#and truly what is more in the holiday spirit than that

[essektheylyss]

considering buying one of the shirts with the fake Goncharov poster specifically to wear to a family Christmas party to confuse the everliving shit out of my Sicilian uncles

[to-mah-to27]

Headcanon that Saiki Kusuo collects people with honest intentions.

This might be less of a headcanon and more of just a dissection of the series, but every time Saiki talks about people in general, it's always nihilistic and defeatist.

He doesn't like weddings because of hearing the guest's thoughts and how it directly opposes what they are saying.

He doesn't like Christmas because of how people are always thinking about themselves and what they want rather than about giving and being grateful, which is against the very spirit of the holiday.

Basically, people's thoughts show a darker and more egotistical side of humanity, and overexposure to this has added to the already mountainous problem of Saiki distancing himself from everyone and everything.

Almost every time a new character is introduced, Saiki treats them in this same way, expecting them to be secretly self-absorbed and immoral. But by the end of the short, they prove to be otherwise.

-That's- when Saiki goes all Tsundere and "well I guess I'd rather not owe him a favor or anything" and uses his powers to help them.

Saiki -does- hate Nendou. Until Nendou jumps in to stop him from getting mugged by two other students. Saiki knows he has been nothing but cold and dismissive to this guy, and yet while getting the shit kicked out of him for getting involved, all Nendou does and give him a thumbs up and tell him to run.

Saiki hates Kaidou, too. Sees him as another outcast trying to become friends with him on the principle that they are both alone. Until Kaidou actually jumps in front of the other student to save her from getting attacked by a snake. Kaidou is terrified, yes, and panics and thinks "Why did I do that?" but he still did it. He risked bodily harm and infection to save someone else and -that- is what heroes actually are.

Saiki doesn't necessarily hate Hairo, but he does admit they aren't the type of people who would get along. But then Hairo goes as far as to scrape his knee for Saiki, even if it was to keep him in a game he doesn't really want to play. He recognizes Hairo is someone who sticks to his morals, and he respects that.

Teruhashi took a bit longer, especially because at first she really was the type of person who says something the opposite of what they think. Their relationship is a little more complicated, I think and I've already talked about it before, but I do think that it was when she committed so hard to her appearance that she was willing to eat that "ramen" from the place Nendou showed them. Actions speak much louder than words, as Saiki as a character is a very good example of. At a certain point, is it really a facade if she is willing to go that far?

Basically, Saiki has a soft spot for people who are honest and true.

He can't force himself to really truly push them away like he could do if he really wanted to. Because that's so rare in the world to find a person like that, at least for him, and so it is very difficult to force them out of his life when he knows they are only trying to help.

At least that's how it starts.

I can do another post about the rest of the characters if y'all want

[see-arcane]

The trains go only so quick

The weather’s only so calm

For the people are all out

For celebration’s a balm

Our good friend sighs in shelter

Barred from revelry and fear

A storied local greets him

As a thunderhead draws near

Preface: For maximum effect, give, “Dracula’s Guest,” a read before proceeding.

The PDF version of the preview is here.

2

Walpurgisnacht

Munich held onto him longer than he would have liked. Had he been marooned in the place as a mere visitor he would never have opted to haunt the station rather than milling around through the celebrating streets. There was as much reveling as reverence at work due to the holiday. The far end of it, anyway. Jonathan had tucked a note on it in his schedule. Celebration meant delays even in the most sedate locales and there was every chance that this one’s might postpone his conveyance. He smiled tiredly at the shorthand, if only so he did not torture himself with looking at his watch for the third time in as many minutes.

‘Walpurgisnacht. Walpurgis Night. A holy day held in respect to Saint Walpurga, the 8th century abbess who warred with illness, pestilence, witchcraft and grim spirits. A time of grave superstition by dark and relieved gaiety by sunup with the witches and the dead all banished. The date has a predecessor in the form of the May Day festivals of old, making the time one of bonfires and fear, beauty and feasting.’ And apparently keeping the trains held up so that any wandering spirits cannot flee too far from the cemeteries.

Jonathan tucked the note away with the rest and battled with himself over whether he dared to stray from the platform or not. His train was meant to arrive at seven o’ clock, which meant that for safety’s sake he ought to be ready and waiting by six, even if the train was more likely to appear closer to eight. But the hour was now half-past five and he had taken his lunch early that day. He was down to rationing mints from their tin lest he give in to hunger and try to elbow his way through the crowded streets to find a restaurant. One that he would not even have time to truly enjoy, needing to eat speedily and flee back to the tracks. His stomach pinched him in protest. He held a fist against it to muffle a growl.

“You can wait.” He could. If there was no dining on the train, he would still make time for breakfast in Vienna. Or if not breakfast, lunch in Klausenburgh. Or… “Or I could just break and get a room for the night.” The words were a sigh. He had spied a hotel sitting in a picturesque spot near a spread of wild greenery that bled into woodlands. What was the name? “Quatre Saisons, I think,” he said under his breath. This, like the rest of his murmured commentary, was meant for no ears but his own. The festivities had left the station remarkably barren. Everyone who had traveled to or from the area wouldn’t be packing up until at least the next morning. So it came as a surprise when he heard a voice behind his head:

“You are an Englishman?”

Jonathan turned to see a man almost as young as himself peering down at him. A cluster of wild roses at his breast was the only flourish to his apparel. His expression was unreadable apart from an angle of suspicion to the brows.

“I am,” Jonathan allowed, grateful that he didn’t need to strain his tongue or the man’s ears with his fragmented German.

“You have come from the Quatre Saisons?” The suspecting angle deepened.

“No, but I was thinking I may have to book a room if the train comes too late.”

The man’s face softened at this, his posture relaxing an increment as he insisted, “The train will come late. Not too late, but still late. You must not bother with the Quatre Saisons either way.”

“Is it full?”

“Most rooms always fill in advance of these days. Inns and hotels shall all be swarmed from now until the seventh of May. But Herr Delbrück’s Quatre Saisons must not be tried. The place is not well this time of year.”

“I do not quite follow,” Jonathan said, his nose just catching the whiff of past toasts to the date on his companion’s breath. “How is it not well?”

“The land it sits with. It is bad to be near it, even after Walpurgisnacht has been and gone. There are…” the man seemed to catch himself on a word before pressing on, “…wild dogs that roam the forest and its valley. Strange souls who would take after the devils of last night, even as we light the fires against them. No, you must not stay there until at least the thick of summer. Better to try in the city’s heart if you must have a room.”

The rooms that were full of visitors already, according to the young man himself. Either way it still relied on Jonathan potentially spoiling the entirety of the client’s route as laid out and paid for from his own account. The idea of taking a room and gambling on a morning train was only a daydream. Jonathan almost said as much.

Instead, “I do not need a room, really. I can hardly risk missing the evening’s train by a minute. But I thank you for the advice, sir.” The young man frowned at Jonathan then, his eyes roaming the length of him in a searching way. “Are you waiting on the train as well?”

“I just purchased my ticket for the morning. It is better to travel by day. And to eat by it too.” He nodded at Jonathan. “You have not been in the city itself? You have partaken of nothing?”

“Sadly no. If I were here on my own account I should have liked to see more, but—,”

“The train will not come any earlier if you sit and starve.”

“Likely not. But I cannot risk wandering too far.” He regarded his luggage drearily. No, he dared not even risk a restaurant. Even the next stop would allow him only a glimpse of the city as he rushed from one point to the next. Perhaps he could find some time to wander when he reached the hotel, but not before. He clenched his belly against another snarl and popped another mint in his mouth. Only three left, but, “Would you care for one?”

The young man whispered something in his homeland’s tongue—it sounded to Jonathan like, “Better to have the leaves,”—but in English said, “I would. Thank you.” He laid it on his tongue as if it were a medicine pill. “But it is still not a supper. Take yourself away for a meal at least, Herr Englishman.”

So saying, the young man departed, perhaps for his own plate or hotel. Jonathan swallowed a sigh and put the tin away. Looking around he saw he really was the last one on the platform apart from one dozing woman playing chaperone to her family’s luggage. Her husband had taken the two sulking children back out into the streets to burn off some energy. With the surly toddlers and the brief conversationalist departed, the space felt oddly like an island. Even the clamor that leaked in from the mouth of the tracks was muted. Jonathan tried to bury himself in a book, but gave up as the text swam before his eyes.

What rest he had gotten was as thin as his last meal was distant. If he could only lay down and sleep through the hunger he might be satisfied, but that risked drowsing through the train whistle itself. He tucked the book away and took himself to the closest opening which showed the beginnings of twilight oozing over the tracks. His hand went again to the neglected journal at his heart and thought another apology at its pages. So far he’d only managed to jot his name within the cover.

“I am sorry,” he told the air. “My head is in no state for you yet.”

A sudden cold gust blew his words back. There was a rise of distraught voices from outside as the breeze whipped through. In the next moment there was a shift in the palette of the sky as a weighty cloud rolled over the last of the sun, plunging the outdoors into early dusk. After that came the pattering of hail. The last festive sounds turned to a disgruntled din before their noise was drowned entirely by the hammering on the station’s roof. Jonathan pulled his coat tight around him and wished luck out to the revelers.

Between one blink and the next, one of the latter manifested at the threshold below. She wore what would have been an immaculate costume of a bygone age if not for the burns that had assailed the fine old dress. Though perhaps that was merely a desired effect. She was likely going around as some witch or spirit who had escaped the bonfires’ efforts during the night. Between the platform’s glow and the outdoors’ new gloom she certainly possessed the half-lit look of a ghost.

The sort of ghost meant for a stage, he added to himself. She has an actress’ face.

Yes, an actress powdered and dressed to be a dead beauty. Her mouth was a full and somber curl of red against a carcass’ pallor. She carved it into a smile as she stared up at him, seemingly oblivious to the cold and hail at her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked in his stilted German. The woman only kept her faded eyes upon him. They had a pull to them that Jonathan couldn’t place. He found himself approaching the tracks’ edge before he realized his feet were moving. “Do you need help?” he added, wondering if the trouble was just a matter of shelter. The tracks were set deep and it would be a hassle to hoist oneself up to the platform’s edge.

“He tries again,” said the woman on the tracks. Possibly. Her German was almost as fractured as his own, albeit with a different inflection. “Another sent for. Another to travel with. Fast, fast, fast.” The sky growled at her words. A stage’s effects could do no better. With the thought in mind, he wondered:

Is this a performance?

Before he could ask, his stomach spoke for him. It was mortifyingly loud and the thunder’s next peal did not do enough to cover it. The woman’s expression cracked on a wider smile. She recited:

“Help, Heaven, help! who knows the Father

Knows surely that he loves his child:

The bread and wine from the hand divine

Shall make thy tempered grief less wild.”

Jonathan smiled back, glad to recall the verse. He and Mina had gone over it in the original text and the English for practice and preference’s sake. Lenore’s lines fell from him:

“Oh! mother dear mother! the wine and the bread

Will not soften the anguish that bows down my head;

For bread and for wine it will yet be as late

That his cold corpse creeps from the grim grave’s gate.”  

The woman’s grin now bared teeth. They were brilliantly white against the crimson of her lips.

“Are you meant to be Lenore?” Jonathan asked.

“Lenore sought her lover. I sought only death.” Her hand rose toward him. “Will you help me find it?”

Thunder boomed as a new wind rolled through the station like a howl. The woman’s ruined dress and hanging hair danced wildly on her, though she seemed not to notice. Jonathan went toward her, deciding whatever act she adhered to would be better performed out of the elements’ reach. His hand reached down to hers. There was a moment when their fingers brushed and Jonathan felt sick at how frozen she felt even through his glove.

In the same instant he saw the dancing of lightning without. The bolts seemed almost like a great weaving animal, snapping in closer and closer bolts along the blackened sky. Intuition tightened in his chest. Suspicion leapt to certainty. There was no time to speak—

Get off get off the tracks it’s going to—

—only to grab for her hand.

But not fast enough. Another gale of wind rushed through, this time angled in such a way that it seized and flung him back against the floor. Lightning struck in the same instant. Noise blasted his ears. It was a nigh deafening din made from the crackle of electricity dancing on the tracks and the rattling roar of a thunderclap. Under it, he swore he heard the woman scream.

God oh God oh God hospital what is the word for hospital I need the dictionary I need—

He scrambled to his feet and back to the platform’s edge. His breath stayed trapped in his chest until he looked down.

And saw nothing.

There was no woman, alive or dead. He gawped for almost a minute at the bare tracks. The hail thinned away as he stared and the thunder softened to a grumble.

How..?

“You are hurt?”

Jonathan looked up and found the dozing mother had left her heap of baggage to check on him.

“No, no, not hurt. But there was someone…” He gestured at the tracks and limped through a few lines of German before she shooed his words away with her hand, switching briskly to English. He explained the scene in full and the mother nodded with something between grave intensity and a sprightly eagerness.

“Yes, there would still be some who wander late. Walpurgisnacht is night and day. Probably she is drifting back to her tomb, sulking that she did not get company for her bier. If you had your gloves off and showed your ring she may have not bothered. Lovers who die before the wedding day, they are the greediest souls on these nights.”

This she said with great authority and Jonathan had no desire to mention that he wore no ring as yet. No more than he had any urge to voice his suspicion that the woman had been very much alive and somehow made it away from the station’s threshold before the lightning could do any damage.

The other explanation is that the woman was, in fact, a roaming ghost come to collect a new member for the graveyard. It is the time of year for such things.  

A call from the other end of the station turned the mother’s head. Father and children had come in from the storm, as had a smattering of other travelers. The train whistle bayed not long after. Jonathan looked to the tracks again as if the woman might suddenly rematerialize in the locomotive’s path. The only body that he could see was the outline of some animal at the edge of the platform’s glow. It looked like a large dog posed beside the tracks, tail still and eyes lambent. Jonathan held its stare for a moment. Then it was gone, loping off into the night.  

This. This is worth writing about.

And it was. At least once his seat had him in it and a wonderfully dense meal sat in him. He brought out his stationery pages for the cause, jotting the entirety of his time in the station up to the arrival of the train. These loose sheets were reserved specifically for storytelling and recipe preservation, the better to possibly be scrapbooked away at home. The journal still drowsed in his pocket.

Hold out for the hotel room. Almost there.

Jonathan cupped a hand to his eyes to keep out the glare as he watched the world go by in the window. The storm was left behind now and the sky was all stars above rooftops and treetops alike. A brilliant wedge of a moon shined out at him. He was still admiring the view when the steward came along to tap his shoulder. There was a smile on his face but a glimmer of anxiety in his eye.

“Herr Harker, yes?”

“Yes,” Jonathan managed before the steward produced a telegram.

“For you. Will you have another drink?”

