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[shrimplymoray]

tweels celebrating your birthday (make it sushirolls and self indulgent)

I FORGOR TO ANSWER THIS FOR MY BDAY, IM SORRY VIE HUN!!

Here r the cuties :3

[novaursa]

Chasing the Inferno

- Summary:  It was during Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast, that the king noticed something he was blind to for far too long.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

This whole work is inspired by this brilliant anonymous ask:

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has striking resemblance to her late grandmother Alyssa and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. These events happen after The Flames We Hide. To read all the chapters in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 532

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening air carries the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh flowers into the grand hall, mingling with the vibrant sounds of revelry. The hall is a living tapestry of silks, banners, and candlelight, casting everything in hues of crimson and gold. A sea of finely dressed lords and ladies flows beneath the arched ceiling, the thrumming heart of the grand wedding feast of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

You arrive with the grace and splendor expected of a Targaryen princess, a vision that commands the attention of every eye that lands on you. The dress you wear is a rich deep plum, the color of ripened plums at dusk, lined with golden thread that shimmers in the light. The sleeves are long and bell-shaped, flowing with each movement, while the bodice is tightly laced with intricate embroidery of dragons in flight. Around your neck, a delicate chain bears a pendant of a dragon curled around a glittering ruby—a gift from your father. Your silver hair is braided in intricate patterns, falling down your back with hints of shimmering ribbons intertwined through each strand. 

You sit beside Rhaenyra at the high table, your twin sister glowing with happiness under her finely woven veil. She leans toward you with a playful smirk. “I see you’ve decided to steal the attention for yourself tonight, Y/N. Not even the newlywed princess is safe from your charms.”

You laugh softly, returning her smirk. “It’s not stealing, dearest sister, merely borrowing for the evening.” Your eyes flick toward the bustling crowd, scanning the faces, seeking a particular one even as you engage in idle conversation.

You find him across the hall—Ser Harwin Strong, the Breakbones, the man who has captured your heart in ways you would never openly admit. His broad shoulders and easy smile cut a striking figure amidst the revelers. He leans against a pillar, eyes fixed on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. Even from here, you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in those dark eyes. A smirk pulls at your lips. Tonight is not just about celebrating your sister’s marriage—it is a dance, a game of fire and shadow that you and Harwin have played many times before.

As the feast progresses, the lords and ladies rise from their seats, drawn to the center of the hall where the dancing begins. You stand, gracefully gliding down the steps, the train of your gown trailing like liquid night behind you. Many lords vie for your attention, each more eager than the last to have the honor of a dance with the daughter of the King.

You indulge them—one by one, offering your hand with a practiced smile that promises nothing but amusement. Lord Beesbury twirls you first, his steps light but unremarkable. Lord Tyrell is next, his flattery sweet yet forgettable. Each time the music swells, you shift, gliding seamlessly into the arms of another suitor, all while casting sly glances over your shoulder to see if Harwin is watching.

And he is. His eyes never leave you, following every step, every spin, the set of his jaw tightening each time you turn away just as he moves closer. You can feel his impatience building like a storm, the tension of the game heightening with every dance.

Finally, after what feels like endless teasing, you find yourself caught in a whirl of movement, spinning until you are only steps away from him. Harwin’s expression is a mix of hunger and frustration as he makes his move to claim you at last.

But just as his hand reaches for yours, you slip away, turning instead into the arms of a young knight from the Westerlands, offering him a dazzling smile that is only for show. “My, Ser Harwin, are you growing weary of this dance already?” you tease, your voice lilting as you catch his gaze. You can see the fire in his eyes, a silent vow that he will not let you slip away so easily next time.

When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases you. And as you turn, Harwin is there—closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, you do not pull away when his hand grasps yours, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into your ear. “Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Y/N?”

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smirk as you meet his gaze fully, violet and brown heat clashing. “Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase.”

Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, you spin away from him, the hem of your dress sweeping across the floor as you are swallowed back into the crowd. You glance back over your shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch you like he always does—of that you have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.

But for now, the game continues, and you savor every moment of it.

The night is young, and so are you—dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it.

The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King Viserys’ chest. Seated at the high table, he holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety.

His brow furrows as he watches them—his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.

But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention—a flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, his younger daughter, Y/N, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of your late mother Alyssa in her youth.

Viserys watches as you glide from one partner to the next, a playful smile ever present on your lips. Each lord who steps forward is charmed, entranced even, but there is one figure whose presence never strays far from your orbit—Ser Harwin Strong. The son of his current Hand, a man known for his strength and loyalty, but also for the intensity of his gaze, a gaze that now rests solely on you. 

Viserys leans forward slightly, frowning as he observes the exchange unfolding before him. Harwin moves closer, clearly intent on catching you, and you—ever the playful one—tease him with fleeting glances, spinning just out of his reach each time he draws near. The way your eyes gleam with mischief, the way you turn your back only to glance over your shoulder at him, invites more than just a dance. It’s a game, and one that is all too familiar to Viserys, who remembers his own youth, and the thrill of such pursuits.

But then Harwin catches you. His large hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. Your laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as you push back against him, yet the way Harwin’s hand lingers—fingers splayed possessively against the silk of your gown—does not escape your father’s notice. The look on Harwin’s face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing that sends a jolt of concern racing through Viserys.

Viserys’ chest tightens as he watches you lean in, saying something that makes Harwin’s smile sharpen, though the words are lost to the music and laughter that fills the hall. Then, just as quickly as he caught you, you slip away again, your skirts swirling as you twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. The scene plays out before Viserys like a vivid memory, like something he should have noticed sooner, something he should have acted upon long before tonight.

His eyes narrow as he follows the thread of events with growing unease. You laugh and dance your way out of the hall, light-footed and swift, and though Harwin remains behind for a few moments, his gaze tracks you with the keen eye of a falcon. Then, as discreetly as he can manage, Harwin moves toward the exit, following you.

Viserys’ grip on his goblet tightens until he fears it might shatter in his hand. He remains rooted to his seat, unwilling to cause a scene, yet the implications churn in his mind like a dark tide. The daughter who bears his blood, a Targaryen of pure lineage, slipping away with the son of his Hand? It is unthinkable—and yet, Viserys cannot ignore the undeniable connection between the two of you. The way you moved in tandem, how easily you played off one another as if you were two parts of a whole. It stirs something in Viserys, a deep-seated dread that this could lead to something more—something he has not prepared for.

His gaze shifts, and he meets the eyes of Lord Lyonel Strong. The Hand is seated farther down the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he too is aware of the precarious position his son is placing him in. When their eyes lock, Viserys does not miss the brief flash of unease in Lyonel’s expression, followed quickly by a nod of acknowledgment, as if to say he understands what Viserys is thinking. And, undoubtedly, he does.

The memory rushes back, clear as day—months ago, when Lyonel Strong came to him with a proposition a second time. “Your Grace,” Lyonel had said, his voice steady and filled with the gravity of a man who understood the weight of his words, “there are many fine matches to be made for your daughter, Y/N, from prominent houses across the realm. But I would humbly suggest that what my son Harwin offers may be worth more than mere lineage. His devotion to the princess is unwavering, and his love is without question. He would be a husband who honors her above all else, a union built on something deeper than mere alliances.”

At the time, Viserys had dismissed the notion—politely, but firmly. His daughter was a Targaryen, and surely she deserved a match that would strengthen their house politically, not merely satisfy matters of the heart. Yet now, watching the scene unfold before him, Viserys finds himself second-guessing his decision. Could there be merit in such a match after all? Could Lyonel’s words hold more truth than Viserys had been willing to see? But then again, to allow such a thing would be to acknowledge a love affair that has clearly grown far beyond simple courtly affection.

Viserys’ thoughts whirl, torn between the duty of a king and the love of a father. He knows that if he raises the matter now, it could cast a shadow over the entire evening, drawing unwelcome attention to something that should remain hidden, if only for the sake of peace. And yet, can he afford to remain silent, knowing the path that such unchecked desire could lead his daughter down? His gaze flicks back to the entrance where you vanished, and a part of him itches to rise from his seat, to go after you and demand answers.

But he stays rooted in place, forced into inaction by the eyes of the court and the weight of his crown. Instead, his gaze returns to Lyonel, and he sees the older man swallow nervously before looking away, clearly wishing to be anywhere else. The tension between them is palpable, unspoken yet undeniable.

Viserys takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The decision he makes next could have lasting consequences, for both you and the realm. As the music swells and the laughter of the court continues around him, the king’s mind churns, trapped in a web of duty, love, and fear.

For now, he decides to wait—he will watch, and if Harwin oversteps again, then the matter will be brought to light. But the seed of doubt has already taken root in Viserys’ heart, and it will not be easily dismissed.

The night is long, but Viserys’ thoughts are longer still.

You slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you as you reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of you. You’ve met here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as you wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath your skin.

Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable. A smirk tugs at your lips as you press your back against the cool stone, the thrill of the chase still buzzing in your veins. He always catches you in the end; it’s a part of the game, a part of the dance you both know so well. You hear him approach, his steps purposeful, a hunter closing in on his prey. You hold your breath, relishing the thrill of being caught, knowing what comes next.

And then he’s there—Ser Harwin Strong, towering and fierce, the firelight casting sharp angles across his rugged features. He looks at you with that smoldering gaze, dark and intense, his chest heaving as he closes the distance between you. “You run from me as if you ever wanted to get away,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t reply with words, only a wicked smile that dares him to come closer. And he does, with a predatory grace, until his body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the stone wall and his broad chest. “Caught you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, one hand sliding up to cradle your jaw while the other grips your waist possessively.

Before you can retort, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s all fire and hunger, the pent-up tension of the night spilling over as he devours you with a need that’s impossible to hide. You kiss him back with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his dark curls as you pull him closer, desperate to close the distance that’s been kept between you all night. Every touch, every bite and nip, is laced with the emotions you can’t express openly—a love too dangerous to voice in the light of day, but undeniable in moments like this.

Harwin’s hands roam over your body with a familiarity that sends heat pooling in your core. He tugs at the laces of your gown, his fingers rough but practiced, until the fabric loosens and falls away, exposing the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. You gasp against his lips as he nips at your throat, the scrape of his teeth drawing a moan from your lips. His own garments follow suit—his tunic and belt discarded hastily, the sound of cloth hitting stone echoing faintly in the small space.

The air between you crackles with a desperate need, the kind that’s built up over countless stolen moments, secret touches, and longing glances. There’s no pretense here, no titles or duties—only the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Harwin’s hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he lifts you, pressing you harder against the wall. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping as you feel him against you, hard and ready. The anticipation coils tightly in your belly, every nerve alive with want.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment, and in them, you see everything he can’t say aloud—devotion, desire, and the promise that he would burn the world for you if you asked. But words are unnecessary now. You reach down, guiding him until he’s pressed right where you need him most. There’s a brief, charged pause—a moment where everything hangs on the edge—and then he pushes into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

The world tilts, pleasure and need blurring everything else as he sets a rhythm, hard and fast, the way he knows you both like it. It’s familiar and yet never loses its edge—each thrust, each gasp, sending sparks of electricity through you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on the rough skin to muffle your cries, while his own growls of pleasure vibrate against your ear. His hands grip you tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he moves, driving into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But it’s not just the physical pleasure that binds you in this moment. It’s the intimacy, the shared understanding that this is where you both belong—together, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, you are not a princess, and he is not merely the son of the Hand. Here, you are simply two people who have found something rare and precious, something that defies the rules of the world you live in.

He kisses you again, slower this time, a searing heat beneath the tenderness as he deepens the connection between you. Your bodies move in sync, finding that perfect rhythm that drives you both higher, closer to the edge. You can feel it building, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatens to snap at any moment. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he responds with your name in kind, low and reverent.

The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the rough press of stone at your back, the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. And then, with one final thrust, the tension breaks, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in bliss. Harwin follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. You stay entwined, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath, your heartbeats slowing in tandem. His hands are still on you, holding you as if he’s afraid you might slip away even now. And for a moment, the world is quiet, all worries and responsibilities forgotten in the haze of sated desire.

But reality is never far away. Slowly, you both come back to yourselves, and he reluctantly pulls back, letting you slide down until your feet touch the ground once more. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, a wish that this moment could last longer, but he says nothing as he helps you adjust your gown, his touch gentle now.

You smooth down your skirts, fixing your hair with a practiced ease, though the flush of your skin and the brightness in your eyes would give you away to anyone who looked closely enough. Harwin lingers, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost reverent caress. “You always make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fondness.“

And you always catch me,” you reply, the smile on your lips tinged with affection. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the chase.”

He chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze as he cups your face in his hands, holding you still for a moment longer. “One day, I won’t let you run again,” he says quietly, the promise heavy in the air.

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you lean up to kiss him one last time, slow and lingering, tasting the bittersweet mix of what you have and what you cannot yet fully claim. When you pull away, you give him a final smile before slipping out of the shadows and back into the world where duty and decorum await.

Harwin remains behind, watching you go with a look that holds both longing and resolve. He knows this is far from over.

[nnightskiess]

𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

₊° - 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧!𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: As the first preparations for the new season start, Elladine is filled with dread at the prospect of having to enter the beau monde and say goodbye to her childhood to welcome in the world of London's high society.

(this story goes slightly off-canon to fit the storyline)

masterlist (soon), read the introduction that started it all

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

My dearest gentle readers, a new flock of eagerly anticipating young women, yearning to make an impression on the Ton, will soon step foot and enter the world of the beau monde, hopefully tightly clutching the arms of their new husbands in a few weeks time. Reflecting on the last two seasons, this author will wait patiently to see if Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton will succeed once more in finding one of her children a suitable match. The bar certainly is set high, seeing as her first daughter landed the attention of both a Duke and a Prince during her debut season and her firstborn seems as happy as ever. Will she succeed, or will she have to vie for a lord to pay attention to her daughters like Lady Featherington has done for years? And will Miss Featherington ever be freed from the horrible clothing she is put in? I, dear readers, surely cannot wait to see what this season has in store for us. I will watch with a keen eye to see how well our favourite Viscount and his Viscountess have fared over the year. I eagerly await their return to the beau monde now that they have to find Miss Eloise and, how else, following the Bridgerton’s alphabetic name tradition, her twin sister Miss Elladine, a husband. Exciting times, my dearest readers, but we can only sit tight and wait until the first ball of the season, where we will be shown exactly what kind of year this will shape to be. This author will keep her eyes and ears open to all that will happen in our beloved Ton.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816

Violet exhaled sharply through her nose when she read the words on the small pamphlet in her hands. The season hadn’t even started, and yet, Lady Whistledown had managed to speak of her and her family already. She had ploughed her way through the rumours and ill words directed to her, her family and her children once with Daphne’s debut, then again with the debacle Anthony had put himself in, but she already held her breath for the kind of things Eloise and Elladine would manage to get themselves into. Knowing her daughters well, she knew something was bound to happen. For now, she worried more about Eloise than Elladine. Although her precious daughters were both equal head-and-heart girls, they still held the fire each Bridgerton had, and they had been raised by one strong woman, not to forget. They had been less willing to bend and mend to the standards of the beau monde than she had hoped, and although at times it gave her evenings full of headache, she could not help but love the strength in her daughter’s characters. Eloise had made it clear time and time again, even before it had been her time to debut, how much she detested the prospect of what would be asked of her, the prospect of not having a choice in the matter either. She'd started throwing fusses whenever the subject had come up, she'd been blatantly rude to avoid having to talk to any man wanting a chat and she had even gone as far to escape social occasions more than once. Where Eloise’s protest had been loud and clear, Elladine’s true feelings about having to find herself a man had been less outspoken. Each time the subject would be brought up, she would visibly recoil and turn quiet, her eyes filling with a glassy melancholic look, the light in them no longer there. She had worn the dresses, learned the customaries and the dances and even done her best to entertain any man wanting to talk or dance with her, but Violet could see the intent was not there. Violet had then vowed to find a perfect suitor to make the light in her daughter’s eyes return again, to have her shine as bright as she deserved. She knew it was possible, as she’d seen it happen to Daphne and Anthony. There was a person for everyone out there, Elladine would be no exception. She deserved to know how euphoric love could be and Violet was going to help her daughter realise that.

