#old lace villa

[97linelover]

Ex on the Beach - Kim Mingyu

summary: Breaking up with Mingyu broke you, but what if you get asked if you want to join a Reality-show called "Ex on the Beach?"

content: no Idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff,smut, drama

wc: 4.4 k

a/n: In Germany we have exactly this show, so I came up with this Idea.

1 - 2 - 3 Action.

You walked along the LED-lit path towards the beach, wearing your new Skims bikini and a pair of heels.

You had spent a lot of time practicing walking in those heels on sand to make it look decent now.

In front of you, you spotted three lounge chairs with three men on them.

The first thing you noticed was the black mop of hair belonging to your ex.

You couldn't smile when you saw him; the heartbreak was still too fresh.

"Hi, my name is Y/N, and I'm 26 years old. I was born and raised in Berlin, and seven years ago, I moved to Frankfurt, where I met Mingyu. We started dating when I was 19, and we broke up nearly a year ago," you said with a smile that wasn't entirely genuine.

The robotic voice then asked for the reason the two of you broke up.

"It just became too much. He always chose her. We were celebrating our anniversary, and she called? He left me sitting there. We would be in the middle of sex, and he answered the call and left," you laughed at that.

"I was okay with it at the beginning because she was his best friend, but when I organized a birthday party for him, and she completely monopolized him, I lost it. I took her aside and told her that Mingyu was my boyfriend, and she just laughed and said he would always choose her," you said, nibbling on your lip as the memories came flooding back.

"And when he started having movie nights with her and brought her along to meet-ups with his friends, I distanced myself. Until one night, I packed all my things and told Mingyu that I was moving out."

"Did Mingyu care about that?" the voice asked once again.

"I don't know. At first, he was completely flabbergasted, but then he just let it be and never texted me again," you said, blinking away tears. "So now I'm here to teach him a lesson."

"That's Y/N," Mingyu's voice was barely a whisper, and the other boys gasped. "Did you two break up on good terms?" he chuckled at that. "No, she just left, and I found out she had an affair." The boys looked at you.

"This girl? Crazy, dude."

As you walked towards them, you felt a weird sensation bubbling up, and Mingyu got up and walked towards you. "Hi," he said softly, his brown eyes watching you. "Hey, Mingyu," you said, walking past him and hugging the other boys.

"So you're not even going to greet me properly?" Mingyu scoffed, and you looked at him. "I said hey. What do you want? Should I jump on you?" your voice was laced with venom, and he sighed.

"Listen, we need to spend a lot of time together here, so please get a grip," he said with a smug grin. "Fuck you, Mingyu," you spat and walked behind the other two boys.

Mingyu could only roll his eyes at your outburst.

You walked into the villa with Mingyu close behind you, and the others looked at you, waving. You smiled and introduced yourself to all of them. They were all pretty nice and made sure to welcome you warmly. Without hesitation, Seungcheol guided you around.

He showed you all the places around the house. "And here's your sleeping place. Tonight, you have to choose your sleeping partner," he said, chuckling. "It's either me or Mingyu, I'm afraid." You groaned at that. "Well, let's see how the night ends."

The entire show basically consists of alcohol, making out, and sex.

You had a Mojito in your hand while talking to Angela, Jonas's ex-girlfriend. "And when I walked into his apartment, he was hovering over her, kissing along her neck. I let out a scream and stormed out the door," you gasped. "No way, that's messed up." You hugged her as she began to sob.

You reassured her that Men sometimes are just Idiots, that cruel things can happen.

That she is worth so much more.

"I loved him so much," she cried, and you tried to calm her down.

"Y/N, wanna go down to the pool?" Cheol walked towards you, and you looked at Angela. "It's alright, darling," she said, wiping the tears away.

You got up following him towards the Pool area.

The two of you sat down on the lounge chairs. "Mingyu is looking at me like he wants to kill me," Seungcheol chuckled, and you shrugged. "He has no right anymore. I can talk to whoever I want," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"So, are you open to something new?" he asked with raised eyebrows, and you gulped. "You know, I thought I was, but seeing him here gives me these weird feelings. I'm still in love with him, but it's over," you tried to smile.

"I actually talked a lot with him the past few days, and he is still pretty much in love with you. He also told me that there's so much he wants to ask you..." Seungcheol noticed your tears and hugged you. "I don't feel ready," you whispered, and he nodded. "This show is a lot to handle, I agree, but maybe it will all work out in the end."

He kissed your head softly, and suddenly, you heard the slam of a door. When you looked up, Mingyu was nowhere to be found.

"I should look for him," you said apologetically, and Seungcheol nodded. You rushed towards the bedroom. "Mingyu?" you called, looking inside the room to find him sitting on the bed.

His shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low.

"Go away, Y/N," he said, his voice dull, and you gulped. "Mingyu, you knew what this show was about. Why are you acting like this?" He got up, looking at you. "Because after all those years, you just left, and now you're here acting like we never happened."

"So now I'm the villain? Are you kidding me? I left because I felt so wrong in this relationship, and you didn't even try to reach out. So why should I still care?" your voice was weak.

"I didn't call you because you fucking went out and acted like a slut, fucking different men," he spat, and you gasped, the liquid from your cocktail landing on his face.

You suddenly felt numb, so embarrassed.

"Never talk to me again," your voice cracked, and you rushed out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you rushed past the others. "Y/N?" Angela's voice followed you as you sat down on one of the lounge chairs. "He called me a slut, Angi, how could he?" you sobbed.

"Why would he do that?" Angela took your hand for support. "I don't know. I never did anything. I loved him so much, I would've done anything for him." She hugged you tight and stroked your back.

"The two of you definitely need to talk. There's something wrong with everything," she whispered, and you agreed.

Mingyu calling you slut made you feel so bad, you could not stop shaking.

As the signal came that it was bedtime, everyone got ready for bed.

You only had two options: Mingyu or Seungcheol.

Just hearing his name made you crazy right now. There was no way you could lay down next to him.

So you climbed into the bed shared with Seungcheol and avoided Mingyu's gaze completely.

The next morning, you quickly got ready with a dip in the pool, and as you lay on the lounge chair, you felt someone next to you. "Y/N, we should talk," Mingyu's deep voice said, and you looked at him.

"I was clear yesterday, right? You called me a slut, Mingyu. This is a TV show; everyone can see this," you said, clearly frustrated and hurt.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but seeing you so close with Cheol brought back memories," he whispered, and you got up. "What memories are you even talking about, Mingyu? I don't get it."

The two of you walked to a quieter area. "After you left, I was fucking furious. I felt like someone had ripped my world apart. I wanted to run after you, but then I got some messages and pictures of you with another man," his voice got weaker. "You were fucking this guy, and there was a date. It was while we were dating," you let out a choked gasp. "No way!"

He looked down. "I felt like it was my fault, that I pushed you towards someone better," he took your hand. "I hope you realize that this is bullshit. Mingyu, I never had sex with someone else, not even in the year we split," you pleaded.

"I would never cheat on you, Mingyu. I was so fucking loyal to you, and I left because you were too blinded by Somi!" you raised your voice, and he gulped. "Every day, you went to her place and ditched me. She took every chance she could get, and I couldn’t watch you anymore."

Mingyu sighed, frustrated. "So our breakup was over Somi?"

"Yes! You're obsessed with her. It's crazy, Mingyu. I thought the two of you would have an affair."

"Somi never had a chance, Y/N. I love you. It's only you," he said, taking your hand and pulling you closer. "This year made me realize how much I love you," he stroked your cheek.

"You give me a kind of happiness no one else can," he said with tears in his eyes. "And I should've fought for you. I should've asked you if it was true, but it all made sense in my head."

He looked so sad that you pulled him in.

You melted into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders as he held you close. For a moment, everything else faded away—the cameras, the villa, the other contestants. It was just you and Mingyu, the connection between you rekindling with every passing second.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I was an idiot, and I let my insecurities and Somi get in the way. But I want to make things right. I want us to start over.”

You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over. The pain from the past year, the heartbreak, the anger—it was all still there. But so was the love you had for him. You had never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, Gyu,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “So much has happened, and there’s a lot we need to work through. But I want to try, if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

He nodded earnestly, his hands squeezing yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth another chance.”

The two of you stood there for a while longer, just holding each other, as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The tension between you seemed to have eased, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful about your future with Mingyu.

Later that evening, as the group gathered for dinner, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter. Mingyu stayed close to you, his hand often finding yours under the table, offering silent reassurance.

Seungcheol gave you a knowing smile from across the table, and you returned it with a nod of gratitude. You could see that he genuinely wanted what was best for you, even if it meant stepping aside.

Angela, too, was supportive. She squeezed your hand when she had the chance and whispered, “I’m glad you two are talking things out. You deserve to be happy.”

As the night went on, the tension between you and Mingyu continued to thaw. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he was more attentive than ever, making sure you were comfortable and cared for.

Eventually, the group dispersed, heading to their respective rooms. When it was time for bed, you found yourself hesitating. The choice between Seungcheol and Mingyu was still there, but this time, it felt different.

Mingyu watched you, his expression open and hopeful. “I know we’re not back together yet, but… would you like to share a bed tonight? Just to talk, I mean.”

You considered his offer for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, but just to talk.”

He smiled, clearly relieved. “Just to talk.”

The two of you headed to the room, and as you settled into bed, you felt a strange sense of peace. There was still a long road ahead, and you weren’t sure where it would lead, but you were willing to walk it together, one step at a time.

Mingyu wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

“Goodnight, Gyu,” you replied, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to drift off, feeling safe and hopeful in his embrace.

The next two days were uneventful. You played games, danced, and slept. During this time, you and Mingyu grew even closer, often spending time together in the pool and frequently ending up making out.

For the party tonight, you wore a leather lingerie set paired with heels, while Mingyu sported tight shorts and a collar—a sight you never knew you needed. Mingyu was standing with some of the guys, talking about football, while you danced around with Angela and Larissa

“So, Y/N, will you and Mingyu date again, or is this just a fling?” Angela asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“I think we’re on the right path to start over,” you replied dreamily. “I loved Mingyu—I still do. We’re just a good match. I couldn’t let any other man get close to me, and I’ve always craved him.”

“Do you think another ex will show up?” Larissa asked.

“Hopefully not,” you replied with a slight blush. “As far as I know, I was his first and only girlfriend.”

“You two are so cute. I’m rooting for you,” Angela said, grinning widely.

Suddenly, you felt two arms wrap around you and soft kisses on your shoulder. “You two are disgustingly cute,” Angela joked, pretending to gag. You giggled, and Larissa muttered, “I need to get some dick right now,” before rushing off towards Josh.

You turned around to face Mingyu. “You look so good in this,” he whispered, kissing you.

“Mhm, you too,” you giggled, gently tugging on his collar.

“If we keep making out, I’m going to die of blue balls, baby,” he whispered in your ear, making you blush. You took his hand. “Let’s fix that.”

You both walked into the private suite and locked the door behind you. The hunger for each other was undeniable. Hovering over him, you kissed along his abs. “You’ve been working out a lot,” you murmured, pulling down his tight pants, revealing his hardened dick.

“Needed something to clear my head,” he groaned as you kissed his tip. “You drive me crazy,” he said, his hands tangling in your hair.

You quickened your pace, and deep moans escaped his lips as you worked your magic.

When Mingyu began pounding into you from behind, the sounds of your mixed moans filled the room. “God, I missed your pussy,” he groaned, and you let out breathless whimpers.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praised, knowing it was your weakness. He pulled your hair, bending over you, slowly choking you from behind as you reached your high. You lost control completely, your entire body shaking. Shortly after, you felt Mingyu spurting his cum onto your back, both of you breathing heavily.

Mingyu cleaned you up and lay down next to you, whispering loving words until you both fell asleep.

“Y/N, please come to the news box, and Mingyu, you’ll need to go to the beach,” the robotic voice instructed. You looked at him, concerned. “Why the beach? Isn’t that just for ex-girlfriends?” Suddenly, Mingyu looked guilty, and you realized something. “Were you in a relationship after me?” He tried to explain, but he had to go to the beach, leaving you bitter as you walked into the interview room.

Inside, there was a small envelope.

’Y/N, It seems your Mingyu wasn’t entirely honest with you. She never stood a chance?’

You read the lines and gasped. What was that supposed to mean?

“Y/N!!” Angela screamed as you exited the room. You looked towards the stairs leading to the beach, and all the color drained from your face. “No, no, NO!” you said in desperation and panic.

Mingyu walked up the stairs with Somi by his side. They were talking, and Mingyu appeared angry, but you couldn’t register anything. Your ears were ringing like crazy.

“Y/N, breathe, okay?” Seungcheol rushed to your side, and you leaned against him. ���He told me she never stood a chance,” you whispered. When Mingyu saw you, he rushed over.

But he did not get the chance to get closer.

“Mingyu, please introduce the new guest,” the robotic voice prompted. Mingyu sighed.

“Guys, this is Somi. We’ve been friends since I was thirteen, and we dated for two months,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“When?” was all you could ask.

“Baby,” he whispered.

“WHEN?” you screamed, and everyone gasped.

“One month after our breakup,” he admitted quietly. Tears stung your eyes. “Wow, you replaced me quicker than I thought” you let out a bitter laugh.

“Please, let me explain,” he pleaded, but you shook your head. “No, I don’t want to hear it,” you said, rushing into the room. You locked the door, trying to forget the pain.

Mingyu knew he had messed up. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Somi showing up. “Should we get a drink?” Somi asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Not in the mood right now,” he muttered, walking away.

As you stood in the bathroom applying skincare, Somi walked in. “Hi, Y/N, long time no see. How are you?” she asked with a fake smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Save your fake kindness, Somi,” you spat, and she laughed.

“Oh, poor pathetic Y/N. I always told you he wanted me. He chose me after the breakup. He believed me. All those nights he thought you cheated, but it was just a really good edit,” she said, flicking her hair.

“Mingyu is mine, Y/N, and everything shows it. In those two months, he fucked me so good. He even told me I’m the best he ever had,” she taunted. You stared at her, speechless. “And you know what? A week before this show, we hooked up in your old bed,” she smirked.

You pushed past her. “Aren’t you ashamed? This show will be seen by everyone, and you say such things? It’s disgusting and cheap. If he wants yo, fine. At least I’m not a manipulative hoe.”

You slammed the door shut and started packing your suitcase. You changed into biker shorts and a large shirt, grabbed your things, and rushed downstairs where the others were gathered. Mingyu was sitting by the water.

His Shoulders slumped and his head hanging low, like he was ashamed of all this.

“Y/N, what are you doing with your suitcase?” Seungcheol asked, and Mingyu quickly came over. “What’s going on?” he asked, panicking.

“I’m leaving. I thought I could handle this, but it’s not my world. I’m grateful for this experience, especially for you, Cheol, and you, Angi,” you said with tears in your eyes. “But it just hurts too much to find out the person you loved for seven years replaced you with someone he told you not to worry about.” You looked at Mingyu. “This was the final straw.”

Angi let out a sob and you hugged her softly.

“Let me take this,” Cheol said, taking the suitcase and your bag.

“It’s better this way. You don’t deserve this,” Angi said, hugging you tightly. Mingyu could only hold your hand. “Please, let’s talk. I should have told you,” he sobbed.

“Let go,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N,” he pleaded.

You shrugged. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have dated her—the woman who never stood a chance,” you said bitterly. “Goodbye, Mingyu.”

And with that, your journey on “Ex on the Beach” was over.

Two days later, you were back at your father’s small restaurant, helping out on a busy night. Two waitresses had called in sick, so you came directly from the airport to assist, jet lag and all.

You felt tired and your limbs were hurting.

“Two Caesar salads for table two,” you called out before going to greet the next customer. As you looked into familiar brown eyes, you felt like screaming. “Mingyu? How? What about the show?” you stammered.

“I left after you did. I really meant it when I said I love you. Yes, I dated Somi, but there was barely even a kiss. I couldn’t. I never touched her because I only wanted you. I ended it with her because I couldn’t give her what she wanted,” he rambled, catching you completely off guard.

“But she told me you two had sex and that you wanted her,” you said, confused.

“No, I couldn’t. You’re the one I want,” he said sincerely, and you smiled slightly.

“I’d really like to kiss you, but you know what?” you giggled. “Get an apron from the back and help me out here.”

“Of course,” Mingyu rushed to the back, where you could see your dad hugging him tightly. They had always been close—Mingyu was like part of your family. When the two of you broke up, your family couldn’t believe it.

The two of you used to help your dad out a lot back in your school days.

After the shift ended, you were happy to grab your things. “Can I drive you home?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. “I think we should talk,” you said, saying goodbye to your dad and following Mingyu.

The ride home wasn’t awkward at all. Both of you were just happy to have some peace at the moment. You unlocked the door, and Mingyu followed you inside. “Your apartment is really pretty. It feels so homey,” he said, looking around.

"I really tried to make it feel like home. I loved our old apartment so much that finding a new one was incredibly difficult,” you confessed, your voice tinged with the emotions you had been holding back for so long. Your eyes fell to the floor, unable to meet his gaze as the memories of what you had lost resurfaced.

Mingyu leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently. “I never moved out,” he admitted softly, his voice filled with the weight of his own regrets. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every day, I hoped that one day you’d come back, and we could try again.” He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a deep vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in years.

“Did you date Somi because of me?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your need for understanding outweighing your fear of the answer. The thought of him with someone else had gnawed at you ever since she showed up.

Mingyu sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It wasn’t because of you, Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but laced with guilt. “After you left, I was lost. When Somi came around, I thought I could move on, that maybe it was time to let go. But I couldn’t. After everything she said on the show, I felt sick to my stomach. She played me—none of it was true. Like I said, we never had sex. I never even wanted to. Every time I was with her, all I could think about was you.”

His words hung in the air, a mixture of pain and sincerity that made your heart ache. You could see how much he regretted his actions, how much he wished he could take it all back. But the hurt was still fresh, the wound still raw.

“I don’t know if I can just forget everything,” you said quietly, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “We’ve just found each other again, and then this happened. It’s like… I’m afraid to trust you.”

Mingyu reached out and gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “I understand, Y/N. I know I messed up, and I’m so sorry. But I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right, to rebuild the trust we lost. Just… please, don’t give up on us.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit but finding only genuine remorse and the deep love you knew he still held for you. Despite the hurt, despite the betrayal, you couldn’t deny that a part of you still loved him too—loved him enough to want to try again.

“Let’s talk,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. “But first… let’s have that kiss.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, relief flooding through him as he leaned in slowly, as if afraid you might change your mind. But you didn’t. You met him halfway, your lips finding his in a tender kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words between you—words of regret, forgiveness, and the hope for a second chance.

The kiss was everything you had missed and more. It was familiar yet new, filled with the promise of a fresh start. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you savored the moment.

