crushed Carla to him. He wanted to drown in her, soak into her being. His hands grasped at her curves, seeking comfort and safety.   

Trauma. It was more visible to Carla than usual. Leon’s anguish was painful to witness. Leon claimed he felt nothing when he reflected on his pre-palace childhood. But Carla had never truly believed he was as numb to those experiences as he acted. His eyes had always clouded over, shadows flickering, with each person she and he helped through their underground network. Especially children. The mightier the hero, the greater the fall. Carla’s eyes watered as she sniffled loudly. Leon stopped his movements, his eyes widening at her expression. 

“Leon…” She pressed her lips against his shoulder, caressing a scar so faded it was nearly invisible. Her hands grazed the contours of his upper back, fingers tracing muscles previously lanced with marks of a whip. “I’m here sweetheart.” 

Emotions beyond language’s ability to express them filled Leon as he clung to her. Carla could feel the thrum of Leon’s pulse against her skin, her lips connected to him in an act as spiritual as it was physical. Her presence was life giving—to the prince he was now and the boy he was then. Carla sighed softly and leaned slightly back. She wrapped her fingers through Leon’s wind-blown locks, attempting to coax him. “Do you want to talk?”

“Of course. It’s you.” 

There was sincerity in Leon’s words. “Don’t worry about me. I was just thinking earlier. That’s all.” His voice was casual, nearly dismissive. Dismissive of himself and the need to unburden his mind. 

“I’m your fiancé. It’s my job to worry about you. You don’t do it enough yourself.” 

The rebuttal that flitted to Leon’s lips vanished under the directness of her gaze. His eyes wavered with emotion. “I’m sorr—”

“If you say I’m sorry for the gift of knowing you—ALL of you—I’m going to have words.” Carla’s vivid blue eyes pierced straight into his soul. A wounded soul that did not know whether it was safe to reveal itself yet. “Your heart cries out even if your eyes don’t.”

Don’t cry out. It’ll be over soon.

The boy uttered not a sound, even as clinched fists and hardened boots collided against his arms and aching ribs. His handler had done this before. He knew it would happen again.

Nothing. He willed himself to feel nothing.      

“You hold back. Stop carrying that weight. Let it out.” Leon flinched reflexively as fingers grazed his ribs. But these touches were light, soothing, did not batter and bash. They lingered on him, as if trying to lance away the pain he held onto.  

Pain. He learned to live with it. Numbness and resilience intersecting into a blur. A blur that had him drowning on dry land. But now he sought air.

Leon let out a shaky breath. “I…I was here.” Another breath. “I looked at the sky. I couldn’t move a rock.” Another breath. “And then��fists came down.” 

Love—an emotion so sweet yet fragile. Something to protect and be protective over. Driven by the force of that emotion, Carla threw her arms around Leon, cradling his head to her as he shook uncontrollably. 

He felt everything. Everything he had suppressed most of his life. Words tumbled out of him, nightmarish memories crowding his mind as rapid fire as fists from the sky. 

“Please. Please. PLEASE. STOP!”

He screamed—for all the times he had not. 

“STOP!” Leon screamed repeatedly into Carla’s shoulder, raw, sharply piercing. The roar of a wounded beast and a terrified boy tangled into one. Leon winced repeatedly, as if struck by repeated blows. Carla curled herself around him, clinging tightly over him, her body shielding him from his handler, the looming tower, everything. He shuddered for what seemed like an eternity, gasping for breath, voice cracking. “STOP…stop…please.” 

And then, startling silence. 

The boy laid down in the mud. The air was empty, devoid of the faintest warmth. The taste of iron trickled down his cheek from a gash near his temple. His handler was gone, having made his point. 

Ache. His body ached. His heart throbbed, whether with pain or resignation he did not know. A loneliness surrounded him that ached even more. 

Another slave, trained in rudimentary medics, eventually came by to treat the boy’s wounds. The boy remained face down in the mud, barely moving.  

“Some people scream so loud anyone can hear’em. Wail like babies even.”  A glob of ointment, thick and gloopy, was roughly rubbed on the boy’s shoulders. “You kid? You scream in silence.”

To know another’s pain, to be allowed to see it and witness its vulnerability was a humbling experience. The air was still, as if recognizing the significance of the moment.

“It’s not OK what happened to you. All of it.” 