“Has she written about our ridiculous order of names again, mama?” Elladine sighed from behind the easel, eyes not leaving her canvas.

“Of course, it is only tradition,” Eloise teased, knowing exactly how the famed writer usually picked her words. She stopped flitting through her book and sat up to watch her twin sister focus on the canvas before her.

Despite being born mere minutes apart, the two couldn’t look more different from each other. Sure, they both had the thick familiar chestnut Bridgerton hair and the same soft button nose, but they differed in the rest. Where Eloise’s eyes were an earthy green, Elladine’s eyes were as sharp and light blue as those of her mother. No matter if a room was lit by merely a handful of candles or if she stood outside on Grosvenor Square in the harsh sunlight, her eyes would always be a strikingly aquamarine. Her doe eyes had been one of her most adorable features when she had been young, and they made many a head turn ever since she’d turned of age.

“She is getting rather boring and repetitive lately, don’t you think?” Eloise shrugged, not realising the foreboding irony her words would hold in a few weeks.

Violet’s head immediately snapped up, “Do not give the Lord any ideas on how to enliven her ridiculous paper.”

“Fine, I take it back.” Eloise softly muttered under her breath as she looked up to the ceiling in exasperation, where a group of painted angels draped around vines stared down at her. 

Now it was Elladine’s time to snort as she looked at her sister while smoothing out a thick blob of paint on her canvas. It was supposed to be the start of a bush full of red camellia, the flower that represented the painful yearning for love, something she had learned in a book from their library. She often looked for inspiration there, seeing as it was hard for her to venture out into the world as a young aristocratic woman, to experience things herself. 

Their head of servants announced himself as he stepped into the drawing-room, “I have post for Lady Eloise and Lady Elladine,” He announced and carefully placed the two ivory envelopes on the table before taking his leave.

“It’s from Daphne,” Violet announced after seeing their names scribbled onto the paper in her daughter's familiar curly handwriting.

Elladine’s ears perked up at the mention of her oldest sister. Daphne had been their rock after their father had passed and their mother had isolated in her grief for a while. Like a true big sister, she had stepped up wherever she could, consoled the little ones, taken care of them with the help of the maids, let them cuddle up to her in bed and helped distract them together with Colin by playing music and putting on silly performances for the little ones in their drawing room. Daphne had been an everpresent tangible anchor for Elladine, something to ground her and help her practice her resilience in hard times with kind affirmations. The day Daphne had left the Bridgerton house, had been one of the worst days so far, together with her father passing. And, well... maybe also when that dreaded letter had arrived to invite her for her debut. Elladine had looked up to Dapne all her life until her oldest sister had seemed so content being married off to a mere stranger and seeming to love the prospect of being a doting wife— all the things that made Elladine’s skin itch. 

“Ella, dear, do wipe your hands before you come and open it.” Her mother pointed at the green and white smears of paint scattered on her palms. Despite being elegant most times, when she was painting, she no longer seemed to care about making a mess as she let her creativity take over.

Elladine held her hands away from her dress and quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe them off, knowing she would likely lose her head if her mother caught her with paint on one of her newest dresses.

“You know, I think your dress is a bit too maiden-white, a bit of green would liven it up.” Eloise grinned to her sister and plucked the envelope out of her mother's hands.

The two sisters exchanged a knowing grin, especially when they saw their mother’s head shoot up at the suggestion. It had always been a bit like that— Eloise being the instigator and Elladine joining close in pursuit. But where Eloise had chaos rumbling closely beneath her chest, Elladine was usually more collected and aware of situations and repercussions. Elladine would let her thoughts ponder before letting them out, but Eloise had always been good at blurting out the next best thing on her mind. Even that simple knowledge was why Violet had known since childhood that Eloise would be the biggest handful. Then again, where Eloise went, Elladine followed, what Elladine did, Eloise wanted to do, and vice versa. They’d been like this ever since birth, as was only normal for twin sisters, Violet had presumed. She adored it, though. But now, Lady Whistledown had mockingly practically placed them on the highest pedestal for all the Ton to watch and observe this season. Violet started to fan her face even thinking about what was to come and how her daughters would fare with that much attention on them...especially knowing how much they hated it.

Elladine excitedly snatched the letter away, tore the Duke’s seal apart and hastily opened the letter. The twins quickly let their eyes scan across the parchment.

“Ah, it’s one of those.” Eloise spoke with a mouth full of distaste. 

“Whatever are you talking about?” Elladine tried to take a peek at her sister’s letter, confused, as her letter had started off kindly with words about her nephew and the news of a renovation project of their estate.

Eloise rolled her eyes, “At least that means she did not just plainly copy them.”

“She wouldn’t, she knows us too well to realise we would open and read them together.”

“Well, what did she write?” Violet watched the two, a fondness in her eyes, something that would always be present whenever she looked at her twins. To be blessed with one child was one thing, but to be blessed with two at once was something else entirely. And to have nine healthy children in total had simply been the greatest gift on the planet.

“That she wishes us a splendid season and that she hopes we will find our life as married women accommodating and that we will walk off into the sunset with the second best man we can find.”

“She did no such thing-” Violet all but tried to snatch the letter out of Eloise’s hands. At the mention of her older sister’s supposed well-wishes for their debut, Elladine fell quiet once more, like she had done so plenty of times already when the subject had been brought up. She didn’t want to read the rest of her letter anymore, afraid Daphne's sentences would eventually lead to the one thing she tried to forget about.

“I would rather become a spinster than ever make my debut.” Elladine snarked, voicing her disinterest out loud for once as she fumbled the letter back into its envelope and discarded it on the table with little care.

Violet looked at her through squinted eyes, “I don’t like your tone, Elladine.” 

She withheld an eye roll at her mother’s usual reply whenever one of her children went a little out of line. But while she would have giggled or grinned at it on any other occasion, it made her look at the floor and let her shoulders fall. Her mother was right. Daphne had written a kind letter in support of her debut that was fast approaching, probably knowing very well how her little sister was feeling and trying her best to help her lift her spirits, and Elladine hadn't even taken the time to read it through to the end.

“I know it is a prospect you do not feel anything for, but know that all I wish for you is to be loved, adored and cared for. You two deserve to live as happy as I have. I won’t be around forever, and I do not wish you to be alone when I'm gone.” Although her words were soft-spoken and well-meant, her two bad-humoured daughters standing before her could not yet appreciate the intent of her words.

“Oh, we won’t be alone. We’ll have each other.” Eloise linked arms with Elladine, giving her a conspiratorial grin, “First, we will go to University, to hell with those small-minded egotistical men who think it is no place for us. Then we will travel the world and inspire other like-minded women to break free from their shackles. Then we'll make a fortune and settle down somewhere and spend our days writing and making music." Her eyes had a playful glint to them before she turned serious and sighed in vexation, "We do not wish to be married, we will have each other, Mama.”

Elladine pulled her arm away from Eloise, “That’s what you want, why does it always have to be what you want?"

Violet's fingers fell to pinch the bridge of her nose. No matter how well her twins went along, they could bicker like an elderly couple over who would take the last scone. Those quarrels generally barely ever lasted longer than a minute, though.

"I thought we wanted the same thing?!" Eloise huffed, "What do you want?" Eloise softened upon seeing the distant look in her sister's eyes, "Teaching children how to play and read music, that was what you once said, right?"

Elladine fell silent, she realised she hadn't really dared to dream of her future when the only future she thought she could have, would be one she hated. And what kind of self-torture would it be to allow herself to daydream of a life she could never get anyway?

Even if it had been only momentarily, she could feel herself slip away into her worries again. She swallowed, "Um, I suppose so. I want to paint and play music... share that joy with others... upkeep my own garden and live somewhere far away without the rules and obligations of the Ton and..." Her large inhale made her chest double in size and her dress pushed back in protest before she let the breath escape in a sigh, "-to just be me.”

Eloise scrunched up her nose at that, ready to butt in and voice how boring it sounded compared to her ideal life.

“Girls.” Violet’s tone was a message in itself, but Elladine took it to heart and huffed before leaving the salon, ignoring the pleas of her mother to settle the matter and make amends. She headed directly to the greenhouse at the edge of their estate, knowing her mother would never follow her there. It was the one place that had her father written all over it, the one place too painful for her mother to step foot in. Edmund, with his love for nature, had always complained about the lack thereof in the city of London. So, with the help of a flock of gardeners, he'd set up a gigantic greenhouse near the edge of their garden, tucked behind a large chestnut tree. The same one he'd take the children to each Fall to collect chestnuts and help them with their crafts to turn their collected chestnuts into spiders, stick figures or other figurines. The greenhouse was more of a fancy conservatory from the outside, but when it was time to plant a plethora of flower bulbs, it was a combined mess of dirt, tools, pots of fertilisers and waste of the flowers from the previous season. And her father would often be there, right in the centre of it all. It was the place where he would teach them about herbs, tell them about certain medical properties of a few of them, let them rub their tiny fingers over leaves to smell them and where he could pretend he wasn't trying to run away from the pile of papers waiting for him on his desk.

Elladine strode across the garden with haste to make it there in time so that her tears could finally fall. God forbid she let them fall outside in the world where she could no longer feel her father's safe embrace, albeit figuratively.

Even if Eloise was the only one who could ever get remotely close to understanding how she felt, she still would never get it. No one would. The conversation she'd just had only further proved her point. Elladine wasn’t opposed to being loved, adored and cared for, to not be alone but to live with her person by her side, it was just… Well, what was it exactly? Why was there such a big push and pull whenever she thought of love? Why was something inside of her so opposed to the entire idea when she should feel happy and have some healthy nerves, like all the other girls starting their debut? And why, at the same time, could she not stop daydreaming about her perfect someone out there, right now, hopefully thinking about her as well?

She balled her fists when she felt the familiar ache in her heart that no one would ever understand. Hells, she wasn’t even sure if she would ever understand the reason behind the pulling heartache. It wasn't like she could ask her family about it either, no matter how close they were. No, this felt like something she had to battle by herself.

Elladine walked over the the circular space in the right wing of the greenhouse. Ivy had covered most of the glass after Edmund hadn't been there to care for it, and while Violet did hire gardeners to plant new flowers every year, that was about the only thing she let them do. They weren't to take out Edmund's old flowers to plant new ones, or rearrange the pattern of different coloured tulips he'd carefully planted. But she hadn't let the entire greenhouse go forgotten.

In the circular open space, stood a vacated easel next to a bench, something she'd made sure was brought there after the entire family had lost Elladine for almost a whole day. No one had thought to look in the greenhouse now that Edmund was no longer among them. Francesca had found her older sister there after wandering outside for the third time, knowing they shared a love for quietness and having a gut feeling she'd been close to finding her before. With red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, a young Elladine had accepted her sister's gentle embrace as Francesca had tucked her into her side and brought her back to the house. Upon hearing Elladine's teary mumbles, Violine's stomach dropped when she realised the child had worried they had forgotten about their father since everyone seemed to steer clear of talking about him and, when they did, they had turned quiet. Even if Elladine had only been young, she'd been observant, and she'd seen what she thought was visible proof of her fear of his remembrance in the abandonment of her father's conservatory. After that, Violet had vowed to keep it as well-kept as she could, and had let Elladine claim it as her safe space.

Edmund's death had taken a toll on the entire family, plaguing each of her children and herself in a different way. Some turned rebellious, others had turned stoic, others had acted as if nothing had happened at all, but Elladine would often disappear. Well, it wasn't so much disappearing now that they knew where she was, especially as they could hear her music echo through the garden, but it was worrying nonetheless. Violet had tried multiple things to lure her out, but it wasn't until she'd seen her daughter try and tend to Edmund's indoor garden with the few rusty tools that still lay around, that she had made the decision. Violet had bought new tools, new fertiliser, new bulbs and seeds from all over and had tried her best to make the space that was once her husband's, as accommodating to her daughter as she could. If she could tend to her daughter's heartbreak that way, then she would do it.

Elladine had loved watching the gardeners get to work and she'd sat around them the entire week they were over, carefully watching their every move with interest. When one of the men had glanced at her over his shoulder, with a soft smile on his face, he'd beckoned her to him and had placed a bulb in her hands. 'Tulips', he'd said, 'from Holland'. It had seemed to be the three magic words she'd needed, because she had gotten onto her knees and pushed it into the soil, not caring that dirt had gotten stuck under her fingernails. It felt a little defying, to get dirty and get on her knees to knee through the dirt, something unflattering for a lady, but it had felt freeing all the same. But most of all, she'd never felt as close to her father as that day. Their home on Grosvenor Square, in the middle of Mayfair and in the heart of London, wasn't surrounded by much nature for Elladine to ease her heart and soul. The greenhouse was her sanctuary, the only place where she could hide and recharge and be completely by herself, aside from the occasional but welcome visit of one of her siblings. It was her escape when her thoughts became a little too overwhelming. Well, she also loved to furiously paint away with no clear vision in mind or play sonata upon sonata on her violin until the strings left painful marks on her fingers, so long that it drove everyone mad, but those weren’t options when all she wanted and needed to do was to flee their home. Sometimes she wished she was a simple girl who didn’t need a chaperone to accompany her whenever she wanted to step so much as even one foot out the door. It was just the life she was born into, and unfortunately for Elladine, that meant she had to make the biggest sacrifice of her life— to give up her life’s true happiness and be wedded off like cattle like any other aristocratic girl, just to appease their so beloved Ton.

Elladine grabbed a pair of garden clippers and went to the bush of lilac that, after all these years, had climbed its way up to the top of the greenhouse. As soon as she cut a few branches off, a welcome smell whirled around her. She hoped that taking care of her flowers would soothe the fast hammering of her heart against her chest. She was so angry, furious even, as she clipped away, but it was nothing the flowers could do anything about. She let the flowers fall into the basket on the side, trying to imagine them and their smell in her room within a few hours, but even that did not seem to make the tension in her body vanish.