“No, thank you.” But the glass was already stolen away and refilled before he could finish the sentence. The steward vanished in nearly the same instant, looking as if he meant to finish the bottle himself. Jonathan puzzled over this a moment before turning his attention to the telegram.

BISTRITZ.

My friend, I send all apologies to you on account of the trains and the time. We arranged our meeting during the heart of much fervor, and such will always meddle with travel. I send this in anticipation of your own frustrations with the hindered hours and my gratitude for your steadfastness. I hope it shall please you to know that the Hotel Royale has its finest suite reserved and waiting for you, and so too for the Golden Krone of Bistritz after them. May their hospitality be a balm against the troubles of a passenger at the mercy of fickle clocks. —Dracula

Jonathan marveled at the message. It was a rarity in itself to have a client who made no fuss when it came to snags that the firm had no control over. To have one who foresaw said snags and went out of his way to apologize to the solicitor himself was unheard of. And from a noble?

He added the telegram to his memoranda with a smile. 

[risuola]

I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions

It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it’s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.

cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words

kissmas masterlist

There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.

And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.

“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.

“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.

“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”

“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”

If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.

“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”

“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”

“It’s a mistletoe!”

“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”

“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.

The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.

The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.

“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.

“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”

“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.

“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”

“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.

Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.

“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?

“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.

As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.

That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.

“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.

There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.

You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.

As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.

“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”

“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.

“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”

“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.

[haravath0t]

||𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰:

"ℑ𝔰 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔞 ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔢𝔱?" ||

𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟾

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ in which you and neuvillette can finally have some alone time…except melusines are really eager about these concepts of “presents”.

|| cw: smut: cockwarming, slight exhibitionism||

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

“To Sedene. I hope you have been a good girl this year. The time has come to celebrate the spirit of the season."

“Uhuh.”

A gulp is heard from Neuvillette as well as the sound of shaky breaths. 

“Know that you are dear to me, and I hope you enjoy the gifts I have prepared for you.”

“Uhuh.” 

More scribbles were heard from the quill, but Neuvillette knew the little triumphant smirk you surely had on your face. He didn’t even need to see it, but he didn’t need to, for his focus was elsewhere, and it surely was not towards the very card you two were writing for your beloved melusines. 

Neuvillette’s gloved hands clenched onto the armrests of his chair, too stunned, too pleasured, too in awe to be playing Santa right now. As bad as he wanted to finish this elaborate surprise you two wanted to have for the Melusines of Fontaine, his eyes flutter shut at the very feel of your walls clenching around him. His abdomen hurts, his own cock pulsing endlessly as a result of you denying the pleasurable release he so craved over the course of the past hour. 

“Neuvillette?” You call to him, hearing just by the tone of your sultry voice how eager you were to taunt him. “Neuvillette, our card for Sedene?” You coo, your head turning back to see Neuvillette’s current state and not being disappointed. 

“H-Hahhh…” he grunts, trying his best to cling onto the very dignity he has left within him.

His body felt hot within his clothes, droplets of sweat trickling down his fair skin as your hips teasingly swivel in ways in which only you knew he liked. He knew he should stop you, to tell you this game has been running too far long tonight, but some part of him…some needy part of him likes this, likes this helplessness he feels whenever he’s inside you, likes the animosity that begs to come out when his cock is buried deep inside you. “Darling,” he grunts, “Behave.” You knew Neuvillette had been trying to maintain his composure the past hour in the wee hours of the night while you two prepared the numerous presents for the melusines, but oh, did you want to see this impartial and fair Iudex crumble once again. 

So here you were. What once started as you just sitting on his lap as you wrote the cards on his desk became a little tiny game. “Oh you poor thing,” You coo softly with a grin, your eyes on the tiny card as you opt to finish the rest of the card for Sedene yourself, signing off as Santa. “That was yet another card I had to finish by myself. What a shame, really. I thought you’d be a little more focused than this.” Your tone was filled with innocence, everyone would hear it as such, but not Neuvillette. No, Neuvillette knew just how little your disappointment truly was, and he cannot help but feel his sexual frustration grow. You have him where you wanted him: wrapped around your pretty finger.  

“You….” He growls, his hands taking purchase of your hips, eager now to remind you of just who your lover is, until…

The door to Neuvillette’s office swings open, causing you both to immediately halt your actions. Neuvillette’s eyes fly open, his gloved hands wrapping you into a seemingly innocent embrace, his chin perched on your right shoulder as your hands subtly cover the box of holiday cards. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” A feminine voice calls, one that makes you two notice the very melusine you two were just writing for. 

“Ahhh, Sedene,” Neuvillette coughs, making himself smile over at her. “It’s quite…late. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Your cheeks felt the heat rushing to them, your face suddenly feeling warmer by the second as your lips curved up into a smile. You didn’t fail to take notice of Neuvillette’s hands that keep your hips flush against his own, the way he clings onto them like some vice, making you feel a tinge of pride for having him so helpless. 

“Has this…Santa passed by the Palais Mermonia yet?” Sedene asks, her head tilted to the side in genuine curiosity. Neuvillette cannot even find himself to be the least bit upset at the interruption. 

“Not yet, Sedene. You must wait till the morning to see if Santa has left you some presents. See, I heard you must be asleep while Santa fulfills his duties. We must not disturb him.” His deep and gentle voice, now even more leveled than it has been so far echoing in his office, his gaze endearing towards the truly innocent melusine. 

“So…I must go home?”

“Yes, you must go home, Sedene.”

Her cute footsteps finally retreat after this realization, the door closing once more, but your initial cockiness has completely disappeared. If Sedene was here in the Palais Mermonia for as long as she said she had, did she hear anything? Was Neuvillette’s door soundproof? Suddenly the factors you have not considered made themselves known, but it all quiets down with the deep chuckle of your lover resounding in your ear. 

“Seems like you’re embarrassed, dear.” He whispers, the feel of leather on your thighs as his hands wander teasingly under your dress. 

“I am the Iudex,” He growls. “It’s about time you right your wrongs under my terms, hm?”

[paragonrobits]

thinking about how everything good in Simon Petrikov's life (coming back into Marceline's life, being around people that care for him and accomodate to him as Ice King, being around more friends and family, finding a measure of peace and slowly starting to crawl back to who he truly is deep down) ultimately all goes back to Finn finding empathy for him and trying to connect with him, coming to a head in Holly Jolly Secrets when he asks him not to leave or kidnap anyone to make himself feel better (and while for Ice King its that he is so far gone he doesn't understand what he's lost, Finn understands) but accidentally reinvents holiday vibes to cheer him up

Everything comes from this. Before this point, Ice King was so dangerous and unstable that even his penguins weren't safe from his wild mood swings; he had no friends or family, having either lost them or driven them away on purpose as he feared his growing loss of lucidity. He was alone, losing more of himself to the crown, and losing more than that all the time; plagued by nightmare visions and hallucinations as well as constantly seeing spirit things no one else could, and he was getting worse every day.

As he was, he could never come back into Marceline's life; she avoided him, too distraught by what her adoptive father had become. He couldn't develop genuine friendships or any real kind of stability.

And afterrwards, that changes. Bit by bit Ice King stops capturing princesses at all, stops indulging the worst parts of himself; his callousness, his selfishness. He goes back into Marceline's life and there he stays, establishing a family life for himself even if he doesn't understand it, he grows more at peace and contentment with himself, the violence and potential for harm so diminished that it permanently affects how people interpret him. They forget the violence and madness, and only remember the fun parts; his whimsicalness, his complete lack of shame or cringing at himself, his cheer.

And it all comes back to Finn, one winter night, seeing the horror of how much the Ice King lost, going out of his way to try to help him. And from there Ice King develops a kind of friendship with him and Jake.

(And such is how you reach into the dark and pull a man out again.)

[luminetti]

Dressed to Kill

༘⋆ Summary: In which, you, a professional cosplayer, mistake Bakugou’s hero outfit for a really good Halloween costume. ༘⋆ Pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ༘⋆Warnings: n/a, reader is just the biggest dumbass (lovingly) also, i cannot stress this enough. they are NOT CHILDREN in this. they’re both at least the age of college seniors  ༘⋆Notes: huge thanks to one of my biggest inspirations for writing in general: @andypantsx3 ! this fic is lightly inspired by—and lowkey a lovechild of—her pieces, baby are you playing tricks and unconventional, so if you somehow haven’t read those yet, i strongly recommend doing so!  also now that i actually have more than one piece of writing, id love for some writer/fandom moots! im very new to tumblr and would love friends :’)  ao3 release

Halloween was by far your favorite holiday. 

As a child, you were always drawn to Halloween, not just for the candy, but for the extravagant costumes and house decorations. Nearly every year, you stayed up late with your father, hand-sewing various details onto your costume. Finally, for your eighteenth birthday, you were gifted your very own sewing machine which officially kickstarted your interest in cosplay.

Throughout your first couple years of college, you worked on your Twitter account, posting quick mirror selfies of your various cosplay projects. Only during senior year did you finally feel comfortable enough to go out in public for your first official photoshoot.

‘Comfortable’ was a bit of a stretch. Very seldom does one feel truly comfortable when posing in front of a grandiose fountain in the middle of a public garden, fully clad in foam armor. What made it significantly worse was when the aforementioned armor looked more like a metal bikini than an actual chest plate worn into battle.

Poor character design choices aside, you loved Halloween for that very reason. With everyone dressed up–or down, for some–there was no reason to feel self-conscious during your monthly photoshoots. Sure, there was the occasional snide remark, but the number of supportive comments from passersby was enough to quiet your uncertainty.

This year you had stayed up late for the past month putting the final touches on your purple staff, even attempting an LED system that allowed parts of it to glow. It had taken two weeks to get the prototype of the dress situated since you weren’t used to sewing such a large amount of detail into your fabrics. Unfortunately, this also meant it took significantly longer to finish the outfit than expected, leaving almost no time to do your wig. But, in true cosplayer fashion, you managed to whip something together with an older purple wig, just in time for tonight.

You did, however, only realize the character also had a sword occasionally, but there was no way you were going to make that in time so the staff would have to suffice.

The night had already been proving to be one of the best so far. Starting around eight in the evening, you and some of your closest friends had gotten together for a costume party, a series of shitty horror movies, and a plethora of even shittier cheap cocktails. Despite not being much of a drinker yourself, you always participated in the annual spooky-themed cocktail charcuterie. This year you weren’t holding back. Your pride and joy charcuterie consisted of nine drinks including, but not limited to ghost-themed Aperol Spiritz–nicknamed Spirit Spiritz, Bloody Marys, and your personal favorite, Bonejitos. They even had little skeleton dudes sitting on the rim of the glass.

Unfortunately, your friends weren’t very amused by your festive drinks, even going as far to say your ingenious Bonejitos were a stretch. So, clearly they didn’t see the vision. Eventually, the party events died down as the guests began to go home, allowing the night to evolve into just drinking.

“Did you get a photo of your costume yet?” Himari, your friend from freshman year, questioned.

You shook your head, absently watching as the rest of your friends downed your masterly made Bonejitos. Liars, all of them. “‘A stretch’ my ass,” you scoffed.

Himari dug around in her bag, retrieving her camera. “Halloween photoshoot? Your fit is cute and I’m getting bored here.”

You did like the idea of photography-major level photos with none of the price involved. “I love you, Mari.”

She stuffed your spear under her arm and with that, the two of you stepped out into the cold and crisp autumn air, the breeze running over your bare shoulders and thighs. You shivered lightly, pulling up your thigh-highs and hugging the excess fabric close to your body.

Himari glanced at you in concern. “Does the Raiden Shogun not wear a jacket?”

“Unfortunately, she doesn’t.” You chuckled, rubbing your arms. “You can’t be sexy and wear a jacket,” you joked.

She hummed in sympathy, looking around for a good place to set up. The park was a particularly popular spot during Halloween, specifically known for its comforting lighting and ambience.

 “What about there?” Himari pointed to a small gazebo surrounded by violets, lit up by a string of fairy lights. There were a couple groups nearby, but otherwise it was pretty much empty.

You nodded, excited. “Good eye as always, Mari.”

She handed over your spear and offered an arm,helping you step up onto the platform and underneath the gazebo. While she adjusted the lights to her liking, you took a moment to adjust your skirt and sleeves.

“Do you think it’s too short?” you asked, tugging on the cloth. Thankfully the character wore a pair of shorts underneath, but the dress was barely miniskirt length.

Himari looked over briefly before turning back to the lights. “No, not really. Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

Before you could answer, a group of college-aged girls passed by the gazebo, clearly a bit drunk. As they left, one of the girls that was hanging onto her friend’s arm looked over. “Don’t be, girlie! You look hot as fuck!” she shouted out, words slightly slurred.

You flustered, blabbering out a quick thanks in surprise. There’s nothing like a friendly drunk girl to get your confidence up.

From behind the camera, Himari gave you a thumbs up. “Give me one of these.” She mimed leaning against the wooden banister. “Yeah like that, but with your leg more out.”

The shutter clicked several times as you did your best to recreate her gestures.

Himari proceeded to guide you through a series of poses, occasionally having you incorporate your staff or the gazebo. Eventually you got used to the flashing camera and allowed yourself to melt into the character, embodying her essence as best as you could.

Time flew and before you knew it, Himari was calling you down from the gazebo to look over the photos. You hovered over her shoulder as she flipped through each one, pausing at her favorites.

“I’ll import these onto my laptop and send them back edited sometime this week,” she told you, removing her glasses and wiping them off with her sleeve.

You nodded. “Thanks for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” You rummaged through your bag, hoping to find at least a little money for her efforts. Feeling a couple bills between your fingers, you held them out to her.

Himari’s eyes squinted and you realized she was staring over your shoulder. “I think that guy in costume was looking at you,” she said, still cleaning off the lenses.

You turned to see a tall man across the park, large grenade shaped gauntlets resting on both his arms. He quickly looked away once he saw your head turn. Looking closer, you realized he was dressed in a dark black sleeveless jumpsuit with orange and green straps along his body.

He was clearly a Dynamight cosplayer. And by the looks of it, a really talented one at that.

You were almost convinced that he had real hero equipment on. His armor pieces were strikingly accurate, and you made a mental note to look for more realistic prop materials.

“He probably spent a lot of time on that,” you mused to Himari, who had already gone back to inspecting the photos.

“You should go ask him about it.” she suggested, collecting the rest of her things and zipping her bag. “I’ve gotta catch an Uber soon.”

Maybe it was the lingering confidence gifted by the girl from earlier, but you managed to muster up enough self-assurance to wave goodbye to Himari and stride right up to the cosplayer.

As you got closer, you realized just how much work must have gone into all the details. The gauntlets–a very convincing metal–had several dents and scratches, giving it a worn down look, as if it had been used frequently.

His hair looked far too real to be a wig, likely just being his natural hair with lots of product in it. The most impressive detail by far was his physique. Had he trained specifically for this? The closer you got the more you noticed. If you were lucky, maybe he’d give you the name of his supplier.