A painful pressure squeezed the breath from Leon’s lungs and then released at Carla’s words. He had never heard that—an acknowledgement of what he went through, the wrongness of it all. His brothers now knew of his past, but it was never spoken of—a buried truth, an unofficial price for maintaining his status as fourth prince. The silence of it all was too much. 

The boy was too tired to scream. 

And yet. A faint flicker within his heart refused to die out.

 He lifted his head from the mud.   

“If I were in trouble, what would you do?” The words were barely audible, mumbled into Carla’s shoulder. Leon slowly raised his head. I don’t need fixing his golden eyes seemed to plead; I need…I need…

“I’d help you.”

Understanding. “Regardless of who I am?” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words escaped him.  

“I love you. All of you: past and present; pauper and prince; perfect and pained.” Her voice flowed with understanding and affection. “You speak as if the boy you were before should be gone, forever erased. The echo of him remains, buried inside, guiding you. And I am grateful that boy is still there wanting to be seen and heard.”

Carla cupped a hand to Leon’s cheek, gently encouraging him to look at her. “That boy has made you who you are. You are a man who has witnessed darkness but carries light for Rhodolite. You have walked out of fire but come back with water for those that are still in flames, seeking help within our underground network. You show compassion because that boy knows what is like to have had none.” 

Her words seeped into his being. Love touched every fractured piece of Leon, mending him back together. “So yes, I’d help you. Because I adore you. And because you’ve looked pain in the eye, and you’ve stared back with love—love for your country, your brothers, your people.”

“And you.” Leon was filled with searing warmth. “Especially you. More than anything.” Amber eyes radiated hope again. 

“I would hope so, considering we’re engaged.” Carla smiled slightly. 

His heart squeezed at her teasing words. “You move me so much Carla, it’s almost absurd.” He clasped her to his chest, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

A hand reached for the sky. 

Is anyone there? 

“You’re not alone.” Carla’s hand was steady as Leon reached for it. Her fingers grasped his, twining together. An unspoken promise to never let go. 

“We are candles, each lighting the other.” Carla repeated the words she had spoken to Gilbert. “And I will light your way through the dark.”

[luciferslostsock]

My crush in 2020 and 2023🤭

My crush in 2018💀

This is what happens when you let your child have unrestriced access to the internet.. they fall in love with Vampires and Demons💀💀

[bontu-the-l0ver]

The angel of crown.

Kinda sad, it covers delicate topics. But I promise I will make it a happy story at the end tehee.

Next>>

Part 1.

Everyone in crown was resting, they didn't have missions to attend.

Elbert wasn't sleeping so he was walking on the garden when he heard someone between the bushes, He thought it could be an animal so he just kept walking but once again stopped when from the bushes came out a cat running and then a little girl trying to catch the cat.

- Hey... You shouldn't be here.

Elbert said catching the girls attention who turned to face Elbert.

- Are you Victor? - She asked.

-No...

- I'm looking for him, I have a letter from the Queen.

The little girl showed a letter, Elbert took the letter and saw that it was correct, it was a letter from the Queen.

- Why did she sent a kid to sent a letter?...

He asked to himself but then offered a hand to the little girl who took it.

- I will take you to Victor.

Elbert guided the girl inside the castle, knock on the door of Victor.

- Oh my sweet El-... A kid?

- I found her, she has a letter from her majesty.

Elbert gave the letter to Victor as the girl started to play with Elbert's cape not paying attention to Victor.

- Ah... Well... Let me read this.

Victor still stemmed confused as he read the letter but once he proceed the information he smiled.

- Ah! What a nice news!

- What does it say?

- I will tell you tomorrow with the others.

Victor took the girl and carried her.

- It's too late in the night and this girl needs to sleep.

Elbert only looked more confused but nodded as he let Victor take care of the girl.

The next day during the morning everyone was eating breakfast or they were going to but they were confused and amazed by the little girl having breakfast with them.

- Why is a kid with us? - Harry asked.

- I fond her last night, she was sent by the Queen I think- Elbert answered.

- Little one do you want to use a spoon? - Alfons offered her.

- What us a spoon? - the girl asked.

- She doesn't know what a spoon is? That explains why she is trying to eat with her hands- Ellis answered.