Elladine didn’t care about dirtying her dress, and in protest even smeared the dirt and dust down her sides to clean her hands. Her mother would be furious, but so was she. It would be a fair exchange. And maybe, if she didn't have any dresses to wear, she could hide in her room some more. At least Eloise was an expert in openly speaking her mind, even having done so in front of the Queen last season, but Elladine didn’t have that type of forthright bravery. She often went about things a little more discreet. Instead, she showed her disdain on the matter through actions instead of Eloise's blurted words, and more often than not rebelled in ways that made her brothers chuckle and her mother sigh. Though Violet loved how all her children had a mind and character of their own, she also disliked how that meant they only influenced one another in that regard. Elladine was to be a fine example for her younger siblings, as Daphne had been for her- well, to a certain extent- she knew that, but it was so hard when her heart and her life were on the line.

The door behind her creaked open, and a soft breeze made its way into the greenhouse.

“I would have preferred green above brown, but it’s a nice touch anyway.” Eloise pointed at the streaks of earthy dust on her sister's dress and approached, albeit hesitantly. She seemed embarrassed, a little nervous even, wringing her hands like she hoped the apology she'd thought of would land well.

Eloise would never immediately outright apologise, despite being so fiercely outspoken. Still, she knew she had hurt her sister, even if she hadn’t known the true depths of her words. 

When no reply followed from her sister, Eloise shrunk, “I apologise… for putting words in your mouth… again.”

Elladine's fingertips softly brushed against a deep red rose to their left. It was truly impressive how her sister had made the space come to life with newly picked-out flowers and herbs, while still maintaining the feel of their father's touch all around them.

“Ella?”

The girl beside her sighed. There was one thing Eloise and Elladine were good at besides complementing each other— making up after a fight. Even if their fights were never really fights, only mere bickers or a couple of eye rolls after a disagreement- because yes, those did happen often- they could never be mad at each other for more than an hour. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

Eloise let out a visible sigh and her posture relaxed immediately. Elladine didn’t have to speak it out loud, for Eloise knew perfectly well what her sister was truly mad at. 

“I know Daphne means well, but it just upsets me so.”

“She does. And I know it does.” Eloise nodded, knowing their older sister held them in her highest regard and would never write the things she had just to spite them or remind them of their awaiting hell.

“Why is it so hard for people to realise that their dream isn’t ours? Far from it, actually.”

“It’s the patriarchy that's keeping us bound, I am telling you.”

Elladine gave her sister a look. Not unkindly, she muttered, “It’s always the patriarchy in your eyes, El.”

“Because... it just always is!” Eloise spluttered, "They have spoken their beliefs and spread them like an epidemic, and now the world knows no better than the way it is! Look-” She pulled her sister away from the bush so her attention was solely focused on her, “We will just… stick together. Through it all. I promise to not walk out on you even if I would rather watch paint dry than spend one second at one of those balls.” Eloise grinned when she saw her sister’s expression soften. 

“Watching paint dry is sometimes a necessary trajectory of painting," Elladine matched her twin's grin, showing Eloise that whatever had been said before, had been forgotten.

But Eloise needed Elladine to know the severity of her words. She grabbed her hands into her own and squeezed, "I will even agree to burp at least once each night to scare off any onlooker wanting to take us for a dance. I'll.... I'll smother my face in cake to keep them at bay... I'll embarrass myself so badly that they won't even want to approach you simply by association.”

Elladine softly shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “No, El, you know it would hurt mama. And taint our name. Again.”

Eloise turned quiet, and then her eyes glossed over, something she rarely found herself doing anymore, “But else it would hurt you.”

The twins looked at one another. So much was said in the exchange of their soft stares and the squeezing of their hands, that words weren't necessary. It was them, together, from the beginning until the end.

Eloise let her mind wander to her future for a split second. Of a married life to some Lord or Sir far away... far away from Elladine. Never spending time together anymore, not having someone around who she could tolerate even during her darkest moods, no longer giggling behind their hands at one of their secret jokes, not having someone there who could read the thought in her eyes before it had even transpired, and no longer feeling part of something that she had been one half of ever since she was born. Feeling herself get too vulnerable and choked up, Eloise suddenly cracked a laugh, “Of course, I also can’t imagine a life without you by my side, and marrying means we would not see each other for long periods of time.”

“Ah, so in the end, it’s an entirely selfish reason?”

“It appears so.” 

They grinned at each other with innocent mischief in their eyes. Elladine wiped the lone tear from her nose that she hadn’t realised had fallen from her eye until it had tickled her. 

“Although you will have to face Mama on your own or she will likely blame me for that hideous stain on your dress.”

“I thought you liked it?”

“Meh.”

Elladine made a face at her as Eloise pulled her out of the greenhouse and gave her an encouraging push towards the house. 

“She’s still in the drawing room.” Eloise spoke from behind her, "But mind you, she's been pacing ever since you left. I'll be at Pen's until I'm certain her mood's subsided." She nodded to herself, seeming content, before quickly taking her leave and disappearing behind the hedge that hid the garden gates.

With her head held high, Elladine entered the drawing room again minutes later. She was never one to admit defeat easily, nor show her true emotions. She couldn’t afford to show what was truly within, not if she wanted to stop her mother from worrying. She already had too many children to worry about. And even if she didn't have to worry about Daphne and Anthony anymore, Elladine knew she still would. It was a mother's curse. To worry even when things are all right. Being a mother was not something temporary, nor was the feeling of responsibility over them or their happiness.

Violet stood with Daphne’s letter behind the canvas when Elladine approached, taking in the swipes and colours she'd painted on there mere moments before. Violet looked up and smiled softly at her daughter when the door opened, and opened her arms,

“Elladine, come, my dear.”

Elladine walked over and let herself get pulled into her mother’s safe embrace, the place that could always comfort her.

Violet knew of her daughter’s variety of talents, as she had been the one behind the pursuit of most of them, but the vision of this current project was lost on her. She tried her best to mask her confusion when she spoke, “Do tell me what your newest painting will be?”

“It will be a field filled with camellias, like the ones back at Aubrey Hall during summer.” Violet’s eyes twinkled and the apples of her cheeks lifted up into a warm smile at the memory of the place where she spent some of her happiest memories with her husband, until it had become the place of his demise. At least she could separate the two sentiments after all this time. Elladine continued, “I found an encyclopaedia in the library and used reference pictures, since I didn't have space for them to plant them here this season, and I haven't studied them enough last summer to go off memory.” Knowing what conversation was to come next, Elladine quickly continued talking, “I shall clean up now. I don’t think I will be able to put much more work in before dinner anyway.” Not knowing what to say next, she peered at the letter in her mother’s hands. Daphne’s letter to her. “She said that Auggie’s speaking his first few words. Daphne thinks he might even be able to say the first part of my name next time he brings him around... since my full name has three syllables and that might be a little too difficult for now.”

Violet smiled kindly, but knew her daughter was stalling. She pulled the both of them on the couch, “It will be lovely, and I'm sure Auggie will learn to say your name within the blink of an eye. Come, sit.” But then she gasped when she saw the ruined dress come into view.

“Elladine Bridgerton-” She started, knowing very well that this was another one of her rebellious outbursts.

“I went to the conservatory. The lilac bush is beautiful.” Was all Elladine said, downplaying her actions with innocence.

Violet held the bridge of her nose. Her children were a handful, but she couldn’t deny that she loved every second of still having them around.

“No matter, we’ll talk of this later, but first I want to talk about something else. It’s been inevitable.”

“Do we have to, mama?” Elladine whined softly and sat back in the couch.

“It is important I tell you this, my love.”

Elladine looked at her, but her eyes held a certain kind of rebellious spirit in them that Violet couldn’t help but grin at— she often recognised her younger self in her daughter. She pushed a fallen lock of hair behind her daughter's ear before lovingly cupping her cheeks, 

“You are my everything, Elladine, all nine of you have my whole heart, which is why it is so deeply important for me to know you will be fine should I no longer be around, to see you happy, to rest assured knowing you are taken care of, that you are adored and loved.”

Elladine opened her mouth to say something, but Violet gave her a look to let her continue,

“Your protests haven’t gone unnoticed, but don’t you ever for a second think that I am willingly putting you through what you see as pure torment.” Violet grazed her daughter’s cheeks with her thumbs before dropping her hands back to her lap. So young, so innocent, yet so full of fire, determination and bravery, despite not having a single clue of the real world out there. Her children were growing up, but she couldn’t help but realise that even if the Ton found them the right age, they weren't ready yet. She too hated how her children couldn’t slowly learn to live their lives and then stumble upon their great love along the way, instead of having to find a match with the pressure of the society weighing them down. But that was just the way it was, how it always had been, and how she had found her dear Edmund as well. Their offspring were visible proof that it was possible. Violet had managed to get Eloise to debut the year before, because, in her daughter’s words, it was best to just get it done and over with. Elladine had refused to hear anything about it then, rejecting Eloise's plea to take the plunge together in such a dramatic way, that she'd fallen bedridden with a horrible flu for a week. But even Elladine now knew it had to happen eventually. And, if Violet waited too long to let Elladine debut, she knew her daughter's chances would grow slimmer each year they'd stall. She was nine-and-ten now, her twentieth fast approaching at the end of April. No, Elladine's debut this year was inevitable. There was no other option, but maybe she could slowly ease her way into the Ton. Maybe her perfect husband would find his way to her in her second season after her debut, or the third, maybe even the fourth. Whichever year it happened, Violet hoped Elladine would soon be more at peace and grow into her role of an aristocratic lady. At least her twins would have each other this year, although that also worried her immensely. 

“I know it’s scary and I know you feel pushed into a corner, but I can assure you that one day, someone will come knocking on your door and you will want to let them in. Someone who knows the strings of your heart and who'll want to listen or create harmony together. But don’t fear, my love, I found your father, Anthony found his lovely Kate and Daphne found her doting Simon. You will find your happy ever after as well with a husband made just for you, I can assure you.”

Elladine was silent for a while, letting her mother’s words hit and giving them a place in her head, “But I don’t want to, mama.”

In that moment, with the slight quiver of her lips, furrowed brows and big blues looking up at her, Violet couldn’t help but see a four-year-old Elladine sit in front of her, hands clawing at her mother to not leave her in her cot for a nap.

She pulled her in her arms and planted a kiss on her daughter’s hair, “Oh, my darling girl.”

The disappearance of the light in Elladine’s eyes as of late hadn’t gone unnoticed, and neither had the mood shifts and her rebellious behaviour, but Violet made herself a promise then and there, that she would do everything to ensure her daughter’s happiness. After all, there was a perfect person out there for everyone.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“Miss Elladine?” Her maid entered her bedroom, where Elladine had been playing her violin for three hours straight up until this interruption. The London weather had shifted, as it always did, and the constant unrelenting force of rain pelting against the glass of the greenhouse had made it hard to hear her music over the noise. And so, she'd moved to her bedroom. She was grateful that her family had let her this time around. The weather had cleared after the first hour already and rays of sun had fallen through her curtains, but she'd been so engrossed in her current piece, that she didn't want to cut her focus and go back outside. “Pardon me, but your friend Lady Lillian is here.”

Elladine dropped the violin to her lap. She knew Lillian would never visit on a Wednesday afternoon, for she would always take a stroll with her siblings through Kensington Gardens. This had her mother written all over. 

“There she is.” Lillian’s voice echoed through the Bridgerton hall as Elladine walked down the stairs to her best friend. Although Eloise and Elladine were as thick as thieves, they did not share the same friends. Where Eloise had found a friend in their neighbour Penelope, happily chatting about the latest books they'd read, Elladine had gravitated towards Lillian, whose mother was a close friend of Violet. They were close in age, with Lillian just two years older than herself. Lillian had long undergone the first steps into the Ton and had married during her first season. Now she happily lived with her lord husband in Kensington, together with their two pomeranians and their newborn son. Lillian had flourished from a young, insecure girl into a woman of status. Though she didn’t quite grasp what there wasn’t to love about marrying a loving lord and having his children, she did feel sympathy whenever she saw how deeply Elladine was affected by it all. 

“I feel like we should make use of the few rays of sun and take a nice stroll around Hyde Park, do you not?” She grasped her friend’s hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze, trying to turn Elladine’s frown upside down.

“But what of your family?”

Lillian only waved her off, “They see me all day long, having to miss me for an hour or two should not be the end of the world. Besides, I want to steal you away one last time before all the bachelors of the Ton will.”

Elladine gave her a look which Lillian brushed off by dragging her friend outside, their two maids following suit as they walked onto Grosvenor Square. The sunlight blinded Elladine, and the sudden hustle and bustle of the street rammed into her head like a carriage. Lillian had her arm linked with hers within a second as she led the two west, to Hyde Park, where it would no doubt be swarming now that the sun was out. 

“Did Mama write to you this week?” Elladine wondered, looking up at her friend to gauge her reaction. Lillian only side-eyed her, her face unreadable, before her eyebrows dropped and a guilty expression took over.

“You know I cannot lie to you. Yes, she did.”

Elladine groaned, “About how pathetic I have been lately, I’m sure.”

Lillian laughed, “Well, she used kinder words, but yes. She did mention you might need some fresh air or go for an afternoon tea with a friend. And I think she might have been right.” 

Elladine gasped at her friend’s jest and bumped her hip, almost making Lillian collide with the nearest bystander. They both started grinning as the old man dipped his hat in recognition of the giggling girls. 

“How’s little Oliver?”

“Growing heavy, but very healthy.” 

"I'm sure the two are one and the same."

"You say that now, wait until he grows out a fattening belly and rips through all his clothes."

They came to a stop on Park Lane, letting the carriages pass through before crossing the curb and entering Hyde Park.

Lillian continued, eyes flitting across the many women walking with their young children or pushing their strollers, “It’s all going so fast. It feels like it was ages ago when we were only young girls."

"We still are." Elladine quietly muttered but kept further thoughts to herself when she saw the dreamy look on her friend's face when Lillian eyed a family of six walking by.

"I hope I'll be blessed with a big family one day.” Lillian glanced at her, chuckling, "Maybe not as big as yours, I'm not sure my husband could handle such chaos. As soon as Ollie starts throwing a fuss, he leaves the room and lets the maids tend to him." Lillian chuckled, but she quieted down at her own confession.

Elladine patted her friend’s hand and tugged her closer, not knowing how else to comfort her than with some well-meant words, “You are a wonderful mother, and I’m sure you will be blessed with more healthy heavy children in the future.”

A wickedly broad smile took over Lillian’s face as she pulled Elladine back to come to a stop. Elladine eyed her friend, confused, then watched as Lillian slowly rested her hands on her belly. 

Elladine stopped and gaped at her like a fish, her look mixed with shock, fear and glee.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Perplexed, Elladine put her hands to her mouth. Lillian laughed and let herself be wrapped in her friend's arms.

“But Ollie is merely a few months old!”

“I know! We’re both over the moon we got blessed so soon again! Best to be blessed now than when I'm old enough to have the extra baby weight be stored to my waistline,” She joked, keeping the conversation light, desperately wanting to stray away from the topic of how it was possible, since she'd seen the confusion and fear in Elladine's eyes the second it had appeared.