“I love your outfit!” You smiled cheerily at him.

He turned to look at you, slightly taken aback. “Thanks?” he replied, folding his arms as he looked you over, eyes lingering on your cosplay.

You felt a twinge of anxiety as he inspected your outfit. He probably just didn’t recognize the character, you convinced yourself.

“I’m a cosplayer too,” you clarified, gesturing to your dress. “But clearly not as dedicated as you.”

You watched as his chest puffed lightly at the compliment, though he titled his head, a bit puzzled.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you tried a different method. “How long did it take to make?”

He blinked at you and shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe a couple of months? I just told them what I wanted.”

Oh, you got it now. He’s just a model. It wasn’t uncommon for people to collaborate on cosplays, especially ones where one person either commissions or buys a cosplay from an artist, and then models it themself. Either way, he was still one of the best you’ve seen.

You nodded in understanding. “Do you have social media? I’d love to see what else you’ve done.” Pulling out your phone, you loaded up your Twitter, preparing to enter his tag.

“Dynamight Official. All one word,” he replied hesitantly, looking you up and down as if he was scanning for signs of sickness.

You chuckled faintly. He was really dedicated to his role. “Well, what's your name? I follow a lot of cosplayers already. Maybe I’ve seen you?” You pulled up your profile and turned the screen around to show him in case he recognized your tag.

His arms unfolded and his face slowly morphed from confused to exceptionally amused. “Bakugou Katsuki. I am Dynamight.”

Waving him off absently, you nodded as you scrolled through your followed accounts. You swear you’ve seen him online before. “Sorry, I’m not really good at roleplay. But you’re pretty convincing.”

He leaned against the cold metal lamppost, watching you sift through various Twitter accounts. You sneaked a glance to check his facial features again, but he was already staring straight back at you.

In such close capacity, his striking crimson eyes stood out to you. Even his contacts were high quality… Fighting back the warmth that threatened your cheeks and ears, you averted your gaze downwards.

Your eyes flicked to his waist. You hadn’t noticed it before, but a thick black bomber jacket was tied tightly around his torso, unlike the real hero’s costume. Well, you stand corrected. You certainly can be sexy with a jacket.

Speaking of jackets, you had been so caught up in conversation you hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten. The soft breeze from earlier had picked up into chilly wind, rustling the fabric of your dress as it blew by.

Bakufaux–haha–seemed to notice your interest in his jacket, untying it and tossing it over your shoulders. “Bit cold for you, Princess?” he drawled. “D’nno how you’ve managed in that outfit.” He gestured to your short dress and tall socks.

You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered on you for a half second longer than normal. Not that you would’ve said anything. Thanks to his jacket, you were enveloped with warm and musky scents of charcoal and sandalwood. Though, being honest with yourself, you’ve been distracted ever since you walked over.

You snapped out of your trance when he pushed himself off the lamppost and leaned over you. It could’ve been twenty degrees out and you’d still swear you were overheating.

“Ever considered cosplaying in my costume?” He asked, watching your darkening cheeks closely.

Maybe it was the shit eating grin he wore proudly on his face, or the sneaking suspicion in your gut, but you had an inkling of a feeling he knew something you didn’t. In a surge of confidence and curiosity, or perhaps just pure adrenaline, you took a step forward.

“And if I have?”

Something snapped behind his eyes and you could’ve sworn his gaze dropped to your lips. He might’ve actually kissed you if you weren’t interrupted by the sound of glass shattering and the screams of customers inside a late night coffee shop.

You felt your heart rate increase as he swore under his breath, whatever smug expression he previously had was replaced by something far more intense and serious.

‘“I’m not leaving you out here alone, stay close to me,” he urged, taking one last look at you before turning and running towards the sound.

It took you a second to realize you were running behind him as fast as possible.

As the two of you neared the coffee shop, you noticed numerous shards of glass laid out on the concrete. On a second glance, you noticed some of the smaller shards were beginning to melt, turning the ground slightly slick.

You halted to a stop, almost crashing into your new friend. You felt a warm hand snake around your waist, lifting your body off the ground and onto a nearby bench.

“Don’t touch the ground, and stay right here,” he told you sternly, before turning and rushing straight into the cafe.

You watched, frozen in astonishment, only able to hear the horrific sounds of glass and… explosions? Occasionally you caught a glimpse of blonde hair, dropping off a poor customer caught in the crossfire, before dashing straight back inside. In what felt like seconds, he had already retrieved nearly every patron from the cafe, all while the villain was still inside.

Quickening footsteps approached from behind your place on the bench. You barely had a chance to comprehend the noises when a flash of red zipped past you, making a beeline straight for the cafe. Only after several trips in and out of the building did you finally recognize the eccentric costume of Pro-Hero Red Riot as he gathered the remainder of the victims outside.

Through the ringing in your ears you could only vaguely make out shouting between Red Riot and someone else still inside the building. It was all intelligible until he turned to you and the victims. The last words you heard was look away, or at least you assumed.

You weren’t interested in waiting around to find out so you shut your eyes tight and turned away from the scene as best as you could.

At first nothing happened. But after a beat, you felt your eyes burn behind your eyelids as a blistering wave of heat surrounded you. You think you screamed, but you weren’t entirely sure. Every muscle in your body tensed as the bench shook underneath you, threatening to break.

But as quickly as it came, it passed. You couldn’t tell how long you had been trapped in that position, clutching your knees to your chest with your eyes sealed shut. A warm hand shook you out of position, jostling your eyes open.

When your eyes finally adjusted, blocking your vision of the cafe was none other than a tall silhouette, and familiar red eyes.

“Hey, stay with me, Princess. You hurt?”

You felt calloused hands hastily press against your body, examining you for injury. He took a hold of your ankle, easing you into extending. “Anything?”

Shaking your head, you gripped onto him as he lifted you from the bench to your feet, steadying you with strong arms.

“Happy Halloween,” you managed to mutter meekly into his chest.

You felt him shudder beneath your head as he laughed, surprisingly heartily.

“Certainly one you’ll remember.” His low voice resonated in your brain, calming whatever nerves were remaining. “Let’s get you home, m’kay?”

You let him navigate you back to your apartment surprisingly deftly given your shaky directions, until finally you found yourself thanking him at your doorstep and shutting the door behind you.

Now that you were home and given a chance to breathe, you weren’t sure what was real. Everything mixed together in a blur and you couldn’t tell if it was all a dream or not.

As you groggily slumped against your bed, you felt something soft bundle against your back. Sitting up, you reached behind your back to feel the cool fabric of the black jacket you had been holding tightly against yourself. Embroidered on the sleeve were a pair of initials you hadn’t noticed before.

B.K.

With a strange pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone.

Sure enough, you had one new notification.

@DynamightOfficial followed you back

The device buzzed in your hand with a second notification. A direct message request alongside an image. Swiping to your messages, you opened the text from your new follower.

Front and center was a quick photo of Bakugou’s hero costume, laid out neatly on his bed. Directly underneath the image were two small text bubbles.

u take commissions?

ive got something in mind for ya

[iwaasfairy]

no cs omg fairy my big big brain is working !!

what if atsuko wasn’t an only child? what if he had a little brother who loved mom too?? sibling rivalry??

tw implied incest, jealousy, manipulative tendencies on ko WhATS new

if atsuko x mom!reader had an even more complicated situation

Ryota’s eyes are dragged from the pretty shape of the falling cherry blossom petals with a force greater than him. He looks over his shoulder, hands tightening slightly on the bike handles— just in time to avoid Atsuko’s attempt at slapping him in the back of the head. As he dodges, he pushes the meathead away by the arm, and kicks out his leg at his shin. “Heard you coming, motherfucker.”

“For once,” Atsuko grins when he still manages to land a mostly good-spirited squeeze at the back of his neck, and the younger man’s shoulders jerk up in protection. When he falls into step next to him, they both turn the last corner as the warm, evening sun makes harsh shadows. “Don’t you have volleyball training to get to, brat?”

“Don’t you have some teachers to bribe, dick?” He sighs. “Practice is canceled because our captain is home with a fever.”

Ryota’s dark eyes stay on his brother’s face when the grin curls up onto it. Of course Atsuko doesn’t falter. “Ah. My good name got you into school without a scholarship- you should be thankful.”

As they’ve grown older some of the edge has splintered away from the accusations, and now only a smooth surface remains. One that keeps the peace. One that doesn’t leave bad impressions. The older brushes his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, before sliding his hands back into his pockets.

“Is Tooru getting mom anything for Mother’s Day?” Ryota asks after a brief break, and his brother just shakes his head.

“Well, except the usual… treatment on a holiday,” the lighter brunet’s mouth pulls into a slight line, absentmindedly scratching his arm, “I don't think so. No trip or anything at least, they just had their anniversary trip.” He doesn’t hesitate to swing an arm over his shoulder as he squeezes him under his shoulder. “And you can call him dad.”

That’s something he doesn’t feel the urge to respond to.

“Are you gonna do something?” He ends up asking.

The older man now frowns at Ryota, who raises a hand in flimsy protection. It’s not the first time he’s gotten into trouble for less. His arm slips off as soon as it came when he straightens up with a frown. Ko nii can’t truly think he’s subtle. No, in fact, there is no way that anyone with eyes can mistake it for anything else. Still Atsuko asks. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

“It’s a fucking question, anii,” Ryota bites back, frowning too now. It doesn’t last long before he forces it off his face though, seeing the house come up at the end of the street. You don’t like seeing them not get along— and for what it’s worth, when Atsuko’s not acting like a possessive tool, they get along fine. “D’you wanna do something with mom as a family?” He adds after a few seconds of silence.

Silence where Ko nii seems to mull his answer around in his mouth until it becomes acceptable to say, or maybe until the bad taste fades. He’s got a glint in his eye, and his mouth stays shut for too long. It’s almost like he’s debating just telling him after all. But the unspoken knowledge is enough, isn’t it? It doesn’t need to be more than that.

That way he can still pretend. Ryota laughs. “Right. Forgot you wanna have it be a private audience. Should I stay at someone else’s house for the day or can you control yourself?” Atsuko’s grin can’t be wiped from his face. If it was Ryota, he’d at least have some fucking shame about it.

It seems like that thought hasn’t even crossed his older brother’s mind. And without meaning to, he lets the slight sourness on his tongue fall out with a complaint, rolling his eyes. “You should probably re-learn about sharing. She’s my mom too-”

“Yeah?” The older basically skips a few steps ahead, before running his tongue over his teeth and grinning as he takes off towards their garden. “Too bad. If you wanted a bite you should’ve been born first.”

He makes a face. “That’s fucking gross, anii.” His bike clicks as he rolls it behind, and his eyes scan the green for you. Only one thing gets his brother that giddy- his eyes stop to run over you where you’re reaching up to the branches of the trees, and picking out some early apples. Atsuko tackles you into a broad shouldered hug, before picking you up under your legs and into him, and he can hear how your giggles echo the street. You look good, pretty. The sweetheart dress you’re wearing clings to your waist and with how Ko nii’s hands are glued to your ass, he does see it.

He’d have to be blind not to see it. You are pretty. You let Atsu kiss you on the mouth but pull back when the big fuck probably tries to slip his tongue in. Freak. Not that that stops the barrage of love the guy heaps on you as Ryota drops his bike onto the grass. You only pull away from where Ko’s pretty much biting kisses down your throat to aim your beautiful smile on him instead, and he can’t help but feel warmer when holding up his hand.

“Hi, ma.”

Your tangled fingers pull from Ko nii’s hand to reach out to him as you rush over on sandals and your love glitters at him when he gets close. It’s like a tidal wave that coats everything in heat, warm and soft and kind like you’ve always been. What Atsuko’s doing is fucked up, but he does get it. “Baby~” You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down, and he lets his hands clench tight around your waist.

“I missed you so much.” He doesn’t pick you up, or kiss you, or basically make out with your neck— and you place a loving kiss on his cheek before wiping your hands on your dress. “Thank you for coming home, I know you’re busy at school.”

“It’s really- it’s fine. Missed you.” He doesn’t mean to stoke the flame, but as he looks up through his lashes he meets eyes with Atsuko. Who’s chewing his bottom lip to get rid of the ever so slightly agitated grin— that only tightens when Ryota finds himself winding his arms around you a bit tighter. Enough to pull you off your balance and make you laugh, before pushing away as you look between them both.

“Do you guys want to take a dip before dinner?” The sun casts the pool in perfect dappled light. “I took a dip earlier and the water is just right~ if you get the chance.”

Atsuko only waits a second before he reaches his hand back to you to stroke his thumb along your neck, then pulls you in when he softly tangles his fingers into the base of your hair. “I’ll go if you go.” You don’t hesitate to brush that off and roll your eyes, but your hand still lands on the lighter brunet’s chest. His eyes shift to where the younger brother is still standing in the front yard, slips his hands into his front pockets. “Ryota wants us to do something for Mother’s Day in a couple days… Any requests?”

The hand that’s still on your neck now moves down your spine, lower, lower- until it traces over the fabric to brush along the edge. When you don’t respond, your face turns to his questioning, and a bit shocked. But Atsuko isn’t. “What about a repeat of last year, mom?” He asks, and drops his lips to your temple after a self-satisfied grin. “Maybe I’ll keep it a surprise for now. I know what you like.”

He shrugs as he walks away with you still left in your spot on the deck— taps the door frame on his way inside. “Ryo’s back, dad! I’m gonna give mom a massage in the master bedroom. She worked so hard today.”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Merry Christmas Mishaps

Summary: Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it. You were used to the lights and the hustle and - God help him, the snow - that came with where you had called home for so long. You had given all that up to move to California to be with him, and he decided that if he couldn’t get you back on the east coast for the holiday, maybe he could improvise and start making new traditions here together, with a few surprises along the way. 

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Warm fuzzy Hallmark feelings. Non-descriptive smut that’s more alluded to but still there. 

Notes: Back on my Javy Needs More Love agenda, but make it the ✨Holiday Edition✨

Written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Challenge with the prompt "I have a secret".

---

Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it. 

When you had fallen in love with him, agreeing to move to San Diego to be with him since he couldn’t exactly relocate for you (he would have, in a heartbeat), you had done so with little to no hesitation. Being together was worth getting used to a new time zone and weather patterns. Last year, he had accompanied you home for the holidays, being introduced to every aunt and uncle and cousin twice removed as the boyfriend who had whisked you away to sunny California, experiencing every tradition and festive tourist trap he could have imagined, his cheeks cold and his toes numb, but with a giant smile on his face because of how happy you were. 

This year, though, he had drawn the short straw amongst his squad and would be working half a day on the 23rd and then the day after Christmas, too. And you, in all of your beauty and grace and complete and utter stubbornness, had refused to entertain the idea of going home by yourself. 