“I’m not letting you go again,” Mingyu whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Me neither,” you whispered back, your heart finally beginning to heal.

The two of you sat there for a moment longer, just holding each other, letting the silence speak for you. It wasn’t going to be easy; you both knew that. But for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. You were ready to face whatever challenges life would bring, together.

„The production team just let you go?“ you asked while taking a bite off your toasted waffle.

„They agreed that you actually were my perfect match and they said this gave the show some drama“ he chuckled.

„Well I can happily let the drama go, I don’t need it“ you admitted laughing.

„No more drama, no more ex on the beach“

And so, their journey on “Ex on the Beach” came full circle, leading them back to where they truly belonged—wrapped in each other’s arms, ready to rebuild the love they had once lost and face the future with newfound strength.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Airport Security

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here !!

authors note - this video gave me a few ideas to write with but this is the one i decided to write so i hope that you all enjoy. 💗

word count - 1.2k

in which, harry and his daughter madison have a tradition of going on a little father-daughter holiday, they first did it when she was six months old, just before her first birthday and now there doing it just before her second birthday, but today, let’s just say little miss is in a very cranky mood.

As Harry's Range Rover glided along the quiet road towards the airport, he stole a glance at his sleeping daughter, Madison, nestled cosily in her car seat.

Her hair, tied up in two adorable ponytails by his wife just before they left the house at the crack of dawn, bobbed gently with the rhythm of the car. Madison's dummy was nestled in her mouth, her little hand clutching her favourite stuffed bunny.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of his precious daughter, her peaceful slumber filling him with warmth and tenderness. The early morning light cast a soft glow over her delicate features, illuminating the innocence that radiated from her angelic face.

When Madison was six months old, harry took her on a little overnight trip so that the wife could have a bit of a break and then he took her to the Lake District just before her first birthday and now, with her second birthday vastly approaching, he had decided that they were going to spend the weekend in his Italian villa.

Father-Daughter holidays had quickly become a tradition in the Styles household.

As they neared the airport, Harry drove with extra care, mindful not to disturb Madison's rest. He reached back occasionally to tuck the blanket more snugly around her, ensuring she remained comfortable throughout the journey.

As the Range Rover rolled to a stop at the airport, Harry turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, his heart brimming with anticipation for their adventure ahead. With gentle steps, he made his way to the boot of the car, where Madison's stroller awaited.

Carefully lifting the stroller from the trunk, Harry marveled at how quickly Madison had grown, from a tiny infant to a lively toddler. He couldn't wait to explore Italy with her by his side, every moment an opportunity to create cherished memories together.

As Harry opened Madison's car door, he leaned in gently to lift her from the car seat, expecting her to wake up with a sleepy yawn. However, as he cradled her in his arms, he was met with a different response than he anticipated.

Madison grumbled sleepily, "Daddy, noooo... tired."

Harry chuckled softly, "I know, m’pickle, but we're here. S’a quick stop at the airport, then we'll be on our way."

But Madison wasn't having it. Her tiny fists balled up, and she kicked her legs in protest, "No, no, no! Sleepy!"

As Harry tried to settle Madison into the stroller, she resisted fiercely, her tiredness manifesting in stubborn kicks and squirms. Despite his gentle efforts, she continued to protest, her tiny form wriggling in his grasp.

"Come on, Maddy-moo, just a moment longer," Harry urged softly, his voice laced with patience and understanding.

But Madison was having none of it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she cried out, "No! Want Daddy!"

With a determined but gentle touch, Harry managed to secure Madison into the stroller, though her protests continued. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at him with pleading eyes, her bottom lip quivering with emotion.

"I know, pickle," Harry murmured, his heart aching at her distress. "M’right here with you.”

As Harry secured Madison in the stroller, her tired cries still echoing in the early morning air, he quickly retrieved the baby bag from the trunk of the car. With practiced efficiency, he slung it over his shoulder, ensuring he had everything they needed for their journey ahead.

Next, he grabbed the bags filled with their clothes, one for himself and one for Madison. Despite her tears and protests, Harry remained steadfast, determined to make their trip as smooth as possible.

As he locked up the car and began pushing the stroller towards the airport entrance, Madison's cries persisted, tugging at Harry's heartstrings with each step. He longed to soothe her, to ease her discomfort and frustration, but he knew that sometimes, all he could do was be there for her, offering comfort and reassurance.

As they approached the check-in counter, Harry heaved a sigh of relief as the process went smoothly, the airport staff efficiently tagging and loading their bags onto the conveyor belt.

Madison's cries had subsided slightly, replaced by quiet sniffles as she clung to her stuffed bunny for comfort.

With their bags checked in, Harry took Madison's hand and guided her towards the security checkpoint, a sense of apprehension gnawing at his stomach. Airport security was always a daunting prospect, especially with a tired and cranky toddler in tow.

As they joined the queue, Harry mentally prepared himself for the inevitable challenges ahead. He knew that keeping Madison calm and cooperative would be no easy feat, especially with the long lines and strict security measures.

As they reached the front of the security line, the security officer motioned for Harry to take Madison out of the stroller. Harry's shoulders slumped slightly as he anticipated Madison's reaction. He nodded in acknowledgment to the officer, trying to hide his apprehension.

"Sir, I'll need you to remove your daughter from the stroller for a moment," the security officer said kindly, gesturing towards Madison.

Harry forced a smile, his heart racing with anxiety. "Of course, no problem."

"Hey, Maddy-moo," Harry cooed, crouching down to unclasp the straps holding her in the stroller. "We just need to go through security real quick, then we can get moving again."

But Madison wasn't having it. As soon as Harry began to lift her out, she protested loudly, pushing his hands away and crying out in frustration.

"Hey, s’okay, pickle," Harry reassured her, trying to remain calm despite the rising tension. "We just need to do this real quick, then we'll be on our way."

But Madison's cries only grew louder, her tiny fists clenched as she threw her head back in distress. Harry could feel the weight of people's stares, their curious glances making him feel even more uncomfortable and self-conscious.

"Everything alright over here?" another security officer asked, approaching them with concern.

Harry nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, she's just a bit tired, that's all. sorry.”

As Harry placed Madison on the ground for a moment to fold down the stroller, he felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. He knew Madison was tired, but her behavior seemed beyond mere exhaustion.

As he straightened up, he noticed with a sinking heart that she had darted back through the security lines, her tiny figure disappearing into the crowd.

"Madison! No, sweetheart, come back!" Harry called out desperately, his voice tinged with panic. He quickly folded the stroller and abandoned it, pushing past startled travelers as he raced after his daughter.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered apologetically as he pushed his way through the crowded terminal, his heart pounding in his chest. He finally caught sight of Madison, several yards ahead, running as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Madison, stop!" Harry commanded sternly, his voice tinged with frustration as he closed the distance between them. "Y’shouldn't have run off like that. S’not safe!"

But Madison paid no heed to his words. She kicked and squirmed in his arms, her cries piercing the air as she pushed at his face in defiance.

"Madison, enough!" Harry's voice was firm now, his patience wearing thin. He grabbed her hands to stop her flailing, his grip firm but gentle.

“If y’donf behave yourself then we’re going back home,” he parented, stopping her hands from hitting his face once again. “Do y’understand, daddy?”

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act 2 : Even In The Darkest of Places

A/N: despite the state that our world is currently in, I’m really proud of this chapter and how it has turned out. This was another chapter that I had completed gutted and rewrote from July. As always, a huge thank you to @sinsofsummers for being my beta 💗

word count: 4.8k

Summary: Even in the darkest of places, hope remains.

Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc

Warnings: canon typical violence, enslavement, power imbalance, domestic abuse, language, transactional sex (not between Marcus & oc) misogyny, derogatory language, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything

series masterlist

SENATOR CASSIUS’S VILLA

“Amalthea, I have never witnessed such an act of defiance!” Aurelia whispered excitedly. The kitchen maid had become one of her dear friends—perhaps even a mother figure to her. She cherished the moments away from Cassius where she could simply be. Amalthea was old and wise, and she served Cassius longer than any of the rest of his servants had. She had taken Aurelia under her wing in every sense.

“It has been many years since a gladiator so boldly defied an emperor,” Amalthea said in disbelief. She was seated at the meager prep table, a basket of freshly plucked peas from the field were waiting to be shucked for Cassius’s dinner later. “Come sit with me, child. Help shuck these peas and tell me more of this brave gladiator.”

Aurelia tore her gaze from the archway window where in the distance she could just make out the city of Rome, and the looming Colosseum. She could still hear Cassius’s voice droning in her ear about how rogues like Acacius should be terminated. With a sigh she walked to the empty seat next to the older woman and sat alongside her. She reached into the basket and pulled out a few pea pods.

“They called him Acacius the merciful, but I fear that he is not receiving the same mercy that he gave his opponent,” she said quietly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Amalthea reached over the table and gently squeezed her forearm with a saddened smile. “Defiance against an emperor is often met by cruel punishment, Aurelia. Acacius the merciful may not live to see another day,” she said pensively.

Aurelia’s shoulders slumped forward at the thought of Acacius being wrongfully punished for his defiant actions. She knew that this was customary, but it didn’t make it any less morbid.

“I want to go to him,” she said suddenly, surprising not only herself, but Amalthea as well.

“Aurelia,” she warned. “That would be foolish of you, and not to mention extremely dangerous. Our Dominus wouldn’t stand for it either. You and I both know his disdain towards the gladiators all too well.”

“Amalthea, your concern will not go unnoticed, but our Dominus will be at the brothel for hours after dinner. He won’t return till the early morning hours, if at all.” She had wishful thinking in her mind that her abuser would miraculously never return again and she would never have to endure his cruelty for another day.

“Would your intrigue for this gladiator weaken if he had not acted in defiance?” Amalthea said teasingly, a playful lilt in her tone.

“Amalthea!” Aurelia gasped and giggled softly at her teasing. “My admiration for Acacius is not what you’re thinking it is, I swear!” she protested.

The older woman laughed and the corners of her eyes crinkled, showing her own buried youth appearing, even if just for a moment.

“Forgive me, child. I had to ask,” she said softly and reached for another peapod. “I know well enough that once your heart is set on something, there is no deterring you. The Ludus Magnus is no place for a woman, Aurelia.”

“Rome is no place for a woman, and yet, here we are,” Aurelia solemnly reminded her.

Amalthea huffed out a laugh and shook her head with a knowing grin, “I just want you to be careful, Aurelia, but if you’re truly that determined, take Luna from the stables. She will guide you.”

“I knew you would come around eventually,” she winked subtly at the older woman, and the two returned to their fits of giggling as the sun began to slowly make its descent from the heavens.

When dinner was prepared, Cassius requested for Aurelia to present him his meal in his private study and she knew what this entailed, but she had no choice but to obey.

Amalthea gave her a sympathetic look as she placed the tray that contained Cassius’s meal in her awaiting arms and Aurelia wordlessly turned on her heel and walked towards the direction of his private quarters.

Cassius was seated at his desk, hunched over and focused on the parchment laid out in front of him when he heard a soft knock on the other side of the door.

“You may enter,” He said.

Aurelia took a deep breath and quietly pushed the door open while keeping the tray steady in her arms.

“Good evening, Dominus,” she bowed her head slightly before approaching his desk and gently placed the tray down in front of him, careful to not disturb the papers laid out in front of him.

Cassius paid no attention to her and reached blindly for a piece of thigh meat from the perfectly roasted chicken and tore off a chunk with little care when the savory juice dribbled down his chin.

Aurelia assumed that she could take her cue to leave, but as soon as she turned to walk away, Cassius finally acknowledged her presence.

“I did not dismiss you, Aurelia,” he sighed through his nose. ��Sit with me,” he commanded.

She steeled her expression, her fists clenched at her sides. She had foolishly hoped that tonight she would not have to endure his unwanted touch.

“Don’t be shy,” He said wryly, and with his freehand he tapped his knuckles along the desk impatiently.

Aurelia moved towards his side, expecting that he had wanted her to sit in his lap, but when he tilted his head to the side and his eyes flickered towards the floor, she slowly lowered herself to her knees.

He placed his hand against the crown of her head and threaded his fingers through the tresses of her mahogany hair and let out a content sigh from the back of his throat.

“That’s better.” He was pleased, but not as much as he would have liked to be. And when he sensed her discomfort, he tightened his grip around her skull, just enough to make her wince from the sensation. “Although, you could be doing more than just sitting there,” he said suggestively, not masking his true intent when he guided her head towards his lap. “It would please me even more if you were so kind as to tend to me with your affections.”

So much for wishful thinking.

—

When Cassius finally left for his evening excursions, Aurelia crept from her chambers and headed down to the stables. Amalthea was waiting for her, unexpectedly, and while she focused on tacking up Luna, Amalthea reminded her of the very real dangers to being out after dark. Aurelia appreciated her concern, but this did not deter or sway her mind to stay within the safety of the villa.

“I will be back before the sunrise, I promise. Cassius won’t even know that I was gone,” Aurelia reassured her as she gracefully swung her leg over the front of the saddle and gathered up the reins in her hands gently.

“I’ll pray to Fortuna for your safe return, and to Salus for the gladiator Acacius. Ride swift and silent and do not let anyone see you. Bona fortuna, Aurelia.”

“Et videbo vos ante solis ortum,” (and I will see you before the sunrise) Aurelia whispered and gently squeezed her heels against Luna’s sides to ease her into a trot down the gentle sloping hill. She used the moon as the only guiding light to where Acacius and the rest of the gladiator’s were imprisoned within the city.

A cloak over her head concealed her identity, and when she neared the Ludus Magnus, she slowed Luna to a walk before she carefully and quietly dismounted in a secluded area. She imagined that the structure would be well guarded, but after investigating the area, she discovered a side entrance that was well hidden by shrubbery.

The interior was dimly lit, with only a few torches providing limited light. As far as she could see, there were no guards keeping watch in the immediate vicinity.

She could hear the crackling of flames from the torches, and the scurrying of rats along the floor, and just as she was turning a corner to head down one of the many corridors, a hand reached through the darkness and clamped down around her mouth. She struggled in its grip as she was forced back against a hard chest.

“Well, well, well,” a darkened voice chuckled against the shell of her ear, holding her captive. “What do we have here?” The voice belonged to a male, one of the guards she had presumed. “A pretty little lamb that has wandered far from her flock? Perhaps the gods have finally answered my prayers!” he cackled gleefully.

Her voice was muffled against his hand as she continued to struggle in his grip. “Un-hand me!” she cried out, but it was useless.

“Absolutely not!” he laughed and with his freehand he blindly searched for the knot to her stola. Her eyes widened in fear, and she bit his hand that held her mouth captive as hard as she could. He let out a surprised yelp, and his hand instinctively loosened around her mouth just enough for her to wriggle out of his grip, but he recovered quickly and shoved her roughly against a nearby wall. “Stupid fucking bitch!” he spat and unsheathed his dagger. “You’ll pay for that,” he snarled and pressed the edge of the blade against her throat. “Been waiting for something pretty to stick my cock into. I’ll give you a real reason to scream, whore.”

“Wait!” she yelled in fear. “If you release me now, I will see to it that you are rewarded!”

He narrowed his eyes, brows pinched together and dragged the tip of his blade down the column of her throat, but he didn’t get very far, not with the iron collar on her neck blocking the path of his blade. There was even a tag dangling in the middle of it, and when he leaned in closer, he could make out the engraved lettering: Si repertus sum, Cassium me senatorem redde. Retribuetur vobis. (If I am found, return me to Senator Cassius. You will be rewarded)

The guard stowed his dagger back into its sheath. “I wonder how well rewarded I will be when I return you to your Dominus,” he mused with a grin.

“You will be rewarded less if you have come to harm me. My Dominus will not take it lightly if there is even a scratch upon me,” Aurelia said boldly.

“Senator Cassius will reward me for what I feel is owed,” he snapped and grabbed her roughly by her forearm.

“Before you return me to him, I have one request,” she winced from his tight grip on her arm. “Must you handle me so roughly? I will go without a fight, I assure you.”

“I don’t believe you’re in the position to be requesting anything of me,” he scoffed and started to drag her towards the exit, but she dug her heels into the ground in an attempt to slow him down.

“Please!” she cried. “It is one simple request,” she pleaded. “I can offer you more than just coin if you agree!”

He sneered at this and loosened his grip around her arm. He turned around and faced her fully. “Is that so?” his eyes trailed down her body, lingering at the gentle swell of her covered breasts, and the curve of her hips. He licked his lips in anticipation. “Perhaps I can be…persuaded.”

She fought the urge to turn her nose up in disgust at the way he was violating her with his eyes alone.“I will give you what you want, and I will not fight it. But in return, you will show me where the gladiator Acacius resides.”

“Acacius?” he questioned with a scoff. His frame towered over her and his eyes held nothing short of malice in them. “What’s a pretty thing like you want him for, hm?”

She refused to make direct eye contact with him and turned her head to the side. “It does not concern you.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I think it does concern me and unless you want me to make it hurt, I suggest you start talking. Don’t be so naive to think that just because your Dominus would be angered to see his prized whore scuffed up, that I won’t be cruel.”

Aurelia had always found it morbidly fascinating to experience just how quickly men would resort to threatening violent measures if women did not immediately give them what they wanted. She had experienced this exact scenario many times with Cassius, and by now she was numb to the mistreatment and cruelty she endured almost daily. Her heart, nonetheless, would always sink to the pit of her stomach whenever situations like this would arise.

Were all men truly this cruel?

He studied her intently, and when she didn’t respond, he grabbed her chin between two fingers and forced her to look at him. “Do you want to fuck him, is that it?” he questioned her dryly, amusement dripping in his tone.

“I beg your—”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re pure all of sudden. Besides, it was a fair question.You think you’re the only whore that has skipped down here in hopes to lay with a gladiator?” he snorted. “You’ll be met with sheer disappointment m’afraid. I heard a rumor that all of the gladiators were gelded.”

She fought her immediate urge to glare at him and his wild accusations.“I do not wish to lay with him.”

“Sure, sure,” he waved her off dismissively. “That's what they all say.”

“Well, rest assured, that is not why I am here. I just found his act of defiance in the arena today…admirable,” She admitted truthfully.

“Admirable?” he released her chin only to grab her by the waist and yanked her roughly in his grip so her chest collided with his own. “Defying the emperor’s command is admirable? Hm. I’m sure that’s exactly the reason why he was punished for his merciful actions then.”

Her face fell at his words. Was she too late? Was Acacius beaten to death for his defiance? No, he couldn’t be. The guard was just toying with her vulnerability. Acacius was surely alive. He must be.

“Don’t look so sad, whore. Acacius is still breathing. I’ll gladly escort you to his cell, after you complete your end of the deal, of course,” he said with a twisted sneer.