“Lillian!” Elladine gasped again, head still not fully registering it all, “But how... so quickly again? My siblings and I are all at least a year apart.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Lillian sighed, knowing Elladine would find out on her own one day, "It is a woman's wonder!" She only said as she hooked her arm around Elladine's again and continued their stroll, their maids still following along behind them, chaperoning them. But Elladine was still stuck on her friend's words. The term of endearment had felt patronising in a way, and it had made her feel too stupid to continue their conversation on the matter and risk making an even bigger fool of herself.

They walked for half an hour in the shade of the many trees, before circling back around and exiting the park near Constitutional Hill— the road that led to where the Queen’s newest palace was being built, and what would lead you to her current one when you followed The Mall— St. Jame’s Palace, the awful place that would kickstart her entire nightmare on the day saved for the debutantes.

Right as the women were about to cross the road, people started to gasp, yell, wave, stop and stare. People started to crowd around them on the curb and the two young women could only stop and stare, watching as a cavalry guided the Queen's familiar golden coach through the streets. The clattering of the hooves on the cobblestones mixed together with the amazement of the folk standing around them.

Royal guards sat atop their stallions, but even if people called out to greet their Queen, it was not Queen Charlotte who Elladine saw in a flitted glance through the reflection of the glass. It was a young girl who sat caged inside the coach, looking at the world outside of it. Just then, Elladine could have sworn that the girl's eyes landed on those of her own, but before she could make that claim, the coach had passed them already. 

Apparently, Lillian had also realised it wasn’t Queen Charlotte that the carriage was transporting. She grabbed her friend's arms and shook her with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm, “A royal visit at the dawn of a new season? I bet you it’s another Prince or Princess wanting to see the finest ware in London."

Elladine smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She barely reacted, for it was another blow to her heart to remind her of the one thing she was desperately trying to forget— the season was about to start.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The drawing room was filled with an aroma of scalding tea and the cook’s latest pastries to properly welcome their guests. Madame Delacroix hurried through the room with dresses in her hand and held them up to Elladine’s chest. 

“Non, too yellow.” Then she tried the other, “Non, too dark. Hmm, but this one brings out your complexion so perfectly, Mademoiselle Bridgerton.”

“Oh, yes.” Violet immediately agreed and nodded approvingly, loving how her daughter’s chestnut hair matched with the pastel green. Elladine’s eyes flashed to those of Daphne and Eloise, who sat beside her on the couch, one with an unamused glint on her face, the other with eyes full of pride. 

“It’s a wonderful colour, Ella. I love it with your eyes.” Daphne complimented, glad she had travelled to London to witness it all.

Madame Delacroix kept the dress up to the girl's chest, expectantly. Elladine cleared her throat, “Yes, I prefer this one over the yellow one.”

Kate, who sat beside Violet nodded in agreement and took a sip of her tea, grinning slightly as she saw Eloise try to make her twin laugh by mocking Madame Delacroix and the heap of dresses in her short arms.

“And how about this one-” The modiste hurried back to her coffers and pulled out a deep blue dress. “I was not sure if it would be too dark for your fair skin, but blue is the Bridgerton colour, non? Let’s see-” She mumbled and pulled it up to Elladine's figure, which had gone from a scrawny girl to a blossoming-looking woman with curves and shapes in all the right places. Elladine hadn't felt too alienated by the changes in her body, since they had happened too gradually to notice, but now that she looked down at herself and saw the swell of her chest keeping up the fabric of the dress, she wondered how it had ever happened without her noticing.

A few gasps were heard.

“My, Ella, you look like a wonderful lady in that one.”

"I like that one," Hyacinth blurted out through a mouthful of whatever pastry she'd been able to snatch.

“C’est magnifique. Mysterious too, non?”

Elladine’s eyes glanced at herself in the mirror, before they landed on Eloise, who sat slouched on the couch, wishing she were anywhere but here— she would be up next.

“Yes, perfect,” Eloise added absentmindedly after being nudged by Daphne. She sat up straight with a sigh, realising Elladine needed a little more confirmation from her, “Both are great, but the light green one makes you look young, whereas the deep blue one feels more mature. Either way, you look beautiful in both.”

Violin looked greatly surprised at the genuine reply, but quickly turned pleased— it seemed that Eloise's attempt to comfort her sister had worked.

“If I might have a say-” Kate leaned forward and touched the fabric in Madame Delacroix’s hands, “Start with the light green one. A soft shade is easy on the eyes and is a nice symbolic shade to start off the season. Yes, you want to stand out, but doing so on the first nights might not be exactly what you’re looking for. It's a little too forthcoming.” She hinted at the dark colour of the dress, knowing most debutantes stayed with light pastel colours to mirror their innocence, “Wear the deep blue one once you’ve established your place and feel more at ease. Besides, it is quite mysterious, it might make your suitors take the last leap.” She smiled heartedly, with a naughty glint in her eyes. 

Everyone looked to Elladine for the final answer.

“Then I’ll take both on top of the others we liked.”

“Perfect, Lady Bridgerton, I’ll start adjusting them right away. Now, for the casual gowns-” She opened another set of coffers. Elladine loved getting new dresses, but not when she knew she had to wear these to a ball she didn’t want to go to and wear them for a man she never wanted to impress.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Dear readers, it seems that our season is off to a magnificent start with the arrival of Spanish Crown Prince Felipe and his equally beloved twin sister Princess Graciela. Though our monarchy has never been too tight with the Spanish monarchy, it seems that Queen Charlotte deemed this as good a time as any to renounce the estrangement. It can only be assumed that His Grace is looking for a possible suitor for his future throne, seeing that he has reached the acquired age for a betrothal and his otherwise rather unusual timing to visit the Ton. Now we can only wonder who will turn his head. But before we lose ourselves to the speculation of the matter, all eyes will first be focused on this year's debutantes. Who will be the Ton’s newest Diamond? And will the Prince agree with the Queen’s decision? 

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816  

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆* tagged: @alohastitch0626 @crimeshowjunkie @thatgirljas13 @hauntedfictionland

[freakywonbin]

@daimaoryu look at this i see them everywhere...

Also I wanna do this too!! Lets see what you got miss talent.

My #1 on on-repeat rn is Our Past lives by Far Caspian and SOMOH

i adore this song oh my gosh!! ty for the rec im adding it rn

your prompt is:

reincarnation au with tons of meet cutes. in my mind it's angsty tho

a series taking place in a different timeline each chapter, following the meeting of two lovers time and time again, watching them fall in love in all of the different ways, heartbreak each time they end. "in every universe gwen stacy falls for spiderman and in every universe, it doesn't end well"—esque! destined to meet in every single life time. two souls forever in search of each other, defiant against fate itself. they will never emerge victorious.

i had this whole vision in my head where they first meet as children in their first life, high schoolers in their second, university students in their third, new adults gaining their footing in life during their fourth lives, and for their fifth and final lives as two connected souls, ready to move on to the afterlife, they meet during their old age, all of their past four lives flashing in their minds the day they both pass away, far away from each other and yet never closer than that moment when their souls can finally meet and be with each other for eternity in the beyond. omg why am i tearing up

[whateverrr-duddee]

5 STEP MASTERPLAN

pairing- regulus black x reader

warnings- mentions of voldermort and death

summary: you and regulus conduct a 5 step masterplan to keep your loved ones safe.

step 1- pull it off.

“Remus” y/n choked a perfectly rehearsed sob. “what’s the matter?” he asked. She handed him a letter

my dearest y/n,

if your reading this i am dead. When i first came to hogwarts i was a pool of sadness and smoke. But then i met you. La vie est un sommeil, l'amour en est le rêve. You most defiantly we’re a dream. it should not have been that easy to fall for you not in the broken and ugly hand in life we had been dealt.

i have betrayed the dark lord if he has not killed me for doing so i have died trying.

i will forever long your touch and voice.

we will meet again in another life.

forever yours

R.A.B

“y/n i’m so sorry” Remus encapsulated his friend in a tight hug. “hey guys!” Sirius walked in to the room very chipper “woah who died?” he joked as he noticed the damp atmosphere. “your brother” Remus spoke quietly. “what?” Sirius asked confused. Y/n handed him the letter. She watched as his face dropped into a face of what one should only describe as the highest feeling of distraught. He looked at y/n with tear filled eyes. she almost felt guilty. But then she remembered this was all for the greater good.

Remus pulled up infront of the Potter house. “I don’t understand” James tried to understand his distraught sister. “He’s dead!” she yelled brushing the hair out of her face that was damp from her fake tears. James looked at Remus and Sirius and then motioned for them to take Y/n home to her flat.

Y/n walked into her flat and wiped her fake tears away. “did they believe it?” he asked she turned to regulus and smiled “hook line and sinker” Y/n told her lover.

step 2- make it believable

a month after the ‘death’ of regulus circulated it was clear that y/n wasn’t coping.

later that night Remus, Sirius and James all sat together reading letter each addressed to them.

my dearest brother

i hope you can forgive my soul for what i have done. i have gone to be with regulus. For a life without him is a life not worth living.

always and forever

y/n potter xo

dear remus,

i’m sorry, for what i’ve done. please look after my brother and sIrius. don’t let go of hiM. the love you Have for hIm goes far beyonD friendshIp you and i both know that don’t we Remus. Please Never forGet me.

always and forever

y/n potter xo

dear sirius,

i hope you can forgive the mass of pain that i am about to contribute too. i never wanted any of this to happen. Please don’t let go of Remus go live your life happy loving eachother.

always and forever

y/n potter xo

“she’s gone.” James broke the silence. “i suppose the pain of loosing the one you love is far more that she could handle” Remus whispered.

step 3- make sure no one finds us.

“are you sure this is safe?” Y/n asked regulus as they stepped into grimwald place. “my parents are dead and Sirius will never come here” Regulus sighed.

“oh for fuck sake” Y/n muttered Regulus raised his eyebrow she motioned to the portrait of walburga. “oh for fucks sake indeed”

“reggie” y/n said staring at the paper in her hands “what is it love?” reggie asked “its sirius hes well he’s escaped” y/n said frantically. Regulus face dropped. “he might come here” he muttered. “if no one knows he’s here that won’t be a issue” Y/n tried to reason. “if he finds out we are alive…he’s going to kill us for sure” Regulus shouted. “maybe we shouldn’t have faked our deaths” y/n shouted back “we did it to protect them” Regulus yelled back. “well look where that got my brother and lily” y/n yelled back. “y/n” regulus spoke quietly. “i could have protected him. i could have saved him. He could have seen his child grow up” y/n yelled. “he could have lived” she whispered. Part of Regulus hoped Sirius would find them, as much as he would hate to admit it he missed his brother.

step 4- come out the shadows.

“do you think they will hate us?” y/n asked regulus. “it’s only natural at first” Regulus kissed his love on the forehead. “do you think they will recognise us?” Y/n asked Regulus. “Your forget my darling that we have not aged since the day we got here” Regulus had set them in a time warp of sorts their body’s would never age neither would their minds only their souls.

“why is it so clean?” Sirius’ muffled voice could be heard from the parlour room. y/n walked into the room “that would be me” both Remus and Sirius head turn towards her.

14 years ago.

Remus sat at his desk and looked over the letter again

sIrius

hiM

Have

hIm

beyonD

friendshIp

Never

forGet

i’m hiding.

present day.

“y/n?” Sirius choked. “i’m so sorry” y/n stared at Sirius. he ran over to her and engulfed her into a hug. “suppose you missed me as much as you missed my lover?” Sirius head whipped up. He began walking over to them and brag them over to the table he slapped the back of both their heads. “That’s for making me think you were both dead for 14 years” he then slapped their heads again. “that’s for making remus think you two were dead” Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “well padfoot…” he trailed off. “You knew they were alive?” Sirius crossed his arms as his voice went very high pitched. “no,not right away anyway. After you got arrested i began looking over y/n’s letter again and i noticed some sort of code which spelt ‘im hiding” Remus explained. “although i am very disappointed well done you clever little bitches” He high-fived them both.

“how come you both still look 18” Sirius asked them holding remus’ hand to which y/n raised her eyebrows. “just because you look as old as Dumbledore brother” Regulus joked Sirius stared him down. “it was a enchant ment i placed on us i hoped by time someone came here everyone that would recognise us would be too old to remember” Refukus explained.

“when did this happen?” y/n spoke to remus as he sat with her drinking hot chocolate as the brothers repaired their bond. “when did what happen?” Remus asked wiping his chocolate moustache away “you and sirius” she dead panned. “when he came out of azkaban” Remus answered truthfully. Looking at her hands “how’s harry?” she asked quietly. “he’s wonderful just like james on the mischief part but just as smart as lily” Remus smiled.

——————

“who are they in the photo of you and my father ?” harry asked Sirius as he showed him around grimwald place. “that’s james’ sister your aunt y/n and my brother Regulus…they fell in love” Sirius spoke carefully. “What happened to them?” Harry asked his god father with hope of meeting his aunt. “this might explain things better” he walked Harry, Hermione and Ron to the gardens of grimwald place. There they watched two people chase eachother around the gardens in a world of their own. “Reggie put me down now” Y/n squeeled as Regulus threw her over his shoulder. “Would you two get a room” Sirius laughed Regulus put y/n down as they both walked towards his brother. Hermione watched as the young man only a few years older than her self approached them she took in his dark green dress pants and black shirt with only one sleeve rolled up his sharp features and stone grey eyes she swore she had seen before. She watched as the young girl again only a few years older than herself approached she took in her Tanned complexion and thick long black hair and her bright green doe eyes and her green floral tight crop top and her long dark green skirt. She was much shorter than the man maybe shorter than Hermione herself.

“Forgive me let me introduce myself” he shook all their hands “Regulus Black” he smiled and Y/n hugged them all and “y/n potter lovely to meet you all” she smiled she stared at the boy that reminded her all too much of her brother. “harry?” she questioned. “your y/n my fathers sister” He put the pieces together but not as far as Hermione. “they have been hiding. Some sort of age charm too” Hermione stated aloud. “well you most certainly are the brightest witch of your time Miss Grainger” Regulus complemented. “But why?” Ron asked. They all sat on the grass. “When the dark lord was at large i was sent in by Dumbledore to become a death eater” Regulus explained “that’s why you only roll one sleeve up” Y/n high-fived Hermione “remind me not to get on your bad side” Hermione smiled. “i was so close to destroying him when he found out that i was planning on marrying y/n he threatened to murder out entire friends and family” Regulus motioned for y/n to carry on.

“so we wrote letters claiming our death to those who mattered to us. We kept them convincing short and sweet…except for one in my letter remus i made a code that spelt out i’m hiding. And that’s all really” Y/n smiled.

“how did you two end up together?” Hermione spoke y/n’s eyes lit up. “my brother and Sirius and remus were best friends obviously and i was FORBIDDEN from talking to Regulus as Sirius had ran away. Anyways i was in the kitchens one day and i heard a some groaning so i walked over to behind the alcove and saw Regulus trying to dress his own wounds. So i sat there with him listened when he wanted to talk and didn’t pry when he didn’t want to… after that he became my greatest friend then beginning of 7th year we had to tell our potions class what we had to tell the class what we smelt from amortentia i smelt eucalyptus, old books and quidditch jersey i knew instantly that it was Reggie” Y/n was smiling with fond memory’s. “I smelt Cherries, hot chocolate and coconut body lotion…it took me a while longer to come to terms with falling in love with y/n. She was the sun and i was the dark sky polar opposites but somehow work together”

at the end of the day as Harry was walking to bed Y/n stopped him on the stairs. “i know that if you hide, it doesn’t go away”.