As they saw the kid eat whit her hands Victor entered the room

- Good morning my cursed boys! ~~... And girl...

- And girl? Is she also cursed? - Elbert asked.

- How intelligent you are! Yes, she is also cursed.

Everyone listened but the question of what she was doing here was still on the air.

- I'm sure you're wondering and what? Well, the Queen sent her to live with us so we can support her with her curse.

After Victor spoke they all keep silence for a while but then Liam decide to agree.

- I think she can stay.

- Ya' kiddin'? - Jude asked.

- No, I'm not.

- I don't think a kid should stay with us.- Roger answered.

The tension was dense, William thought while listening to them then spoke.

- Let's not be cruel to the little one, if she has a curse it would be better for her to be around people with curses. I think a lot of us would have liked someone to guide us.

Everyone keeps quiet as they think and they see a the kid still eating messy.

- I can help take care of her- Ellis offered himself.

- I can help too! - Liam said happily.

- I don't think I can take care of a kid but I have to teach her some manners, she can go around the world not knowing what a spoon is Alfons answered.

- I guess I don't mind playing with her a bit. - Elbert spoke.

Victor smiled seeing them Agree however Jude, Harrison and Roger didn't seem to be completely in.

- I ain't takin' care of her... - Jude said. -

- Not into kids, sorry. - Harrison spoke.

- Well, if I can get some information from her would be nice but I won't be helping babysitting her.- Roger said.

Victor didn't say much but was happy to see Ellis and Liam ready to help and the little help from Elbert and Alfons.

- Okay, Roger can you help us check on her? I don't know much about her and I doubt she knows if she has any allergy or something. - Victor requested.

Roger didn't seem happy about it but didn't complain, the last thing he wanted was a little kid dying because she is allergic at something so with Liam and Ellis distracting her Roger got ready to check on her.

Roger started checking her reflex but started to notice her reflex were... Unusual...

- Hey little one. - Roger spoke. - Tell me... What did you used to eat with your mama and papa.

- I don't remember the name but it was hard to bite.

Roger started to think what she could mean.

- Maybe her family was poor and she means some old bread? - Ellis suggested.

-Maybe. - Roger answered. - Anything else young lady?

- Oh, those little animals that hide between the walls.

Liam and Ellis were smiling trying to confort her but when she mentioned that they went serious, even Roger.

- You mean... Rats?... - Liam asked.

- I don't know their names. - The girl answered.

Liam looked at Ellis who looked back at Liam and back at Roger who was too stunned to keep writing.

- What-... What about your name? - Roger tried to lift the mood.

- I have a lot of names. - The girl said happily.

- Wich one you like most? - Liam asked.

- uh... Bitch!

They went silent again. They had an idea where this was going and they don't like it.

Roger gulped and moved her clothes too see her skin just to find horrible bruises.

- Well... Little lady... I need you to remove your clothes. - Roger said, he needed to check for any wound.

- No! The queen told me you weren't gonna play with me.

At the answer they knew it was what they feared. Roger took two paper sheets, in one he drew a little map and in the other a little letter.

- Little Girl, follows this map to the Kitchen, you will see people there, give them this letter and they will give you food.

- Food!

The girl took the map and run following the map.

- Let's tell Victor.

[keithsandwich]

Loss

Word Count: ~700

Rating: Teen And Up

Tags: Pregnancy, Parenting, Grief, Depression, Memory Loss.

Summary: The former King of Jade congratulates Maeve (OC) on her pregnancy, but the ghosts from the past are haunting him.

Notes: This was written in one sitting yesterday, and although I've edited a bit today, it may contain errors. Spoilers from Keith's route, but mainly some assumptions I'll mention in the end.

"Iris! Please!" Maeve shouted, to no ears. Both Iris and her maid had already disappeared into the garden. The kid was running relentlessly, the woman was trying to prevent her from going too far.

Meanwhile, Maeve sighed where she stood, beneath the shadows of the trees, with one toddler fussing in her arms and a baby kicking inside her belly. She rocked Aurora, attempting to calm her down. Back, and forth, and back again.

"Are you pregnant again?"

The calm voice startled her. She hastily turned to the former King and curtsied awkwardly while holding the little girl. He chuckled. No matter how many times he had told her there was no need for it, Maeve had never lost the habit.