“For God’s sake, Javy. You think I’d let you spend Christmas alone?” 

You had sounded truly scandalized at the suggestion, and neither of you had talked about it since. 

But he knew. 

You were as cheerful as ever on the outside, even more so, really, overcompensating with the winter wonderland that your shared condo had turned into. Hardly a surface wasn’t covered in something festive since your negotiated date of the 15th of November (you were of the belief that Christmas started on November 1st, where he was a strict after Thanksgiving guy). Christmas playlists were on a constant rotation, and he’d watched more Hallmark movies in the last few weeks than he was willing to admit. You were doing everything right to make it seem like you were in the holiday spirit, but he could see the way the light in your eye dimmed just the slightest bit when you didn’t realize he was looking, and how sometimes your smile was just the tiniest bit forced. 

He knew that you missed the familiarity of home and the warmth of family and tradition. He had tried to get your parents out here instead, but it hadn’t worked out like he had hoped. It really would just be the two of you for Christmas. You had assured him that that was all you needed, and deep down, he knew you were telling the truth. Still, he wished he could do something more to make it feel like what you were used to. 

It was a week before the holiday when the idea came to him. You were watching yet another Hallmark movie, set in a snowy mountain town that was fighting to keep a beloved bakery alive (or maybe it was a toy shop, the plot lines were all starting to blend together for him), and you made an off hand comment about the likelihood of ever seeing snow while living in California. It was nearly two AM as you both slept in bed under a green and red duvet when his eyes popped open and he shot up to grab his laptop, suddenly knowing exactly what he could do. 

Javy spent the next several days feverishly planning, making calls and sending emails in between hops and classes. He felt like a kid trying to keep the ultimate Christmas present a surprise, giddy with excitement. It was a gamble, the forecast changing almost by the hour, but he was confident it would be worth it. 

Coming home from work at lunch time on the 23rd, he was practically vibrating with anticipation. You were in the kitchen transferring cookies into a tin from a baking sheet when he walked through the door, the condo smelling like chocolate and sugar. Michael Buble played in the background, and he couldn’t help but watch you for a moment before he announced his presence. 

“Hey baby,” he said. You spun to face him, and he could see the touch of melancholy in your eyes. 

“Hey you.” 

He crossed the room to wrap his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel the way your body relaxed against his. He held you tighter. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” he whispered into your hair, and you giggled as you pulled away to look at him, your smile warm and sincere. He felt a flutter that he was able to do that. 

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” you returned, raising on your toes to kiss him. He could taste your peppermint chapstick on your lips.

“I have something for you,” he said, and your eyebrow raised in question. He shot you a wink and squeezed your hips before he stepped away. He practically jogged over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, grabbing one of the boxes he had placed there earlier this week and hurrying back to you. He held it out to you with a dramatic bow, causing another laugh to escape from between your pretty lips. “For you, m’lady.” 

“You’re such a dork,” you said, but there was fondness laced through your voice, and Javy just smiled. You took the box from him, running your finger over the shimmering gold wrapping paper. You looked at the gift wistfully before looking back at him. “It’s not Christmas yet.” 

“An early gift. Come on, open it. For me?” 

You rolled your eyes at his exaggerated puppy dog expression that he played up just for you. With a sigh that quickly turned into an excited grin, you tore into the paper. He laughed as you did, knowing that no matter how hard you tried to hide it, you loved presents. 

He could tell you were confused when you pulled out the soft, fluffy scarf, followed by the matching beanie, both in a dark forest green that he knew you favored. 

“These are so nice, baby. I love them. But it’s 70 degrees outside right now?” 

Javy nodded, not bothering to fight the smile that was taking over his face. “Yeah, but it’s colder up in the mountains. So you might need to bundle up.”

You looked up at him in shock, your eyes widening with each passing second. “What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I rented us a cabin up in Big Bear. It’s just for a couple of days, but I thought maybe we could get away just the two of us. Maybe get some snow and have a white Christmas after all, if the weather pulls through. But at least a colder one, just like you like.” 

You were staring at him with a mix of disbelief and pure joy, and Javy knew he had made the right decision in surprising you. He mentally captured the look on your face right now, wanting to keep it as a memory forever. 

“Javy…” 

It wasn’t often that you were speechless, and he couldn’t help the laugh he let out as he asked, “Are you surprised?” 

Instead of answering, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tight. You wrapped your legs around him when he lifted you off your feet and pulled back just far enough to kiss him soundly. 

“This is the best gift ever,” you whispered against his lips. “I love you.” 

You were on the road within the next two hours, the presents from under your tree all packed up in the car as well as the cookies you had just freshly baked. It was almost a three hour drive and by the time he was winding his truck up the mountain side, the sun was setting. You were leaning as far as you could against the window, eyes glued on the outdoor landscape. A thin sheen of snow lined the ground, and you could see the faint shine of Christmas lights from tucked away houses.

Javy reached over to take your hand, lacing your fingers together. You turned to him smiling, and he felt his heart swell. He knew that this was exactly what you needed.

He helped you out of the car once he parked in the small driveway, and he could see the awe written all over your face. The cabin was wooden and cozy, the outside completely decked out in twinkling lights. He could see through the windows that the inside had lights on, too, and he knew the request he had put in with the rental company to have all the Christmas lights up and turned on at the time of arrival had been fulfilled. 

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, spinning in a slow circle once you walked through the front door. The cabin itself was small, a studio set up where every room flowed together with ease and little separation, but it was decorated just as extravagantly as the condo, only moreso, somehow, with the mountain environment and cabin feel adding a deeper element of festivity. 

“This is beautiful,” you said softly. Javy dropped the bags by the door and closed the small distance between you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his breath warm against your ear. "I know Christmas looks a little different this year. So I wanted to make it special for you." 

You turned in his arms to look at him, eyes shining with tears. “You make everything special,” you told him, and he could hear the conviction in your voice that made it so he couldn’t help but believe you. "Thank you," you whispered. "This means everything to me."  You kissed him, and Javy held you close, his hand stroking your back in a soothing rhythm.

You kept things simple that night, making an easy dinner and then cuddling up on the small couch in front of the fireplace to watch a movie. He insisted on something not Hallmark, and you didn’t fight him at all, laughing as you threw on The Santa Clause instead. 

The next day, the two of you went all out on modified versions of your family’s Christmas traditions. You made an absolute feast for breakfast, full of way too many carbs and way too much sugar that you both ate happily and without a care in the world. You baked even more cookies, and Javy discovered that he had quite the talent for decorating them. The two of you laughed and teased each other as you both tried to outdo each other’s designs, and he kissed your pout away when you eventually conceded defeat.

“You’re too perfect. It’s actually ridiculous.” 

You went for a walk in the early afternoon, bundled up in coats you never got use out of in San Diego. You wore the scarf and hat that he got for you and kept your hand in his the entire way. When you got back to the cabin, noses and fingers cold, you started cooking a meal that was way too much for two people. Normally that was reserved for Christmas day, but you’d have to head back home tomorrow night so you were modifying everything just the slightest bit to accommodate while still making it a trip to remember. 

You sipped sweet red wine together after dinner, trading stories about holidays as kids, when you gasped loudly, jumping up from the couch. He looked at you in concern as you practically sprinted to the window. 

“Baby, what-”

“Javy, it’s snowing!” 

The wonder in your voice was palpable. He got up and joined you at the window, watching the snowflakes fall gently to the ground in the dark, reflecting off of the array of outdoor lights. It was a beautiful sight, truly. 

“Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas after all,” he said, his voice low and husky as he wrapped his arms around you. You leaned into him, smiling contentedly. You just stood and watched for a few minutes before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Want to go outside?” 

You turned to face him, the excitement in your eyes evident. “Yes!” you exclaimed, already grabbing your coat and shoes. Javy chuckled at your enthusiasm, but really, he was just as excited as you were. 

The air was crisp and cold, but you hardly seemed to notice as you twirled around in the falling snow. He just watched you for a moment, content with the spectacle he was witnessing. You slipped just the slightest bit on your next spin, and Javy caught you, holding you steady as you started to giggle uncontrollably. He couldn’t help but smile at your joy, feeling his own heart warm at the sight.

“Careful,” he playfully admonished. You just sighed happily as you settled against him. 

“Never thought I’d get a white Christmas in California,” you whispered. 

Javy’s pulse picked up as he thought about one of the gifts he had for you, suddenly desperate to give it to you. He swallowed thickly as he kissed your cold cheek. “Let’s head back in.” 

You showered together, the hot water helping you regain some of the warmth you had lost from your unexpected snow excursion. You poured glasses of wine as he set some cookies on a plate for you to share, and the two of you settled in front of the Christmas tree. You eyed the gifts eagerly; it was nearing midnight now, and neither of you wanted to wait until morning. 

You took turns opening the handful of gifts you got each other, swapping stories and reasonings behind them as you did. Plenty of laughs and kisses were exchanged as you went, and before he knew it, you were both surrounded by wrapping and tissue paper. 

Looking at you now, basked in the tree lights and the glow of the lit candles scattered throughout the room, the fireplace crackling in the corner, he knew there wouldn't be a better time than right now. He cleared his throat gently, drawing your attention from the custom puzzle he had made for you of one of your favorite pictures. 

“I have one more gift for you,” he murmured, and his heart started racing wildly in his chest as he reached behind the tree, lifting the tree skirt to grab the small box he had hid underneath it. It was beautifully wrapped, adorned with a silky green ribbon and a small gold bell. Your eyes widened as you looked from the box to his eyes, and he could see the question written all over your face. His heart leaped in his chest as you took it from him, your fingers brushing his before smoothing over the elegant paper, different from what the rest of your gifts had been wrapped in. 

“Javy,” you breathed. “Is this…?” 

“Open it,” he urged, a small smile playing on his lips. You slowly undid the ribbon, setting it aside and then gently running your finger beneath the tape to get the paper off, showing a delicacy you hadn’t before. 

You gasped when the velvet black box was revealed, and when you met his eyes again, there were tears lining yours. 

“Go ahead, open it,” he encouraged, his eyes dancing with anticipation. 

You bit your lip through the smile he could see appearing, staring at him for a long moment, before you finally looked back down. With a deep, shaky breath you snapped the box open. He held his breath as he waited for your reaction, only for his stomach to drop when, instead of the radiant smile and excitement he was so confident you would have, your eyebrows furrowed together, a frown contorting your features. You looked not only confused, but heartbroken. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“What?” he asked, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. “What do you mean?” 

Without saying anything, you turned the open box to face him. Javy felt horror course through him when he looked down to see that the ring box, which was supposed to be housing a shiny, sparkling engagement ring that he just knew you would be in love with, was completely empty. And instead of the name of the jewelry store staring back at him on the silk lining of the inside lid, the LSU logo from the box that at one point held his class ring that was on his hand was staring back at him instead. It took his mind a moment to really register the implications of that, and the groan he let out was long and drawn out. 

“Oh my God,” he said as he smacked his forehead, “I’m an idiot.” 

You still looked confused, but maybe a little less heartbroken as you cleared your throat. “Huh?” 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he pleaded, and he scrambled to grab your hands, sliding himself closer to you on the floor. He knocked the offensive empty box to the ground. 

“I kept your ring it in my sock drawer-”

“Real original.” 

“Thank you, I know,” he responded without missing a beat, “But I also keep my class ring box in there, and I must have grabbed the wrong one when you were in the shower before we left yesterday. I had looked at the ring so many times that I swore the hinges on the damn box were gonna snap so I made myself keep it closed and oh my god-” 

You cut him off with a laugh, shaking your head and wiping at the tears in your eyes. “Javy, it’s okay,” you said. 

But it wasn’t, not to him at least. He had planned this whole getaway so meticulously and the proposal had been something he had been thinking about for so long. He had bought your ring months ago, and had been so excited to give it to you. 

“No,” he shook his head, “it’s not okay. This was supposed to be perfect, and I ruined it. I’m so sorry,” he apologized again. 

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s not ruined,” you said firmly. “I mean, yeah, this wasn’t exactly how you planned it, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you or the fact that I want to be with you forever.” 

“I just wanted it to be special,” he muttered, still feeling embarrassed. He imagined he would for a good long while. 

You smiled at him, that sweet tug of your lips that has damn near brought him to his knees since the very beginning. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek, giggling softly. You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. 

“I don’t care about the ring, Javy. I care about you. And this is perfect.” 

He looked at you, tears stinging his eyes. A grin slowly spread on his face as he processed your words. “Are you saying yes?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement. 

You grinned right back at him, shrugging playfully. “Are you asking?” 

Javy couldn't contain the emotion that coursed through him. The empty ring box was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Laughter bubbled up between you. "Yes! Yes, I'm asking!" 

Your eyes sparkled when you pulled away, and you looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. It took him a second through the excitement to realize why, and he felt his face heat with embarrassment again. "Oh! Right. Right. Baby, I love you. And I had a whole speech planned, but it doesn't feel like it matters anymore. All that matters is me and you, yeah?" You nodded, tears in your eyes, and Javy felt as calm as he had all night just from the look you were giving him. "Marry me?" 

You kissed him again, your lips molding perfectly against his. He had to rank it as one of the best kisses the two of you had ever shared together. “Yes,” you breathed, your noses brushing together as you nodded fervently. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

You squealed at the sudden movement as he scooped you up into his arms as he stood. He spun you around once, twice, your shared laughter filling the small, warm space. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck as he held you, trusting him not to drop you. He knew the smile on his face must have been ridiculous - his cheeks were starting to ache by the constant pull. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. He kissed you again, and you returned it eagerly. You moaned into his mouth as he carried you the few steps to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you. 

He made love to you slowly, his hands roaming every inch of your body, caressing and exploring with a tenderness that matched what he was feeling. He savored every breath and every touch. There was no rush as you moved together. The tree lights glowed and the fireplace crackled, and it was like just the two of you existed, tucked away from the rest of the world. You clutched at him as he expertly brought you to the edge. 

You lay cuddled up with him afterward, your head on his chest as his stayed wrapped around you, holding you close. 

The room was filled with a comforting silence, broken only by the sound of your steady breathing and the crackling of logs in the fireplace. Javy traced lazy patterns on the bare skin of your back, his touch gentle and loving. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner, snow was still slowly falling outside, and a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was after midnight at that point. He pressed a kiss to your head, sighing in content. 

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart." 

-----------

Main Masterlist

Notes: This was incredibly self indulgent. I actually love him so much, it's unhealthy. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all their help as usual, and to Mak for the absolutely stunning banner.

[emilystheories]

The Dusk Court: A Gateway Between Worlds.

There is so much mystery and intrigue surrounding the Dusk Court. Why did it vanish? Where did its people go? I've mulled over many different theories, but I always come back to how dusk (or nightfall) is described in Throne of Glass:

"Nightfall. That was when Maeve had told Erawan to meet. That liminal space between light and dark, when one force yielded to another. When she would open the portal for Dorian from rooms away."