A deal is a deal, after all.

____

Just down the corridor, in a compacted cell, Marcus Acacius laid in filth. His bed, the single form of comfort that he had, was stripped from him, and he was forced to sleep upon the cold, unforgiving floor. His ankles were bound in iron, shackled to the stone wall, and his back was bare. The lacerations on his marred skin had since begun to crust over with dried blood, but he was badly wounded and received no care. His dreams were restless, and images of his mother flashed behind his trembling eyelids.

Let me go home, please. I wish to feel her gentle embrace. To hear her voice. Gods, take me out of my misery, I beg you.

“In this life and the next, you will always be my son, but your time has not yet come, Marcus. There is much life you have left to live. Remember, you must continue to be brave, gentle, just and compassionate. No matter what life throws your way, promise me you will always remain true to your heart and the values I have instilled in you.”

“How can I be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate in a world that is so cold, and has only been cruel to me?”

“You have to believe in your heart that there is goodness left in this world. There is kindness you have yet to experience, my son. Do not close the door on the possibilities of happiness. There is evil, yes, but there is also light in this world, Marcus. There is hope and there is love that dwells even in the darkest of places.”

Her image began to fade from his conscience as his body began to stir and wake at the sound of approaching footsteps, and hushed voices.

“Wait! Please, don’t go! Mother, please!” he called for her in his dreams and his hand reached for her in the darkness, but he grasped nothing but cold, damp air between his calloused fingers.

“Why has no one tended to his wounds?” a soft, feminine voice filtered in through his semi-conscious state.

“The orders were not given,” the guard, who Acacius knew as Cato, said to her in a hushed tone.

“Well, I am giving them. If his wounds are not treated soon, they will fester and he will die of infection,” she whispered in urgency.

“What do I look like to you? A charity service?” Cato laughed, and the sound grated Marcus’s ears.

“Please, just fetch me a pail of water, and do so quickly.”

Cato let out a grumbled sigh and nodded before turning on his heel and walked back the direction they had come from with little urgency in his pace. He was unsure as to why he was so willing and compliant to obey her request, but did little to question it.

Acacius sensed her presence as she knelt on the floor outside of his cell. Who was she? Why had she come? What was her purpose? Questions ran wild in his head.

She was relieved when she could just barely make out the shaky rise and fall of his chest, and the wheeze of labored breaths escaping through his chapped, parted lips. The pale moonlight from a single window in the cell, casted an eerie glow upon his severed and torn back and the stench of death permeated her senses.

He will not die tonight, this is certain. I will save him. She was determined.

“Sir!” she whispered through the stagnant air, not wanting to raise her voice enough to startle him from his rest.

Acacius, however, did not stir from his light slumber, and even when she rattled the steel bars that kept him imprisoned from her, and her from him, between her fists, he laid there, unmoving except for the slight twitch of his hand that was still outstretched, as if he had been reaching for something in the never ending darkness that consumed him.

“Acacius, please! You must—”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his name leaving her lips like a plea, and out of reflex he immediately reached for his sword, forgetting that it was no longer on his person. He was in a daze, feeling delirious from dehydration and the unbearable pain he felt in his pulsing shoulder and in his back from the deep, exposed gashes that marred his beautiful tanned skin.

He let out a grunt as he struggled to pull himself up into an upright position from where he laid on his side. Every muscle and tendon in his body screamed at him to rest, his brain sensed danger until he whipped his head around and his hardened, and disoriented stare landed upon her.

“I mean you no harm, sir. I swear it,” her words were rushed as she wanted to reassure him that he had nothing to fear, not from the likes of her. She didn’t even have the desire to harm a mere fly.

“How do you know my name?” he rasped through clenched teeth. His voice was even deeper than she imagined, with an edge of hardened grit, but she could sense a warmth residing in his tone; hidden but unmistakable.

She opened her mouth to speak and explain herself, but Cato had poor timing and arrived with a pitcher of water and a vial of olive oil.

She tore her gaze from Marcus’s and glanced upwards at Cato with a desperate look in her eyes. “Unlock his cell.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“How am I to tend to his wounds if I am not in there with him?” she retorted.

“Di boni sint,” (Gods be good) Cato muttered under his breath and reached inside of his tunic pulling out a set of bronze keys. Acacius warily watched him from where sat.

The iron bars swung open, making a creaking sound along the hinges, and Marcus scrambled towards the wall till his back was met with cold hardness. His eyes widened with fear, and for a moment he was just a boy again and enduring the cruelty from a father who never wanted him.

“Peace, Acacius,” she said softly and rose to her feet. Her features were illuminated by the torch clasped in Cato’s hand and Marcus felt that the gods themselves were playing a cruel trick upon his already mangled brain. Surely, he was dreaming, for he had never gazed upon a maiden as beautiful as her. Was she even real? Or was she just a sick figment of his imagination? He did not notice the iron collar fastened around her dainty neck, he saw the softness in her eyes, a genuine kindness and warmth in them that he had not experienced for many years. He was awestruck.

“Gods, am I truly being blessed by Venus in the flesh?” he gasped. His eyes widened further before drooping from exhaustion. His mouth was dry, lips cracked and bleeding.

Cato couldn’t help but snicker at his delusions, but he was silenced by a stern look from her and quietly backed off.

“Leave us,” she said firmly, without looking at Cato and he retreated from the open doorway.

“Sir, I’m afraid you are mistaken. I am not the goddess Venus. I’m just…a girl,” she said quietly.

His fear manifested when she crouched down in front of him, the sincerity in her eyes did not fade, and she cautiously outstretched her hand in his direction. “I am here to help you, Acacius.”

His posture stiffened at this. His apprehension was apparent and he glowered in her direction. “I am not requiring your help, girl,” he hissed.

“You are untrusting of me, and I understand why, but if I do not tend to your wounds, they will fester and you will die,” she said soberly.

“Do you think I am not aware?” he scoffed. “Let them fester. Let me die. Why should you care what becomes of me?” he snapped.

She did not flinch or cower from his tone and her hand hovered near his reach, but he still did not acknowledge it. “I cannot allow you to die, Acacius. It is against my morals and nature.”

“Then you must be a figment of my imagination,” he muttered and turned his head to the side to stare at the wall. “Morals don’t exist here, my lady. Only suffering and death. It is only a matter of time,” he said defeatedly.

“I am as real as they come, I assure you.”

He tore his gaze from the nearest wall and looked upon her once more. He eyed her hand suspiciously, and then trailed his gaze across her face and down to her neck. His stare paused at the mark of ownership, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re just a slave to the Empire…like me,” he whispered and his hand slowly rose from his side, brushing the brass tag attached to the collar. He expected her to flinch from his touch, but she did not.

He dropped his hand back to his side and sank further against the wall with a deflated sigh. He eyed the pail of water and vial of olive oil alongside her that would be used to cleanse his wounds, if he allowed it. “You have yet to answer my question, my lady. How do you know my name? How did you know where to find me? Who sent you?” he fired off questions that were buzzing in his brain.

“No one sent for me, Acacius. I came here on my own accord after watching you bravely fight in the arena today. That is where I learned of your name.”

“I wouldn’t say I was brave,” he said humbly. He eyed the collar around her neck once more, and despite his guarded demeanor, and his engrained nature to lash out like a wounded animal, his shred of empathy extends to her. “My lady, I mean no disrespect, but the Colosseum is no place for a selfless, kind soul such as yourself. You shouldn’t be exposed to such…brutality,” he trailed off.

“Acacius, I am no lady. I am just—a common whore. My Dominus takes great pleasure in watching you and other Gladiators fight to the death. I’d even say it’s his favorite event.”

“Who is your Dominus?” his question lingered heavily in the stagnant air.

“Senator Cassius.”

“He may have labeled you as a whore, but in my eyes…I see a lady,” he whispered without understanding just how greatly she appreciated that he saw what others did not.

“You are too kind, Acacius. Your words touch me.”

His grim, hardened demeanor quickly returns in the form of a deepened scowl on his face and he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He inhaled a lungful of air, his chest expanding and then deflates as he released the air through his flared nostrils. “You truly should not be here. This is no place for a lady, and if something were to happen to you, I could not protect you. These chains bind me till the morning,” he said quietly and yanked on the chains that bound his ankles to stone for good measure. “You should leave immediately. Leave me to rot here.”

“Acacius, I cannot stomach leaving you here and allowing your wounds to fester. Not when you have done nothing to deserve the punishment you endured. Bravery should not be met with the cruel lash of a whip,” she reached her hand near his shoulder, to brush her fingers against his tarnished skin, but he recoiled from her touch and pressed himself further against the wall. He felt the torn skin on his back wailing for reprieve, but he grits his teeth to mask the pain.

“Bravery?” he seethed through clenched teeth. His pupils seemed to darken under the shallow guise of the pale moonlight. “My acts of mercy upon my opponent made me appear weak. As if my heart wasn’t forged in steel! As if my compassion for humanity means more than the pride I feel when my blade pierces through the hearts of my enemies! I am a gladiator. I was raised as a ruthless fighter as soon as I could grasp a sword!” he exclaimed. The whites of his eyes showed a faux fierceness, but hidden in the depths of brown, there was fear.

“I have the blood of the innocent on my hands. Killing has been ingrained in my being since I was a small boy! My duty and honor lies with the empire, to the Emperors. It is all I have ever known, and all that I will ever know,” he gritted out, but his voice wavered, trembling with each syllable spoken as if he was trying to convince himself that being a gladiator under the Emperor's rule was truly all he’ll ever amount to in life. That he would never know softness, or genuine—real love from another unfortunate soul like his own.

She felt his pain, heard it seep in through his somber tone, and saw it in his anguished expression on his rugged, gold-kissed face. He may have been a bloodthirsty warrior in the Emperor's eyes, but in her own softened gaze, she saw a frightened boy that had been broken, ripped apart by cruel hands. “No,” she said sadly, “You’re just a boy.”

Aurelia and Acacius were two sides of the same coin; slaves to the Empire and forced into a life of endless servitude, bowing at the feet of those born into riches with their fancy silks and golden adornments. Their cruel whips in their dominant hands, and overflowing goblets of wine in the other.

A heavy charged silence simmered in their close proximity. He could hear her heart beating from where he sat and the sharp inhale of breath that she took.

“Please leave me here, my lady,” he said quietly, tone deflated of any emotion. He was giving up, she was certain of it.

“Please, Acacius,” she tried one more time to break through his guarded exterior. “Let me help you.”

His feelings were conflicted, it was written across his face, between the furrow of his brows, the subtle pout of his lips, and the swirl of brown and flecks of gold in his irises. He wanted to fight against the softness inside of him that begged to be released. The part of him that he had buried for so many years. He wanted to fight it tooth and nail, barred teeth and sharpened claws ready to strike at a moment's notice, but he remembered the words his mother had spoken to him.

“There is evil, yes, but there is also light in this world, Marcus.”

Could this unnamed stranger be the light that his mother spoke of? Could she be his purpose? His reason to fight to see another day?

“Marcus,” he whispered, “my name is Marcus.”

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[miryum]

Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

Warnings: Reader is a bit of a brat/empty-minded at first but it gets so much better, 10-ish age difference, Reader is in love with Harry Potter at first (or thinks she is), set in the South (of the US)

Y/n L/n was the belle of the South. She had the Weasley twins running after her every weekend and at the weekly balls, their older brother, Charlie, had to have the first dance with her. Her father had rejected numerous suitors, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying. The Diggory family had made a large offer, but their estate was too small for the L/n family.

The L/n’s consisted of the patriarch, William, and the matriarch, Peggy. While William ran the fields, Peggy ran his heart and household. Their oldest was their pride and joy, Y/n, followed by Odessa. Odessa hated being in her sister’s shadow. It meant her infatuation for George Weasley was seen as childish and unwanted. The L/n’s had one last daughter, Della, who was ten years younger than Y/n. Della was a sweetheart who trailed after her mother, following every step religiously.

The family had many acres of fields stretching around their mansion, as did everyone else in the county. Their fields were rich with grains that shipped out to the rest of the state. William had built up an empire that was now run smoothly by his wife. So, no, not a Weasley or Diggory was good enough for their daughter. She was much too young and had years ahead of her before she was considered an old spinster.

Many boys trailed after Y/n, begging for a chance to court her, and she was happy to flirt with them. The boys, after years of growing up around the same children their entire lives, soon learned how to gain Y/n’s attention. They had to catch her when her father was busy, otherwise she would turn into his perfect, sweet little girl who could do no wrong. If her sisters were around, the younger girls would try to steal the attention and Y/n would revert to her cool, unimpressed self that none of the boys could crack. However, if the girl was at a ball or they rode over to her house to catch her reading on the porch, that’s when she would flirt and touch their arm lightly with her coy smile.

But it was not the Weasley twins or the Diggory boy that Y/n wanted. It was Harry Potter. The boy was so oblivious, it was tantalising. He had a mature air around him that no other boy did. He would ride up to her house every Sunday on his majestic white horse, Hedwig, and speak to her like no one else did. He read her poems and took her riding and was just so pretty. He talked a lot about politics and the different families of the South, and that Y/n didn’t like, but he made it up with the little gifts he brought her. There was that lace fan he brought her after his Grand Tour and even some pressed flowers in a thick book. She tried to read the book to show Harry that she cared, but it had such tiny print and was about boring law that she gave up after the first couple of paragraphs.

It was a cool June evening and the windows were open at the L/n villa. The soft breeze ruffled the curtains when the neighbour’s gossip finally reached the ladies in the house. A new engagement in the state! The four females sat at the dining table, William at the head, seemingly bored. Odessa asked excitedly who would be going to the engagement party, thinking of her dear George Weasley.

“It seems like everyone in the county,” Peggy commented, regurgitating what she had learned from the women in her cross-stitch group. “The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys.”

William scoffed and rattled off, “the Weasleys? Their entire brood? And the Longbottoms? They’re hardly in high society. Why invite them? And must we engage with the Malfoys? You know how they get, dear Peggy.”

“William,” Peggy reprimanded, clicking her tongue. “It’s Ginerva’s engagement. Do be kind.”

Y/n raised her head from her plate and asked, “Ginny’s getting married? The little one? To whom? Wasn’t that boy Dean Thomas pursuing her?”

“No, no,” Peggy waved her daughter off. “He was a nice young lad, but they never got along.” She took a bite of food as if she wasn’t about to deliver earth-shattering news to her unsuspecting daughter. “She’s getting married to Harry Potter.”

Y/n didn’t think she heard the rest of the conversation. Small Ginny Weasley, the girl with the choppy red hair and ugly dresses, was marrying her Harry? The Harry that had the most beautiful eyes and lovely lilting words and understanding conversations? Yes, their families were close and Harry was best friends with Ginny’s older brother, but he loved Y/n. She knew it. The way he lit up when he saw her and the way his smile slowly stretched over his lips until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. All of that was her Harry.

“Y/n?” Della asked from the other side of the table, always aware of her elder sister. “Are you alright?” But the girl couldn’t say anything. For if she did, then her whole family would know her secret. And then her mother would be embarrassed and aghast. Her father would think of her as yet still a child, brushing away her affection. Lousy Odessa would gossip to George Weasley and his twin, wanting to win over their favour, and the twins would surely tell their engaged sister. Della wouldn’t understand, the poor girl just an infant in Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” Y/n muttered. “Father, I’m feeling a bit faint. I think something with the salad didn’t sit right with me. I’m to lie down.”

William muttered permission, waving his daughter away. Y/n tried not to run to her room, for fear it would give her emotions away. But the moment her door was locked safely behind her, she fell onto her bed, sobbing. How could Harry do this to her?

Oh, what was her life coming to?

Y/n had a plan. If only she could get Harry alone at his engagement party and confess her true feelings, he would see they were meant to be together. The problem was that Ginny stuck to his side like annoying glue. It seemed as if the two were off in their own little world, gazing into each other's eyes. Well, Y/n huffed to herself, two can play that game. That’s how she found herself surrounded by beaus from all over the county.

Cedric Diggory sat on the bench next to her and the Weasley twins sat at her feet on the grass. Fred Weasley went even farther and laid his head on her skirts dramatically whenever he wanted her attention. Neville Longbottom stood beside them all, looking nervously back at his Gran, who was determined to get her grandson connected to the L/n’s. Even Dean Thomas, still getting over his loss of Ginny Weasley, was there, trying to talk to an anxious Neville.

Batting her eyes and fanning herself playfully under the pretence of the hot sun, Y/n walked the line of flirtatious and bashful perfectly. She could feel the glares of all the other girls at the party, but she ignored them. She was talking to George Weasley when she spotted another boy to catch in her web. “Oh, Georgie, the Malfoy’s are here,” she commented smoothly.

This caught the rest of the suitor’s attention. “Oh, joy,” Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Come, Y/n, let me whisk you heroically away before that greased boy tries to woo you.”

“You mean Draco?” Y/n laughed melodically, which made Neville blush deeply. “Oh, he’s no harm. A bit rude and uppity, but just a boy when it all comes down to it.”

“Yes, but a boy,” Fred confirmed. “You, love, need a man.” At that, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n opened her fan and hid her face behind it teasingly. “Oh, Mr. Fred, you charmer,” she chastised.

“Oh, my,” Cedric breathed out, which made Y/n’s attention turn from Fred, who pouted, to the Diggory boy. Did the Malfoy’s bring a girl that captured Cedric’s eye? Oh, that would be horrid for her plan. But, no. Following Cedric’s stare, Y/n saw another man emerge with Mr. Lucious Malfoy.

“Who is that?” she asked without thinking, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm.

“What on earth is he doing here?” Dean Thomas demanded, back stiffening and hands clasping behind his back. His voice was just loud enough for Y/n and her suitors to hear. But he didn’t answer her question.

Y/n huffed slightly and turned to Neville. He would always be at her beck and call. “Neville, who is that man?” she asked again, tone firm.

Neville tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and stuttered, “uh, well, Miss Y/n, that’s Mattheo Riddle.” He slowly sat down next to her, as if testing the waters.

“Mattheo Riddle?” Y/n repeated, the name feeling heavy on her tongue. “Why, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Then your father did a good job,” Fred glowered. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one shooting dirty looks at the new man.

Dean Thomas agreed, “yes, no respectable lady should have heard of him. An absolute abomination of a gentleman.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in the presence of new gossip and scandal, something all ladies of the county grasped for. None were above whispering to their friends behind their hands whenever they heard something enticing. “Whatever did he do?” she asked desperately.

Cedric was the one to inform her that Mr. Mattheo Riddle was the infamous bastard child of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange. That made him the nephew of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Allegedly, Mr. Riddle’s father had left him and his mother at a young age, only making visits when he felt it necessary to shape Mr. Riddle into a harsh young man. Mr. Riddle had left to join the military, but was dishonourably discharged when he shot and killed another man for speaking ill of his family and upbringing. He then followed in his father’s footsteps of backalley trading and illicit affairs. With his father and mother’s separate fortunes, along with the one he earned, he had amassed large wealth.