"It just started showing." It had been six moons if her counts were correct. Her belly used to show sooner in the past, but now it had grown naturally round and soft even when she wasn't expecting. "I'm sorry, I thought the kids had already told you about their new sibling."

"I don't recall if they did," the former King said softly. His arms reached to take Aurora from hers. She was still wailing and kicking. Her grandfather started to rock her like Maeve had been doing, but with such gentleness he could easily be mistaken for Keith at a distance.

"I see... They must be used to it by now..." Maeve whispered with disappointment and looked away. Her hand touched her belly idly. In the distance, they could hear Iris laughing loudly as Aurora started to grow quieter.

"No, no, the fault is probably in my memory. It's not working as it did in the past, I wouldn't be surprised if they told me and I just... Forgot it. No offense."

His words captured Maeve's attention again. They looked at each other. Her interactions with the King had always been brief and stiff, although she knew he was a good grandfather -- way better than the father he had been. Having him somehow trying to comfort her was a rare thing.

"None taken. Don't worry about it."

"This is a good thing, you know? Having a big family. This is what we wanted, but..." his voice trailed off as gradually as Aurora's fussing, until they both fell silent. He reached for a flower from a lower tree branch and swirled it in front of her, sparking her curiosity and prompting her to reach for it with her little hands. "Sometimes I wonder if this is why... She passed so soon..."

"You mean...?"

"He knew of our plans. Three was easier to... To get rid of..." The former King looked at her, and in his tired amber eyes, she saw pain. Despair. A quiet cry for help. Maeve had heard that ever since Keith showed him the evidence of Fernand's guilt, the former King had been withering in grief; his mind so consumed by that that it started to weaken. The memories from minutes ago slipping away as he refused to let go of the memories from the past.

Maeve stepped forward, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"There's no way of knowing that. Don't torture yourself overthinking, please."

Then it all happened so fast. Aurora opened the cutest little smile with all of her four teeth and babbled with joy when she grabbed the flower, and Iris dashed in with her maid on her trail. "Granpapa! Granpapa!" she screamed excitedly, throwing herself against his long legs. If he weren't so sturdy, she could've thrown him to the ground.

"Iris, be careful!" Maeve tried to caution her daughter, but the former King used his free hand to tap hers lightly over his shoulder in reassurance. Then he leaned away from her touch to lift Iris up. The two girls giggled, safe in each of their grandfather's arms.

He turned to take a look at Maeve again. His gaze remained a little longer on her belly, as if intrigued by it.

"Oh, there's another one on the way, isn't there?"

Maeve gave him the most gracious smile she could.

"Yes! Yes, there is!"

End Notes: Okay, so, while during Keith's route it is said that he can't prove Fernand's involvement in Til's death, I have a feeling this is something that still can be done as his story is developed. And I assume it would probably be devasting for the King to know he's been blind for so long to the wrong deeds of his brother. Oh, and while Keith's mother passed when Mireille was born, in this fanfic the King is just being paranoid wondering if Fernand had murdered her too.

"Good, good. I should... I shall... I will congratulate my useless son later for doing one more thing right."

Taglist: @olivermorningstar @bicayaya @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @fang-and-feather @strawberry-scum @m-mmiy @hellecat @nightghoul381 @lorei-writes - let me know if you want in or out on my taglist!

[revasserium]

lie to me

harrison; 1,872 words; fluff and a bit of angst; fem!reader a/n: in which harrison tells you five lies and just as many truths

01.

“lie to me.”

“i love you.”

“ah, but that’s an easy one — how could you be in love with someone you just met, right?”

you smile, lacing your fingers under your chin as he looks you over, the smile on your lips simple and sweet and somehow unsettling in its simplicity. there’s something hidden there — he knows it. he just doesn’t know exactly what it is yet and… that in and of itself is intriguing enough to warrant a second glance, a second’s pause.

“go on, isn’t this supposed to be what you’re good at?” you ask, cocking your head, your eyes never leaving his.

harrison feels himself being drawn into you, the unflinching way you meet his gaze, the seemingly indomitable nature of your curiosity, your striking, painful honesty. ah — so is that what it is? has he gotten so used to the truth hidden beneath the lies that seeing truth hidden behind another veneer of truth has become strange? certainly, it’s not something he sees everyday but…

“alright then — i don’t love you, but i think that maybe i could —”

eh?

you blink, but harrison is already pursing his lips with a shrug, pushing up from where he’d been sitting across from you, your coffee mugs still steaming.