Light and dark. Opening portals.

As such, I believe the Dusk Court was home to a Wyrdgate (portal) of immense power, where the people of Midgard and Prythian once crossed over into each other's worlds.

[Spoilers for ACOTAR and CC ahead].

Autumnal Equinox.

To explain this theory, I first need to break down some observations I have noted about the workings of the ACOTAR and Crescent City worlds.

The first involves the Autumnal Equinox, as mentioned in HOSAB. In a conversation between Hypaxia and Ruhn, it is noted that the Autumnal Equinox is when the "veil between the realms is thinnest."

"Hypaxia nodded sagely. “There is a ritual I could perform … It’d need to be on the Autumnal Equinox, though.” “When the veil between realms is thinnest,” Ruhn said."

We know this is true, as on the night of the Autumnal Equinox, Apollion visits Bryce in her dreams, and is able to physically touch her:

"This night, I might appear to you—as more than a vision.” He reached out a hand, and Bryce flinched as it touched her. Truly touched her, ice so cold it ached."

However, the Autumnal Equinox is also known as Death's Day. Note how it is described here (as it becomes important for a later part of this theory):

"On the Autumnal Equinox, we shall have our mating ceremony here in Lunathion.” A month away. The holiday known as Death’s Day was a lively one, despite its name: it was a day of balance between the light and dark, when the veil between the living and dead was thinnest."

The Autumnal Equinox/Death's Day is celebrated by people dressing up in costumes (such as Danika and Bryce dressing up as trash one year, lol). Because of this, one can assume that SJM is referencing Halloween.

[art by Emilia Mildner]

This is further corroborated in the Throne of Glass books, as Aelin notes that on Samhuinn, again, the "veil between the worlds [is] thinnest" (and this is when she interacts with Elena, the dead queen).

"Until the previous kingdom, the previous city, the packed streets full of revellers out to celebrate Samhuinn, to honor the gods when the veil between worlds was thinnest."

Samhuinn is in reference to Samhain; the Celtic version (and origins of) Halloween.

To summarise; in Midgard, Death's Day (or what we know as Halloween) occurs on the Autumnal Equinox. It is a day to honour the dead. It takes place on the one night of the year when the veil between the realms/worlds is thinnest.

Starfall.

In Prythian (and more specifically, the Night Court), we have Starfall; the one night of the year when the spirits of the deceased (which manifest as stars) make their yearly migration across the sky.

However, as many have already pointed out, there seems to be a connection between Starfall, and Midgard. This is because Rhys notes that the number of stars participating in Starfall is dwindling:

“Thousands,” he said. “They’ll keep coming until dawn. Or, I hope they will. There were less and less of them the last time I witnessed Starfall.”

This aligns with what we know of the Asteri, who, instead of letting the souls of the dead pass onto the next life (and presumably, participate in Starfall), will consume these souls for food.

[Art by Clarywhy]

However, Rhys mentions that no one knows why the stars choose this particular date to make their journey across the sky. But, I have a theory about this.

I actually believe that Starfall is happening at all times - every single night. Instead, the only reason that they can see the stars (spirits) on Starfall... is because on that particular date, the veil between the realms is the thinnest. This makes sense, as again - the stars are the spirits of the deceased; you shouldn't be able to see them.

Essentially, it's the Prythian version of Death's Day... a celebration of the deceased (which is exactly what Starfall is...).

But this is where it gets interesting; Starfall occurs on the Spring Equinox (or what is known as the 'vernal' equinox).

In Midgard, as we just discussed, Death's Day occurs on the Autumnal Equinox.

So, if there is only one single date per year when the veil between the worlds is thinnest... for Prythian, this is occurring on the Spring Equinox, and for Midgard, this is occurring on the Autumnal Equinox.

This suggests that Prythian and Midgard are... mirror worlds (which perhaps explains why Bryce was yanked across into Prythian, as opposed to being pulled down?). Or, at the very least, it suggests that these two worlds are operating as opposites to each other. It may also help to explain why SJM stated that there was 6 months between the ACOTAR timeline and the CC timeline.

The Dusk Court.

Towards the end of HOSAB, Rigelus states that the Starborn fae originated from an island of "near permanent twilight," that was "a few miles from the mainland."

“Not your kind of Fae, of course—your breed dwelled in a lovely, verdant land, rich with magic. If it’s of any interest to you, your Starborn bloodline specifically hailed from a small isle a few miles from the mainland. And while the mainland had all manner of climes, the isle existed in beautiful, near-permanent twilight."

This all but confirms that the Starborn fae originated from the Dusk Court, and that this was situated on the Prison Island (which is a few miles away from the mainland of Prythian). Rhys corroborates this by suggesting that the Prison Island once used to be an "eighth court."

"Rhys told me once that this island might have even been an eighth court.”

And, as even more proof, Nesta witnesses the marking of an eight-pointed star on the floor of the Prison; the symbol of the Starborn fae.

However, there is one other location that ties into the narrative around the Dusk Court - Avallen Island (in Midgard).

Avallen Island.

The Prison Island isn't the only place that is jam-packed with hints of the Starborn fae. Instead, Avallen Island, in Midgard, is too. For example:

Avallen Island was where Ruhn found the Starsword (where he was surrounded by the sarcophagi/statues of the "sleeping" Starborn Princes...)

The Avallen fae (or some of them) are said to be Starborn themselves (Cormac says he has Starborn blood, but "not enough to be worthy of the blade"). However, instead of starlight, their powers typically manifest as shadows.

With this in mind, it's also noteworthy that Bryce's star glows for Cormac (and we know that her star glows for those who are connected to Prythian).

Additionally, there are a number of stark similarities between Avallen Island and the Prison Island. Most prominently, both islands are enshrouded in the same mysterious mist, and both are guarded by ancient magic. For example:

Avallen Island:

"I want you in Avallen because it is a safehold. Even the Asteri cannot pierce its mists without permission, so old is the magic that guards it.”

Prison Island:

“When you’re in there,” Rhys said, the words barely audible over the wind and silver streams running down the mountainside, “you won’t be able to reach me.” “Why?” I rubbed my already-freezing hands together before puffing a hot breath into the cradle of my palms. “Wards and spells far older than Prythian,” was all Rhys said."

In sum, the similarities between Avallen Island and the Prison Island are so stark, that I believe they were once connected (and perhaps still are). There are two ways this could be possible:

A Wyrdgate or portal that once existed between the two worlds (joining the two islands together).

They are literally the same place.

Option 1: Wyrdgate or portal.

Towards the end of HOSAB, Rigelus tells us that the Dusk Court existed in a "near permanent twilight," but, that doesn't make much sense -- you can't alter the sun like that (which is why it’s not permanently night-time in the Night Court, or not always day-time in the Day Court, etc). So, what else could this be referring to?

I believe that the Dusk Court used to be the place where there was a Wyrdgate (or a portal) between the ACOTAR world (on the Prison Island) and the Crescent City world (on Avallen Island). They are two separate worlds, but the people on both islands merged and interacted due to the Wyrdgate (portal).

And, as I mentioned at the start of this post, there is evidence to suggest that the ACOTAR and CC worlds are mirrors of each other - or opposites. Thus:

If it's nighttime on Avallen Island, it would be daytime on the Prison island.

If it was dawn on Avallen Island, it would be dusk on the Prison Island.

As such, there is a continual contrast between the light and the dark between the two islands. And that is what dusk is; the merging of the light and the dark. This is what Rigelus is referring to.

Thus, I believe that Dusk Court -- as it existed 15,000 (+) years ago -- didn't just involve the Prison Island... but it encompassed Avallen Island too.

I believe this also explains the powers of the Starborn:

Shadow wielders lived on Avallen Island (and they are represented by Truth-Teller; a knife that glows with a dark, BLACK light).

Starlight wielders lived on the Prison Island (and they are represented by the Starsword, which glows with a bright, WHITE light).

Both make up the two halves of the Dusk Court.

However, although they were separate worlds, evidently, they interacted. Because of this, I believe Queen Theia (who possessed starlight) married/mated and had children with whoever was the King of Avallen (who likely possessed shadow powers). I believe this was High King Fionn, given that the ruler of Avallen is also referred to as "High King"... but that's a theory for another day.

Yet most importantly, this is why their children, such as Helena, were said to have skin that glowed with "starlight AND shadows."

“So does Helena’s,” Ruhn shot back, then recited, “Night-haired Helena, from whose golden skin poured starlight and shadows.”

Eventually however, it is presumed that something happened to the Starborn who lived on the Prison Island (and Nesta senses that they were stuck in stone, or perhaps sent in time somewhere using the Harp?).

"Fae screamed, pounding on stone that hadn’t been there a moment before, pleading for their children’s sakes, begging to be let out let out let out— Nesta had the sensation of falling, tumbling through air and stars and time— It was a trap, and our people were too blind to see it—"

This is likely why the shadow wielders (such as Cormac, Ruhn) still exist on Avallen... but the starlight wielders (such as Bryce) are much more rare.

In the present day, Bryce (a starlight wielder) possesses the Starsword, but resides in Midgard (the Avallen side of the Dusk Court).

In comparison, Azriel (a shadow wielder), possesses Truth-teller, but lives in Prythian (the Prison Island side of the Dusk Court).

Just in reference to their power, it's almost like they're both stuck on the wrong side?

Option 2: Avallen Island and the Prison Island are the exact same place.

In ACOSF, readers are given a hypothesis about how the multiverse works; that the worlds are stacked on top of each other, perhaps even SHARING THE SAME SPACE, but are then separated by time.

"Merrill’s brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. When she first came here, she was obsessed with theories regarding the existence of different realms—different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it. Whether there is merely one existence, our existence, or if it might be possible for worlds to overlap, occupying the same space but separated by time and a whole bunch of other things I can’t even begin to explain to you because I barely understand them myself.”

But, given the mists and and the "ancient magic" involved in both the Prison Island and Avallen Island... what if the worlds are not separated in this one specific location? So, those in Midgard know of Avallen Island... those in Prythian know of the Prison Island... but, they're the same exact place.

This might seem insane, but there are two points of evidence that make me think it's possible.

The Avallen fae live and dress in the same way as the Prythian fae.

The Avallen fae are said to follow the "old ways." They don't have phones, and don't watch TV. Just like Prythian.

Then when Bryce lands in Prythian and meets the Inner Circle, she notes that they're all dressed the same as the Avallen fae.

"This female was … Fae. Clad in beautiful, yet thoroughly old-fashioned clothes. Like the stuff they wore on Avallen."

This is really damn suspicious. And it leads me to my second point:

2. The Avallen fae have the power to "veil the physical world."

As demonstrated in this passage here:

"[...] power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well.“

The Prison Island looks empty and barren... but is it? What if instead, everything is veiled?

If we entertain the thought that the Prison Island and Avallen Island are one and the same... then what if this has been hidden from the Prythian fae...?

Most of us agree that the Dusk Court is going to play a huge role in upcoming books. However, at present, the Prison Island is barren land. To re-establish the Dusk Court, they'll need to rebuild an entire court from the ground up... which seems rather implausible, given the timeline.

But if the Dusk Court is instead veiled, that's a different story...

Plot-wise, this makes perfect sense for CC3.

From the Midgard POV, exploring Avallen seems like the next logical step. It is the only place that the Asteri cannot enter, so if Ruhn, Hunt and Baxian manage to escape the Asteri's dungeons, it would make sense that they go there.

From the Prythian POV, it seems logical that Bryce will be finding the answers to 'Dusk's Truth,' and will end up exploring the Prison Island.

Both POV's are about exploring the Dusk Court.

As someone who is of the opinion that SJM is going full multiverse (and that CC3 won't be the end of Bryce's adventures in Prythian), my guess is at the end of CC3, when Bryce is at the Prison Island, and Ruhn, Hunt, Baxian are at Avallen Island... someone, on one side (likely the Avallen side), will be stepping through that gate.

Bryce's role in all of this.

It has been my mission over the past few months to emphasise just how important Bryce is to Prythian - that her returning home to Midgard at the end of CC3 (to then just pass the torch onto another character for a supposed spin-off novel) makes no sense.

Instead, Bryce has Queen Theia's exact starlight (to the point where I am pretty sure she is some sort of reincarnation). She is the heir to the Starborn fae, whose true home is the Dusk Court in Prythian (even her scent is of dusk!) And most of all, the star on her chest is a beacon for Prythian; she quite literally glows for the ACOTAR world.

Additionally, given how the Avallen fae tie into this narrative too, it's also worth mentioning that Bryce has been repeatedly foreshadowed to be the High Queen of Avallen.

"Cormac cut in, “One day, she’ll be Queen of Avallen. She’d be a fool to throw it away on a bastard angel.”

"Jesiba said, “I suppose I should consider it an honor, to be called a friend by the Starborn Princess daughter of the Autumn King.” A slight pause, and Bryce knew what was coming next. “And the future Queen of Avallen.”

In fact, Cormac's final words to Bryce were about leading their people forward.

But after today …” Cormac’s words grew heavy. Weary. “I think the choice about whether to lead our people forward will be up to you.”

Which, sounds an awful lot like the ancient fae prophecy connected to all of this:

"When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be."

[Art by wavyhues]

And, if Bryce is destined to become High Queen of Avallen, as well as High Lady of the Dusk Court... isn't it fitting that she possesses the Horn, which grants her the ability to enter other worlds?

The Queen who walked between worlds...

[anika-ann]

Underneath the Christmas Tree (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, drabble-ish, floof

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 1100

Summary: Your Christmas might not be perfect, but the person you celebrate with is.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw for allusions to smut, clichés and huge amount of fluff, mentions of insecurity in reader, celebrating Christmas

A/N: a little something to raise the holiday spirits, in the honour of @stargazingfangirl18 who slipped into many inboxes to spread the hoeliday cheer 💕I hope she and all of you can profit from a sweet moment with one mister B🎄// divider by @firefly-graphics

“You’re being a grinch,” he teased you lightly, thick arm wrapping around your waist from behind to keep you flush to his front.

You only frowned harder as you placed the single box under your Christmas tree. It looked absurd among the five boxes from your lovely devoted irritating fiancé – of course you’d be a little grinchy about it.

This Christmas was supposed to be perfect – because Andy Barber was and he deserved nothing less than that in return. You had prepared three presents for Andy in total – or you had tried so. Until the most important one, one you ordered and had custom-made took longer than expected. You ordered two months in advance, so proud of yourself for figuring out the gift for the man who stole your heart without intention of ever giving it back… and then came December, than half of it went, and then the day before Christmas Day arrived, ten a.m., three p.m., eight p.m. and since the clock was about to struck midnight, something told you your package wasn’t about to arrive in time. All your insecurities about deserving the wonderful man momentarily soothing you in his generous embrace resurfaced, making you feel inadequate and just… not enough.