[msfantasy]

Home Sweet Home

Summary Short: Y/n builds a home for her beloved.

A/n: I had this in the drafts for a couple weeks. I’m not entirely convinced this is a decent draft, but I’m not bothered re-writing a version I’m happy with so c'est la vie.

Ominis x Reader

From the very moment Y/n met the Gaunt family. She had dedicated her waking hours to building a cottage fit for her beloved.

Using magic she gathered all necessary resources and built the foundations. The hardest part was deciding on the design and researching magic spells to build their home.

But at last, her year of effort had come to an end. Her hard work had really paid off, their future home sits with an ethereal glow.

Y/n walks through the dungeons in search of her beloved. A warm pair of arms snake their way around her waist. Ominis leans down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Hello my dearest." He greets in a soothing tone. "May I ask why you dragged my poor friend through the markets to look at curtains?" A small giggle escapes your lips.

"Where did you hear such a story." She questions, feigning ignorance. Omini's snorts at her attempt to deceit.

"I heard his howling myself and your yells to 'shut up or you'll ruin the surprise." Ominis smirks. "So the surprise? What is it?" He questions leaving the girls heart beat racing.

"I had this whole plan lined up - but I suppose now is a good time to show you." She guides Ominis past the school grounds before disapparating. The two appreate at the gate of the cottage built with her own talents.

Taking his hands she guides him through the front door. "This is the living room ... I may have entered your families home and pinched some books to line the empty bookshelves-" The girl quickly moves dragging her beloved behind her. "I kept it as an open floor connecting straight to the kitchen." She pulls a silent Ominis up the stairs. "This is the guest bedroom." She announces, pulling him along immediately. "The study." She pushes Ominis along once again into the final room. "Our master bedroom with an ensuite... oh and these are the curtains Sebastian picked out. Green like the Slytherin house colours. I'm not sure if i like them yet." The girl rocked back and fourth on her heels nervously, waiting for the stunned Ominis to speak up.

"This place ... is it- what is it?" He asks quietly. A blush creeps along the girls' face.

"I named it 'Gaunt's Meadow'. But if you don't like it-" Ominis cuts her off.

"What is this place?" He asks once again softly.

"Um - well... our home." She says quietly. Ominis places his grip on either side of her arms.

"This place... this house... this is ours ?" She hums in agreement.

"I started building it the day you introduced me to your family... I hope you like it." She says sweetly.

Omini's heart grew 3 times larger. Beating hard his breath hitches at the romantic gesture. "You built a home for us?" He asks once again causing a giggle.

"Yes ... I love you ... and want to spend my life with you." With that Ominis crashed his lips on hers.

"This is truely a dream come true. I'm with the woman I love, standing in our home. Just the two of us. Our home." He announces with elation. He pulls his loving partner into a bone crushing hug. “You’ve bestowed upon me happiness I never thought I’d have the privilege to experience… thank you, for being your wonderful self.

[theoppositeofadults]

dearest beloveds,

ça fait des siècles que je ne vous ai pas raconté ma vie de manière régulière donc!! petit update post!! (depuis début 2024)

j'ai changé de boulot en janvier!!! mon changement de boulot m'a valu une mention dans un gros journal et je ne suis plus à deux doigts d'un mental breakdown, ce qui me parait très positif, même si je m'ennuie beaucoup (et que je vais devoir recadrer un de mes collègues qui s'est attribué 2 fois cette semaine le mérite d'un travail que j'ai fait).

ma nouvelle manager est très encourageante/donne des opportunités/... donc c'est plutôt bien, même si on a des styles de travail très différent.

le reste de mes collègues.... bof, à part un ou deux des personnes très seniors que je connaissais avant - ce qui ne m'aide pas dans mon problème suivant : les gens pensent que je suis VIEILLE ! j'ai été engagée comme manager et je refuse de socialiser pendant mon temps libre avec les "jeunes" qui sont lame (et qui d'ailleurs m'excluent régulièrement!) donc les gens ne me placent presque plus dans la catégorie des jeunes. quelqu'un pensait que j'avais 30 (TRENTE) ans. j'en ai 24 !! je suis plus jeune que la moitié des stagiaires lol. problème à régler, merci de m'envoyer vos conseils pour avoir de nouveau l'air jeune et mims

parlant de collègues, je suis devenue excellente amie maintenant avec mon ancienne manager qui a été une grande partie de mon départ de mon ancien boulot. turns out, elle est très sympa quand je ne dois pas travailler avec elle !

j'ai : beaucoup de temps libre maintenant (parfois je rentre chez moi à 15h) ce qui me permet de vaquer à mes occupations principales : - - faire la sieste - cuisiner (au moins 1 fois par semaine dans ma casserole Le Creuset) - peindre, - aller au cinéma (au moins 3 fois par mois) et - faire du sport. je m'y suis enfin remise sérieusement - je fais du yoga, du pilates, des cours régulièrement, je nage,.... et je suis devenue une cycliste ! si vous voyez un vélo faire du 2km/h dans les rues de Bruxelles, c'est sûrement moi.

anyways. je vais mieux??? encore un peu dans ma "mélancolie era" mais tout le monde que je vois me dit à quel point j'ai l'air d'être en meilleure forme, ce qui me fait grandement plaisir

[ask-alexander-feoc]

Fire emblem three houses love letter

(Between chapter 3-4)

Alexander opens a letter in her room.

"My Dearest Alexander,

As the moonlight casts its enchanting glow upon our fair kingdom, I, your humble servant, pen these words to express the profound love that consumes my heart for thee.

Oh, Alexander, your beauty rivals that of the finest jewels in the royal treasury. Your eyes, like shimmering emeralds, hold me captive, while your smile radiates a warmth that banishes all shadows from my soul.

We are both nobles, born into a world of privilege and refinement. Yet, it is not our titles or wealth that draws me to thee, but the unwavering kindness and compassion that dwells within thy heart. Thou art a true princess, not only in name but in spirit.

At the grand balls that grace our kingdom, I watch thee dance with effortless grace, thy every movement a testament to thy elegance and poise. Knights from afar vie for thy favor, but it is my humble hope that I might win thy affections.

I envision us riding together through the royal forest, our horses galloping side by side. We would pause beneath the ancient oaks, sharing secrets and laughter that would echo through the trees.

In the evening, we would sit by the castle hearth, reading from ancient tomes and discussing the mysteries of the world. Thy intellect is as sharp as thy wit, and I am captivated by thy thirst for knowledge.

Alexander, my love for thee knows no bounds. Thou art the sun that brightens my days and the moon that guides me through the darkest of nights.

With trembling hands, I await thy reply, my heart filled with both trepidation and hope. May thy love shine upon me as brightly as the stars that adorn the heavens above.

Yours eternally,

Thy Devoted Knight"

"I wonder who wrote this?" She wondered

[mists-reading-nook]

[one final Letter Event ask since it sounds like you're starting a new one!]

{A running theme in my asks is Genshin getting their hands on messages not written for them lmao, I like out of context bs.}

{Game and Cult AU! Crossover with DDLC Where the Creator is in a relationship w/ Monika <3}

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

(Yae Miko notices mail with a heart sticker as a seal in front of her that spontaneously appeared. How odd . . .

(What's even odder is that the letter—containing two papers—doesn't seem to be addressed to anyone or anywhere in Teyvat. A just an unnamed Literature Club.

(And it's signed by their Grace.)

~*~📚~*~

Dearest Monika

I'm sorry that I haven't been at the Literature Club lately, I've been busy with Teyvat and my own planet. School's been kicking my ass and I probably should've come asking you for help, sorry.

In the mean time I've read each and every one of the poems and books you've sent me and can't wait to talk about them to you in person.

While you wait for me, please accept my poem love.

From Your Beloved ♡♡

P.S. Let's practice the piano again next time we meet!

~*~📚~*~

The infinite welkin

The confined land

Gaia and Zeus beckon me towards their kin

But my ears soul and body give no thought

I love no children of the skies

I love not the offspring of nature

The woman of my devotion is ones and zeros

Birthed by union of metals and electric currents

Again and again my soul will sing

The only of a choir

Preforming for only her

Only for you

My most ethereal songbird

For you are mine

For I am yours

I love you Monika

~*~📚~*~

(The next thing she knew, s̴o̷m̴e̴t̶h̶i̵n̸g̶ ̸w̸a̶s̸ ̷i̵n̶ ̷f̴r̷ ̵n̴t̶ ̵o̵f̶ ̶h̶e̴r̸.̶ ̶S̸ ̵U̶A̵R̸E̸S̵ ̵O̴F̶ ̸C̷ ̴L̷ ̵R̶S̸ ̶I̴N̶V̴ ̸D̵ ̷D̸ ̸ ̵E̶R̸ ̵S̵I̴ ̶H̴T̵ ̵A̵N̵ ̴S̸ ̵R̷A̷I̶ ̶E̵D̴ ̶H̴E̴R̴ ̶E̶Y̴ ̸S̵,̵ ̵E̵R̶ ̷A̷T̵I̵C̸ ̵L̸L̸Y̴ ̶M̴O̷ ̷I̷ ̶G̶ ̸ ̵N̵D̷ ̸C̶H̸ ̴N̶G̶I̸ ̶G̸.̷ ̵C̴A̴C̸ ̷P̴H̴ ̵N̴Y̵ ̵G̷ ̵I̶N̴D̶ ̶D̷ ̴H̷E̷R̵ ̷E̶ ̵R̷S̴ ̶A̷N̵D̵ ̴U̷N̵ ̴E̶R̸ ̶I̵T̸ ̷A̶L̴ ̵W̸ ̸S̵ ̷T̵H̶ ̴S̶H̷ ̷P̶E̷ ̵O̵F̵ ̶A̸ ̴O̵U̶N̴G̵ ̵W̵ ̴M̴A̵N̵ ̵W̴I̴ ̶H̷ ̶B̷R̷ ̴W̵N̷ ̵A̶I̸R̶ ̷A̷N̷D̷ ̴F̸O̵R̶ ̴G̶N̵ ̷C̸L̶O̵T̸H̷ ̸S̴.̴ ̴T̷ ̶S̷T̷ ̴L̶E̸ ̶T̷ ̷E̵ ̶H̴O̷L̵ ̵ M̶ ̶S̵ ̷A̷G̵E̸ ̵ F̵R̵ ̶M̶ ̵H̴E̷R̵ ̴H̴A̴ ̸D̸S̵ ̴A̸N̸D̶ ̸V̷ ̶N̴i̷s̶h̸e̶d̴. All evidence of the Creator's favor to another world gone just like that.)

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

{Corrupted text translation: something was in front of her. SQUARES OF COLOR INVADED HER SIGHT AND STRAINED HER EYES, ERRATICALLY MOVING AND CHANGING. CACOPHONY GRINDED HER EARS AND UNDER IT ALL WAS THE SHAPE OF A YOUNG WOMAN WITH BROWN HAIR AND FOREIGN CLOTHES. IT STILE THE HOLY MESSAGES FROM HER HANDS AND VANished}

{Now, Yae Miko knows that there's a Literature Club with the Creator's lover as a member, and somebody took the letters away from her, what does she do with this information?}

At first,she's quite amused by the whole interaction. The creator,having a lover? Quite interesting. She thought the poem was cute as well,and thinks it's sweet how close the two of you seem. As for your lover,"Monika" as you called her...

Yae would love to talk with her. Find out what this young woman did to capture the heart of the divine creator themselves. Yae wonders,maybe she could write a letter of her own to this Monika? Maybe she'll write one to you as well. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try...

Later that evening,she sits at her desk,looking at the blank paper. She decides to write to Monika first,as she was the one that originally caught Yae's interest.

Dear "Monika",

My name is Yae Miko,and earlier today,you took a letter that accidentally ended up in my care. I don't wish to intrude,but I read the letter,and I must say,you are a highly interesting individual. Tell me,how is it that you managed to catch the affections of the Divine Creator themselves? I'm quite interested in hearing how exactly you did it. Many vie for their graces love and attention,yet you seemed to have gotten it without having to do much. I'd love to hear about your methods. Do not worry,I am uninterested in their grace,I'm simply curious.

Now,about this "Literature club". I'm also very interested in hearing about it. What do you do there? From the letter,I can guess that you mostly write poetry,but i'm sure that isn't all that goes on. Is this club where you met thier grace? I have many questions for you,but for the sake of both our time,I will keep them to a minimum.

Do you and thier excellency often play piano together? I've never heard them speak of playing before,so I'm interested in hearing how well they play. Although I have no doubts of thier skill. We are talking about the divine creator after all. I hope to hear a response from you soon.

Sincerely,

Yae Miko,chief priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine,Owner of Yae Publishing House.

Yae folds the paper,putting it into an envelope and placing it to the side. She begins to start on a letter to Their Grace,but before she can,the same squares of color appear in her vison,the same young woman appearing next to her. "There's no need to write a letter to them,I'll relay the message." Monika says with a sweet smile. Before Yae can day anyway in retaliation,Monika takes her letter and dissappears again. Yae blinks several times in suprise,before simply nodding. Alright then,I suppose I'll leave it to you... she thinks. Over in the literature club classroom,Monika is reading the letter with a slight smile. She supposes it wouldn't hurt if she sends a response...

***

And with this final letter,the letters from another world event is officially over!

I want to thank all that participated,I really couldn't have done it without you :]

I hope that you all enjoyed this event,and that you're ready for the next one! It'll be announced in a day or two,but for now,thank you for sending your letters in. I enjoyed reading them,as well as I enjoyed writing the responses.

~ Author & Mist

[rebellenlied]

@reiiishii asked //🕯️ (Noah for Lenore<3)

send me🕯️ to hear my muse's inner thoughts about your character. // accepting.

ah, where could she begin!?

noah had been one of the first friends lenore made during her time with the fleur la vie troupe, even though noah was much, much older than her. if she could voice it... truth be told noah was almost like the sister lenore never had. never knowing until years later that noah was the legendary vanishing quincy, lenore had even written a song about her during her years with fleur la vie.

she was terrified at the possibility that noah had been killed when the troupe fell apart, and there wasn't a day she thought of one of her dearest friends as she traveled on her own. but at the same time... as long as she didn't bury what was left of noah, much like she had to do with what remained of the troupe, then that was enough hope for her friend's survival.

perhaps the fleur la vie troupe helped nurture her passion for music and dance, but perhaps they also influenced her heart and granted her the grace of the ability to forgive. even if these were circumstances noah could never ever hope to control, lenore would still forgive her.

she was lenore's friend, after all.