“there, ponder that one for a while, hm?” he grins, shooting a lazy wink your way, “and… that confused look on your face… i don’t hate it, y’know.”

02.

“lie to me.”

“my favorite color is yellow.”

“well, mine’s green.”

harrison looks up at you from across a piece of perfectly buttered toast, his mouth halfway open, watching as you slather your slice of toast in a truly impressive amount of jam. you’re humming to yourself and when you glance up to find him watching you, you shrug.

“what?”

harrison smiles, shaking his head, “nothing. just… ah — nevermind.”

“no, tell me.” you take a huge bite of toast and he can’t help the way his eyes snag on the smear of jam on your lower lip or the way your tongue sweeps out to lick it up.

“nope. don’t wanna.” he takes his own rather large bite of toast, washing it down with a sip of coffee that’s just a bit too hot.

“even if i say ‘please’?”

harrison pauses, considers. and then he smiles.

“for a second there, i just thought you were… cute.”

your blush makes something warm and tight unfurl in his chest. but you narrow your eyes and the tension inside his chest lightens ever so slightly.

“saah… was that a lie or was it the truth?” he muses, reaching out to tap a finger to the center of your forehead, making you blink, “well, you can believe whatever you want to believe. i don’t mind it either way.”

03.

“lie to me.”

“i actually don’t really like lying.”

you pause over the still-warm cranberry scones, your hand hovering over the butter dish.

“then why do you do it?”

harrison licks his lips, his eyes fixed on yours. he feels the beginnings of something cresting from his stomach up into his chest, over his shoulders, down the length of his back. it’s a strange thing, a nearly foreign sensation. but it leaves his whole body a mess a livewire tingles, and it makes him wonder about stupid things like truth and trust and belonging.

“because… it’s easy, i suppose.”

you nod, slowly breaking off a corner of a scone, and applying a liberal amount of butter to it before offering it to him. on the windowsill, there’s a vase full of bright yellow tulips, freshly picked and watered.

“my parents always said that if you tell a lie enough times, it starts to sound like the truth.”

“hm… they sound like smart people.” he reaches out to take the bit of proffered scone, popping it into his mouth and savoring the sweetness.

you watch him with a grin, “they were.”

a moment passes, and then another; harrison reaches for the sugar bowl at the same time you do and your hands brush. you pause; so does he. and then — laughter, as he pushes the bowl towards you and you shake your head, nudging it back.

“three sugars, right?” you ask, watching as he drops the cubes into his coffee and stirs.

“what can i say? i’ve got something of a sweet-tooth.”

“yeah. i know you do.”

04.

“lie to me… please — t-tell me everything’s gonna be okay.”

there’s blood everywhere, and the world is around you is a blur of rain and shadows. the streetlamps cast the air in a hazy glow and it would be beautiful, if it weren’t so deeply, horrifyingly terrible.

you cradle harrison to your chest, a hand pressed to the side of his stomach, where a sickeningly hot stream of blood is pouring from a bullet wound, your other hand holding his head upright.

“i — i think i’m gonna die,” he says, forcing a weak smile as he raises a hand to cup your cheek.

“h-harry! that’s not — that’s not funny —” but you can’t help the watery laugh that bubbles from your lips.

“you — you told me to lie to you… right? so…”

you bite back a sob even as it rips itself from your throat and you shake your head.

“y’know… you’ve gotten s-so bad at this…”

harrison’s own laughter is stuttered through with coughs. more blood, painting the soft of his lips so bright it almost looks like lipstick or strawberry jam. you reach up your hand to wipe it away, smearing the red across his cheeks.

he catches your hand in his, and the cliché of the moment hits you like a runaway train, veering off it’s tracks — the rain, the blood, the falling in love.

“what… at lying? ah… i guess that’s true… hey… look at me…” he presses his blood-stained lips to your hand before resting it along his cheek, holding it there even as more blood gurgles out of the side of his mouth. you try to tug your hand to wipe it away but he holds you tight, holds you dear.

“there you are…” he says, his eyes flickering over the plains of your face, “i su-suppose you might make an honest man of me yet…”

you shake your head again, fervent and desperate.