Y/n couldn’t help but watch Mattheo Riddle. Neville tried to hold a conversation with the girl, and she tried to entertain him, she really did, but the way Mr. Riddle held himself on the outskirts of the party captivated her. With a drink swirling in one hand and the other tucked smartly behind his back, he looked… perfunctorily debonair.

For a man a decade older than her, he was incredibly handsome. He was easily the best dressed man at the party, even better than Lucius Malfoy himself. And his hair was most unusual. Rather than the slicked back style that most young boys wore, his had more volume, showing his curls. Y/n could see his striking and calculative eyes from across the yard. They took one sweep around the party, yet glazed over her.

It took everything within Y/n not to march over to the newcomer and demand his attention. Why were his eyes not on her? But then Neville placed a concerned hand on her back and asked if she was okay. He really is a sweet boy, Y/n thought to herself. “Yes, I’m alright,” she assured him. “I just may go lie down with the rest of the ladies.”

“Oh! Of course!” Neville scrambled to his feet and helped her up. Fred Weasley let out a whine when his headrest disappeared, but understood how a delicate lady needed her rest.

“Thank you, Neville,” Y/n said sincerely. She patted his hand and whispered theatrically, “you know… you didn’t hear this from me, but I think Miss Luna Lovegood fancies you.” Neville turned a dark shade of red as Y/n made her way to the house.

But she wasn’t going to nap. With the rest of the girls also laying down, including Ginny, this was her chance to speak to Harry. She would confess her love and he would tell her he always reciprocated and then he would break off his engagement and perhaps Ginny would be sad, but Y/n’s parents couldn’t get mad once they saw how happy their daughter was.

Once inside, Y/n saw Harry bid a loving goodbye to Ginny, the latter who went upstairs to nap. Her future fiancé then turned around and noticed her. “Y/n,” he greeted with a grin. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “How are you? You’ve been so busy all party, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you!” Ah, so he had seen her with her suitors. Pride filled her. This was going perfectly.

“Harry, could we talk in the library?” Y/n asked, smiling up at him, an intoxication of love filling her veins. Harry raised a curious brow, but agreed. He followed her into the library where he asked if everything was alright. “Yes, I’m fine,” she told him. “I only need to tell you something, Harry.”

“And what is that?” Harry replied with a grin, thinking it was all some lighthearted joke.

Y/n pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, Harry,” she began. “I must say something now before you go on with this whole affair! I mean, it is truly noble of you to sacrifice yourself for the poor girl, but I couldn’t let you go on with it! Especially when I know your feelings, Harry,” she said. The boy’s expression slowly changed to one of merriment to one of guarded concern. “I’m in love with you, Harry!” Y/n exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his hands. “I have been all my life and I know you feel the same! So why marry Ginerva when you could marry me?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment before he slowly retracted his hands from her gloved grip. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “I’m utterly flattered. But I’m marrying Ginny. I can’t… I can’t love you, you know that, yes?”

Confusion showed on Y/n’s face, but a small smile still managed to quirk up on her lips. “But you do, don’t you?” she asked. “Love me, I mean. I know you do, Harry.” After a moment of hesitance, she added, “right?”

“Dear,” Harry said, taking her hands in his and patting them reassuringly. “I’ve always been fond of you. You’re very witty and brave. But that’s not… that’s not who I need. I need Ginny,” he stated, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to have you. But… I’m not that man for you.”

Y/n didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She was sure Harry said some more nice things, all very awkwardly, and she remembered that he kissed her lightly on the cheek, but then she was left alone. She let herself fall onto a nearby settee, face flushed and hand on her stomach. She felt sick. But she also felt mad. Terribly mad. And yet, depressed. Too many emotions were swirling around her that she wasn’t herself when, with a yell, she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. With a satisfying smash, it crackled and split onto the floor, just like her poor heart.

A low, amused chuckle filled the room and Y/n whirled around to see Mattheo Riddle sitting up on a couch. “What- who- what are you doing here?!” Y/n cried.

“Why, I was just taking a nap when I got disturbed by an unrequited declaration of love and a splintered vase. Whose is that anyways?” Mr. Riddle asked smoothly, shoulders still shaking from his laughter. “Whom will your father have to pay off?”

“Don’t you dare tell my father!” Y/n said, somewhere between desperate and demanding. “Oh, you sordid man! You have no right to listen in on a private conversation.”

“A rather amusing conversation,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, a wry smile stretching his lips. “I never thought you the type to lust after Mr. Potter.”

Y/n’s skirts swirled around her as she turned away from him in anger but then rounded on him again. “You don’t know a thing about me, sir! Why, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“And yet by the way you court all those other men, them begging after you like dogs, gives me a glimpse into your character.” It was then that Mr. Riddle took her hand in the most gentle way possible and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. The girl stilled. “Mattheo Riddle, at your service only, dear.”

“My service only?” is what Y/n could think to reply, not even giving her name like a proper lady would.

Mattheo inclined his head in a coy manner. “Yes.”

After a beat, Y/n grumped, “is that all you’re going to say?”

“I have nothing else to say.” Mattheo shrugged. One of his brows raised innocently. But Y/n got the feeling he was anything but. “Other than to ask for your name,” he added.

“Miss Y/n L/n and you will address me as such,” Y/n declared. “None of that ‘dear’ sobriquet.”

“Well, Miss Y/n L/n,” Mattheo began. “You best be hurrying along. The other women will wake from their rest soon and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the library with me, a sordid man.” He repeated her words back, but mockery laced his tone.

Y/n’s face grew hot and she spluttered a bit, looking very flustered and angered. Mr. Riddle watched on in amusement. “And how do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard?” she asked finally.

At that, Mattheo Riddle smirked. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

A week later was Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Y/n wore a deep blue dress, bordering on black. Yet she smiled and cheered along with the rest of the guests, even as her joy slipped away. She had half a mind to propose to Neville just to pull some attention onto her.

Mr. Mattheo Riddle was not there. Not that Y/n noticed.

She was sitting on the porch about three days later, pitying herself as she worked on her embroidery. She was trying to stitch a lovely sunrise, but she just couldn’t get a cloud right. She hardly heard the sounds of horse hooves clopping down the drive. “Miss Y/n L/n,” a gratingly familiar voice called out.

She sighed and her hands fell to her lap in exasperation. “I’m doing my embroidery!” she called back. “I don’t have time for eavesdropping men who dub me frustrating monikers.”

“You sure know plenty of synonyms for nicknames,” Mattheo commented, swinging his leg over his horse to dismount.

“Father keeps me well read.”

Mattheo bounded up the porch steps to reach her, but then realised that looked too childish, no matter how much he wanted to see her. He quickly composed himself. “And what is the lovely lady sewing?” he asked, settling into the rocking chair near her.

“I don’t recall inviting you up for a chat,” she said snarkily. After a moment where he just smirked at her, she replied, “and it’s a sunset. Or a sunrise. I’m not entirely sure yet. Whatever it is, it’s mightily frustrating.” She pricked her finger with the needle and exclaimed out.

Mr. Riddle’s brows furrowed and he took the cross-stitch away, not wanting her to get any more hurt. “Don’t you have a maid to stitch this for you?”

“Mother thinks every proper lady should know how to wield a needle and thread,” Y/n said, her back straightening. She then scowled. “Of course, Odessa has already perfected hers.”

It was then that the girl noticed Mr. Mattheo Riddle carefully stitching her embroidery, his nimble fingers tugging and looping the needle perfectly. Noticing her shocked face, Mattheo explained, “my grandmother taught me how. It was one of her favourite pastimes. I pricked myself many times — just like you. Of course, my father found it too feminine, but I just liked spending time with my grandmother. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother taught me her craft: so I could spare you some trouble and pain. I will gladly do so, darling.”

The air settled around them. Her father’s hounds were barking in the field and she could hear the servants singing from behind the house, doing laundry. She shifted in her seat. “What was her name?” Y/n asked cautiously, still not trusting this man.

“Merope,” Mattheo answered softly. “The poor thing had memory loss, you know. She couldn’t remember my name, much less what we had stitched last time I had visited. But she loved me. And so she taught me how to embroider over and over again.”

Y/n swallowed thickly. She could almost envision Mattheo as a child, climbing onto his grandma's lap to watch her sew out a work of art. Maybe they had sat on a rocking chair on a porch, just like she and Mattheo did now. She watched him finish the cloud she had been working on before handing her back the hoop. “Why are you here?” she wondered, staring down at the cloud, which was done much better than her own.

“To convince you that you can trust me.” And with that, he stood and kissed her forehead before straightening his suit and walking back to his horse. As he gripped the reins in his hands, he yelled back, “oh, and to inform you that I’ll be competing for your hand!”

She saw him next about two months later, at another county party. But this party was special. It was all for Y/n.

William L/n had gone all out for his eldest daughter. This was the day when all the formal suitors presented themselves. Yes, Fred and George Weasley had been courting her for years, but it would now be official. Not only were two of the Weasleys there, but Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas and his close friend, Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom was now happily engaged to Luna Lovegood.

As much as Y/n put on a front, being surrounded by men, some of which were years older, was intimidating. She flirted and blushed and acted like a lady, but when Seamus Finnigan talked to Cedric Diggory about the growth of their family’s crops, talking around Y/n as Oliver Wood tried to entertain her with polo facts, she felt useless. Bored. Like a prop to be placed on someone’s arm.

That’s when Mattheo Riddle walked in. He stayed on the outskirts of the party for a long while, observing. He didn’t hide the fact that he was watching Y/n’s attention be snapped up by suitor after suitor. His eyes were already on hers whenever she glanced up to him. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but one he didn’t want to quit. Maybe this was what had drawn him to this little county in the countryside. Maybe Draco’s letter of invitation wasn’t all for naught. It couldn’t be, not when her eyes made him feel more alive than ever before. Mattheo Riddle made a promise to himself, then and there, as he watched the seven suitors surrounding Y/n. He would marry that girl.

Only a few minutes later did Ernie Macmillan chuckle in disbelief. “Is that Mattheo Riddle?” he asked. Y/n let the other men answer, for fear of sounding as if she had been gazing at the forbidden man. Which, if her father asked, she had not.

“Sir!” Seamus Finnigan called out from where he was lounging on the couch. His arm hung over the back of Y/n’s chair, something he found courage to do with the whiskey flowing through his veins. “Come join us, I beg you.”

Mattheo quirked a brow but strode over from where he was leaning against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he greeted smoothly. “How are you all this fine day?” He shook hands with each man. It was only then he allowed his eyes to settle on Y/n. “Ah, my dear Miss Y/n.” Her eyes watched the way his lip curved into a smile. “It’s lovely to see you here.” He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckles to his lips. It took all of Y/n’s restraint not to take in a shaky breath.

“Why, this is her party, after all,” Fred Weasley said, smirking. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Mr. Weasley.” Mattheo turned to the man. “Perhaps if you had paid attention to my words, I never said I was surprised to see her, only delighted. And I can assure you, I am very delighted.” George Weasley snickered and clapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred just glared at the Riddle heir.

Mattheo sat down on the ottoman by Y/n’s feet, posture straight and perfect. An electrifying shiver ran down his spine as Y/n asked how he was. “Splendid,” he told her. “After all, I am in your presence. Darling, if any of these men told you they were less than splendid, I’ll offer to kick them to the street at your command.” The suitors chuckled at the joke, but Mattheo just held his future wife’s gaze. They both knew he meant every word.

Oliver Wood shook his head. “I still can’t believe I have the honour to meet the Mattheo Riddle. From all the rumours, I thought you were surely a ghost story.”

“I hate to disappoint,” came the easy reply.

“No, no disappointment here.” Oliver held up his hands. “Just surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mattheo stared down the man. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Oliver stammered out, “well, because people see you as- as well, good sir, I needn’t offend, but-”

“Cruel?” Mattheo supplied. After the awkward glances were exchanged between the suitors, he continued, “Unwanted? Cynical, unfeeling, only out for himself and his riches? Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said simply. “I’ve done unhonourable things and I’ve lived my life for my own gain. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Or that I can’t love,” he finished, eyes on Y/n.

She shifted under his stare and opened her fan to hide her blush. “I may go lay down,” she whispered out. The seven men around her began to protest, but Mr. Riddle simply held his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and then bid her farewell. He settled back onto the ottoman to which the other men glared at him.

“Why can’t you corrupt some other girl?” Ernie Macmillan grumbled into his whiskey glass that he took a long swallow of. The other suitors seemed to deflate as well, now calling for more alcohol, slouching in their seats, and using more vulgar language. It was only Mattheo Riddle that kept his posture, his little cup of whiskey, and preserved tone. But even he felt a flare of anger at Mr. Macmillan’s words. “Take another girl for your wife. But leave this one for the rest of us. Why do you suddenly have a claim over her?”

“Another girl, you say?” Mattheo repeated, voice low and protective. “Take another one for my wife and leave her for the rest of you? Is that what you think I want? To just take any girl as my wife? No,” he stated, plain and simple, “I want her and only her. And why do I have a sudden claim over her? I don’t. And do not mistake her for a girl, Macmillan. She is a fierce woman, one none of you boys could handle. But perhaps… Perhaps I have fallen in love with her. Against all reason and sanity,” he added in a mutter, taking a swig of whiskey.

“But it’s foolish!” Fred Weasley exclaimed as all other men were stunned to silence. “You- you’ve only met the girl – pardon, woman – once. More than two months ago. And serving my memory, you never even talked to the Miss.” Fred’s memory didn’t have all the facts, as Mr. Riddle had met Y/n twice and had talked to her on both occasions.

Mattheo shot back, “love often makes us do foolish things, does it not? And I’m willing to be a fool for her, if that’s what it takes.”

Cedric Diggory studied Mattheo for a moment before musing, “you’re an admirable man, Mr. Riddle. But you must know I, along with the rest of these men, will still fight for her hand. And we have an advantage: her father’s approval.”

“What does her father’s approval mean if you don’t have her heart?” Mattheo asked. “If she doesn’t love you, what good does it do?”

“Well, does she love you?” Seamus Finnigan implored, trying to turn the tables on the man.

At that, Mr. Riddle rested his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning back. Even though his face was collected, a brush of pain swept over his heart, knowing the answer was uncertain. “Does she love me?” he echoed, tone soft. “I hope so.” He knew when it was best to shut up, so he didn’t say what he really wanted to; she hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I see the fire in her, the same fire that burns within me. “You may think it hopeless,” he observed, looking at the other men. “That it’s foolish, believing she could return my love. Call me a fool, then. But I know what I feel, and I won’t give up on her, no matter how hopeless it may seem.”

Y/n had made it a habit of sitting outside, in case Mattheo Riddle came riding by again. Her efforts weren’t in vain, for a couple days later, his horse trotted up.

The coy look on his face showed he was feeling sly and quick-witted that day. He would make Y/n vie for his affections, no doubt in her mind. He dismounted with a flourish and a smirk, his coattails flipping out behind him. “Ah, my dear Miss L/n,” he called out, his voice carrying mischief. “I hope I find you well today!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my last name,” Y/n replied, setting her book down. “‘Miss Y/n’, or perchance ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, but never Miss L/n.”

“Hmm, my apologies, my dear,” he said as he strode up towards her, mock formality in his voice. “I suppose I’ve become accustomed to calling you by your given name. But I do like the sound of ‘Miss L/n’ as well. It has a certain… ring to it.” He took a seat on the rocking chair next to her and studied her book. “Never thought you the type to read Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

“It most certainly is not,” Mattheo chuckled. “You’ve read it before, I assume?”

Y/n huffed. Why she continued to entertain Mr. Riddle was beyond her. “His devotion is clear. And yes, I have. Anyway, before you so very rudely interrupted me, I was going to say I thought you would detest my last name.”

Mattheo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t much I could detest when it comes to you,” he admitted, glancing over slyly at her.

“How sweet.” Y/n rolled her eyes sardonically, but couldn’t help but smile. She added after a moment, “though I still thought you would dislike it.”

He shot her a lazy smile. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, looking out over her family’s lands. “And why would I dislike it, my darling?”

Y/n let out a soft, mischievous laugh. “Well, I thought surely you’d want to change it.”

“Change it, darling?” Mattheo raised a brow. “Pray tell, what would I change it to?”

Her eyes travelled to the sky, for if Y/n was to look at Mr. Riddle, her gaze would be transfixed on his lips. She swallowed and said slowly, “something that sounds like yours?”

Mattheo’s stare snapped towards her. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he murmured in a soft tone.

Ever playing coquettish, the woman responded, “what do you think I’m suggesting?”

Mattheo leaned in a bit closer, his heart beating faster at the notion he was about to say. “I think you’re suggesting you’d like to carry the Riddle surname, my darling,” he replied. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Perhaps,” Y/n forced out after a short silence.

“And here I thought you thought me brutish and sordid.” When Y/n didn’t answer, an embarrassed flush on her cheek, he said in a quiet voice, “you know, if you enjoy Hunchback, you should see Notre Dame in person. Paris is lovely. We should go sometime.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Of course,” Mattheo added, clearing his throat, “if you’re still hung up on Mr. Potter, then you should probably go with him.”

Why, Y/n hadn’t thought about Harry once in the past weeks. How peculiar. And based on the little smirk on Mattheo’s face, he knew it. “I don’t think Harry and I were the right fit,” she said eventually.

“Oh?”

“No,” she mused. “It’s frustrating, yes? You think you have your whole life planned ahead and then… it gets ripped away from you.”

“Or maybe it’s just getting started,” Mattheo muttered. “Your life, I mean. You’re young, Y/n. And Harry Potter shouldn’t dictate whether or not your life has started or ended.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Y/n complained. “Father wants to marry me off to a good, wealthy man before I turn twenty-five. I thought with Harry, I could get some love out of it as well.”

Mattheo asked honestly, “would it matter if you loved your husband if your husband loved you with everything in him?”

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the pages of her book. “I think if someone loved me that much,” she whispered, “it would be impossible not to love him back.”

Mattheo felt his hand twitch as he looked down at her fingers. Slowly, he reached out to encircle her palm in his. His warm hand held hers loosely, so that Y/n could pull away if she wished, but just firmly enough that she could sense his devotion.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Y/n asked.

“The truth?” Once Y/n nodded, he continued, “I see the fire in you… The same fire that burns in me. Well, that used to burn in me.” Mattheo paused. “I’m sure you know of my father. I hated the man, and am ashamed to call him a father. But, even so, after he died, I’ve felt… stuck, Y/n. If we’re to keep with the fire analogy, I fizzled out. Yet with you…” he chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Y/n whispered. “Is this you proposing marriage, Mr. Riddle?” She smirked, even though her heart began beating a bit more quickly.