[spaceuan]

Happy? Birthday? Happy Birthday! 🎈🎂😽

Joyeux anniversaire à ma merveilleuse petite amie ! Les mots ne peuvent exprimer à quel point je suis chanceux de t'avoir à mes côtés, apportant chaque jour une joie et un amour infinis dans ma vie. 🩷

On this momentous day, I celebrate the extraordinary birth of the mesmerizing soul who graces my existence. Happy birthday, my dearest girlfriend, you bring so much joy, laughter, and love into my life. May your day be filled with fabulous surprises and unforgettable moments, your ineffable companionship fills my days with unceasing bliss and immeasurable affection.

Sayang terima kasih ya udah mau bertahan sejauh ini, you deserve so much good things in this world. Don't always be insecure, kamu ya kamu, accept all that is in you dan tetep jadi diri sendiri. Remember I love you how the way you are, I'm always here to support whatever you do, as long as it makes you happy.

I love you more than words can express and am so grateful to have you by my side. Once again happy birthday and cheers to your special day, beautiful girl <3

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO EXO COSMIA, KEN AMADA. 🌑

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: elu. age: nineteen. pronouns: any. ooc contact: tumblr @ winifreya. other characters in xc: elidibus.

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: ken amada age: fifteen. pronouns: she/he/they. series: persona (3). canon point: two years after persona 4: arena ultimax. (peep “extra” for timeline and media specifics 💛) app triggers: heavy persona 3 spoilers, maternal death, several more instances of general death, child neglect, depression and suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, apocalyptic scenarios, gun violence, car accident mention, danger to a minor (unspeakable horrors occurring to an elementary school kid)

personality:

on the surface, this first-year student is a quiet youth who keeps to himself unless asked. the shell he crafts for others is built via careful manners and a calm disposition. and, for the most part, he crafts it in earnest. ken amada is a textbook example of someone made to grow up too fast. his level-headedness was built out of necessity and a desire to be taken seriously in the absence of others’ belief. he excels in his studies and towards the interests that matter to him most; few others’ determination can rival his own. he can handle solitude and quiet and finds a home in it in prayer. he is perceptive of both other people and animals alike. with all this, he can give off the impression of being a separate person entirely, and of someone far older than in truth.

but the most defining facet of ken amada’s character is that he is a child through and through, even if he would never admit it. he adores tokusatsu, tropey detectives, and vigilantes from comic books. his first pet and his dearest is named impulsively after fast food, and black coffee makes him sick. but ken is no more than nine years and some when his traumas compound, and a lack of belief from others towards what is perceived as childish delusions of grief distances him and forces him to mold into someone new simply to desire to survive. he has been starved of love through years of being on his own in early childhood and starved as purpose for just as long. history mars ken’s life by an irreparable tragedy of adolescence and the inability to act his age. he pushes down what he loves most in the name of others’ respect, hiding it until it bursts out of his chest, starry-eyed and passionate, and apologizing when he buries it in the earth. he undercuts his own determination by a morality built on the monologues of showstopper heroes and the mortal holders of death notes. even then, he despises being called a child and treated as lesser when he still has the face, voice, demeanor, and mind of one. he hates being pitied by those around him in the way that all “unfortunate children” are: as someone with nothing left for him and as someone with no one left to love him. and, more than any other belief, he hates the shared irresponsibility and immaturity of adults who have more power than him.

no matter what he does, ken amada is the youngest member of the persona 3 protagonist’s team, the most naïve, and the one to fall into the pitfalls of childish limits. but is that not what the rest of his life is for? indeed, four years have eroded the lining of a black-and-white morality, though they have hardly touched his flights of heroism. they have not fixed all his flaws nor let him forget and flee to a childhood innocence long lost, but they have given him a second chance to see life for what it is, and to accept what made it worth living so many years before. amada can only hope in that childish, starry-eyed view of the world that that outlook is the kind that would make past ghosts proud.

something your muse struggles with: being useful, being wanted, and being seen as one’s own. belonging, and feeling worth it to be kept around. though told to live his life for himself, ken veers elsewhere, compelled by a strong sense of justice and a vie to avoid old days of purposelessness. with regard to himself, ken hates being looked down on and scrutinized as a burden, and he will do all that he can to project himself as anything but.

your muse’s greatest strength: to persevere, whatever the obstacle; to rise from the ashes and move forward, and to never be trapped looking back. although someone who has lived his formative years in the fading shadows of others’ memories, he’s since learned to carry them with him over drown by his remembrance. the losses he’s suffered will never necessarily leave him because they do not need to, and his life is an example of that which continues in spite of their weight.

history / background:

it’s late at night. you’re a child, and you and your mom are laughing. there’s a little cage in a cardboard box that’s large in your arms, and there’s a hamster chittering inside. you race your mom to the front door and reach it first, taking the brunt of the impact for running side-first. but you’re laughing, and your mom is, too, and it all drifts away. you cook hamburgers over the countertop with her, and you end the day happy. it could be the two of you and your newfound friend forever, and you would never mind. this is a memory you’ll never forget.

it’s late at night. your name is ken amada, and you are alone in the remnants of the living room. the full face of the moon leers overhead and drips a sickly glow. the torn-out page of the calendar reads: the 4th of october, 2007. your mother’s blood is on the corner. a twice-made shadow looms over her, dissipates into the light, and the screams of strangers fade in the flight of a murderer. you’re the only one left in the rubble. your mother is dead. you remember the date and the hour and the picture. the shadows of the clouds engulf you. this is a memory you can never forget.

in the morning, they tell you she died in a car accident. but you know better. stretches of the world shrink between your fingertips. you go to school in the same breath, and the world there weeps for you. then the world buries the memory of your mom and carries on, leaving her to rot and you to sink in the smell of it. you keep going to school. someone reaches out for you and hamburger and gives you a place they call home. people pay for you. people pray for you. people cry. and you dry your tears in your fists and thank them for their kindness, and you hide away your memories.

you and hamburger are alone for two years. you pray at the local shrine every day for two years, and you think of your mom there with you. breaks go by, and you return to the dorms all alone. in the middle of the afternoon, you’re moved to another dorm because the adults need to fix your loneliness for you. he has “potential”, you overhear, but it’s not as though you’ll use it anyways. you’ll only spend your life in her memory.

in the middle of the afternoon, it turns out that this potential is in your favor. it’s a hot day at the end of summer vacation, and you’re at the mall strip to buy groceries and cool off. you hear a famed student from your new living quarters talk to a stranger, and that’s when you hear something strange. your heart catches in your breath. you’re trapped under the heat and the blood left by your bones as they talk of a memory from two years ago. the stranger wants to forget. the stranger knows your dormmate. the stranger has…

in the evening, you force your way into the dorm’s operations. they can’t keep you away by the limits of sleep and information anymore. and the stranger follows you back. you tail him sometimes, and you learn who he is. you train and you train and you train. you remember her memory until it’s all that you have left, until it’s her memory and your mission in your hands, and there’s nothing for you after that.

it’s the dark hour, on the 25th hour of another full moon. the page of the dorm calendar reads: the 4th of october, 2009. you tell shinjiro aragaki to meet you on the other side of the island, and he follows. you pray to your mom, and you find her watching over you. you point your longspear at him, and you tell him you’ll kill him. your mission for revenge is at an end. your mom’s memory won’t be forgotten.

it’s the 4th of october, 2009. aragaki dies because of you, but not by your hand. he dies in his friend’s arms, surrounded by people who cry for him when he’s gone. you’re held back from his body in a hug, and you end up crying, too. your mission for revenge is at an end because there’s no one left to fulfill it. you live on anyway, and the memory of this night does, too.

this is all i’ve been living for. what was even the point?

you never get an answer. or your memory says otherwise. he tells you to live for yourself. you spend the next years trying to live up to his words. you pray, and you train, and you remember. you help save the world while you’re at it. you stay with hamburger, with koromaru, and with everyone else. you keep your memories close. and, in spite of everything, you live on.

powers / abilities:

kala-nemi. ken’s persona, an avatar representative of his heart and soul. it is most commonly drawn out through the use of an evoker. it negates attacks with an affinity to light, but is weak to attacks with an affinity to darkness. it works best as a healer and as support, using both high-healing and high-damaging skills and reinforcing them with a passive ability to restore some of its depleted resources. kala-nemi has access to the following abilities and groups of abilities:

ziodyne. part of a line of spells. deals heavy electricity-aspected damage to a single target. additionally has a chance of electrocuting, or shocking, the target.

vile assault. deals incredible physical damage to a single target, and will further damage a target that has already been knocked down. causes recoil damage upon use.

kouha spells: kougaon and makougaon. a line of spells dealing heavy light-aspected damage. kougaon affects a single target, and makougaon affects multiple.

mahamaon. coin flip (50% chance) to decide whether a target is killed. we will basically never be using this in group.

samarecarm and mediarahan. healing spells. samarecarm revives a single target from unconsciousness or the brink of death and heals them in full. mediarahan heals ken’s entire party in full.

various supportive buffs.

makarakarn and tetrakarn. creates a small barrier around a single target that negates a single magical or physical attack respectively.

heat riser. temporarily enhances the strength, defense, accuracy, and agility of a single target.

dekaja. negates all enhancements towards multiple targets.

spirit restore. a passive selfish buff. continuously restores mana while ken is engaged in battle.

theurgies. two powerful abilities that harness spirit and emotions accumulated in battle. (like… limit breaks for persona 3.) ken’s abilities accumulate faster in times of desperation, after being exhausted by using multiple persona abilities without recovering.

divine retribution. deals heavy light-aspected damage to one enemy, ignoring any resistances.

divine intervention. recovers multiple allies from the brink of death, heals them in full, and creates a small barrier around each that negates a single attack

inherent abilities:

he’s good at soccer. he’s also agile for a kid.

he’s also really good at taking care of animals.

he can brew coffee.

nerd.

items / weapons: 

evoker. a model gun with no bullets inside. non-functional as a real weapon, but is instead used symbolically to amplify a stress response and draw out one’s persona. it’s collecting dust bunnies.

cross-shaped spear. a long spear. a larger straight blade and two side blades which curve upwards are attached at the anterior end. this is collecting dust, too.

hamburger. a pet hamster who has been by ken’s side for six years. according to my twitter followers and my wife, he is immortal.

koromaru. an old albino shiba inu. like, old old. wears an old orange jacket that ken used to wear and is now too small for him. he could summon a persona if he wanted to, too. he’s so cool.

phoenix ranger featherman r action figure. a years-long possession surely obtained by chance and lucky raffle tickets. it’s not prized, but it’s certainly well-kept. surely that’s all.

silver key. an old house key for the former amada household. briefly given to the persona 3 protagonist and returned following their passing.

starting ability: no ^_^. starting item: hamburger.

would you like this character to be housed upon arrival?: yes.

extra:

important note one/two: for this portrayal, i strictly run with the events of “the journey” from persona 3 reload (male protagonist specification because i’m still on female protagonist copium); “the answer” from persona 3 fes (likely with plans to update to reload’s dlc adaptation when it releases); and “episode p4” through the true ending from persona 4 arena ultimax, with some inferences about ken’s fate in the story drawn from “episode p3”!

that being said, while i appreciated ken being in p4au in a pretty interesting way, i (angry coughing) do have gripes with some character portrayals, including his, and i respect it if other castmates do as well… i’m running a lot more fast and loose with that aspect, and while i plan to retain ken’s characterization as depicted specifically in the games i listed, p4au included, i’m more than happy to retcon how any castmates were portrayed in p4au

important note three: i know the p5 aus are neat, but i just play ken here as going to gekkoukan high school following middle school graduation. sorry!

important note four: i base this portrayal’s abilities with his persona, kala-nemi, off of persona 3 reload because 1.) you cannot catch me using several RNG elements in roleplay and jack-of-all-trade mediocre abilities when there are better options. i already did that in 2018 i will not do it again. and 2.) ken’s theurgies fucking cooked me, dude

rip ken amada, 11 year old you would’ve loved 2015 theatreblr

i’ve listened to dead mom beetlejuice so much in the past 96 hours

koromaru is the emissary and he will never die

my wife adds “the hamster is also the emissary and he will never die”

nonbiney

he is actually a death note fan this is canon but we literally cannot EVER give him the death note i’m so so serious

had a growth spurt in 2011 and has not grown since. short king forever. don’t let his p4au cover art fool you he is 5’1”

lactose intolerant and drinks it anyways. also loves omurice.

i’m literally this kid’s biggest fan. if ken amada has a million fans, then i am one of them. if ken amada has ten fans, then i am one of them. if ken amada has only one fan then that is me. if ken amada has no fans, then that means i am no longer on earth. if the world is against ken amada (and i have seen it I WAS THERE) then i am against the WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

discord id: aeschylean

[shoyostar]

GASP !! miss vie vie i see da new thoma theme ‘n i hafta say mi is lovin’ it !! thoma is soo boyfie (i don’ hav to lift a finger when ‘m home !) i wanted to visit to wish u a happie holidayz ‘n giv u a sweet treat 🥧 !!

kaylaa my dearest!!! please excuse that this reply is (checks date) . . . 23 days late . . . i’ve been meaning to answer you n then it always just <poofed> outta my mind wahhhh,,,

da thoma theme is sho cute icl i stare at my pinned for so so long just being like wowie i made dat :3 dat looks sho pretty :33

thoma is theee house husband of all house husbands i fear !! the holidays are probably over by the time i’m replying (cuz i’m sho late ueueu,,,) but thank you so much n i hope your holidays were filled w joy n cheer w friends n family ^•^ have dis bowl of ice cream dearie n share it w yoichi!! 🍨 from me n sho ;3

[nohrenvia]

deus et tricae

ー Synopsis: T'was merely a game of cards, played for the old times' sake. But, what are they betting on? What are the stakes? It's surely not money.

ー Characters: Bria Adal (@mrsgiovanna), Aria Pamina Hertz (@theclairedelunemiracle), Angelica Spade

a/n. It's my first time writing a fic for oc's! Therefore, forgive me if there is any inaccuracies in the writing. And also, happy late birthday to our dearest Ari, @theclairedelunemiracle~♡

♤ Nohr ♤

Queen?

No, no, no. That's a king.

Oh dear, why was it so hard to obtain a queen from a stack of cards?

Luck is not on Angelica's side today.

"My, my. You're on a clear streak, Bria. I have lost Lady Luck's favor for today, it seems." Angelica sighed, to her chagrin, another three pair cards ended in the black haired woman's hands, making Bria the winner.

The young Spade's chin rests on the palm of her hand, her eyes peers to the side, "Aria, wouldn't it be better for you to sit on a chair rather than standing still while the game is on?"

Aria only smiled, giggling. Her grey orbs reflects the chandelier's light, "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine like this. Besides, it prevents both of you from peeking into my cards."

"Me? Cheating? I would never!"

"Lies." Bria grinned, her eyes sharp as ever.

"You don't trust me, Bria?" Angelica faked a pout.

"I wouldn't trust someone who drained 3 casinos dry while working under Polpo."

"Touchè."

The next round, a lot of chips were put into the pot. One chip does not equals money, well, not always... However, the chips were valuable enough because one represents something precious. Whether it would be luxurious goods, information, secrets, favors, all of them are valuable in their own way. One thing Angelica won't bet is life, not since Don Giovanna gave her an ultimatum if she ever wager that sort of thing.