So yeah, you were scowling a little. Especially since Andy was maybe not laughing at your misery, but was definitely at least slightly amused by the way you were expressing it.

“It was supposed to be perfect,” you echoed your thoughts wearily, feeling the stupid tears gather in your eyes. Dammit.

It was just… Andy truly was your Prince Charming. Your one. A kind, caring man with the biggest heart you had ever encountered, a bit dorky, but with maturity most men at any age couldn’t even dream of, and with sweet, almost gentlemanly ways that went out of the window once the door of your bedroom closed behind you. Assuming you’d make it as far as the bedroom. Or even into your house.

He deserved everything that was good in this world and more and there were times when you doubted you were the one able to give it to him.

You felt him smile against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss there, pulling you back from your thoughts – and to fall on your ass – to sit between his legs on the floor with a tiny yelp on your part.

“It is. ‘cause you are, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ear, causing you to side-glance him at his sappy ways.

A soft smile was playing on his lips indeed, serene face illuminated by the warm lights on your Christmas tree, eyes shining with contentment.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, suddenly at peace. Damn, he was gorgeous. Ruffled hair, pretty lips framed by his perfectly trimmed beard, white tee and simple grey sweats, like a god of domesticity and happiness in the most ordinary moments. How could you protest, how could you doubt anything at all when he was like that?

“I love you,” you said instead, earning a soft peck to your lips, a whispered declaration in return. “I just… I was really excited to give you the present you deserve.”

Andy’s plush lips stayed but a breath away, closing the distance again at your admission, last remnants of your gloomy mood evaporating as he kissed you again, this time slowly, deeply, loving.

Then, he inched away, your eyes fluttering open only to meet the mischievous sparkle in his eye.

Your heart skipped a beat. Ah-oh.

“What-“ He reached for the single gift you had placed under the three, pulling at the bow and stealing it for himself. “Andy!”

He laughed at your scandalized expression, taking your left hand – the one adorned by a charming ring he had placed there barely a month ago – and swiftly wrapped the ribbon around your wrist, tying another perfect bow.

Your shoulders sagged, your face probably revealing as much of your exasperation as adoration.

“Here. My perfect gift, in all its glory.”

“You, mister, are an old sap.”

He grinned. “And yet, you agreed to marry me.”

Your gaze flicked between the bow and the gorgeous diamond on your finger, the widest of smiles tugging at your lips. “Yeah, what was I even thinking-“

“Hey!” he protested, deft fingers sneaking under your silky bathrobe in a vicious attack at your most ticklish spots, having you try to squirm from his hold – only accomplishing changing your positions until he trapped you under him lied flat on the fluffy carpet, his weight on you as warm as his gaze.

“See? My perfect gift, now even lying under the Christmas tree, all mine to unwrap. I’m a lucky man, aren’t I?”

His fingers sneaked lower, brushing over your hips and to your thigh, his hand freezing. The sweet warm gaze turned heated, drawn to your lips as your tongue peeked out to wet them. You felt your face flush with heat, even as your chest puffed with pride.

Cat got his tongue now, did it?

“Sweetheart?”

“There’s… I thought we might cheat a little. I didn’t wrap this one,” you admitted, a little disappointed when his weight disappeared and he only straddled your thighs – but the feeling was quickly replaced by satisfaction when Andy tugged, peeling your robe off, eyes feasting on your body adorned with the new lingerie you had bought, your nipples instantly hardening under the see-though material under his appreciative gaze.

“So…” you hummed innocently, fully aware of the way his sweats barely hid his growing arousal, just like your excuse of panties couldn’t hope to hide the growing wetness of your core, “what do you think?”

Andy’s lip curled in a smirk that had you stomach somersault, his eyes dark as coal, soft fingertips trailing over the soft curve of your breast, brushing your nipple with clear intent.

“Well, sweetheart, I think you just almost made it to the naughty list,” he mused, his other hand toying with the little ribbons on the side of your panties, lightly puling on it until fell apart smoothly.

Your breath caught in your throat, heat pooling in your belly as his fingertips followed the pattern of lace above your mound.

“Almost?”

Andy’s smirk was positively devious as he leaned down to press a kiss to your cleavage, dextrous fingers undoing the bow on your other hip as well, baring you to his greedy touch.

“But when I’m done with all the things I want to do you, sweetheart, when you let me do every filthy thing I have on my mind now… I promise you that’s you’ll be right on the top it.”

And Andy Barber was a true gentleman; when he made a promise, he always always delivered on it.

Misc characters masterlist

Full masterlist

Again, many thanks to Siri - and happy peaceful holidays to us all 💕

Thank you for reading 🥰

[galesdevoteewife]

Let’s talk about Mystra

Hello everyone, I wanted to talk about Mystra👋🔮

As much of a crazy lover as I am for my fictional wizard, the more lore research I do, the more I feel like Mystra deserves some love too. This goddess lives a cursed life. I know I know she asked Gale to kill himself, but bear with me; here are my arguments:

A bit history of Mystra

There’re 3 Mystra: Mystryl -> Mystra (Elminster’s Mystra) -> Mystra (Midnight)

In short, Mystryl is the fourth deity in the universe, composed of Shar & Selûne’s essence. She is one of the primal existences while the universe is still new and trying to settle down, a significant component of the universe itself. While Mystryl’s spirit was born naturally, Mystra and Midnight were both once mortal and raised by AO to inherit Mystryl’s power.

Is Mystra bad?

Midnight, “Mystra 3rd ” is who we met in BG3. She was a human magic user born in 1332 DR. Midnight was aiding Mystra 2nd at the time of troubles. She’s a kind-hearted and humble woman who ascended in 1358 DR. She didn’t want godhood at all; she only did it to counter Cyric, the bad guy.

From comic book Avatar (1991)

For decades, she even tried to allow only the good use of magic, later learning her duty and place as the guardian of balance and impartial arbiter of the Weave; no matter how Midnight feels or hopes things could have been. She was only 26 when she had to wave goodbye to everyone she knew, shouldering the 24/7 goddess duty. It’s true that she will inherit other Mystra’s memory, but personality-wise she is only 160 years old; even Halsin is older than her. (Not to mention she spent 94 years in dormant)

Note[1]: Later on all the Mystra mentioned I will be talking about Midnight

Note[2]: Dec17/2023 I will come back and edit this section; it's misleading according to Ed Greenwood's tweet. The current Mystra is likely a blend of all three Mystras with an unspecified proportion. I will provide details on the stories and deeds of the other Mystras.

Being Mystra sucks. Truly.

Imagine your body is just a thing lying on the street; anyone can command you to dance for them so long as they know the right spell. While you CAN reject it, you are NOT ALLOWED to.

What’s worse is that too many mortals and too many gods want the Weave, but it’s not something that she can “give”. Like no one can give away their body to someone else. She IS the Weave; I think of it as the Weave being the cells that compose her. Whoever wants to take it away will have to separate her mind and “body” by:

killing her and inherit the Weave, where all the attempters failed step 2, then only resulted in a broken/Weaveless crisis

or completely manipulating her mind, which is the option no one ever considers; they all go straight to killing her

Whenever DnD wants to change the rules, they kill Mystra.

Shar wants the Weave, Bane wants it, countless mortals want it too. According to the conversation between Gale and Lorroakan, it’s almost a common conversation trying to dethrone the goddess and take the power for themselves.

And no one is there to protect Mystra; she fights alone. Although she has a good relationship with gods like Selûne or Azuth, nobody lent a hand when she was murdered. She relies on her chosens and her own power.

On top of defending herself, aka protecting the Weave, another important duty is to maintain the Weave. Whenever a spell is cast, it damages the Weave, and she is the one to patch the holes. The more powerful the spell is, the bigger damage it will cause. That’s why her dogma includes “Use the Art deftly and efficiently, not carelessly and recklessly.” She also needs to keep an eye out for possible upcoming threats. A tough and tedious job, and no holidays for the goddess.

It might sound a bit twisted, but she is taking care of the world by taking care of herself. Anything happening to her means catastrophe for the world. (e.g., Spellplague, where magic caused mutations to the users, see wiki here)

But she asked Gale to explode himself!

Yes, and she also promised Elysium once he’s dead. There is actually a thorough afterlife setting in the Forgotten Realms DnD setting. In short, a spirit doesn’t perish when a mortal dies; it would be drawn to the Fugue Plane and wait for the god they prayed to in life to send a servant to take them to their heaven.

It’s a terrible fate for the faithless or false spirits, those who either defy their gods or never choose one. They are forever punished in this grim plane and even become part of the Wall of the Faithless.

Fugue Plane and Wall of the Faithless: those are spirits piling up into a wall

In Mystra’s case, her heaven is Elysium, judging by the name, you can already tell it’s likely a heavenly place. Significantly better than the Fugue Plane, that’s for sure.

It’s a fixed truth that all will die someday, and Gale’s afterlife options are:

Defy Mystra: When he dies, he will be forever punished as a false in the Fugue Plane. Not to mention Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, is also Midnight Mystra’s former(?) lover, and he detests cowardice.

Defy Mystra and try to gain favor from another god: I think this will mean changing class and profession for him, as a wizard he is tied to Mystra after all.

Serve Mystra and be taken to Elysium: And who knows, since he is chosen of Mystra, she might even revive him someday. Mystra 2nd did that for her other chosen before. Note: Interesting reading about how her chosen become weaveghost after death, see wiki here.

Obtain godhood: When the god Gale dies, he will go through a completely different process.

An interesting thought here is whether Gale knows about all these. It will largely define what his true colors are. It wouldn’t make sense if he is completely ignorant of afterlife logic, though. His background is an experienced wizard (probably studied some necromancy), goddess ex, and apparently visited heavens before.

Is Mystra power-thirsty?

I wouldn’t say so. She is already OP, and AO asked her to nerf herself by sharing and storing power in her chosens. Even if she were to gain more power, she is not allowed to keep it.

She wants the Shadow Weave

She sees Shar’s secret creation, the Shadow Weave, as a threat and aims to eventually subsume it into her portfolio, even if that means sacrificing her last remaining goodness and humanity.

From the DnD book “Faith & Pantheons”

We see how Shar is using her Shadow Weave in the cursed land, and it's safe to say it's not an ideal living environment for most beings. Shar has been very keen to kill Mystra and take over her power; I don’t think the world would be a better place in her hands than in Mystra’s.

She wants the Karsite Weave

The same logic could apply to the Karsite Weave. While we can argue whether Gale has a good heart and can be trusted with godlike power, he did show some concerning traits, did he not? Maybe in the future, when he is wiser and calmer, that's how I read Mystra’s line when she tells him to be patient.

Why doesn’t she just cure him since she can?

This is 100% headcanon. I think Mystra as a goddess is able to foresee some future. In Elminster’s story series, Mystra 2nd often asked him to do things that seemed irrelevant but were actually needed in the future. In Gale’s case, could it be that’s what Midnight meant to do? To mentor and humble him? Even prepare him to go through this journey? (Hardly imagine the prime archmage Gale joining our little merry band, and Elminster did say, “Mystra was anything but idle- she chose you as her champion.” What could that means?)

Gale has a curve where he goes from being “irked by untalented apprentices” to “enjoying teaching a lot” if not using the crown. He could have been relying on magic too much, and his ego or pursuit of power had led him astray from his good nature. If you look from this perspective, offering to use the orb before the final battle could be him still having doubts about the team's ability and having more faith in magic aka his own power (mixed with his deep love for everyone that he'd rather die than see their lives wasted, of course).

She is a terrible lover, and she doesn't care about Gale at all

According to patch 5, how time feels in the outer plane is very different from the material plane. God Gale came back in 6 months, and he seems not aware that it has been months. With this logic and putting myself in Mystra's shoes, she got mad because Gale recklessly activated a magical nuclear bomb and ignored him for a couple of weeks.(~1 year in the mortal world) When they meet again, this grumpy jumpy bean is thinking of the possibility of killing her for her powers already. Excuse me???

I will say there could be more considerate ways to handle this subject other than asking him to bomb himself. This long-distance cross-race romance was very problematic, but I will reserve my opinion on how much love she holds for Gale. Probably not seeing him as an equal partner, of course, but drawing the conclusion that she doesn't care a tad about his well-being might be too hasty, in my opinion.

A screenshot of Mystra telling Gale that she wasn't the one who took his gifts away from him. That's not an expression of 0 sympathy to me. I've never seen her make this face except for this line.

*UPDATE on Dec 11/2023* Add a tweet from Ed Greenwood, the creator of the Forgotten Realms. Ref: X

*UPDATE on Jan 11/2024* • Add a screenshots during Gale's meeting with her • Add a note on DnD weaveghost setting *UPDATE on Apr 15/2024* • An great analysis of Gale & Mystra's relationship and Mystra's behavior logic

-DISCLAIMER- I am very new to the DnD world, but these are what I dug up and puzzled together. I could be very, very wrong, but please be kind; I did all this out of love for my wizard 💜💜💜

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

can i ask for leona with birds of paradise + tulip?? am a sucker for the lion man

(I only do one flower per request!)

Leona Kingscholar: 

Birds Of Paradise - giving a gift to the other person that they’ve always wanted. 

You don’t think you’ve ever lived like this before.

When you rolled out of bed you were greeted with the sunrise, the silky sheets sliding off your body as you planted your feet on the warm floor.  You could hear some hustle and bustle despite the early morning hours in the palace, a little smile coming to your face at how lively it seemed at all hours of the day. Leona might have disliked his home for his own personal reasons but it hadn’t taken you long to grow fond of it, his brother and sister-in-law being quite welcoming to the person that brought Leona back home.

You had fights about this before, about how welcoming his home was despite the rumors that might be whispered throughout. You tried not to ignore Leona’s feelings but when you remembered your own home, the overbearing dread you felt every time you stepped foot in your house when you were sent home from NRC during holidays, you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. But you hadn't seen the dark side of the palace, of being royalty, and you couldn't pretend to know even as his future spouse.

You’re lost in your thoughts, trying to hide from the ghosts of your pasts, the sound of your parents’ voices drilled into your head. Despite such a good start to the morning when Leona had gotten into another tiff with his brother, it had reminded you of all too unpleasant memories. Leona himself needed a moment to cool off and you had let him go do so, finishing out the lunch though it was an extremely strained one after the shouting match. Before either Fareena or his wife could address you, you scurried from the room, feeling like being alone yourself.

You don’t remember details as much now, it’s like your childhood is a black hole with only a few spots here and there that you could look back on. You settled yourself somewhere you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin and yet these memories still sent a chill through your body, rubbing your arms in an attempt to get yourself together. It had been so long since you’d felt this dagger of anxiety lodge itself in your chest, afraid to remove it in case it caused you to bleed out. Your fingers dwelled over your heart, urging it to slow down for just a moment, wanting to simply catch your breath.