“no — i d-don’t want that — harry, please — you can’t —”

“m-my favorite color… didn’t used to be yellow… but now it is… and… i never did like lying… but i hated doing it to you… and… i never thought i could fall in love but… here i am… so there — i — i think that’s most of them —”

“harry, what are y-you doing?”

“i’m… telling you the truth. now… your turn — lie… lie to me.”

you let out another sob as you see the light from his eyes slowly fading, even as the distant sounds of shouting alert you to the ambulance racing your way.

“i-if you die, i swear to god, harry — i’ll chase you right into the gates of hell and pull you back with me —”

harrison laughs, his hand falling from yours, his lashes fluttering as his gaze goes wide and glazed.

“now that’s a lie… i’d be happy to believe…”

05.

when harrison next wakes up, it’s to a nearly pitch-black hospital room and a solid weight somewhere to his right. he lets out a soft groan and looks down to find… you, with your face pillowed on your arms, fast asleep by his bedside.

“she’s been here for three whole days.” victor’s voice is light but for once devoid of it’s usual levity.

“ah… of course she has.” harrison reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, a smile stretching his lips at the way your brows furrow slightly, your body shifting as he traces a thumb along the contours of your cheek.

“try not to excite her too much… she’s barely been eating or sleeping so who know’s — her heart might give out if you give her too big of a shock.” and with that, victor tips his head and slips from the room, leaving the two of you very much alone.

harrison revels in the quiet, in the patient pace of your breaths, the rise and fall of his own chest, his own miraculous heartbeat mapped in bright green spikes on a screen to his left. and he wonders briefly how quickly it’d have to beat before it would alert the nurses but —

“h-harry? oh… oh my god — you’re awake!”

“hm… really? ah, and here i was, thinking this was all a dream.”

you bury your face in his chest, gasping when he winces, but he chuckles and tugs you back towards him, his seafoam eyes so bright even in the relative darkness.

“i — i thought…”

“what? that i was dead? c’mon… i’m not that easy to get rid of.”

you bite your lips, shake your head, your eyes welling up with tears as you once again bury your face in his chest, this time careful to avoid his still tender wounds. he hushes you as you hiccup, running a soothing hand through your hair, down the back of your neck.

“i’m just… so glad y-you’re alive…”

harrison grins, cocking his head as you pull back to look at him, your eyes wide and watery and so, so beautiful. it’s unfair, he decides, that you should still look so daringly beautiful like this.

“come here… there’s something i need to tell you…”

you blink at him for a moment before allowing him to beckon you closer, to wrap his arms around you and skim his lips by your cheek till he’s whispering in your hear —

“i… i don’t love you… not even a little bit.”

and for a second, you freeze, your whole body going cold, but when you pull back, there’s a smile on harrison’s lips that makes you roll your eyes. you let out a soft little sigh, pillowing your cheek on his chest as he absently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“wow… when did you become such a terrible liar?”

at this, harrison laughs, and he hisses at the pain but he doesn’t stop laughing, and a moment later you join him, and the pair of you fall into the waves and waves of laughter until he tilts your chin up to press his lips to yours.

“if i had to guess…” he muses as he pulls back, running the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, his eyes flickering from your kiss-bruised mouth up to your shock-widened eyes and back down again, a distinctly fox-like grin stretching his lips.

“i’d say that it was the day that i met you.”

[kibby-reaper]

al introduces elbie to ao3 to indulge in his delusional fantasies

- mod kibby

[omkookie]

⌕:IKEMEN PRINCE UNIT

⌕ : RIO'S VERY OWN LIBRARY. ෆ

YANDERE

Yandere Gilbert HCs

You're finally his / GILBERT

I won't let any man except me be close to you / Gilbert

Make you mine. / Gilbert

Yandere Silvio HCs

Yandere Gilbert / NONCON ⚠️

Are you going to have dinner alone? / Gilbert NONCON ⚠️

Someone flirts with their darling / Silvio, Clavis, Nokto, Luke

Yandere Licht

I'll show you how much I love you / Gilbert NONCON ⚠️

Where has he done wrong? / Chevalier NONCON ⚠️

It will just take some time now / Chevalier NONCON ⚠️

Kinda SFW

Chevalier adopts a child

You fight a raccoon / Rio, Gilbert, Keith

Vengeance / Gilbert, Chevalier x MC

Jealous Keiths

Queen Michel

⌕ : Seriel's misery masterlist

ANGST

Belle gets badly hurt + Leon's faction

Belle gets badly hurt + Chevalier's faction

SMUT

threesome with Keith Silvo and Gilbert

gilbert and keith thirst

No one will ever love you like your brother /Chevalier, Gilbert

Good boys cum / Keith

Pussy hungry Silvio

catboy Silvio

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

Thinking about getting super drunk and accidentally confessing to Alfons that you have feelings for him, but kept your distance because you're sure he'll never return them.