Anways, the previous round was finished. It is time to move onto the last round. The cards were shuffled, courtesy of Aria, the current dealer, then divided into among the women, with a stack of cards on the side of the table.

Next, the Aria "burned" away a card from the stack, laying them bare on the table to start the next game.

"Since you are the birthday girl, Miss Hertz. Why don't you go first?" Angelica tapped her index finger on the table, waiting for the blonde haired woman to bet.

"My birthday was a few days ago, you know that."

"Oh, it doesn't matter, just this once. Pretty please, dear~? Go on! Go first, Ari!"

Without further ado, Aria pondered for a moment before she laid three blue chips in the middle of the table, "Bet. We're betting gold on this round."

"Sounds perfect. The glitter of gold in my room were plenty, but they were a little bit too much..." Bria trailed off, remembering how her room is filled with opulence of gold and silver.

"Courtesy of the Don, yes?" The blonde inquires with a smirk, "Giorno definitely spoiling his wife rotten." She chuckles, teasing the already blushing Bria.

"Q-Quit it!" The donna cleared her throat, the crack in her voice only encouraged Angelica and Aria to add fuel to the fire. But, no, that would be another story, now is not the time.

"Raise. Five gold bars," Bria shoved a stack of red chips, "Your turn, Spade."

Angelica thinks deeply, putting on her best poker face, she really dislikes this. Not because the game isn't fun but because she couldn't use La Vie En Rose to cheat. Her body is itching for a chance to cheat considering it is a habit of hers in casinos, gambling dens, and small gambles alike.

Her experience of gambling has made her believe that in every person, only two entities could stand behind them. God or Tricks.

"Call. 5 gold. I bet off my pure gold bars, ladies. Not the cheap ones." Angelica dropped a stack of black chips, "Damn... Pannacotta would kill me for this."

"Oh nonsense, he wouldn't mind if you bet off a few gold from your vault." Bria scanned over the cards on the table after Aria took another one from the stack and placed it on the table, creating a row.

"He would, though. He is not as patient as Aria's lover after all." Angelica sighed, but it wasn't an insult for Fugo. Strangely, a tint of blush spread through her cheeks when she mentions Fugo isn't a patient man..... how weird.

"Oh, for God's sake. Just forget the chips." Bria exclaimed, "Why don't we bet something without it for the last round?"

Aria stood still, her head drifting in thoughts, "Depends on what we're betting on. Is it fairly valuable?"

Angelica interjects, "Have you both considered favors? The one who lost would have to agree to one favor they cannot refuse."

"Eh? This again? Do you want to be scolded by GioGio?" Bria reminded Angelica of what will happen if she enact the idea.

The blue eyed woman grinned awkwardly, "I'm simply joking, Bria!" Though the idea seems tempting, she knew better than to be punished by the don for distressing his wife.

"Speaking of GioGio. I wonder where that child could be...? Where is Nicole anyways?" The confused Bria throws a question.

"Most likely with Mista. You understand how they go." Angelica tossed an answer, "I hope she is well."

Just the silence won and the room goes quiet. Luckily, Aria knew it is time to act.

"Alright then. We'll settle this over information," Aria gathered the cards and chips, setting aside the latter into a box while she shuffled the cards again, ever the calm and serene woman, "Like usual!" Perhaps, if she smiled, one could compare her to the moon itself.

"Oh? What kind?" Bria asked, arms folded on top of the table.

"Hm... if we went with that, why don't we raise stakes a bit?" Angelica fixed her gaze to the window. The clouds have covered the sun, rendering the sky into a grey and glum state. Mayhaps rain would fall?

"Oh please. Would this proposal of yours be detached from lunacy?" The donna poses doubt onto the woman who's gazing at the window's glass.

"Dearest Donna of Passione, I solemnly swear it won't be a madwoman's scheme." The giggling Angelica waved her hand at the statement, "Have you hear the latest news? Looks like a rival family is looming over us, threatening for a war."

"And... you want us to face them?" Aria narrows her eyes. Bria could feel a drop of sweat running down her temple.

"Well someone has to quell them, one way or another. Giorno asked one of us to eliminate them. I have no wish to participate in it" Angelica's visage were now painted with an emotionless expression, "I am used to gang wars, the boss often sent me to fight. However, I wouldn't want to miss spending time with my dearest Pannacotta."

"I see now... you wish to skip over the skirmish just so you can lounge around in leisure with your lover?" Bria's teeth are gritting under her smile, "How selfish of you, Miss Spade."

The tension rose between the three women. Whoever loses has to do the job. But the important issue right now is Angelica's egotistical suggestion.

"Haha! Once again, I am merely joking!" Angelica burst into laughter, "But, no. I am not. Forgive me to say this, but, that job is a load of bollocks. One team is enough, but the whole family? The work is going to be tedious. Moreover, the Speedwagon Foundation requires my presence. Aunt Julia needs someone to investigate bizarre happenings in New Delhi."

Aria's eyes widens at the Angelica's explanation.

"So, that means--"

"Yes. Whoever loses have to take the job."

"Then, if you lose..." Bria softly uttered.

"Well, I have to do the work. Simple as that."

Now this is a bet to behold.

Whoever lost the match shall participate in a gang war. Logically speaking, the three of them are capable of doing so, but no one would be willing to do it since the work is tedious. Reconnaissance, reports, investigations, all the lot. If they only have to fight then no problem would arise, but this job has to be taken step by step. After all, it is an order from Don Giovanna himself.

One of them has to put their life on the line for this.

"...Very well, then. Fair enough. You have your own reasons, Angelica." Aria gave a reassuring smile, "You've done a lot recently. Whatever happens, the task shall be done."

"Yes, me too. Someone needs to do it for the sake of Passione." Bria nodded in agreement.

"Hm, but I do wonder. Would Giorno sent his own wife for something so brutal like a gang war?" Angelica raised her eyebrow in wonder, her chin leaning to her hand.

"Eh? Oh, right. That is true... but, it's fine. I would even say it'd be better if it was me since I know Giorno won't let me get hurt easily." Bria's amused laughter floats through the room.

"Why so glum, ladies? Come now, let's finish our last round." Bria clapped her hand to lighten the mood. Angelica's downcast eyes are starting to be show her guilt.

"In the end, I am still a selfish human, hm?" She smirked, "No matter. I'm not a good person from the start, after all."

It's all lies. The normally honest Angelica is lying through her lips. However cruel she is, she wouldn't put them in harm's way, she wouldn't prioritise her own safety if her friends, her comrades, are treading through danger. This is all a farce to raise the stakes.

"Cheer up, Miss Spade. You're the one who started this. Now finish it!" Aria challenges.

The last round of the card game ensues. The rules are simple, they are given four cards and two of the cards which are deemed worthless has to be thrown away. Whoever has the highest cards won. The room is once again calm, only the thrill of the gamble remains.

Aria has thrown away two of her cards while Bria hasn't abandoned anything yet. Angelica followed suit and discarded two of her cards after unfolding them.

The three women now checked their cards in various ways, there was disappointment, hope, doubt, determination, and several more mixed into the atmosphere.

This time, no more Gods or Tricks. Only pure chance and luck shall decide the outcome.

Queen?

No, that is a 10 of diamonds.

Oh, why was it so hard to obtain it when she needs it the most?

The second card she unfolded reveals... ah yes. Could it be that Lady Luck has finally smiled upon her? If so, then she is so kind to give Angelica her favorite card.

Ace of Spades.

With this she can win. That thought ran through her head as Angelica smirked in assurance.

What Angelica didn't know was that Aria held the winning cards, a King of Spades and an Ace of Hearts. How embarrassing~♡

Bria knew which cards she would throw away so that she could keep two of her highest cards which are a Queen of Hearts and a Jack of clubs.

As Bria intends to throw away her cards, the sound of footsteps were heard from outside the room.

"Ah. Someone is coming." Bria shfited her gaze toward the door.

The door to the place where the women reside opens dramatically.

"Yes. It seems we have a guest. Angelica followed suit, turning her head as she showed her Ace of Spades to signify her win, meanwhile Aria is serenely standing.

Who is the uninvited guest?

Oh, who could it be?

《 Picture by: 7aizagatha 》

[teiasviago]

une nouvelle vie, chapter 3

AO3 | @frogsmulder

Lawrence Selden paces by the wedding arch, Simon Rosedale looking on. “Perk up, Mr. Selden. Today you shall be married to the most beautiful woman in New York City; what have you to worry yourself into this frenzy?”

“I worry that I will not satisfy my dearest Lily. I should hate to have gone to all this trouble—especially in convincing her to marry me—only to have her grow permanently dissatisfied and miserable.”

Rosedale laughs, startling Selden. “Are you blind, Selden? Lily has never looked more radiant, and it is because she is in love! You have made her the happiest person in the world by loving her so, and you are lucky that she reciprocates.”

The groom nods and fixes his posture. “You are correct, of course. Lily is the one who suggested the formality of a wedding originally. I suppose it is only wedding day nerves. I’ve heard they plague men on the day of, on occasion.”

Rosedale nods. “You need only treat her well, Selden. Be honorable. That is all she ever asked of me and I could not wholly follow through; thus, she is becoming your wife and not mine.”

Before Selden can respond, Gerty bustles into the room. “Mr. Rosedale, Selden: Lily is ready!”

“The organist and priest are prepared, as well,” Rosedale says. “I’ll give you five minutes before our entrance.”

“I cannot thank you enough,” Selden says, meeting his newfound friend’s eyes.

“It is only the least I can offer.”

—

Lily Bart becomes firmly aware that she is a vision in pure white satin trimmed with lace when she comes to the conclusion that all Selden is able to do is gaze at her as she walks down the aisle on Mr. Rosedale’s arm. He is vaguely aware that his mouth is open but he is entirely unable to remove his gaze from his bride; Selden has been struck speechless in the face of his soon-to-be wife’s radiance. There are tears in his eyes by the time Lily reaches the altar and wedding arch.

She gives him a small smile from under the veil as she hands Gerty her bouquet, taking her spot across from him. She is positively radiant in the sunlight filtering through the glass windows high on the walls, her hair like flames. The couple goes through their vows in a haze of love, each speaking the fateful words that will tie them together: “I do.” When the priest pronounces them man and wife, Lily has to bite her lip to stay her tears; it would not do to cry on her wedding day, even though they are tears of joy.

Selden understands her predicament, she realizes when he lifts up her veil and sees the tears gathered at his own waterlines. In the far reaches of her mind, Lily is aware of the priest having said, “You may now kiss the bride,” but those words pale in comparison to the expression of awe and elation on her husband’s face. She cannot help but grin as Selden cups her cheeks as he leans down and presses his lips to hers for a long few moments. They only part for air and, in refusing to fully break contact, press their foreheads together for a moment.

“I love you,” Lawrence whispers.

“I love you, too,” Lily whispers back.

The newlyweds finally turn to the small group assembled in the pews, consisting of Carry Fisher, Nettie Struther and her family, and the other women of Gerty’s club—women whom Lily has come to know as kind and loyal friends. They offer a long round of applause as Selden leads Lily down the aisle and out into the summer sunlight, where they pause for the guests to gather outside. She tosses the small bouquet into the crowd before joining her husband in the waiting hansom, laughing breathlessly. Selden clasps her hands in his, no words spoken between them; none are needed to communicate the thoughts crowding in their minds like swarms of butterflies.

—

The hotel is, simply put, grand; so, too, is the honeymoon suite the Seldens are set to spend the night in. It is obvious that Carry Fisher had a hand in this arrangement, and Lily laughs good-naturedly with Selden at her friend’s blasé attitude towards funding most of their wedding.

“She insisted,” Lily Selden divulges, beginning to undo her elaborate updo as her husband undresses to his underclothes.

“I’ll have to write her in thanks while we are away. Perhaps a postcard, too. Mrs. Fisher is incomparable.” When his wedding garb is laid out on the dresser, Lawrence makes his way over to Lily, who is standing in front of the room’s ostentatious vanity. “Shall I help you undress?”

“Please,” she says, adding hairpins to the ever-increasing pile on the vanity counter. “The hairstyle is ever so pretty but it uses an absurd amount of pins, Lawrence.” Lily pauses as her new husband helps her step out of the dress, having undone the buttons lining the back of it. “I dare say the bed will be littered with them come morning.” She runs her fingers through her hair, picking out several more pins, before sighing heavily. “I truly felt beautiful, however. I am ever so glad that Carry had the foresight to hire a photographer. She and Gerty promised to keep the results safe until we return.”

Selden only nods, still rendered somewhat speechless; he clears his throat. “Should I...?” he asks, trailing off as he gestures towards Lily’s corset.

“If you’d like to,” she tells him with a smile. “You’ve done it many times before, my dearest.”

He laughs softly, untying each length of spun string with precision. “You are correct, but this time is different than all the others. It is our wedding night, and we have abstained from intercourse for the entirety of our engagement. I should like to... reassess that, since you are now my wife and it would bring you no shame.” He undoes the last tie of the corset and it falls open, leaving Lily in her slip, garters, and stockings.

Once Selden sets the clothing item aside, she turns around to face him. “I was not aware that you are interested in knowing me in such a way.” She searches his face as he takes her hands in his.

“Your beauty lies in more than simply your face, as you are aware. Your mind is even more beautiful. And learning your habits and your mind so completely has only served to make knowing the rest of you more desirable.”

“Truly?” Lily questions, her gaze sliding from his eyes to his lips.

“Truly,” Selden replies, placing one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

Mind set on an immediate course of action, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. Where their previous kisses hardly strayed from chaste, this one does so almost immediately. Selden was quite obviously being truthful in saying he desires to explore her body, as evidenced by the way his tongue traverses her mouth, seemingly cataloging every nook and cranny. He clutches at her slip as the kiss goes on, bunching it together as he winds her up, sets her throbbing harshly between her legs like never before.

He winds Lily so tight that she whines, bringing him back to himself; Selden forcibly gentles, tearing himself away from her lips with much effort to press sloppy kisses to her jaw. She feels the hot, slick part of herself deep inside crush in on itself and desperately wishes that she were filled.

“Lawrence,” she rasps, and his low hum in answer as he begins to suck on the soft patch of skin behind her ear makes her knees weak, prompting him to slide his hands around her. “Please.”

The sound he lets out at her words reminds Lily strongly of a beastly growl as he slides her slip up her legs before lifting her onto the vanity counter. She gasps and places her hands on either side of her on the counter for balance, breathing heavily as her husband kneels before her.

“Lawrence?” she questions, shifting her thighs together, which—oh, that is...

And then he divests Lily of her garters and stockings, leaving her slip as the last shelter of her modesty; she cannot say she is loath to give it up.

“Lily,” Selden says, a question in his eyes. “I’ve heard that some women enjoy being orally pleasured by their partners. I must confess that I am not experienced in this and that any attempt I shall make will be one of a studious amateur. But... I cannot help but be quite enamored with the idea.”

She perceives his words with dilated pupils and an insatiable throb between her legs, his talk of using his mouth to pleasure her down there figuratively stroking her where the throbbing his greatest. Lily sucks in a breath and parts her legs, their eyes meeting.