When Mattheo shook his head, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. “No, that’s much too soon for you. Maybe in two or three years. But…” he threw her a wry grin, squeezing her hand lightly. “This is me proposing I begin courting you.”

“What?” Her hand flexed around his. “Really?”

“You can trust me.”

Four years later, because Y/n was notoriously stubborn when it came to her beau, Mattheo Riddle got down on one knee. “My darling dear,” he teased, using the nicknames he knew she hated. Y/n rolled her eyes in response. “You have made me wait what seems like millennia to finally officially call you mine. Of course, I’d wait aeons more, but I’m hoping that today, you’ll put me out of my misery and give me the honour of being your husband.”

“You’ll take me to Paris for the honeymoon?” Y/n asked, despite the tears shining in her eyes.

Mattheo let out a loud, joyful laugh. “Yes, yes I will.” And as he slid the ring on her finger, he murmured, “you can trust me.”

“I always have.”

[theyungihven]

Truth Or Dare ⁉️ ⁕ Hongjoong

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: hongjoong as Dracula x Human? Reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror,

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, vampires and ghosts

☆ word count: 2.1k+

☆ synopsis : You and your friends dare to spend a night at the infamous Dracula's Castle but things go astray as one by one everyone goes missing and you come across the man rumoured to be Dracula.

“You gotta do this!” You hear your friends yell or more like discuss something in the secret hideout. 

The hideout is an abandoned laboratory where you sometimes work on illegal stuff. The discussions take place every day here where everyone in your friend group (it's just 2 people) gather to share about the current news (conspiracy theories) and rumours they heard around the town while you are busy building your prototype.

“Bro, I don't wanna die too early. First, fucking global warming, now this shit? Nah I'm out!” Claire shouts as she bangs the old lunch table discarded in the room. Well that's Claire, one of you two friends, being herself. You smile at her humour which strangely manages to entertain you.

“But they offered a reward of 250 grand, if we spend a night there and return alive.” You listen keenly to Kevin who explains the plan before you to decide to jump into their conversation. He's obviously got a strategy if he's pitching the idea, doesn't he? He has to!

“Alive? The fuck is going on there?” Claire yells  in terror as it laces her body manifesting itself in her tone which shivers and shrieks.

“Rumour says, it's Dracula, who was sleeping till last month in the villa.” Kevin whispers loudly as if he intended you to hear on their spill the tea session.

“Which shithead woke him up, for fuckssake?” Claire huffs and pushes back her chair. You hear the screeching of the rusty metal and make a note to check their safety because you don't want anyone to break their bones from falling off that thing.

“Someone from med school. They're missing apparently.” Kevin slurs his sentence as if he's making things up or masking up the important details. Cheeky little Bastard who's always up to something. Probably some anatomy geek must have gotten all curious to see Dracula in the flesh and fainted in there or lost his way.

“And now, we're going there to feed him?" Claire shrieks, whose voice sounds like a scared five year old upon seeing a clown which she is to be honest.

“No, obviously! To show whoever is hiding in there, that they cannot hide for long.” Kevin's sentence catches your attention and you think whether to join them or wait and hear more. Of course, you choose the latter.

“So... we're going to expose them?”Claire asks excitedly as if in hopes of going on a ghost hunting mission. They are her time passing activities and the ghost files is her favourite show. “What if it's a cannibal or serial killer?”

“Can you speak positively for once, Claire?” Kevin shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Sorry.” Claire says softly and the conversation stills, creating an awkward silence in the room. 

You finally decide to interrupt as you pull your chair to their table and make yourself comfortable on it. “So, what's the plan?” You say, chewing the strawberry flavoured gum and reading the expressions on their faces.

“See who finally decided to pay attention?” Kevin mocks you and you roll your eyes at his statement. 

“Does the area have connectivity? Comms? Anything?” You ask him, because he certainly has some information on this if he's even mentioning the topic but he has a tendency to hide things till after the disaster is done.

“Nope everything's dead. There's a strong magnetic field apparently…” He trails on his words, again and clicks his tongue.

“What in the Stranger Things?” Claire wonders with her mouth hanging open. 

“Shut up Claire! You’re watching too much science fiction.” Kevin yells at her, sending a stern glare at Claire who turns her head down with a frown on her lips.

“We gotta do it the pirate way.” you suggest calmly, leaning back on the chair and folding your arms.

“Pirates?” Claire asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning forward with enthusiasm.

“I forgot you had pirate blood for a minute.” adds Kevin and Claire acknowledges the fact with ahh. 

“So, if we don't have comms, drones and walkies aren't gonna work. We gotta get flares and some type of marker to make a path for entry and exits.” You say looking at the table and your friends exchange looks.

“A blueprint of the place!” Claire exclaims as if she has figured out the answers to one of the world's unsolvable riddles.

“It's not your fucking aunts house!” Kevin says loudly, giving Claire the ‘I'll murder you’ eyes.

“Yeah he's right. But the villa is not that big to get lost.” You mumble, moving forward and setting your arms on the table. 

“How do you know that?” Kevin gives you the sceptical look as if you're a notorious criminal with disgusting crimes.

“It was once our family property, that was a long time tho. Some feud happened and we lost it.” You confess and their faces have the funniest expression you've ever seen. Confused, surprised and wtf?

“You have a map?” Kevin yells in your ear and you retort meters away, squeezing your eyes close  due to the pain.

“Kinda, it's a tracing, rather than a map.” you say, rubbing your ear and a flicker of hope lights up on Kevin's face. 

“Atleast, we have something.” Claire mumbles as she shares a smile.

“Be at my house at 7, we'll discuss stuff there. That's it for now.”

***

“Listen, the Manor has two exits.” You explain, spreading out the old one dimensional tracing of the Manor and its illustrations.

“Didn't you say it was a villa?” Claire says, setting her hands on her waist as she stares at the floor plan.

“Can we kick her out?” Kevin suggests and the idea doesn't sound bad considering her level headed ass. 

“It's dangerously close to Yes, but what if I get bored? We'll need her.” You trail, spreading out the second floor plan of the Manor.

“Fair. So, Claire, just shut your mouth and listen. No speaking over someone.” Kevin says and shushes Claire who pouts, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Okay so the first exit is at the front, obviously for the people and the second is at the back for the goods.” You say with your finger tracing the main gate of the Manor and then the back gate. 

“Ohhhhhh!” Claire coos, and Kevin giggles at her reaction while he gets ready to smack her on head.

“Yeah. Shut your mouth before a fly lands in there. Anyways, moving on!” You say, thinking about your next sentence and Claire slaps her hand to her mouth. 

“Are we dividing up and going from two exits?” Kevin asks, and you look up at him, eyes diverting themselves from the map and landing on his face.

“Yes, you read my mind. You two will go from the front door to distract whatever is in there and I'll go with someone else from the back.”

“Is this someone else, late to the meeting?”

“Hey there!” A voice says and it is followed by the garage door smashing open with a thud, “Sorry I had soccer practice.” Yunho, your arch nemesis on friendly terms, says and shares an awkward smile.

“This is my neighbour, yunho.” You introduce him and drag him by his arm to make his tall ass body stand next to yours.

“Hello, very nice to meet you.” He waves at your friends with a bright smile and Claire gives him heart eyes at which you cringe. 

“You both are polar opposites!” Kevin comments and you feel heating rising on your cheeks.

“We get that a lot!” You and Yunho say at the same time only to meet each other's eyes the next second and shy away. 

“What did I miss?” Yunho says after clearing his throat as he glances in your direction. His golden blond hair falls over eyes and you observe the way his gaze flickers from your face and back to map.

“Whatever I said to you, last night.” You say, finding something to stare at besides his brooding figure.

“Okay then, I'm saved I guess!” Yunho says as he nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The next phase of the plan is when I signal you, we move to the first floor. The highest is the second floor which has a library in the attic.” You say and it excites something in Yunho judging by the creepy smirk on his lips.

“Attics scare me!” Claire says, her voice shrieking with fear of the darkness.

“What doesn't scare you Claire?” Kevin says in a monotone as he turns his head in her direction.

“Him!” Claire points in Yunho's direction at which you can't help but sigh.

“Flirt somewhere else, lovebirds. We got shit to do.” You roll your eyes then go back to thinking about what to say next.

“How are you going to communicate?” Yunho asks, giving you his starry puppy eyes and you can't help but gulp nervously. What is he even trying to do?

“Well, I have a perfect device for that.” You say, distracting yourself from the tall and beautiful blonde beside you with a bright ass smile.

“Where?” Claire asks as if she's looking for something and fails to find it.

“Our friendship bracelets. They work with a higher bandwidth of 7GHz.” You say, pointing at the bracelet on Claire's wrist.

“7g WiFi?” Claire exclaims and you hear an audible sigh from Kevin, at which Yunho giggles and earns a glare.

“Yeah kinda like that.....i guess.” you mumble under your breath.

“Yunho doesn't have one, though?” Someone asks while your mind pulls you in a trance and you start to zone out.

“He does.” You say, almost mumbles as you start to slip into the fever dream.

“He DOES?”  They yell. 

AT THE MANOR

“You know what to do. On the signal, disperse. It's two taps, distinct and repeating 3 times. If anything goes down, the distress signal is continuous tapping. Light the flare ONLY if its a fucking emergency, and if we need to abort the mission.” You yell as low as possible while they listen to you attentively. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone shouts, tightening the strap of their backpack of supplies.

“Remember to mark your way up to the second floor. People get lost there.” You say and everyone exchanges confused looks. “It's a spell.” You remind them and they nod their heads. “Now, go. Meet you at the library!”

According to the plan, you and Yunho go through the back gate while Claire and Kevin from the front gate. The sound of the rusted iron screeching when Kevin pushes the gate echoes around the Manor and you curse under your breath. 

The way up to the first floor had been easy, then after the signal from the other team gave clearance, you decided to head to the second floor alone bidding Yunho a goodbye. It had been strange for a while, walking down the eerie, empty hallway with the feeling of something watching you the whole time. 

You stand in the middle of the never ending hallway, a ghostly whisper greets your ear and sends shivers down your spine. 

What in the fucking hell?? 

There's a ghostly touch on your arm, ice cold as it traces its finger down your warm skin. When you turn to face the monster, there's no one behind you. Then you feel it, a looming shadow over your shoulder but when you turn again, it's gone. 

So, you walk on because standing still is more dangerous. You choose to run when you see a pale face in the middle of the corridor grinning wildly at you which sends terror down your body. Your heart beats at an amazing speed as your breath shortens, adrenaline running through your body which initiates the flight mechanism because there is no way you're dealing with that demonic thing in this haunted mansion. 

“I've been searching for you for so long.” A voice echoes in the hallway or is it your brain playing tricks on you. Luckily you find the stairway leading to the second floor and run towards it but things take a turn when you realise, it is a trap. 

“I thought you were a smart girl.” The sinister voice echoes in your mind again as you walk away from the door that shut itself only to bump into something hard. Turning around you come to see the very pale face you had seen in the hallway but very clearly now. 

The man stands in front of you in his full glory, the navy uniform and wounds from the battle still decorating his lifeless body. “You traitor!” You feel a sharp pain in your chest and you look down to see a dagger pressed to your heart. “You'll repay the blood we shed that night, you vampire.” Everything goes black when he twists the knife and the last thing you see is a scared yunho trying to save you.

[farmerlesbian]

Hi! Leather anon back again. I would absolutely love the shop list, Mod Alfalfa, if you have the time! Thank you all for helping out a (wannabe) leather dyke here, I probably won't have the time and money to really get into the subculture for at least another year but in the meantime... I can look!

Hi sorry finally getting around to this! Been busy!

First, I'll give the caveat that I have not purchased from any of these shops so can't vouch for them. One exception, I do have the Camryn harness from Switch Leather co. which I like and would recommend! I like that it's custom sized so I could get it with long enough adjustable straps so it can be cinched to fit both me and my partner, I also liked that it was relatively locally made by hand and is made with real leather so it'll wear nicely and last a long time if I care for it.

Okay let's get to the list of links! These are various styles and aesthetics, things they specialize in, materials, locations, price points, types of kink and bdsm. These are in no particular order at all. As I went through my bookmarks and saves I made sure to stay focused on leather shops specifically, so this list is not including models or influencers/popular people, publications like zines or blogs, photographers or artists, kink things of other adjacent varieties, sex toys, or other assorted things like that. Hard to limit it but I have to keep this list focused! Shop around see what you like. Reblog and add your recommendations or thoughts!

Switch Leather Co. / Instagram (I have the Camryn harness)

Nocturne Leather / Instagram

Riverqueer Leatherwork / Instagram

Fruit Leather Fetish / Instagram

Leather Coven / Instagram

Kolby Brianne / Instagram

Relena's Vegan Bondage / Instagram

Boundaries Leather / Etsy / Instagram

BDSFemme Leather Instagram

Little Death Leather Instagram / Kofi

Theirs + Theirs / Instagram

Emma Alamo / Instagram

Transform Leather Co. / Instagram

Daddy's Leather Shop / Instagram

Ocelotl's Trade / Instagram

Leather Archives Instagram - not a shop but nice to follow

Black Bone Co / Instagram

Ryce NYC / Instagram

Doghouse Leathers / Instagram / Craftingroom Instagram

Current Lace and Leather Instagram (I have a hanging plant holder! It's super cute)

Shop Tina Villa / Instagram

Lupine Leather Co. / Instagram

Yama Craft Space / Instagram

Fleet Ilya / Instagram

Toxic Vision / Instagram

Agate Leather / Instagram

Creepy Yeha / Instagram

Cassandra Von Creep / Instagram

Spill Adornment / Instagram

Peg n Pedal / Instagram - not leather, but repurposed bicycle tubes

Rodeoh / Instagram - not leather, but fabric harnesses

Leather Dyke Club / Instagram

Gnat / Instagram

Leonard Condemine Instagram

Church Leather Instagram

Love Lorn Lingerie / Instagram

Dewy thee occult Instagram - not seeing a way to purchase but felt worth including

Manmade Skins / Instagram

Naassene Leathers / Instagram

Cabbage Cottage / Instagram

Activest Project / Instagram - not leather, but polypro webbing straps

Devil's Remains / Instagram

Pansy Leatherwork / Instagram / @thyfleshc0nsumed

Also, all this said, don't be afraid to buy a hide or some vintage leather items and work with it yourself! You could get an old bag and rip the seams out and use the leather for something new, or find an old jacket and turn it into a vest and add spikes, or get a hide and have a collars and floggers making craft party with your friends!

[chic-a-gigot]

L'Art et la mode, no. 33, vol. 15, 18 août 1894, Paris. La journée une élégante. Dessin de F. Fournery. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Pour faire un tour le long des grèves, avant dîner, elle tient à être particulièrement élégante, et la voici dans une robe forme Empire, en soie Liberty, vieux rose ou vert-Nil à dessins crème. Des valenciennes et des nœuds de satin noir relèvent la tonalité pâle de l'ensemble. Le chapeau, un très gros paillasson, porte au centre un nœud assorti à l'étoffe de la robe.

To take a stroll along the shores before dinner, she wants to be particularly elegant, and here she is in an Empire-shaped dress, in Liberty silk, old pink or Nile green with cream patterns. Valenciennes and black satin bows enhance the pale tone of the ensemble. The hat, a very large doormat, has a bow in the center matching the fabric of the dress.

—

Veut-elle faire une apparition le soir au Casino, ou bien faire un tour de valse dans quelque villa voisine, elle revêt une robe de soie crème à raies inégales semée d'arabesques mauves. De très fines guipures forment la berthe. Gants blancs très longs, plaquant sur les bras, et ceinture de satin noir cerclant la taille gracieuse et souple.

If she wants to make an appearance in the evening at the Casino, or to take a waltz in some neighboring villa, she puts on a cream silk dress with uneven stripes sown with mauve arabesques. Very fine guipure lace forms the berthe. Very long white gloves, flat on the arms, and a black satin belt encircling the graceful and supple waist.

[leclsrc]

for ur 3k i just want to see an omitted scene from its never over pleaseeeee <3333

i need more childhood friends to lovers w charles 🥺🥺 angsty fluffy childhood friends for the 3k please 😩😋

say it all – cl16

You bid farewell to a myriad of memories, rolled into the most memorable summer of your teenage life. (was originally part of this, can stand alone just fine)

auds here... features snoopy and childhood friend!charles again :)

You run the stretch of sand to the dock from the villa, a downhill sprint that requires stamina and laughter and constantly ends with you crashing into Charles, legs wrapping around his waist as you both flop with a thud onto the sand. It happens again now, his hands wrapped around your waist, your dress tickling the top of your thighs as you fall and laugh.

You get up on your elbows, watching him sweep sand out of his eyes. “Did you close the villa window?” Both your parents are still at dinner, so you’re both in charge of making sure nobody gets burgled or whatever.

“Yeah.” He pauses, smiling up at you, his eyes light and so green. “But it doesn’t close all the way.”

You hum in agreement. “The wind always gets in.”

Your tolerance is so bad you’re loopy from one drink, and it’d been cut with juice, even. Your hair’s littered with fine sand when you get up, hauling Charles with you as you make the slow walk to the dock for the last time. Ever since he told you he’d be in Spain for karting next year, you’d anticipated the grief over your summers in Villefranche, knowing that in time, they’d grow more and more intermittent, happening less and less—

Before you know it, you’re weeping with it. You’ll miss it. You’ll miss all of it. All of him. All of Charles. There’s always been a window for you two, something there, something unnamed. But next summer it won’t be there, and that’s what you grieve.

“We can always come back,” he says, nudging your foot with his, both half-submerged in the cold dusk water. You laugh, wiping tears away messily, leaning on his shoulder. It’s grown more sturdy with how often he’s driving, no longer lanky and “noodle-y”, as you’d joked once. It’s safe, secure. But then again, you think—it’s always been.

“I know we can,” you sniffle, staring at the blue below. Of course you can. One day you’ll be old enough to drive yourselves up to the villa, old enough to be trusted with the keys (never you), or the parking (never Charles), old enough to join the clubs with IDs that aren’t doctored. By then you might find the dress you’re wearing tacky, and Charles might be a Red Bull driver already. 

But the summers before and the summers to follow won’t be this summer. They will never be this summer. The summer of sandy toes and being old enough to have an aperol with a smidge of alcohol, the summer of beach-crunched hair, hot sun and cool evenings where you’re satiated by pasta.

The same summer you found drunk Charles is sleepy Charles, an epiphany that arrived when you saw his tanned skin against the white of your duvet, eyes fluttered closed. He wouldn’t budge if you or Hervé tried pulling him off, but he moved enough to let you sleep beside him.