“What are you up to?” You feel a flick to the back of your head and are surprised to see Leona looking down at you, an eyebrow raised. It was nearing dinner and you always went on a walk with Cheka to get some of his energy out before you all ate together, but you had been notably missing from his routine.

Cheka had pouted to Leona about it, and his sister-in-law had confided that you had left lunch rather upset. She had her own worries and, since the relationship was new, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was or else she would have followed you. Leona knew what was on your mind even if you had never specified your own memories; the way you argued with him about his own family situation had let him in on precious details that you couldn’t seem to speak aloud.

“You’ve got that little brat worried about you, and I don’t want to deal with it. Let’s go back.”

“Just need another few minutes.”

“Mm.” Leona flopped himself down beside you and then in another practiced move rested his head on your thigh, eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait here.”

This was one routine you’d never grow tired of, hand resting on his chest, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin. You could truly lull him to sleep if he wasn’t on high alert from your sad mood, trying to formulate a plan to lift your spirits.

“They like you more than me,” He stated coolly, an abstract fact that you don’t think is quite true but it might be how he sees it. You let out a little laugh, patting his cheek playfully.

“Don’t say that. They love you, you’re family.”

“And you will be too.”

He wasn’t wrong, after all, your wedding date was set in stone and your calendar was filled with endless appointments for a variety of wedding activities. The king and queen had been more than happy to inform you more of their culture, wanting you to know of more of their traditional dances that were performed at weddings as well as getting a traditional outfit made that suited you perfectly. They had done everything they could to make you feel welcome, like part of the family, never acting as if you were a burden despite how busy they both must be.

“Leona…”

“I’m your family now.” Leona’s eyes suddenly opened, his hand reaching up to hold your face. “I won’t be letting you go easily. Remember that.”

A lifetime ahead of you with a new family, people to fill in those blank spots in your memories. A family who wanted to know you, who loved you unconditionally, who would create new memories with you that you’d want to recall. Leona himself had been the one to suggest moving back home first before finding your own place in the world, and you were thankful for it. He might not entirely understand you either, or your desperation for a family to call your own, but he still brought you here to be around them.

Leona had given you the gift of security, a family to call your own, and you couldn't be more grateful for him.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 7 (MBJ x OC)

Warnings: harassment, public sex, the usual BDSM warnings apply heavilyyyy lol

A/N: Umm this is a fun one! Mostly fluff with a little drama lol We're getting into the holiday spirit with a couple time jumps so enjoyyy!

***

“I have a surprise for you,” Michael whispered, chuckling as Raven tucked herself deeper into the covers. 

They had been out at a party until late and then Michael proceeded to have his way with her at his condo until the wee hours of the morning. Her body still ached from the suspension ropes he hung her from for over an hour. It was her first introduction into true restraints and bondage and she enjoyed it far more than she thought she would. And now, all she and her limbs wanted to do was burrow in her covers and sleep all day. 

“Is the surprise a hot bath?” she called, her words still muffled by the heavy duvet cover. 

“Nah.” 

“Ok well then I hate surprises,” she mumbled, causing Michael to laugh. 

“Come on, this is a fun one. I promise!” 

She groaned and dramatically flopped the covers from over her face and pouted. “I was a really good girl last night and this is my reward? Being woken up at ungodly hours?” 

Michael raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his Apple Watch. “It’s 10 am, baby.” 

Her heart fluttered at the word baby, her eyes casting downward as she tried to limit the smile that wanted to bloom on her lips. She still was not used to it yet. To the world and everyone around them, nothing had changed. But for them, everything had changed. They were a real couple, bonafide and no longer faking or pretending. There was a new intimacy to it that she had not expected. And freedom. It was so clear to her now how much both of them had been holding back, how muted what they felt for each other truly was before. Because now, they could both experience the full breadth of their love for each other, could express it and receive it. And it made both of them wonder if they had ever experienced true romantic love before each other. Because this was everything and so much more. 

Everything felt lighter and easier. And yet, Raven could not help but feel like there was a dark cloud looming over them, a deep-seeded fear that everything she felt would be taken away. Perhaps she was just worried that, even if they were telling the truth about their romance now, they had started off as a lie. It did not seem like the steadiest of foundations. However, she chose to brush those fears aside. They were just her doubts and insecurities talking. She had never felt for a man like she felt for Michael, never felt so loved by someone. It felt good and she realized she never knew true happiness until now. Sure, there had been times when she was happy. But pure uninhibited bliss? That was only a state Michael could bring out in her. 

“So what’s this big surprise?” She asked as she stretched her body long in the bed before sliding out. 

Her slippers shuffled against the floor as she made her way to his bathroom to get ready for the day. 

“Wouldn’t be a big surprise if I told you now, would it?” 

“I hate you,” she grumbled, though the smile on her face let him know that was a complete and utter lie. 

“You weren’t sayin’ that last night… in fact, I distinctly remember making you scream the exact opposite,” he mused as his fingers played with the delicate thin strap of her night gown as he moved it to the side to press delicate kisses against her warm skin. “Over and over and over again. Maybe I need to give you a refresher.” 

She smirked and decided to play the brat, excited for where the experience could take her. “Seems like the first lesson didn’t stick… not a very  effective teacher it seems, Mr. Jordan.” 

Michael chuckled. “You’re gon’ regret that shit. But lucky for you, we gotta get to the house soon so I ain’t got time to put you in your place. But tonight, that ass is mine.” 

Raven clenched her thighs together and grinned. Of course, he was not too foolish to not realize that was the exact outcome she wanted. 

The pair listened to music as they got dressed in comfortable clothes and drove over to Michael’s family’s house. Everyone was there, hot chocolate and breakfast waiting. The entire entry way was filled with bins and boxes of ornaments, decorations, and trees. 

“What’s all this?” 

Michael smiled. “Well ma don't let December 1 pass without ensuring the house is decorated so figured you could help us out this year. I remember you tellin’ me your grandma would let you decorate her tree and thought you might like it.” 

Raven felt everything inside her melt and her eyes well up with tears. He seemed to remember literally everything she told him. 

“Y-Yea I would like that,” she offered, her throat tight as she tried not to cry. 

“Don’t cry, Rae,” he laughed, pulling her into a hug. “It was supposed to make you happy.” 

“I am happy,” she whispered pitifully as her tears stained his sweater. 

“My cute crybaby,” he kissed her on the top of her head. “Ok, no tears on decorating day or moms’ll never let you live it down. Come on.” 

Raven laughed and wiped them away before following him into the kitchen. Everyone greeted her with hugs and smiles. All of them joked around and talked as they ate the delicious breakfast Michael’s mom prepared. Raven felt as if she had gained 10 pounds since spending more time at Michael’s house.

“Ok baby girl,” Michael gestured toward the many decorations in his foyer. “You get to be creative director. We got four trees.” 

Raven’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Four trees??” 

“One in here, one in the living room, one upstairs and then one in the basement.” 

Raven let out a breathy chuckle as she took in his matter of fact tone, as if to say everyone had enough space for four trees. 

She studied the available decorations before pulling all of them out and sectioning them off. And before she knew it, Christmas music blared on the speakers and the troops went to work, decorating all four trees. Michael and Raven were in charge of the second largest one in his family room, Raven needing a ladder to decorate the full thing. 

The pair had a ball decorating, Michael thoroughly amused at Raven’s strong opinions on how to fluff out a fake tree. She had a professional eye for detail that he had not expected as she worked. But there was a playfulness to all of it, a joy that made him thankful he went this route instead of his usual. She sang loudly with the music playing, knowing every word to every song that came on. And her entire body practically bounced around as they finished their tree and she went to go help with the others. 

By the time they finished dinner and stowed away all the extra decorations and cleaned up, they were exhausted. Everyone else had gone to bed, leaving Michael and Raven on his couch with cups of hot chocolate, spiked to Michael’s preference, and a movie playing in the background. 

Raven could barely look at the movie though as her eyes kept traveling to the two trees that were within eyesight and all the random Christmas decorations they had spread across his house. She felt as if she had stepped into a winter wonderland. 

“You did a great job as creative director,” he whispered as he watched her eyes study the tree Raven was in charge of. “Still mad at this surprise?” 

It was beautiful, decorated in soft colors of white, rose, and gold with small white lights. It was not the pristine and perfectly symmetrical tree he usually had in his living room, towering and professionally decorated to the point that it could have been in a magazine. No, every aspect of the 11 ft tree was done painstakingly, in Michael’s opinion, by hand. But something about it was more beautiful than any other Christmas tree he had ever had as an adult. It was crafted with love and attention and care, it was homey and perfect. 

She smiled. “No, you were right… It was a fun one. But I know you usually hire someone to do it.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Your dad accidentally let it slip,” she chuckled. “It’s not as good as a real decorator could do. Not as… refined or perfect,” she scoffed, bowing her head, her own insecurities seeping in. That was her too… not refined enough or good enough to be on the arm of someone like him, to be in his life in this way. He could call her his girlfriend but her doubt about whether she deserved the designation still lingered like weeds.

His finger lifted her eyes back to his. “It’s perfect… exactly what the house needed but didn’t realize.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think we’re talkin’ about trees anymore.” 

“Don’t think we ever were,” he winked at her. 

Silence fell over them as they cuddled on the couch. Michael stared down at her, wondering if this was finally his chance. There was so much he still wanted to know about her, so much she revealed but still kept from him. He understood it but he wanted to consume every little thing there was to know about her, even the things that were hard to share. He wanted to help her carry her baggage or help her unpack it and set it down where she could. 

And there was one thing, one story, that she kept from him as much as she could. The one major thing about her life he still did not have the answer to but desperately wanted it.

“You ever gon’ tell me?” He asked quietly as Raven shifted so she was leaning her back against his chest. 

“Tell you what?” She threw him a confused glance. He knew everything worth knowing about her. 

“Why you stopped writing? You said you’d tell me one day.” 

Her face fell. She was not sure where she thought the conversation was going to go but it was not there. She supposed she was not going to be able to keep it a secret forever, particularly not when she revealed it to the whole dinner table at Thanksgiving by accident.

“Not that interesting of a story, I’m afraid.” She tried to downplay it as she shifted uncomfortably. And it wasn’t, half the women she knew had a story like hers, varying degrees of awfulness but the story was unfortunately common.

“Then tell me.” At her silence, he amended. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Rae. I just… want to know everything about you and if you’re up for sharing, I wanna hear it.” 

She sat up and turned to face him, her nails tapping against the ceramic mug as she brought her legs beneath her. 

“Just your typical ‘men ain’t shit’ story.” At his confused glance, she elaborated. “The first editor I had at my publisher was a woman and she was amazing. Worked with her on my first book and it was great. By the time it came out, we were starting to edit and refine the second and I had signed my contract for it. And… she had a baby and decided to be a stay at home mom. My new editor, this guy… he was good, great at his job. Nice enough to be unsuspecting and unassuming. But I could tell… well, I could tell he was attracted to me? Or liked me, you know? But I ignored it, figured as long as he didn’t try anything, it wouldn’t be a problem. One night, we were working late on his edits for the book and he… made a pass at me.” 

Michael’s eyes immediately darkened as if he knew exactly where the story was headed. She could immediately feel a shift in his whole demeanor, his outrage wafted off of him. And something about it was incredibly sexy… that he was so angry for her. 

She smiled. “Relax… you can put Killmonger back in his cage,” she teased with a soft smile. “He didn’t do that. I said no a-and he pushed, but I held firm. I’m not above using my body to get what I want… that much is obvious but I like for it to be my choice, not some asshole taking it away from me. Anyway, finally, he accepted that no meant no so we called it a night and I went home. All he had done was make me uncomfortable, he hadn’t hurt me or anything, so I figured he would just apologize and we’d both move on. A week later, my agent called and said that they weren’t gonna move forward with my book. I was no longer a fit for their publishing house.” 

Michael could still hear the pain and frustration that had been caused in her voice, despite her best efforts to keep the tone light. 

“The contract I signed after I submitted the draft gave them distribution rights for three years so I got a year and some change to go. I tried to think of new ideas, you know, write other stuff in the meantime but he blacklisted me from damn near every publishing house worth anything. So my agent dropped me. And then I was… just too tired to write anything after that. Like he had just taken all of life for it out of me?” She paused for a moment before continuing. “I was hoping to use the time to save up to eventually self publish the second one when I can but my family’s made that difficult,” she chuckled. “So yea… doing my 3 year bid and then I’ll be free. It won’t make me the same amount of money, but there’s freedom in self-publishing I guess. Being your own boss.” 

“I’m sorry. No one deserves that.” He figured it was something along those lines but it did not make it any easier to hear. 

She shrugged. “No, they don’t. But what can I say? I’m a magnet for shitty people.” Her tone attempted to lighten the mood but it fell flat. “Or… I dunno… too trusting of people who haven’t earned it,” she mused. “But if I wasn’t so trusting, I wouldn’t be here… with you. And I would’ve hated to miss out on this.” 

“I’d like to believe God would’ve helped us find our way to each other without you having to go through trauma and concussions,” he pushed her hair behind her ear. 

“Yea maybe. But without all that, I wouldn’t be the woman you love.” 

“How do you do that?” Michael asked quietly. 

“What?” 

“Find the silver lining in everything? One bad breakup had me showin’ my entire ass for years and you… you’ve seen the worst people have to offer. How do you even trust people after all this?” 

Raven smiled and shifted so she could straddle his hips and sit in his lap. “It’s not easy… and some days, it feels like it’s not worth it. But… you remember Monique, that dancer I told you about? Well, my first night at the club was a fuckin’ disaster. I was 18, hella green and hella naive. I made like nothing in tips cause I sucked.” Michael loved how she laughed with her whole body as she reminisced on her memories. “And this drunk asshole tried to  follow me out to my car and tried to get me to go home with him. Monique rolled up like a knight in shining armor and punched him square in the face. She gave me half her tips for the night and the next day, offered to teach me some moves and some fighting moves in case that ever happened again. The point is… For every terrible person I’ve come across that wanted to do me harm, I’ve run into someone who reminded that there’s more good out there than I know… as fuckin’ cliche as that sounds. So I just hold onto that. Just don’t… don’t ever want to be jaded? Let someone have the power to steal the inherent qualities that make me… me? No one should have that much power, you know?”

“One of the many things I love about you,” he whispered, tugging on her arm so she was in his lap. 

Hearing the word love on his lips made her heart flutter every single time. Deep down in her soul she felt it in every way. 

She rested her hands on his chest. “One of the ways? I’m that amazing??” She joked, causing him to shake his head. 

“Yea. You are that amazing. How about we take our drinks upstairs and I can tell you all the ways?” He leaned in and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth causing an ache between her legs to grow. 

“I’d rather you show me.” 

“That’s a given, baby.” 