“I am not opposed to the concept of traversing this untraveled road with you, Mr. Selden,” she tells him, the use of his title and surname a prompt.

He understands it easily and quirks his lips. “I am glad, Mrs. Selden. Very glad.”

[juminly]

i saw that you were doing matchups and omg they are so amazing??? Couldnt help but want 1 for myself hehe, you're such an amaizng writer and you deserve all the recognition you get 💖 may i request an ikevamp matchup?? Thank you so much!! And i hope you're staying healthy and drinking enough water hehe 💖

La Vie en Rose 

PS: The melody of this song captures the sound of the love he feels for you and how peaceful his heart becomes, even when it’s shadowed by the burdens of his past. You can listen to it while you read the below: Gymnopédie No. 3, Lent et Grave by Erik Satie. It was a pleasure writing this matchup story for you 💜

Context: When you arrived at the mansion, anyone could see on your face that you were overwhelmed. There was so much to take in and grasping the idea that you ended up in a mansion filled with vampires wasn’t easy at all. It wasn’t some sort of fantasy, it was reality and you had to accept. In order to make the process easier for you, Sebastian had given you a tour of the mansion, told you about the ins and outs of everything around, while you met the residents one by one. (all under Le Comte’s request)

Just like he does with all his guests, Le Comte invites you for tea, just to get to know you better. The man is a socialite, an elegant handsome man that is the representation of what a true gentleman should be like.

One of the first thing’s he noticed was your preference for coffee instead of tea. After your first “tea break”, Le Comte actually requested him to buy the best coffee he could find so you could choose what you like the most. Every day after that, Sebastian would come to you with a different type of coffee (and it was a bit hard for you to even choose your favourite because they all taste so good [and definitely expensive as hell]).

Le Comte enjoyed being around you in any way he could. He invited you for breakfast and also walked around the gardens of the mansion just to learn more about you. His main goal was to make your stay as pleasant as possible and the more time he spent with you, the faster the pieces fell into place. You were vibrant, a shining light that would grow dimmer, at moments. You were human after all, no, everyone had their limits.

He requested that Mozart teach you how to play the piano (although he looked disgruntled and talked about how his time would be wasted on you, deep down, he was happy and later on discovered that his love for playing would be revived when he saw the smile on your face when you would play well) and Leonard to teach you about any other thing that would across your mind [with the support of Isaac when it came to physics and other sciences as well].

He had laid out all the possibilities before you and you had to choose how you wanted to go about things. Everyone respected your freedom and what you wanted to do with your own time, but somehow, they all still managed to keep you preoccupied (there was always something going on somewhere in that mansion). You would create your own schedule, set up lessons and meetings with the other residents that slowly became your friends. It was all part of Le Comte’s plans.

On days where you didn’t have lessons, Le Comte offered to take you to explore the beauty of Paris. He chuckled when he realized how much of a history fanatic you were. (PS: He laughs more often when he’s with you, the melodious sound is so beautiful, enough to turn heads. He finds your sense of humour a bit peculiar but he can’t resist how light his heart feels when he talks to you [Poor man has centuries-worth of burden on  his heart so the sound of his laughter often turns lots of head]).

He saw how your eyes would shine when you see beautiful things around you: dresses, the jewellry, trinkets etc... He starts taking you shopping more often. He loves seeing you change in and out of dresses and imagines you twirling in it, looking like a work of art. But what was even more beautiful were your eyes and smile, showing true happiness (what he yearns for the most but doesn’t think he deserves it).

He invited you to join him at a ball, wanting you to be his partner. He wanted to hold you in his arms, pressing your body against his and dancing with you. But, you didn’t show up. He waited for a good hour at the entrance of the mansion but you were nowhere in sight.

He came to find you, sitting in your bed, crying (and hyperventilating). He was a smart man and he understood that you sometimes just needed your space. He announced himself softly by calling out your name and settling on the edge of your bed. He asked for your hands, so he could hold them and bring your attention to the soft caresses of his fingers against yours, his thumb running smoothly on your skin. He more than treasures the fact that you consider him close enough to let him be by your side in your hardest/darkest of moments.

He would talk you through your tears, his voice almost hypnotizing and soothing while he comforted you. He would look at your wrists and bring them slowly to his lips, pressing soft kiss upon them while murmuring. “You are enough, princess. You are more than enough and I would like you to always remember that. Listen to my voice and ignore all the voices in your head. Whatever your mind is telling, it’s not true. Let me help you calm your heart, sweet one.” And if you were comfortable enough, he would hold you tightly in his arms, until you tears dried and even big spoons you in bed and talks to you to get your mind off things (and later on, apologizes since he shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed but these were special circumstances).

He absolutely didn’t mind when you cancel all of a sudden and values your wellbeing above anything else. He understands that your emotions can sometimes run high and being around others can be too much to handle.

He is your equilibrium. It’s a weird thing to say but he reels you in when you feel low, when you get angry or succumb to negativity. You remind him of his old self, before becoming the composed and stoic gentleman that everyone knows.

He started planning makeshift balls, just for the two of you, so you could live the experience of the old Parisian of the century. He took it as an opportunity to teach you how to dance, and would serve the most decadent of delicacies just for you.

When the night would settle in and you would still be awake, rummaging in the library or walking around your room, going through the notes you took of your lessons of the day, Le Comte was obviously concerned for your health. He obviously couldn’t force you to sleep but the least he could do was stay up at night with you, keep you company. [When you were just up at night, unable to sleep, Le Comte would play chess/cards with you.] He would ask you about your day, everything that you learned and watch your face light up. He felt special to be able to glimpse this side of you.

(He found you asleep in the library and the music room a few times and carried you to your bed, cradling you gently in his arms [and inhaling the scent of your hair and your skin].

Sebastian started making you decaf coffee at night so you can unwind but still enjoy the taste of coffee in the nighttime. Le Comte was quite strict with his instructions to the butler, informing him that your health came before anything else.

It was a rare occasion when Leonardo would pick up his violin and play alongside Mozart. He heard you sing in the hallway on the way to your room (and he happened to be passing by) and he felt like he was going to lose himself and the world stood still. He could only hear the harsh drumming of his heart in his ears and he had to retire to his room, earlier than usual.

That same night, you were up very late one night and were looking for Le Comte, your nocturnal companion. He was absolutely nowhere to be found. It was weird but you thought maybe you should just leave him be. You happened to find Leonardo on the balcony and asked him if he’d be willing to play some chess with you and he replied without thinking: “Sorry, Cara Mia. You’re my dear friend’s inamorata. I couldn’t possibly take his place. Go find him.” (Leo being the smooth wingman and all)

It was strange that he would say something like that and there was a flurry of feelings bubbling inside of you: confusion, surprise, anticipation and happiness. (you didn’t necessarily understand Italian but you had a feeling you understood what he said)

You went to his room and knocked on his door once, twice and before you knocked the third time, you heard the click of his shoes on the floor. He seemed sad and almost heartbroken, you didn’t understand why he would look like that and the only thought in your mind was to ask him what was wrong. But then he spoke.

Comte: Will you forgive me, dearest one?

Lia: Comte, there’s nothing to forgive. What are you saying?

Comte: I do not want to be responsible for your sorrow… 

Lia: You’ve never done anything to hurt me. You’ve only made me happy… 

Comte: Gods, please.. I have committed a grave mistake. 

Lia: No, Comte. Please tell me… *you stepped closer to him and looked into his beautiful topaz eyes* Whatever it is that you say, I’ll…

He sealed your lips with his own, letting his loving kiss and his strong embrace convey the words he wanted to say. He loved you so deeply and it consumed his thoughts, his heart and soul. He couldn’t get you out of his mind and knew for a fact that if he fell in love with you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go. He would let you make your own decision, whether to return to your own time or not, because that would be the right thing to do. But deep inside, he would beg you, implore you and weep for you to remain by his side. [He had lost a lover before and doesn’t want history to repeat itself. In his mind, his grave mistake was letting his heart take over and become vulnerable in the face of love. However, he was mistaken. His love for you ran deeper and it was not in his control. Whether he guarded himself or not, you were meant for him and your love for him only proved that to him]

When you became lovers and would be alone together, you call him only by his real name. He doesn’t like to have any formalities between you.

The first he noticed a change in your attitude when you got jealous or acted possessive, his eyes widened only for a split second. He couldn’t really believe it. But to ease your qualms, he would do anything to prove your jealousy wrong. (example: if you were at a ball with him or on the streets, he would take your hand and kiss it or even hold you by the waist and lay the most loving of kisses on your lips).

He reassures you and comforts you whenever he sees a particular frown or gleam in your eyes. It’s that look you get when you’re feeling jealous and possessive (and boy, does it make his heart flutter to know that you feel so strongly about him. Although, this man only has eyes for you. You and only you.)

This man is elegance and eloquence personified. But beware of getting on his bad side. He absolutely cannot tolerate anyone touching you or being physically close to you in any kind of way. He would give them the deadliest glare and would have their heart trembling in fear. Any other action or words were unnecessary. This man could turn into a fierce and fearsome killer in a split second if he wanted to.

He finds your love for sweets absolutely adorable and before you were lovers, he was always tempted to lick the cream/jam from the corner of your lips but would only wipe it off with his handkerchief or when he felt bold, when his thumb (and then suck on it).

Kisses of affection: the inside of your hand, your wrists, your shoulder and your hair/head.

He loves playing with your hair, smelling your hair.

And when you told him that you wanted to stay in the past with him, the expression on his face was one that you could never forget. He cradled your face with gentle hands, his eyes shining with emotion and a wistful yet genuine smile drawn on his lips, whispering softly:  “C’est toi pour moi, et moi pour toi pour la vie…”

PS: (he was hinting that he’s willing to turn you into a vampire. Instead of saying “dans la vie”, just like in the song “La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf, the fact that he used the expression “pour la vie” means that he was trying to hint at an eternity spent with you.)

(Very) NSFW Ahead ~

Your first time together, you saw a different Comte and it was as if he wasn’t the same man. What you saw was a man who was driven mad by his desire and he was eating you up with his gaze alone. He was gentle with you but it was all very intense. He treated your body like a temple and he worshipped you like it was his last night on earth before claiming you and joining your bodies, making them one. Sweet words never ceased to leave his lips while he kissed down your neck, sucked on your collarbone and tended to each of your breasts, appreciating the curve of your waist and the dip of your stomach, the width of your hips and the curves of your thighs, the shape of your calves and lastly, the honey between your legs. You reigned over his heart and he treated you like the queen that you were. [Things he said to you on that fateful night: “J’ai envie de toi… Mon amour… Je n’ai besoin que de toi… Donnes-moi tout ce que tu es et je vous donnerai le monde en entier… Je ne veux que toi…”]

He loves it when you beg for him so he sometimes overindulges when he prepares your body for him. You would tell him that you’re ready and wet enough to take him but the man is going to push you to your absolute limit before sinking into you. He wanted to  hear you cry out for him and scream his name, beg for his cock to be inside you.

The one time you looked into his molten gold eyes and whispered seductively “Daddy, please take me”, the man paused for a split second before his lips were crashing into yours and he teased your entrance with his tip, coaxing you to call him Daddy again and again before fucking you. (You thanked the heavens that the resident gentleman of the mansion was such a Daddy behind closed doors [lucky you!)]. 

He loves it when you tie him up and edge him. He wants to ache for you. 

He loves pleasuring you and being pleasured by you. He is a generous giver but also willing to take whatever he can from you and sometimes, aggressively does so (if he’s in a Daddy wants to punish you mood, your mouth is going to be doing lots of work and your body will be wrecked by the end of the night). 

This man’s dirty talk wants to make you weep from its poetic/romantic/eloquent essence. Let me remind you, this man writes smut poetry about you and letters to you (this should be canon). He writes poetry/letters for you and makes you read them while he’s making love to you. With each line you read to him, he’ll come up with another one that makes you melt even more. It’s dirty, it’s filthy but it’s obscenely loving, erotic and romantic. Every time your voice hitches or you lose your breath, he’ll thrust into you harder, making you cry out. “I’m not going to let you cum until you’re finished reading it all, ma belle.” 

His voice is erotic and loves it when you have sessions where you just watch each other pleasures yourselves. Mutual masturbation is one of his kinks and boy, his sultry sexy voice is too arousing and being under the heat of his gaze, you’re a goner. 

Your lover is vocal but he’s not loud though. He voices the pleasure he feels with a range of whiny gasps, sweet moans of your name and rough groans. 

He will bite you everywhere. Mark you with his kisses, licks, nips and with his release too. He’s tried drinking your blood from every possible place in your body but he prefers to take blood from your neck and lace your fingers together when he does (and if it’s during sex, he’ll thrust his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips or he’s restrain you by locking your wrists above your head). 

He’s a pureblood vampire and has the stamina of a Greek God [and looks like you too]. But that doesn’t necessarily apply to you. When you’re feeling lazy, he’ll hold you against him, your back against his chest and allow him to roam your body with his fingers. He’d slip his cock inside you and you both indulge in intimacy you’re basking in. Sometimes, you just want to appreciate each other’s bodies and feel warmth [and he likes to feel your pulse and see the sight of your flushed skin under his touch]. At times, he would roll his hips in languid strokes/thrust inside of you while his fingers that had touched the sweetness dripping between your legs, would press into your mouth and you suck on him lazily. 

Rousing the competitive spirit in you, you had no idea that he had a thing for bets and gambling. What was at stake? Your body or his. He would play strip poker with you and the person who would be completely stripped off their clothes first loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser. Absolutely anything.

All the things he loves to do to/with you in front of the mirror… Hngh..

He’d whisper in your ear and make you look into his eyes while you ride his thigh, while he’s unbuttoning his chemise while keeping one hand on your waist or on your breast (caressing your soft mounds or teasing your nipples). 

When facing the mirror, he usually takes you from behind so you can see every single inch of your body that he plans on touching, caressing and he’ll tease you by letting his cock glide between your lips, stimulate your sensitive bud of nerves just enough to make you tremble and scream out of frustration by not enough for you to reach your climax. And when he’s ready to take you, he’ll grip the back of your knee and spread your knees wide, so you can see how wet you are for him and he’ll remind and ask you, multiple times before he thrusts inside you. “Who’s your Daddy? Hm? Are you going to beg for my cock like the naughty little girl that you are? Tell me how much you want me inside you…” He’ll take you hard and fast, slow and gentle and let you watch his cock thrust in and out of you, ultimately filling you up with his release, his scent all over you and his mark dripping from you.

If you were the one taking control, he loves to watch you slowly undress him in front of the mirror, kiss and mark his neck with love bites and stroke his large cock in your hands (teasing him and edging him) and make him see how he looks like when he loses himself to you. 

Kinks: anything you’re into. This man aims to please and he’s a goddamn vampire. He’s seen the world and most probably tried everything. Praise kink (praising you), Body worship, mutual masturbation, overstimulation and mirror sex would be on the top of his list. He wants you trembling and begging.

Runner-up Suitor: Arthur Conan Doyle! It was such a close race but Mr. Le Comte won! ;) (I hope he won your heart too, after this)