The summer you tried getting him to stop calling you Snoopy, because it was too childish for you, but he’d say goodnight Snoopy before bed every night without fail. The summer you dove off a cliff a few hours away and watched as Charles chickened out from below. The summer of your first cigarette, ashes flicked into the bushes by the villa at two-thirty in the morning. The summer that started with your first heartbreak. The summer that ends with another.

Gingerly, you lace your hand in his. It’s normal, but in your head it means something else. You play out the fantasy that he’s yours, if just for a minute. This will always be the summer you spent being seventeen and feeling old enough to be loving your best friend, but young enough that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

“Any plans for the fall?” You ask, shutting the window.

“I’ll drop you off at uni,” he says. It doesn’t close all the way.

[mistydeyes]

bachelorette days and wedding nights

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: The time is finally here when the 141 pops the four word question. After all the stress of planning, you can finally enjoy the two best events of the year. Here are some visuals and headcanons for your bachelorette party and wedding.

pairing: 141 x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol/minor drug use, swearing

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price

bachelorette party

private getaway in a cabin or lakehouse with expensive liquor vibes

basically it's an adult sleepover if you think about it

price would not let your maid of honor pay for anything and even has a private martini bar fully stocked for your weekend

god you love him like he really does spoil you (he just wants his fiancee to have the best time :'))

she does bring along some silk robes and fluffy slippers for everyone to change into when they arrive

he likes the occasional updates but eventually he'll just tell you to have fun with your bridesmaids

picture hikes, picnics, and casual boating on the lake

you're just a little adventurer

this is just one big adult sleepover and you couldn't ask for anything better

wedding

something about price just screams a traditional wedding

you would probably rent out a gorgeous villa in Italy or France and have a destination wedding

your dress would be reminiscent of old Hollywood glamor and you would look like a princess walking down the aisle

def would both handwrite your own vows

something old, something blue, something borrowed, and something new is a must for you both

you'd end the wedding by driving off in a sleek car, your veil blowing in the wind as you and your husband shared many kisses to the venue

the reception itself is held in a castle or an elegant historic hall

you and your new hubby SPLURGED on this wedding

you love sitting at a long table at the front so you both can see all of your guests who came to witness your love

would definitely have a his and her drink that you could order at the bar

there is not a dry eye in the crowd when you share your first dance together and he holds you in his arms

a champagne tower is definitely there you cannot tell me otherwise

soap

bachelorette party

AN ABSOLUTELY WILD TIME

don't be surprised if you pregame the airport and then buy drinks on the plane

this weekend will be a test of your liver

your maid of honor prepared the goodie bags with advil, sunglasses, liquid IV, snacks, facemasks, makeup wipes, and most importantly CARDBOARD cutouts of Johnny's face

you still have them hanging up somewhere in your home

you would have a destination bachelorette party where you could enjoy the bars and drink under the sun

one night would definitely have everyone dress like they way you were when you met

you almost die laughing when your older sister shows up in a diaper and bonnet

but for the big night you go out, you and your bridesmaid wear fun colored dresses and matching wigs

ofc you wear a nice white dress and white/silver wig to match

Johnny loves the updates you been sending him lowkey wants to join

you definitely would have one of those sashes that said bride on it and would get all the free drinks

wedding

be prepared for the most fun wedding

the guest list would be massive as everyone and their mother knows Johnny comes from a big family

since the guest list is so large, an outdoor wedding and venue would work best

in terms of seasons, you'd be a spring or late summer bride

the seating chart is a bunch of funny polaroids/pictures of you and him over the years

you make sure the 141 has the absolute best ones of their teammate

your dress has a lot of intricate details with either lace or floral beadwork

your bouquet is very colorful and it perfectly reflects the warm weather vibe

an open bar is a must for you and Johnny

you even manage to get an mobile tap for endless beer and wine

by 9pm everyone is hammered and tearing up the dance floor

some of the best photos are during this time and you have them hanging in your home

gaz

bachelorette party

self care in a beautiful location? sign me up!

you have been wanting to lounge in a green tea bath and relax in a sauna for months

ofc your fiancé drives you to the airport and you giddly tell him you'll keep him updated

you and your bridesmaids fly out to a spa resort and are pampered the whole weekend

what's better than a mojito and a massage?

you even have a fun little photoshoot in your robes and face masks

nah because tell me why it would be hilarious if you called your fiancé when you were high out of your mind and asking him to bring you food he'd do it in a heartbeat

he does have room service delivered for you and as you're shoving French fries in your mouth, you love him even more

before you leave, you do go to a nice restaurant with the most gorgeous flowers before returning home

wedding

your guest book is made of postcards from all of your travels and you encourage everyone to write a message or advice

price easily takes the cake with the most sentimental advice for you as newly weds

your dress makes you look ethereal and Kyle is floored when he sees you walk down the aisle

your bouquet is simple and it compliments the blush hue of the theme

Kyle lifts you up when you walk down the aisle and the photographer is sure to capture the moment

speaking of which, the photographer takes candid pictures of you the whole night as you both agreed that you wanted genuine reactions instead of something staged

AUTUMN WEDDING VIBES

the venue is indoors but you add ivy leaves and tea lights which make the whole evening magical

you cannot tell me that Kyle wouldn't have the best food at his wedding

you simply have everything there and all of your guests find something to enjoy

ghost

bachelorette party

very lowkey but comfortable!

you just want a nice weekend at an airbnb or your own home with your bridesmaids

if you choose your own home, it would probably be when Simon is away on duty or he agrees to leave for a weekend

your maid of honor prepared a sangria station and a paint and sip night for you

you also have prepared a ton of movies and games for you all to play towards the evening

catering? no! you and your bridesmaids chef it up in the kitchen and enjoy your home cooked meals

i also could imagine you wanting to do that trend where it's like "make a drink based on your occupation"

it's absolutely perfect as you enjoy the company and the creative outlet

the highlight has to be an outdoor garden dinner where you all can just talk and you can destress about wedding planning

Johnny wants to take Simon out for a bachelor's party and Simon just replies with a solid "No."

wedding

i go back and forth with Simon as i feel like he would want a civil ceremony or something private but he could be convinced to have a very small wedding and reception if you wanted

this would be def your idea (stolen from Pinterest) but the seating chart would be some of your favorite books and the guests could keep them after

greenhouse or garden energy for the ceremony

your dress would be very simple (no glitter or frills here)

i'm talking about bare minimum guests here- your family, a few friends, and obvi the 141 boys

lots of private intimate pictures and not a lot of solo shots or portraits

you have a few close friends help you get ready and don't splurge on a hairdresser or makeup artist

his two favorite pictures of that day are you in your wedding dress and the one where you are kissing but are covering it with your bouquet

comfort food is the menu for tonight and you both pick dishes you love

the tapas would go HARD though, gotta keep your guests fed in between drinks

when it comes to speeches, Johnny has a 5 minute limit (although he tries to keep going)

you sneak away during the reception every so often to enjoy a private moment or dance with your new husband

he definitely always catches you off guard by telling you how beautiful you are during the whole night

[gepardling]

night-time rendezvous w/ gepard .

desc. : I arise from my hiatus much like a vampire in deathrest. The prologue for a halloween special tht no1 asked for, but i desperately needed 2 write ft. vampire landaus yippeeeee i went 2 deep on the lore besties pls idm if any1 submits asks or reqs around this AU bc i absolutely ADORE it nd didn't get 2 include all of it in da story. May be edited a lil post-release bc i didn't want 2 upload 2 late :( ( wc : 869 )

tags / cw : sfw, but mentions of blood, injury and vampirism, gn!reader, (they/them used), vampire!AU for the Landaus, reader is a human, this is slightly cliché but I LOVE MY CLICHES, proofread but lore may change

index : prologue, part 1, part 2

— Day 0

In the quiet depths of the night, Gepard, a revenant of countless millennia, stood outside his family's ancient villa nestled deep within the dark woods. He had roamed the world for eons, yet he had never been able to silence the heavy guilt that accompanied each sip of blood. The moon hung low in the sky as he grappled with the eternal hunger and remorse that were part of his existence. That's when a lost and injured traveler, you, stumbled upon his secluded refuge. Gepard was the first to find you, a wounded soul, seeking shelter in the heart of his ancestral home.

The scent of iron filled Gepard's nostrils, and a familiar angst gripped the pit of his stomach. He knew that his family, resting in crypts beneath the villa, would be acutely aware of the presence of fresh blood nearby. He couldn't avoid the hunger that was inherent in his nature, but he could control it. As he ventured out to investigate, he saw you – a weary traveler who had unknowingly stumbled into the heart of his family's domain. Gepard's eyes, centuries old and burdened with the weight of guilt, bore into yours. He hesitated for a moment, torn between his hunger and the realization that he couldn't bring harm to another soul.

With a voice that carried a mixture of both weariness and kindness, he said, "You've entered a place not meant for travelers. This is my family's home, and we're... different." Gepard longed to protect you from the danger lurking within the villa's shadows. "You should leave," he urged, although his words were tinged with reluctance. "It's not safe here for you."

"I can't walk anymore," you managed to utter, your hand clinging to the cut on your arm. The throbbing ache in your skull pounded relentlessly, causing your vision to waver in and out of darkness, much like the ebb and flow of the moon itself.

Gepard's expression shifted from concern to one of distress. He swiftly closed the distance between you, his centuries-old instincts warring with his desire to protect you. He knelt beside you, his hand hovering over your injury. "I'm...I can't let you get hurt," he whispered to himself. His own struggle with the hunger that raged within him was a torment he had lived with for centuries, but he couldn't bear to see you suffer. 

Tentatively, he extended his hand, offering you the kind of help he had never given to anyone in all his millennia. "Let me help you," he said softly, his deep voice laced with an undertone of sadness. "I can offer you shelter for the day, but after that, you must leave. This place is not meant for the living. My family..." He trailed off, the anguish evident in his eyes as he contemplated what lay ahead.

"Your... Family?" You whispered back, your mind too cloudy to make any assumptions as the pain nearly buckled your knees. The swiftness with which he scooped you up into his arms was abnormal, but you lacked the energy to resist it now. The ache in your legs still throbbed, but the pressure of his arms provided a strange sort of comfort. As he moved through the grand villa, the ancient architecture around you seemed to whisper secrets of centuries long past.

"My family," he replied, his voice a low murmur, "are not the type to welcome guests, especially those who are alive." His tone conveyed the gravity of the situation. "But I'll tend to your wounds first, and then you must leave. Quickly."

You couldn't see much of his face as you faded in and out of consciousness, but there was a quiet desperation in his eyes. Despite his almost supernatural abilities and formidable appearance, he carried you with a gentleness that spoke of deeper feelings he was unable to fully express. Gepard laid you down on a plush surface, one that seemed foreign to him, but he knew humans preferred the comfort. As you lay on the comfortable bed, the cool linen soothing your feverish skin, consciousness became a distant shore that you could barely see. He knew he had to be swift, for his kindred would soon sense the foreign essence of a human in their midst. The room around you was adorned with antique tapestries, and faint moonlight filtered through heavy drapes. Gepard's emotions churned within him, a complex blend of guilt, empathy, and fear.

Gepard's fingers worked skillfully, tending to your wounds, and he tried to stifle the rising urgency within him. As he changed the blood-stained sheets and bandaged your injuries, he couldn't help but glance towards your still form. His family's presence loomed like a storm on the horizon, and he knew he was running out of time. He sat by your bedside, locked in a silent vigil, hoping that you would awaken before the inevitable. The scent of your blood clung to the room, an indelible mark of your presence, and he knew he couldn't completely erase it. The minutes ticked by, each one heavier than the last, as he awaited the moment when you would open your eyes and, hopefully, escape the impending chaos that threatened to consume them both.

dis may or may not end up being liiiike 3 ~ 4 pts long bc oooooppss i rlly like vampires srry nd i like having geppie as a vamp who doesn't like 2 drink blood nd he does become kinda toxic later (ooc? what's that?? i firmly believe i can make it work) WAIT UNTIL U SEE SERVAL OOOOHHH MY GOD ANGST CENTRAL

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Part 12: (When In Rome) : I'm Just Fine 'Cause I Know That You Are Mine

Series Masterlist

(11) I'd Rather Jump In Your Bones

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

a/n: hiiii, so i wrote the beginning of this chapter whilst listening to “Vacation Eyes” and “Summer In The Hamptons” by Jonas Brothers, it's cute, you should listen them it whilst reading :).... Also just a quick disclaimer: i do not know anything about George’s family including his dad, this was just all my imagination…. Okay now that's done, i hope you enjoy reading this, im so happy i managed to write a new chapter for this series i love so much, i love you - Lou

She dances around the living room of the villa, some old rock music plays from Matty's phone, they missed hearing it from a proper speaker but he didn't care. Not when she was clad in a pair of red lace panties and his shirt, all of the buttons undone. She'd spin and he'd get an eye full of skin, he could see the most intimate parts to her, covered by a single piece of fabric, one in which moved with her and allowed him moments of her.

He wondered when they had got here, completely unwavering in their love for each other, not scared or worried of being intimate with each other. It came so naturally now and he knew he would truly struggle without it, without her. He knew it would destroy him and he was extremely doubtful that he'd ever recover if he was to lose her. That thought sometimes creeps in, of what it would be like to lose her, although it happens less regularly now.

"You're beautiful love" he sits with a joint in-between his lips, hanging loosely as he talks. She spins as the last of the Italian sun which was setting, covers her form. It leaves him breathless, like someone had punched him in the chest, he had a sudden onslaught of emotions, flooding him. God he loved her, he knows now, more than anything, that he loves her, more than anything he's ever loved before, more than anyone. She was his everything. He would have never given up his dream that he was living, for anyone, but he would, for her, and them and their life together, their future. He wouldn't even see it as a sacrifice, more like an end of an era, one which allowed them to start their life together. He wonders if Adam wanted that for Carly and their baby, if he did, Matty understood why now.

He always felt like he was in this world alone, every force working against him instead of with him, always fighting his battles and those of the world, alone. But then there was her, taking his hand and helping him through all of it.

She steps towards him with a huge smile on her face and it's not long before she's draping herself over his thighs, legs resting horizontally against him, one hand hangs behind him, grasping the nape of his neck when she settles.

She easily takes the joint from his lips, weaving it into hers and he watches intently as she inhales. The joint is moved from her mouth and then she's exhaling the smoke into his which falls open easily, he inhales the smoke she lets out and they smile, in unison, before she weaves the end of the joint back into his lips. His mouth closes around it and she holds it as he inhales.

"You're beautiful love" she repeats his words back to him, removing the joint so she could press her mouth to his, she breathes in the smoke as they kiss, feeling high on the weed but also him. The Italian sun and air had done wonders for his curls, sitting in perfect corkscrews that would bounce slightly when she'd run her fingers through his hair. His eyes glistened with happiness and his skin glowed. Yeah. He was beautiful.

"Only you could find someone to sell you weed in Italy" she says as she pulls back. He takes the spliff from her, placing it on an ashtray and letting it burn. He pulls her tighter, pressing his mouth to her hair.

"I've got connections all over the world love" it makes her laugh, a loud, snorting kind of laugh, and it makes him laugh too.

"We've only got tomorrow left love, what do you want to do?" he asks and she shrugs, nuzzling into his chest and allowing him to hook his unused arm around her frame.

"I don't care Matty, as long as I'm with you" she confirms with a peck to his mouth, he doesn't let her move, keeping her there for a longer one.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that right?" she nods after he speaks and then he's smiling muttering "good" before kissing her again. She nuzzles back into his chest, eventually falling asleep there, with him humming a tune and the scent of weed drifting around the room.

The next day they go to the beach, her clad in a little bikini that Matty can't take his eyes off, him in a pair of black swimming trunks that barely hide him. They kiss in the water and they laugh, Matty grabs handfuls of her arse and she scolds him, reminding him that a very cute old picture (who have been taking photos of them unbeknownst to them) are watching them.

They remove themselves from the water when their skin starts to wrinkle. The old couple find them, and explain to the best of their ability that they thought their love was beautiful and that they took some pictures of them, that they wanted to send them to Matty and Lou. They agree. The pictures show up later that day, the couple look through them and smile, muttering I love you's to one another.

They leave the pictures on a coffee table and make love on the sofa. They're Interrupted by a loud knocking at their door. Matty’s been buried in-between her legs for what feels like a lifetime now, mouth glistening in her, pulling three orgasms from her from his mouth and tongue alone. He eventually leaves her, swearing as he walks to the door, she giggles when he doesn't even bother wiping her juices from his mouth.

He returns a few minutes later, burying himself back in-between her legs, making her moan loudly as his tongue flicks her clit.

"What did they want?" She asks through a moan.

"Just a noise complaint" his words are accompanied by the curling of his fingers, hitting her g-spot perfectly making her gasp at the feeling and his words. It's funny how he doesn't stop, delving in deeper, determined to make her cum again.

"Matty we should stop then..." she says through a particularly loud moan.

He pulls away then, looking at her with blown out eyes, his hair a mess on his head due to her hands attack, and his mouth, the one that's glistening in her, falls open.

"Love they should feel lucky to hear you like this... fucking gorgeous. I saw we should be louder" he gets a mean, mischievous look on his face and an even meaner smirk and then he's diving back in, pulling more noises from her, loud ones that she couldn't even silence if she tries.

"We're leaving tomorrow anyway" he says when he makes her cum with a scream. She pulls him up, wrapping her hand around his aching member. They make love and fuck for hours, by the end of the night, she's sore and aching but blissfully so, they've had sex everywhere they possibly could around the villa. Lou laughs into Mattys chest when she thinks about the people who have to clean the next day, blissfully unaware of what they'd gotten up to in their short stay

They return home the next day. Pictures tucked away in one of Matty's books. They walk through the airport hand in hand, truly in love.

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Their tanned skin is covered in goosebumps as they arrive back in their hometown, the weather isn't too cold but is reasonably cooler than Rome. They leave the airport hand in hand and Matty shields her body with his larger frame, hiding her from the flashing cameras as they get into the car.

They had agreed that they'd go their separate ways today, Lou needing to see her dad and Matty wanted to see his mum and Louis. But tomorrow, Lou's dad was throwing a welcome home party and had invited all the guys and their parents. George's dad had also worked with Lou's to organise it, buying a large amount of alcohol (too much as always), ready to celebrate the fact they had returned home. So the car pulls up at her dad's new house, having moved back to Manchester a few years ago when Mia moved out of their home in London, and he quickly presses a kiss to her mouth before walking round to her side of the car, opening it for her, making her smile widely.

"Will you let me walk you to the door?" Matty asks and she giggles before nodding.

"you know my dad is going to see you right?" She asks and Matty nods, pulling her to his side.