And during it all you accidentally say "I love you," and instantly start bawling your eyes out because you think he's going to leave you and run away for saying that

[freya-remy]

"You've always told me to question everything. I never thought that would include you as well."

"A painful irony. My own lessons coming back to haunt me."

"So, what now? How do you plan to fix this? Because if I'm being completely honest, I don't know if you're capable of fixing this if you continue as you always have."

"By.. being honest with you.. no lies.. no tricks.. no deceit. Just complete and utter honesty from this moment forward. It's all that I can offer you."

[ikeromantic]

Hello!

Wanted to send a fun a little ask from the prompts you posted!

Clavis

Pit trap

Black licorice

A little thought I had.

( nothing SUPER specific bit thought I'd share anyway) But please, do whatever you feel would fit the choices and scenario best!!

-----

MC is mad at clavis for who knows what, like REALLY mad and clavis just wants to fix it as soon as possible. He can't have his lovely MC mad at him forever after all!

So maybe after trying desperately to talk to her, they both accidentally end up in one of his traps that he had forgotten about. Certainly, I would give them time and space (lol) to talk things out, however upsetting the conversations may be. But it's necessary, and they get through it

You know I adore Clavis ^_^ Here is approx 1300 words of Clavis in a pit trap of his own making . . . a little angsty, a little sweet, a little salty. IkePri New Years Event story!

“I’m not your toy.” She stomped her foot, fists clenched at her sides. Despite her fearsome stance, her eyes were damp with unshed tears.

Clavis chuckled. “My dear, of course you’re my toy. Why else would I play with you, hm? Think about it.” He hoped to tease her out of this snit, and in the meantime, her reaction was simply adorable. Such ferocity!

She let out a long, slow breath, and her shoulders slumped. “You know what? I’m not doing this tonight. I’m tired and I’ve had too much to drink.” Her hand swiped at her eyes, wiping away a tear before it fell. “Goodnight, Prince Lelouch.”

“Lelouch? Since when are we on - hey! Where are you - wait!” Clavis chased after her as she rushed away, down an empty hall. She turned left, then right, trying to lose him. Which was ridiculous. This was his manor, afterall and he knew every nook and cranny. Including - “Don’t go that way! There’s a -”

His warning came too late. His lover tumbled down the hole and landed at the bottom of a pit trap. This one wasn’t too deep, but the walls were angled in and slick. Impossible to climb out of without help. 

Clavis leaned over the edge of the hole and peered down. “Are you alright?”

“Would you just leave me alone?” Her voice was full of hurt, and he though he couldn’t see her face, he was fairly sure she was crying.

He sighed, shrugged, and hopped down after her. The landing hurt a bit more than expected, and he made a mental note to add more padding to the bottom. It wouldn’t do to injure a guest, afterall. 

She looked at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “You have got to be kidding me. You followed me into the pit? Seriously?”

“Of course. I’m a gentleman. I can’t let my beloved fall into a pit trap by herself.” He ignored her frown and rolled eyes. 

“Great. So now I’m stuck with you.” She crossed her arms and slumped to the floor where she could rest her head against her knees. 

The position reminded Clavis of a hedgehog, all rolled up, every angle warning him not to touch. Which, of course, made him want to touch even more. Besides, he felt . . . unsettled. She was truly upset with him and it was a bit like having a pebble in your shoe. If the pebble was a hot knife and the shoe in question was your heart. 

“Just until morning. Cyran always does a full check of all operational traps. He’ll find us.”

“Great,” she muttered. 

“It really is! Now I have you in a place where you can’t run away.” Clavis knelt down beside her. 

She peeked at him over her knees. “What do you want, Prince Lelouch?” She said his name and title like an insult, and from her it really did hurt. 