"Figured briefly seeing him now would make tomorrow less awkward" Matty says with a kiss to her cheek and she finds herself agreeing.

They step into the threshold of her childhood home, hearing her dad rush to the door and swoop her into his arms making her giggle before he's putting her back down, eyes finding Matty’s. Her dad was the definition of a teddy bear, a big softie at heart despite his hard demeanour.

"Denise's son right?" He asks, extending his hand out to Matty.

"Yes sir" Matty says making her dad chuckle as they shake hands.

"None of that sir nonsense. Phil is just fine" he says and Matty nods.

"How are your parents? Always got along well with them" he says, ignoring the fact that he knew Matty made his daughter's childhood less than bearable.

"Good... I think. About to go home and see them now actually" Matty says, smiling as her dad nods, before his eyes flick back to his daughter.

"How was Rome pickle? Have a good time" her dad asks Lou, matty smiles at the nickname.

"Was beautiful, Dad" she says. "Well Matty... We'll see you tomorrow I hope" he says and Matty nods again.

"You will, I'm looking forward to it, as are my parents and Louis" he says before saying goodbye and pulling Lou into a tight hug. She pulls back and places a quick peck to his lips making him blush in front of her dad.

"I love you" she says, making his face soften (and her father's)

"I love you too" Matty says before he leaves their house.

"He truly makes you happy huh?" Her dad says as he hugs her tightly again.

"He does"

"Okay, say no more. We will ignore the fact he was horrible to you when you were younger. I will resist from beating him up" he jokes.

"As if you'd lay a hand on him" Lou heard a voice from behind them, one she recognised all too well, it was Mia.

"What the hell?" She says as Mia walks towards her, the two girls hugging each other tightly.

"Thought you were going to be in London" Lou says, her little sister shaking her head.

"Got to welcome you and the guys home don't I?" Mia says and Lou raises her eyebrows.

"Oh yeah... I'm sure it's not because you want to see a certain bassist" she says and Mia is quickly shushing her. Lou then proceeds to spend the rest of the morning with her dad and sister, leaving around noon to see her mum. The two women go shopping and catch up on everything they've missed, her mother wanting to hear everything there is to know about Matty. After the much needed catch up, Lou heads back to her dad's house, eating dinner before heading to bed, not before receiving a phone call from Matty. The two speak about their days despite knowing they'd see each other tomorrow. She falls asleep in the comfy bed, finally feeling back at home.

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The next day the house is slowly being swarmed by people, most of whom wanted to see Lou, pulling her into a tight hug before she's being tugged in another direction.Soon she's being thrown over someone's shoulder, recognising their voice immediately and the way they laugh as she giggles.

"Put me down you man baby" Lou says to the man who's holding her: George's dad. A nickname she had always called him because he was absolutely childish, one of the reasons she loved him.

"Seriously dad put Lou down" he hears George say, her head snapping upwards in the direction of the voice, eyes finding her best friend. They two of them smile at one another and soon she's put down onto the ground, George's dad hugging her tightly before she's pulled into the embrace of his mother, all before letting George pull her into his own arms.

"Missed you pumpkin" George says, despite it not being that long since they last saw one another

."It really hasn't been that long" she then hears from behind them, eyes finding Ross', who has her little sister tucked under his arm, holding her in a gentle but casual manner.

"As if you didn't miss me Macdonald" she says, his grip loosening on Mia, meeting her half way to hug her tightly.

"You're looking awfully cosy" she whispers into him, making him chuckle.

"It's good with you right?" Ross asks, the two not having spoken about the whole mia situation yet

"As long as you're happy" she says, she knew with Ross she didn't have to have the "don't hurt her or I'll kill you" speech, she just had to be supportive of the pair.

He pulls back to look at her, smiling widely at her before resuming his spot next to Mia, who smiles adoringly up at him as he holds her again.She's then pulled into a hug from Charli who she hadn't even realised was here, the pair jumping up and down at how excited they were to be with each other again.

"Pregnant woman coming through, need to see the little man's godmother please" she hears Carly say, people parting for her. Lou is quickly turning and running towards her, her arms wrapping round both Carly and Hann.

"The gangs back together then aye?" It's Matty who's speaking now, she didn't even know when he'd arrived but she'd recognise his voice (and scent) anywhere. He wears a plain white shirt which he’s rolled up, revealing his tanned arms, he adorns a black tie which she knows he will eventually loosen when it starts irritating him. He looks as good as ever.

"Guys it's really not been that long'' Ross says making everyone laugh "and since when have you decided who's going to be godparents?" Everyone is laughing again at Ross' words.

"You didn't know?" Matty jokes, eyes finding Lou's again and the both smile at each other. The group talk before they disperse, talking amongst themselves or moving to speak to others.Matty loses track of Lou as he's speaking with her dad. He eventually finds her in the garden, his own mother's arm wrapped around her small frame, the two women laughing about something.

"Well look at you two" Matty says, Denise pulling him into a hug before letting him go, of course he doesn't move away too far, scooping Lou into his side, his mother smiling at the sight.

"I'll leave you to it. Lou, I'll text you about that lunch, yes?" She asks and Lou nods. Denise leaves with a kiss to Lou’s cheek and then Matty’s, the later squirming and lightly pushing her away, making the older woman chuckle and roll her eyes at his girlfriend. 

"planning lunch with my mother? Wow you must really like me" Matty says, pulling her into his arms so they're facing each other.

"I must really love you" she emphasised the love part, making him blush. Her smile is one of the most genuine ones he's seen, perhaps it's because she's surrounded by everyone she loves, everyone wanting a piece of her (if not just a quick hug), or perhaps it's because of him.

"Hmm... You must really love me" he says and she nods as she leans up to press her mouth to his for a quick peck.

"Missed you" he says, despite the fact they had only been apart for a day. She felt it too though, she spent the whole day yesterday turning her head expecting to see Matty, to tell him something she thought of, but of course he wasn't there.

"Missed you too" she admits, closing the gap between them and kissing him again.

"Oi Healy stop necking someone who's far too good for you" they hear behind them making them both turn. They see Matty's younger brother Louis walking towards them and Lou almost gasps as he pulls her into a hug.

"What the fuck louis! You're like an adult now" Lou exclaims, making all three laugh."It's good to see you, looking amazing as ever" Louis says, he was always a little flirt, even when they were younger. She doesn't miss the look Matty gives him before he's shoving him lightly.

"Watch it" Matty warns before the two of them are jokingly fighting each other. She feels someone wrap an arm around her shoulder, looking at the person, revealing her mum.

"That's your boyfriend huh?" She says, the two women laughing before Lou smiles at the curly haired man.

"Yeah... What am I thinking aye?" She laughs. Lou and her mum spoke quite a lot during the tour and she told her mum everything Matty did to show her his true intentions and feelings. It was safe to say her mother liked him and he had redeemed himself. 

Lou coughs drawing Matty's attention towards them, he instantly snaps away from his brother.

"I am so sorry" he says but Lou's mum just laughs before pulling him into a hug.

"Nice to see you again Matthew. You've grown up a lot since you used to torture my daughter" she jokes but Matty frowns at her words.

"She's joking babe" Lou says, making the worry wipe from his face.

"Lou's told me all about the wonderful things you've done for her... So I say the past is the past and... Thank you for making my daughter happy" she says, pulling him into another hug. The four of them talk, the Healy boys talking about their respective lives, Lou watching and listening proudly.

Eventually all the parents find their way inside, leaving their 'children' outside with one another reminiscent of the old days.

Lou is sat next to Matty, clung to his side with her legs hooked over his lap, hand clasped on her inner thigh, the man thankful that the dress had a high slit.

Ross was sitting with Mia, his arm hooked around the back of her chair as her hand was placed in his lap, gently holding each other, their situation very new.

Carly was hooked under Adams arm, hands holding each other over her bump.Charli was sat in a similar way to Lou: legs hooked over George, head resting against his shoulder as his hand held hers in her lap.Louis was the only one on his own, not that he minded, he was sat near Hann and Carly talking to the couple about all things baby.

"Didn't tell you how beautiful you look tonight love" Matty says, his voice hushed keeping the conversation private. She's dressed in a brown midi summer dress, dipping at her waist before hugging the curves of her hips, the slit high on one side of her leg, revealing a large portion of her thigh.

"Thank you" she says simply with a chaste kiss pressed against his mouth. “You look good” she says, making him smirk.

"Can't believe you're my girl" he says, shaking his head at his words "so lucky"

"So am I Healy" she says, and she can't help but kiss him again, not breaking away from each other until they hear George shout an "oi oi" like they were kids again.

"Oh my god, let's play truth or dare!" George then says and everyone either laughs or groans."Mate we're not 15 anymore!" Hann says and they all laugh again

."Oh come on, don't be boring! We're back in our hometown... Let's act like kids again" George says and his words somehow persuade the group to agree.

"In that case..." Lou says, grabbing her bag from the floor and collecting something from it, Matty chuckling as he sees what she's holding: two blunts.

"This might help things" she says, making everyone cheer, even Carly, who although she can't smoke the substance is fully supporting everyone else.

"Oh god... I remember the first time you guys made me smoke weed and I was sick all over George’s garden" Hann says, making everyone laugh.

"Wasn't that the night you got with Freddie West?" George says, pointing at Lou. Freddie was a guy two years above everyone else, someone who all the girls fancied and someone who Matty despised, it was truly the only reason she got with him. She hears Matty groan behind her as she lights the blunt, passing the other to George for him to light it, sharing his with Mia, Ross and Charli.

"Yeah..." Lou says, chuckling to herself at the memory.

"Fucking hated that guy" Matty says next to her and she looks at him as she inhales, before threading the end through his own lips.

"I only got with him to piss you off" she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. Matty coughs at the confession making everyone laugh loudly. Matty's eyes find Mia knowing she'd know the truth.

"Yeah she told me that... Said he was an awful kisser with a tiny dick" Mia said and she hears George laugh loudly before Ross is laughing along. Matty smirks next to her.

"Oh really?" Matty says and Lou rolls her eyes.

"Alright... You got with Melanie that night so you can't say shit" she says making everyone groan at the memory

."Didn't she try to suck you off in front of like basically everyone" Ross says and his eyes find George, the pair laughing loudly as they remember what happened next, Matty groans and his hand comes to cover his face.

"And then she gagged and was sick on my dick yes everyone fucking knows" Matty says making everyone laugh loudly.

"Never thought I'd hear my brother say that" Louis says, everyone's laughter increasing tenfold.

"We're not even playing Truth or dare yet and you guys are telling all the goss" Charli said, the group continued to smoke the weed, each of them feeling it more than usual due to how much they were laughing.

"Alright alright..." George says, everyone finally managing to stop laughing "Lou, truth or dare" he says and she smirks at the man

."Truth" "boring," Ross says, making everyone laugh again.

"What's the most amount of orgasms you've had in one night?" Charli says, making Lou laugh as George groans next to her.

"Stop being a baby, we're literally playing this with Lou and Mattys siblings you can deal with hearing about this" Charli slapping her boyfriends chest lightly.

"6" Lou confirms, everyone gasping at that, making her shrug, Matty smirking next to her as everyone cheered.

"Think it was more than that don't you love' Matty mumbles into her ear making her blush.

"Fucking hell you guys are feral" George says.

"Alright George, truth or dare" Matty says, eyes never leaving his best mates.

"Dare" he confirms.

"Swap clothes with Charli" he says and the whole group laughs as they do. "Truth or dare Ross" Louis says and the bearded man thinks for a moment.

"fuck it. Dare" he says and Louis smirks, his eyes find Lou's who nods.

"Dare you to kiss mia" and Louis, Matty and Lou all smirk as the pair look at one another, Ross swallowing, seemingly nervous.

"You two planned this somehow" Ross says before he focuses on mia.

His hand finds her jaw, holding her gently, he smiles down at her as she nods, letting him know it was okay, he gently presses his mouth to hers, making everyone cheer for the pair of them.

"I'm going to kill you" mia says to Lou making her laugh and mouth a

"thank me later"

They continue the game until it's Matty's turn to be asked. He opts for truth and Hann speaks up, surprising everyone with his words

"Did you ever think about Lou when having sex with someone else?"

Everyone oooos at that and Matty stares at her, squeezing the hand that was on her thigh.

"Oh all the time" he confesses, brutally honest, which makes everyone laugh but Lou can't help but press her mouth to his, making out for a minute or two everyone cheering, even George who was too high to care now.

"I love you so much" she laughs against his mouth, mainly because George had started to make fake retching noises, Matty throws a middle finger up at his mate and they all begin laughing as Matty kisses her again.

"I love you too darling" he says, pecking her lips once more before pulling away.

The game of truth or dare is forgotten and the group all begin talking about different things, like how the tour is starting soon and how they were all excited to be on the road together again.

Matty sits, watching his friends and his girlfriend. He knows, in that moment, that this is the happiest he's ever been, with her and his friends, the people who were his family now.

He couldn't wait for the day he could introduce her as his wife and maybe this family would have a few kids running around, their kids. Yeah... he knows he wants that. More than anything.

He loves her. Truly loves her. She was his everything. 

[hebuiltfive]

In Light Of Recent Events

2004 Jeff and Penny have been living rent-free in my mind.

Not sure if I'll go further with this one at the moment, but it was prompted by this post here.

Tagging @firstonthescene because it was also prompted by our discussion the other day and I thought you might like to see it!

AO3 link here, but the full fic is below the cut!

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“You look as though you’ve hardly slept a wink. Have you been awake all night?”

Jeff grumbled in response to Penelope’s questioning. Did he really look as terrible as he felt? He yawned, maundering down to the breakfast bar and ruffling his hair, which only served to make it even more untidy and unkempt than before. He slid onto the stool beside Penelope’s.

“Good morning to you too, Penny. Here I thought you Brits had more manners.”

Without skipping a beat she poured him a coffee from the cafetière and slid it over to him with a smile.

Another yawn, this time stifled, and Jeff raised the cup to his lips. The scent was strong, helping to alert his senses far before the taste could. Bitter and potent; whoever made this batch was certainly a coffee lover.

That ruled Penny out.

“You haven’t yet answered the question, Jeff.” She no-so-subtly prompted as she returned to her newspaper. Only Penny would have possession of the latest copy while on retreat on a private island. Perhaps Parker had done a quick supplies run before sunrise for her…

“It’s fine.” Jeff claimed, though doubt laced his words.

He cast a quick glance out of the veranda, at the still pools that lay beyond. In spite of the early hour, he realised it was far too quiet considering the amount of people the villa was currently host to. “Where is everyone?”

“I believe most of them are down at the beach, though Brains could still be cooped up in his lab.” Penelope folded the paper and lowered it. She twirled in her seat to better face Jeff. “If I were you, I would try and get a few more hours of rest.”

From above the crease where Penny had folded the paper glared the unmistakable eyes of the Hood. Jeff stared back with a scowl.

Manicured nails clicked in front of his face. “Don’t look at that. It’s over now.”

“Is it?”

Jeff was reluctant to believe it. He tore his gaze away from the printed photo.

“I don’t know, Penny, something tells me we’ll be seeing him again, sooner than any of us would like.”

“That is out of any of our hands and a hurdle we shall jump if it gets to it. Right now, Jeff, you need sleep.”

“Can’t.” He replied stubbornly, jumping off the stool with a large stretch. Something in his lower back clicked. He was getting too old for this. “I’ve got to run a post-mission report by the President.”

“Let Scott or Virgil handle it.”

“They’ve already been through enough. They deserve a break.”

“As do you.”

As they all did, Jeff thought to himself. International Rescue’s work very rarely led them into dealing, first-hand, with criminals who sought to obliterate them where they stood. Jeff found himself eternally grateful for Penelope’s unwavering support. Without her, they’d all be… well, he’d rather not think of that.

“I’ll try and get some nap time in after the call.”

“Nonsense! You’ll go for a nap right now.”

“Yes, mom.” The quick quip was thrown before Jeff could rein it back in.

Penny, though she pretended to be unimpressed by his jibe, elegantly slid off her perch with an amused smirk. “Your mother would tell you the same as I, Jeff, as well you know. Now, get yourself back to bed.”

Jeff chuckled. He observed the sun, now fully risen over the horizon. He had come so close to never seeing it again. His boys had come so close to never seeing it again. Now, in the distance, he could hear the laughter and cheers of the family as they played on the beach below the villa, under the warmth of that radiant star.

They were home, but it had been close.

Too close.

For a moment, Jeff acknowledged the truth behind his lack of wanting to sleep. It did not solely lie with the report he was due to give. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the face of that tyrant, of the man who had tried to take everything away from him. The man who had so very nearly succeeded.

He saw his boys suffocating.

He saw his youngest almost fall to an early, gruesome demise.

He saw Lucille’s disappointed face from beyond the grave as she scrutinised his actions that had nearly led all of them to the point of no return.

Jeff hadn’t slept — didn’t want to sleep — simply because he couldn’t.

Penny’s expectant curiosity caught his attention. She was good at reading people. It was what made her an expert field agent, but rarely did Jeff find it comforting when the skill was used on him.

Today, for once, he did.

Her hand gently lay upon his arm. “It will pass, Jeff.”

“Will it?”

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that made Jeff feel like he was on the verge of crumbling. The weight of all that had passed had begun to press down upon him heavily.

“These things take time.”

“What if I don’t have time, Penny?” Desperation overtook his normal ability to suppress those nagging worries. “He knows who we are, where we are! A man like that might have no end of friends who would happily pick up his dirty work while he’s locked away. What’s to say he hasn’t already tattled? What’s to say we’re not already being targeted again? What’s to say we’re not just sitting ducks?”

“Jeff.” Penelope gently coaxed him back from the threat of his spiral.

He felt ridiculous, almost embarrassed to be so worked up over something that, as Penelope had already claimed, was now in the past. It didn’t stop his fear. John, arguably the member of the team who was the least likely to get into any peril from their actions on Earth, had been the sitting duck yesterday. Who was to say one of his other boys wouldn’t be a target tomorrow?

A sigh passed between his lips. Perhaps there was an argument to be made regarding his lack of sleep after all.

Determined to not appear overwhelmed, despite his feelings on the contrary, Jeff offered his best smile. “I know, I know. Listen, I need to go and make this call. I’ll be up in the Round House. If the boys ask, tell them I’ll be down for lunch.”

“That is unless sleep gets the better of you, of course.”

Her eyes did not pity him but sympathy was evidently present. Jeff knew that, for as long as Tracy Island needed her, for as long as he needed her, she’d remain, no matter how long it took to clean up the mess.

“Thank you, Penny.”

“What ever for?”

“All of it.”

The morning passed by easier with the help of Penelope’s words.

She did not need to know about the thirty minutes of catch-up sleep Jeff sought when he reached the Round House, nor did she need to be aware of the extra forty minutes he caught after he’d finished his call with the President, but he knew, as he returned to that kitchen at lunch, that she would correctly surmise it.