“I want to know why you’re so - so -” his mind ran through possible words. Hurt. Angry. Sad. “bad at taking a joke.” Clavis seized on that one, the one that didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes ache. The one that didn’t whisper, she will leave you too, in the quiet parts of his mind. 

“A joke?” She raised an eyebrow. “You told that nobleman I’m your plaything. Your words! And I . . .” she took a deep breath, wiping furiously at her face as the tears began to fall in earnest. “I thought I meant more than that to you.”

You do. The words didn’t come out aloud though. “I did say favorite plaything. You see? You’re very important to me.”

“See? That. Right there.” She stopped trying to erase the tears and just let them fall. “I like your sense of humor. Your adventurousness. I like that I never know what to expect from you. You upend everything. Turn all the rules on their heads.”

“Yes. I am a very amazing and wonderful prince . . .” Clavis cocked his head. He hadn’t expected compliments. Didn’t understand where she was going with this.

“I love you. I love all those things about you.”

He nodded. “And I love you.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “But you act like I’m just a toy you own. Replaceable. Something you’ll play with until it breaks and then go out and get a new one. And even if - if you don’t mean it -” Her tears turned into heart rending sobs and the words, whatever they might have been, were lost.

“But . . . there is only one you.” Clavis set a hand on her leg and was surprised when she brushed it away.

“Th-that nobleman doesn’t think so!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, cheeks flushed with emotion. “H-he thinks you can go to town and p-pick up any common girl. I’m j-just some worthless piece of p-pretty trash!” 

Clavis felt his heart clench in his chest. Was this what she thought he meant? Was this how she felt? Her words cut into him, a wound that bled like fire. “I . . .”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she added quietly. 

That calm statement froze his insides. Ice and fire together, burning him. Clavis didn’t care what some nobleman thought of his lover. But her hurt was real. He wondered how long this sorrow and anger had been eating at her. And he hadn’t noticed. He felt dumbstruck. A fool, just as Chev always said. 

“W-when Cyran comes . . . I’m just going t-to take my things. And go.” She sniffled. 

The air left his lungs, and for a moment Clavis was truly struck dumb. He struggled to breathe, to speak. Everyone he loved, left. He would be alone again. “No.”

She pushed the hair out of her face. “What?”

“No.” Clavis reached out and grabbed her hands, ignoring the way she tried to pull back. “I won’t let you go.”

“What are you going to do, tie me up?” A rebellious smile appeared under her tears. 

He smiled back, his heart thudding in his chest. “If I have to.” Clavis swallowed. He hated showing his genuine emotion, his soft heart, but for her . . . anything. “But first, I - I’m sorry.”

Her eyebrows shot up. 

“I’m sorry for calling you my plaything in front of someone too ignorant to understand what that means to me.” He squeezed her hands gently in his. “You are my toy, my most favorite diversion. My very own, irreplaceable, priceless, one of a kind, beautiful, smart, silly, amazing -”

“Clavis, you’re being excessive.” She frowned at him but he noticed her tears were drying up.

“I am never excessive. As I was saying - amazing, wonderful, sweet -” he cleared his throat, “woman, that I love. And I can’t -” he coughed again, “I can’t imagine doing without you.”

Her gaze softened, the anger and sadness in her eyes wavering. 

“Please. Stay by my side?”

“I . . . I don’t know. People are always going to think I’m only in it because of who you are. For the money and privilege.”

Clavis snorted. “No one who knows me will think that. Besides, who cares what idiots say? We’ll just sic Chev on them. Tell him they dog-eared a book page or something.”

She laughed then, and he knew he had her. Relief flowed through him like warm honey, sweet and thick and golden. “I don’t know if I’d want them to die like that,” she mused.

Her smile was everything, he thought. “Well, maybe not dog-eared then. Perhaps . . . cracked the spine a bit? Dropped some coffee on it? No?”

“Pretty sure all of those are a Chevalier death sentence.” She paused and took a shaky breath. “This is why you’re so bad for me, you know? I can be rightly pissed off at you, and you still make me smile.” She shook her head. “It’s bad for my heart.”

“Well. I like your smile. And you are cute when you’re angry so . . . I’m not sorry. I can’t ever be sorry.” Clavis smiled at her. “As long as I get to keep you by my side.”