[welcomingdisaster]

Scene Saturday!

i was tagged by @thescrapwitch and @eilinelsghost to share a little something from a WIP. here's something i'm writing for russingon week!

The last days of a stark, white-blue winter fade in the opening notes of the coming spring. Crisp light flecks of snow give way to heavy crystalline flakes, bunching together in formations as many-petalled flowers, or splayed out silhouettes of elves and men alike, twisted into oddly slumped figures. Then comes the spring rain, in fresh heavy drops that seem to wash the sky of clouds, the sprinkles of spring snowdrops in while spring ice, delicate as lace, the scatters of spring blooms, magnolia and cherry and apple, dogwood in bright pink and virgin white, quite as clean as the snow. Spring stars shine out of the spring sky, cheerful and fey, and Fingon Fingolfion goes to horse-races and sits sketching. Dives below ice into spring lakes while his lover shivers on the shore. Eats flat-bread with honey. Follows his lover to dog-shows, where they link arms in public, Fingon’s hand resting on the smooth, unscarred stub of Maedhros’ right arm, tracing circles around the bone of his wrist, and comes home with two wonderfully soft dachshund puppies, one a long-furred dark grey and one a mottled chestnut, little teeth sharp as needles and little velvet tongues stinking with puppy-breath. 

He smokes with his brother on the white cliffs overlooking the sea, sitting shoulder to shoulder, sampling new strains of pipe-weed brought over from other lands and laughing at jokes that would not be funny sober. He rides with his sister to the edges of isle, sleeping in the hollows of trees when they grow too exhausted to continue. He draws maps with his father, plotting out the outlines of new continents, and together they entertain the modest hobby of vineyard-keeping. 

He goes and worships at the temples of the air, shuts his eyes in meditation and sees himself quite contentedly as one small cog of a machine beyond his understanding. He runs his fingers over the prayer beads in his hair and breathes through them, feeling the air cycle through him, each vein humming with the greater powers of Arda. 

He comes to know his new body quite as well as he had known the old, and then better. He fucks Maedhros and is fucked by him; indulges in a variety of sex-acts that in a past life he might have left firmly to the realm of Men and Dwarves. He lays in his lover’s arms, most nights, and lets himself be soothed by the feeling of hands undoing his braid. 

It would be unfair to say all of his days are the same; indeed though sweet they are quite as different from one another as the snowflakes of the fading winter, and all the sweeter for the knowledge that he ought not expect them to end. 

Of course Fingon is not untroubled. Ill dreams find him, now and then. The weather turns and he feels a different cold in his bones, or else something catches him oddly in the mirror and the ghost of fire lingers in his blood, chasing him out of his sunlight villa and into the lake. Sometimes he misses Húrin so intensely his chest begins to ache with it, and he reads again and again of the Man’s fate, more unsettled each time. 

At times he worries for Maedhros, who is not precisely friendless but certainly not so well-loved as Fingon is, seeking company when the desire strikes him mostly from distant scholarly connections or Fingon’s friends. He has his hounds, of course; an endless stream of them, mostly quite small and rather useless, and when a certain mood strikes over him he goes down to work in the vineyards, to write something or other of the crossing of plants. 

At times he worries that Maglor has not come; that Maglor, they feel, shall not come. No ships will bear him here, he who has not died; and he will keep living, stubborn, in that other land which is now his home. 

(At times, Maedhros says, they share dreams. He wakes weeping, and longing, and sorry; but there is nothing, of course, to be done for it.)

But these troubles are scattered, and few. The morning that the Spring festival, the festival of rebirth, Fingon wakes quite content on his side of the mattress—pleasantly firm, unlike the horribly soft bedding on Maedhros’ side, because his lover likes best to be sucked into his bed’s embrace so well it is a miracle he can rise at all—and rises with a pleasant anticipation, perching in the windowsill with his silver mirror to do his makeup by the light of the sun. 

Maedhros groans, perhaps dreaming, but when he wakes he cannot remember it. There is nothing in the day that would make it seem a turning-point, a beginning, an end.    

credit to @sallysavestheday for the stoner turgon HCs lmao... i'll tag! sallysavestheday, @thelordofgifs @zealouswerewolfcollector @that-angry-noldo @polutrope @jouissants @searchingforserendipity25 @swanmaids @meadowlarkx and anyone else who wishes! <3

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo Childhood Friends - WGF Universe

This one is a bit long, so I'm putting it under a cut.

Ten-year-old Xavier Thorpe normally loved the Addams estate. He didn’t know any other family with its own swamp, cemetery, or secret underground canal that led to interesting rooms and vaults.

It was the first time he had ever been sad there, however.

It was his grandmother’s funeral, and like any Addams event, it was done at night under the stars and moon.

He wore an uncomfortable suit that was a bit too small, but his father said that now grandma was dead, he would shrink to fit.

Xavier didn’t know people could shrink, he thought they could only grow. He also didn’t understand what his grandmother’s death had to do with his size, but he took his father’s word for it.

He stood outside one of the many rooms in Addams manor, Miss Eudora and his father were arguing again. The adults never yelled, mostly they were too prideful to do something as gauche as yelling, but he could sense it in their terse voices that they did not like each other.

He didn’t understand why not, as Grandma Violet and Miss Eudora were the best of friends.

But the two had never gotten along, and ever since Grandma Violet died, Vincent was even less willing to pretend he liked Miss Eudora.

He thought he heard some snippets of what they were angry about, something about a villa in the south of France. He thought maybe his father wanted it, but Xavier didn’t know why. They had never been there, and they had a huge penthouse in New York and another in Las Vegas.

He was also certain the arguments were about him, as Miss Eudora didn’t like that his father was living amongst the Normie’s so much.

To Xavier’s heartbreak, he would later learn that his father had much more planned for them in terms of cutting themselves off from Outcast society. If he had known then that it would be the last time he’d see Miss Eudora or the Addams siblings for years, he would have run away and hid somewhere in the vast estate.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” a voice told him coolly, which made him jump.

He turned to see Wednesday, standing there in her best black dress. Most of her clothes looked the same, but this was one embroidered with roses and the collar delicate white silk.

“Unless it’s something really interesting,” her twin sister Freya had popped out of nowhere and whispered right into his ear, which made him jump again.

Freya then stood next to Wednesday, a wide smile on her face, amused that he had been scared twice. She wore a similar dress, except hers had spiderwebs instead of rose embroidery, and the collar was lace silk and not solid.

They wore matching twin braided pigtails, but Wednesday’s were looped at the ends to mimic a noose.

Xavier tried to gather what was left of his ten-year-old dignity and stood up straight.

“Freya, be kind,” Wednesday warned her twin, it was not the time to antagonize Xavier.

The other girl’s smile didn’t leave her face, but she scrunched her nose in acknowledgement.

The adults’ voices were raising higher, and the children knew not to get involved in adult business.

“Want to play hide and seek?” Wednesday offered, thinking the game would cheer Xavier up.

Addamses didn’t mourn like the Normie’s or even other clans. They embraced Death and looked forward to the True Peace brought by Oblivion and becoming one with the Void. If souls were not ready to go into the Void, then they could still communicate with the Dead as the Frumps were powerful mediums.

They were taught, however, that some were deeply saddened when one died regardless.

Wednesday could understand that. Even if the Dead were at peace, the Living had to spend the time between life and joining them without their loved ones. What was speaking with the Dead compared to embracing the Living?

She looked at Xavier, his vivid green eyes sad and his round cheeks slightly red from crying.

“Yeah,” he immediately forgot that the adults were arguing and for a moment was distracted from losing his grandmother.

There were so many places in the mansion to hide, and he was certain he would find even more new and interesting places.

He was It first and gave them to the count of twenty. He had found Wednesday in a mausoleum and Freya on top of a bookcase. He had found Wednesday first, so he and Freya went to go hide.

Wednesday found Freya in a suit of armor, and Xavier was in Grandmama’s large iron pot in the kitchen.

All of this took hours, and it was a nice break from missing his grandmother.

Freya tended to be an aggressive Seeker. Instead of gently tapping on the Hider to tag them as found, she would jump on them or tackle them to the ground. He wanted to try extra hard to hide from her.

His feet found their way to the Addams Family mortuary and crematorium.

That’s where he found her casket. During the wake it had been decorated with onyx skulls and her namesake flower. In the brick mortuary, most of the decorations had been removed. He knew that soon, at midnight, she would be lowered down into a grave on the property.

That had been another point of contention with his father, he had wanted his mother to be buried with his father, Violet’s husband, in the Outcast cemetery in New York. But Violet had been clear in her will what she wanted done with her remains. Xavier didn’t understand why it made his father so upset and was told it was a “grown up thing.”

It was probably disrespectful to go hide in a casket, but he couldn’t stop his hands from lifting the lid and then climbing in.

He was certain it was Addams magic that preserved the body so perfectly, as the only way he could tell she was dead was that she was cold and wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much he asked her to.

He laid himself beside her, wanting one last goodbye.

“I’ll miss you grammy,” he whispered to her as he felt the soft silk of the collar of her dress.

Unbeknownst to Xavier, Freya crept into the mortuary and saw that Xavier was in the casket with Ms. Violet. She gave him a few moments out of respect, but there was Chaos in her blood. She saw the casket was on wheels and the cremator was right there. All it would take would be to push the casket to the entrance and press a button.

She was certain he would be fine…he was basically an Addams after all.

So, she pulled the lid closed and locked the casket. She smiled when she heard muffled yelling and desperate scratching. She pushed the casket to the cremator and set it aflame. It took a moment for the fire to get hot enough and then the casket on the conveyor started to move slowly.

Before Xavier was in any real danger, Wednesday had come in and heard the racket.

She excitedly stopped the conveyor and wondered why Freya wasn’t more excited at the possibility that Ms. Violet might have come back from the dead.

She tilted her head curiously when Xavier was there when she lifted the lid.

“You are not Ms. Violet come back to life,” she was a bit disappointed.

He couldn’t respond as his heart was nearly beating out of his chest at almost having been burned alive. He was also angry because his grandmother wanted to be buried, not cremated.

He turned an angry eye to Freya who simply giggled and then high tailed it out of there as if they were still playing a game.

“I advise against pitting yourself against my sister,” Wednesday warned, understanding that Freya had gone too far. “She would kill you before you got within an arm’s reach. Grandmama is already grieving for Ms. Violet, I would not have you add to it.”

She wasn’t boasting of her sister’s prowess, merely stating a fact.

His initial instinct was to argue, but all it took was one look into her fathomless black eyes and he felt like he was floating. It was something that always happened when he was around Wednesday.

The fight left him and he agreed.

“Come, grandmama can treat your hands,” and without waiting to see if he’d follow her, she started to walk away. He quickly caught up to her, and he was treated to a detailed history of various tortures that included being buried or burned alive.

True to Wednesday’s word, grandmama had patched him up with her special mud. He wouldn’t even be left with scars from tearing at the lid of the casket.

“Go to the kitchens, there will be some cookies waiting for you,” Grandmama promised, affectionately stroking his cheek with her thumb. “Freya, wait here,” she ordered her second great granddaughter.

Xavier couldn’t help his smirk as he and Wednesday left.

Freya rolled her eyes at him, she wasn’t afraid of her grandmama.

“Ma petite monstre,” she affectionately called to Freya and let her sit in her lap, she knew her nature and that she couldn’t be too mad at her, “Why did you almost set Xavvie on fire?”

Freya admired her grandmama’s purple hair, dyed just for the funeral and was in awe of her jeweled embroidered jacket. She always thought her grandmama was the picture of witchy elegance.

She shrugged her shoulders,

“I was just playing with him.”

“You can’t play with him that roughly…” she tried to tell her for the hundredth time, non Addamses were fragile.

“Why not? He’s our cousin, the magic protected him,” she pointed out, tired of being told something that obviously wasn’t true.

That rather shocked Eudora, her heart giving a sweet ache that Freya loved Xavier as kin.

“He and Wednesday are so boring if I don’t show them how to play right,” she went on. “He and Wednesday play like adults.”

That made Eudora frown,

“What do you mean?”

“They’re like you and Ms. Violet…”

“In what way?” she was starting to become concerned. She certainly hoped Xavier and Wednesday didn’t “play” like she and Violet, they were only ten years old!

“You know,” Freya started to become frustrated as it was so obvious, she didn’t understand why adults were so thick. “Like boring old people. They’re just happy to be around each other, not doing anything. They just sit around reading, drawing, or playing dolls…inside…for hours. Like you and Ms. Violet always were. How can you be so happy doing nothing with each other?”

Eudora relaxed when she finally understood, and she smiled and kissed Freya’s hair.

“Some people, like Ms. Violet and me, are…content…or at peace around each other. Sometimes, that’s all you need, is one another,” she tried to explain it as simply as she could.

That sounded awful and not possible, but Freya wasn’t about to argue with her grandmama.

Eudora could tell from Freya’s face she didn’t believe her and let out a cackle.

“Lets get you a cookie and then we lay Violet to rest,” she offered, which the ten year old was more than happy to oblige.

Eudora let herself be dragged to the kitchens, proud to see the next generation get along so well.

Little did she know how spiteful Violet’s son would be, after that night she and the Addamses wouldn’t see Xavier for years.

[qqueenofhades]

Winter prompt, dealer's choice: Snuggled up in a warm bed, unwilling to leave for the cold outside

Ren wakes first, early. She doesn't exactly mean to; they were out late last night, it was not uneventful, and she still feels the ache in her bones, the lingering chill and darkness, the scramble through stone passages and the murk and marsh of Lacewater, out to the Old Island, and finally back here to Vargo's house. Indeed, there's nothing more she wants than to roll over, pull the covers up, and go back to sleep until third sun at least, but she did promise Giuna that she would be over at the Traementis villa for breakfast, Tess and Pavlin are also coming later, and as ever, she has to be adept at switching the Rose for Alta Renata, even if the lines between her identities have blurred and vanished and there is nothing more or less than the simple truth: her, Ren, Arenza, Grey Serrado's wife and Derossi Vargo's knot-mate, and the men are lying to each side of her, dead to the world. Grey still smells faintly of the sewers. Vargo smells worse.

A smile twists up Ren's lip, despite herself, and she contemplates sending word to Giuna that breakfast can wait. She lets herself lie down again, stretching luxuriantly in the great bed; the three of them have started sleeping in it together quite often, and it's more and more of a threadbare secret, but she well knows the value and the currency of those, and a lifetime spent holding and hoarding them close is not easily cast aside. For one thing, they're still vainly trying to keep it from Arkady, not that it's going to last much longer, but Ren would prefer that it not be the knots' favorite bit of gossip. She doesn't know why. It's not like she's ashamed of it, of them. It's just... new, that's all. Tentative. She has trouble trusting it won't be taken.

"Ren?" Grey's voice comes hoarse and sleepy from her side, and he reaches up one hand for her. "Are you -- ?"

"Yes. Fine." After a pause, Ren lets herself relax again. The winter chill lies thick on the great bedchamber, she's not keen on starting the fire herself, and the diamonded-glass windows are laced with fine traceries of ice, elegant as the applique on a festival mask. She turns halfway to Grey and lets him hold her, rests her nose in the hollow of his collarbone, as Vargo continues to breathe deeply and slowly on her other side. At last, as the light continues to turn pale grey and she can hear movement elsewhere in the house and bells outside the window, Ren groans and tries to sit up. "I really should -- "

Both Grey and Vargo make beseeching noises and reach up for her, grabbing her by either arm even though Vargo still hasn't opened his eyes or given any other indication of being awake, and Ren bites another grin. She can't help it; she lets herself be pulled back down into the warmth of the bed and the devoted embrace of her boys, and in that moment, there is, indeed, nothing else she wants in the world.

[jomiddlemarch]

into a mist will go the belief in harbours

Eric had always known he didn’t belong.

Not as a member of the royal family, nor a proper island native, born and bred to the sound the waves made breaking on rocky Kwadril Cove. His mother smiled when she recounted the story of his first taste of the salted porridge babies were traditionally fed, how he’d spat out every last spoonful and they had to commission an entirely new wardrobe for his nursemaid Annora. Eric had learned to frown in a wry manner and make some anodyne comment about preferring tannia cakes with genpil chutney.

They’d kept part of the shipwreck he’d been found in, the splintered wood refashioned into a series of elegantly gilded picture frames to hold small paintings of the king and queen, the private villa across the bay that was the royal retreat, the family portrait where he was perched on his mother’s knee in a bonnet and white dress trimmed with handmade lace. He was meant to take comfort from it, the remnants of his first life salvaged and improved, the colicky orphan who’d been transformed into a perfectly charming little prince for the kingdom to coo over.

“You were the answer to your mother’s every prayer,” his father the king had said so often Eric knew the shape his lips took with every word. How long a pause there was between your and mother’s. They had thought he would not remember what he had lost to attain his position, but though he did not have a single memory to sustain him, Eric still carried that first aching grief and the second one that came of needing to conceal it beneath a smiling visage and endless cheerful gratitude. He’d learned very early not to ask any questions about how he’d been found; he mustn’t try to discover any detail that hadn’t already been deemed worthy of inclusion in the story that was told, the one that included a terrible storm, a foundering ship, the baby wrapped in a scrap of sail, the old fisherman who’d fetched him up from beneath a wave that would have finally drowned him.

“You were meant to live. Meant to come to us,” his mother said so often Eric knew it would hurt her if he argued or asked why. Why had the mother who’d borne him been swept away without holding him in her arms? Why was he the sole survivor and where had the ship he’d been born upon come from? The mother who’d nursed him, the father who’d sired him, they couldn’t have meant for their child to be taken from them, to a life far different from whatever they had known. He knew he did not want to hurt his mother the queen nor disappoint his father the king and so he said nothing, saving his questions for maps and the journals of explorers that were kept in the palace library. He rambled as far afield as the maids and palace guards would let him and if he woke in the night with a clawing feeling of dread, he confided in no one, for no one wanted the confidence of the prince, only his stalwart figure waving from a verandah.

It had almost been a relief to fall into the sea, the ship burning around him. He’d known he was too far from the lifeboats to be saved and the ocean asked him to be nothing but himself, a nameless man of no people, welcomed to the darkness. He had almost remembered something when he woke on the shore, something besides the woman’s haunting voice, the rich sunset color of her hair. Some fragment from his life before, when he had been ordinary, a child who could not hope for a jeweled diadem, a navy to command, bound to his wealth and power like a mermaid to the ocean’s depths. He had spent his whole life being Prince Eric and he sometimes wondered whether he fell in love with Ariel first because she didn’t know who he was any more than he ever had himself.

@silvercaptain24​ had wondered about the lack of Eric backstory angst and I felt called upon to oblige...