***

Michael spied behind a bookshelf as Raven interacted with the young students filling the plush seating of the library’s gathering space. His heart wanted to burst as she talked to the students. He knew she only fell into this job as a result of a shitty situation but she was making the best of it. And he could not help but think that perhaps this was truly her calling in addition to writing. The kids seemed to love her and she seemed to love them back, all of their faces in bright smiles. 

And for the first time, he found himself wondering what she would be like as a mom. And what their kids would be like. Michael always wanted kids but he figured it would not be in the cards for him any time soon. However, Raven made him want to think about that, and want to think about a future. And now, he saw those additional grandkids his mom wanted so badly as clear as day.

He counted, the club had almost 50 kids in it. They all looked like they ranged in age from middle school aged to seniors in high school.

“I got something for y’all,” she reached behind her and pulled out a couple of boxes of neatly wrapped gift bags. “It isn’t much but… what’s our last book club meeting before the holidays without a gift??” 

The kids cheered as they all leapt out of their seats. Even he was curious as to what the gift could be. She had not even mentioned it to him. 

He could tell they were personalized in some way as she handed them out one by one, checking each gift tag to make sure each kid got the right gift. She instructed the kids to wait to rip into them. Though it was clear that was a chore for most of them. Once the last kid, who Michael recognized as Jamal who he had met once before, had his in hand, stuffing paper started to fly. 

Each kid pulled out a glittering sliver book embosser, a different book, and a handwritten card from Raven. 

“What is it?” One of the girls in the class asked as she pushed her wide framed glasses up higher on her nose. 

“You know those stickers that go on Oprah’s book club books?” All the kids nodded. “It’s like that but with your names and a bit more fun. It’s like a stamp you can put in the first page of your books. Y’all are all starting your own library collections, should have something that makes them a bit more unique. And the books are ones I think each of you would like. And the card is just a note from me ahead of the new year.” 

“It’s kinda old school but cool. Like something vintage,” another girl offered as she tested out the embosser. 

“Yea it’s like a typewriter or some shit. That’s dope, that’s dope,” Jamal remarked as he tested his out on the book in front of him. 

Michael had to stifle his own laughter so as not to give himself away as Raven facepalmed herself and laughed.

“Like a typewriter. Wow. How old do y’all think I am??” 

“You really want us to answer that?” 

She shook her head immediately. “You know what… Point taken. Well I hope y’all like them and they aren’t too too old-school,” she offered with a smile as the group started to mutter excitedly to themselves as they tested out their new gadgets on their books. 

“It isn’t much but just wanted to do something small to say Merry Christmas.” She glanced at the clock. “Oh I didn’t even see the time. Aight, we gotta wrap up, I’m sure some of your parents’ve been waiting outside for a while.” At their groans, she merely shook her head. “We are well past our hour and y’all aren’t gonna get me in trouble with your parents.” 

She ushered the younger kids and some siblings to the door, each of their parents greeting her and chatting for a few moments before they walked their kids out to their cards or toward the street.

At that point, only a small group of older kids remained. “Alright, you know the drill - text me when you get home and stay in your groups, please.” 

“We ain’t babies.” 

“Yea and we all live like 5 minutes from here,” the girl with glasses remarked.

“I know y’all are basically grown. But humor me please. If one of you got hurt or lost, it’d take literal years off my life. You’re really doing it for my sanity over anything else,” she reasoned.  

Raven got along with the kids so well because she was an adult they could relate to and trust but even she had to put on the hat of responsible adult occasionally, much to their collective chagrin. And that meant ensuring every kid made it the few blocks, bus ride, or into the car to get home. 

“Yes, Ms. T.” All of their disgruntled murmurs filled the library as they headed out the door in small groups depending on where they lived. Thankfully, they were all friends so she knew they’d look out for each other.

“You can come outta hiding now,” she called, seemingly to no one in particular. 

“Busted?” Michael asked as he emerged from the shelves to stare at her, an amused expression painted on her face. 

“Yep… caught a glimpse of you scurrying behind that bookshelf. Better be glad the kids didn’t see you. You’re more than one of their celebrity crushes. They would’ve been all over you for a picture or a story or a reel or whatever they do on social these days.” 

Michael let out a barking laugh. “You sound like an old lady.” 

“I am an old lady… proudly,” she laughed. “And they know it too.” 

“Those were sweet gifts you got them.” 

She smiled. “Thanks. Despite well… everything, Christmas is my favorite time of the year. Everyone’s so caught up in the spirit and giving. It wasn’t much but I hoped it would put a smile on one of two of their faces. Did you hear them call me old school?? Super offensive,” she chuckled. 

“Hella offensive.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Language, Mr. Jordan,” she winked at him playfully. 

“You gonna discipline me, Ms. Turner?” He asked, closing the space between them, his breath tickling the skin on her neck as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Raven felt her whole body flush with heat. Fuck. For some foolish reason, she had worried the spark between them would fade once they settled into the normalcy and mundaneness of a real relationship. However, it had been the exact opposite. Somehow, everything he did only heightened her emotions and desire for him. She thought it was overwhelming before? Well, now it was all consuming and blinding. 

“Maybe you should take me home and find out?” She whispered. 

“What if I want to find out here?” 

“Then I’d have to remind you that this is a public library… with cameras everywhere.” 

He glanced around. “Come on, I bet you know one spot that ain’t got cameras, baby girl. I vaguely remember you saying you wanted to live out some fantasies. You gonna tell me sex in public ain’t one of them?” 

Her eyes darkened with lust. She knew he knew that he had her. It was most certainly one, one of the more sinful ones she would admit. But it lacked practicality. 

“This isn’t just in public, babe. This is my job,” she reminded him, her resolve growing weaker with every word. And he knew it. 

“That makes it even more fun. Come on, baby. You know you want me to fuck you senseless in one of these shelves, want me to make you beg to come right here.” 

Fucking hate him, she thought to herself. Her panties were soaked.

She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs to the second floor, to a small far corner that she knew had no cameras in the vicinity. It also was ominously dark as some of the overhead lights had gone out earlier that week. She knew the library was utterly deserted and there was absolutely no chance of them getting caught, but still it made her nervous. But she supposed that was the entire point. 

“Can’t believe we’re doing this…” she mumbled, more to herself than Michael. Not that having sex at work or in public had not been on her list of things to one day do. She did not think it would be this particular job. 

“Relax and enjoy it,” he whispered in her ear before he pushed her forward, forcing her upper body against the cold wooden table in the corner. 

She hissed slightly as the cold material touched her bare arms. She could already tell what this was going to be: quick and dirty… and her favorite: rough. His touch always had a gentleness to it, which she appreciated. However, she loved it when he was rough, when he left a mark to remind her whose exactly she was.

“You gon’ be quiet for me?” 

“Yes.” 

She yelped as a hard smack fell across her ass as he pushed her skirt up to her waist. 

“Yes what?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl. But if that was any indication, don’t think you’re gonna keep quiet so…” 

Before Raven could even react, Michael ripped her panties clean from her body and stuffed them into her mouth as a makeshift gag. The quickness of it, the bite of the material against her skin, and the mere act of being forced to taste herself made her moan. But it worked, the sound was muffled. 

“That’s much better. And don’t let them fall out or I’ll light that ass up, understand?” 

She nodded fervently. Her body shuddered as he wiped a finger over her clit.

“So wet for me.” He sucked her juices off his finger and moaned lightly. “You taste so good, baby girl.”

She wanted to say thank you or beg but she couldn’t, not with her panties muffling her voice. 

She let out a guttural moan as he filled her in one stroke, the angle of the low table allowing him to get deep. One hand pushed her back deeper into the table as she squirmed. His strokes were deep and guttural, each one ending with jolt to her g spot. 

He was not making love to her, he was not gentle. This was pure fucking, fast and furious and uninhibited and she loved it. Everything in her wanted to scream but she could not. But her muffled low moans filled the small space as he settled into a rhythm. 

“You gon’ cum on this dick, you disgusting slut??” 

She could only force her head up enough to nod slightly before falling back against the table. She did not even feel the pain of her thighs banging into the table with every thrust because she was so focused on him. The power of his thighs slamming against hers, the pressure of one had at the base of her neck while the other bit into the meat of her hip. 

Where they were became irrelevant, the nervousness she felt about that fell away as every sense in her body focused on him and only him and the pleasure he so graciously provided her. 

Her eyes screwed shut as waves of pleasure hit her with the force of a train. Usually she had time to warm up and prepare herself but not today. Today, she was merely a vessel for him to get off and she loved every second of it. 

“Fuck… that’s it baby. Cum on this dick.” Michael was in heaven as her pussy clenched around him. He usually could last far longer than this but his body seemed to understand the point of a quickie. And so it did not take long for him to feel himself reaching the peak. 

He groaned and held onto her tightly as he filled her with his cum, part of him wanting to collapse next to her. He leaned over her for a few moments to catch his breath before staggering back from her as he pulled his briefs and pants back up and righted himself. 

Raven propped herself up on her elbows after letting her panties fall from her mouth. She glanced back at him with an incredulous look on her face as if she was still shocked that they just did that. Which made them both burst out into laughter. 

“Well that was… definitely one for the books,” she remarked as she sat up and turned around. She leaned against the table, her panties bunched up in her hand, she gestured toward them. “That was a nice addition, Mr. Jordan. Seems like you punished me more than I did you though.” 

“Eh you can punish me later, how about that?” He kissed her on the forehead before fishing her panties out of her hand and pushing them into his pocket with a wink. “Think I’ll keep those for the rest of the night. You can’t put ‘em back on.”

“Whose there??” An older man’s voice rang out causing both of them to scurry to fully right their clothing.

Raven cleared her throat as Michael helped her adjust her top and she emerged from the bookshelves. 

“I-It’s just me, Mr. Robinson!”

She waved at the elderly black man who was clearly maintenance staff.

“Ms. Turner! Figured it was you. Whatchu doin’ here so late? Book club ended a while ago?” 

Raven smiled and nodded. She grabbed Michael and pulled him out of the shelves. “My boyfriend came to pick me up and got distracted giving him a tour.  This is Michael,” she gestured at the star, the older man’s eyes growing big. “This is Mr. Robinson.” 

“How you doin’ man? I’m a big fan!” He offered, shaking Michael’s hand. “Cynthia called earlier and said some lights up here were out so I just came to fix ‘em before tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, we really appreciate that. Well, it’s all yours. We were just looking at books and joking around, we’ll get out of your way.” She jerked her head toward the door, gesturing for Michael to follow her. However, when she reached the steps, she turned back. “Oh and Mr. Robinson?” 

The man seemed to have a knowing look on his face. “Didn’t see anyone here when I came through, you were just finishin’ up as I was comin’ in.” He winked at her before waving them on their way. 

They made quick work of grabbing Raven’s bag and materials before scurrying out the door, the pair both busting out into laughter as they climbed into Michael’s SUV. 

“That was a close one,” she remarked. “Ok that was fun but definitely no more job sex.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it,” he teased.

She gently shoved him back into his seat as she chuckled. “Shut upppppp. Whew I’m exhausted, can’t wait to knock out.” 

Michael patted his thigh, Raven laying down across the seat so she could sleep. It was a bit of a trek to his house from her neighborhood so Raven closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft music that played as Allen drove them home. 

“Do you miss it?” 

“Hm?” Raven asked, needing further clarification of what he was asking. 

“Do you miss writing? Or does this… the kids fill that void?” 

Raven thought about it for a moment, realizing she had never really let herself think too much about it or miss it that much. “Umm… yea, I try not to… try not to think about it. But I miss it a lot. It was my dream and I love these kids… don’t get me wrong. They are amazing and I have so much fun with them. But it doesn’t fill the void? Just makes the void a bit more bearable.” 

His hand ran through her blow out for a few moments before nodding and allowing silence to fall over them. Soon her gentle snores filled the car as Michael thought long and hard about what she said. He reached into his pocket, careful not to jolt the sleeping woman beneath him and opened his text thread with Alex. 

Michael: hey, need two favors

Alex: Don’t you always? 

Michael: ha ha. Need you to find me a contact at Hatchett & Perkins Publishing house? Like in legal or licensing or somethin

Alex: Let me guess… this favor is not so you can write a memoir? 

Michael: of course not. 

Alex: Give me till tomorrow and I’ll send you a name & email. Favor #2?

Michael: You got any friends that rep authors?

Alex: Yep. 

Michael: Find me one that reps fantasy. Preferably black women if you know them

Alex: Done. 

Michael let his phone fall onto his other thigh before he leaned back and smiled to himself. He was about to give her the Christmas of a lifetime. 

***

Christmas Day

Raven stretched lazily, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting up to Michael’s bedroom through the cracked bedroom door. She lazily rolled over, surprised to find his spot empty. She groped in the bed for her phone, squinting to read the time. 8 am. 

Too early, she huffed as she threw the covers back over her head. They had been up past midnight partaking in the Jordans’ Christmas Eve traditions. They drank, watched a Christmas movie - this year was Michael’s turn to choose and he chose Jim Carey’s the Grinch much to Raven’s excitement - and opened one present each. 

There was a mountain of them under the tree. She had spent days helping Michael wrap them all. He had intended to have them sent out to be professionally wrapped but Raven put a stop to that nearly immediately. Similar to tree decorating, she thought there was something impersonal about having a professional do it. So she spent an entire Saturday wrapping all of his presents for his family, he hid hers from her much to her chagrin, and she had a ball doing it. His dining table looked like a disaster when she was done but each one looked perfect, his girl using different color wrapping paper for each member of the family. 

Raven had truly improved the whole Christmas holiday for the entire household, reminding him that just because money could buy some conveniences did not mean it should. He also just loved her childlike excitement and joy around the season that seemed endless. She was constantly humming a Christmas song under her breath, her singing voice was not half bad though she did not agree.

She never much cared for Christmas herself. She loved the spirit and energy it brought for others but there was nothing special about it for her. No traditions or joyous memories to hold on to. But Michael went out of his way to help her create some with his family and she loved him dearly for it. 

She had dozed off again when a familiar voice woke her up. 

“Come on sleepyhead. It’s present time,” she heard a singsongy voice call out that made her groan. “Five seconds or I’ll tackle you.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!” She called out, her voice muffled under the thick comforter. 

“Five.” 

“Four.” 

“Three…” 

“Two…” 

Raven let out a shriek as she felt Michael’s heavy body land on her. His fingers attempted to tickle her sides, forcing laughter and her face to emerge from the covers. 

“Fine, fine. I yield! I yield! I yield!” She cried out. 

At her words, he gripped her hips and flipped them over so she was straddling his waist. He grabbed a Santa hat he discarded on the bed and plopped into her head. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. 

“Get dressed, we’re opening presents at 9.” 

She nodded. “Alrighty. I’ll just start breakfast while y’all do that.” 

“You’re opening presents too.” 

“You gave me mine last night?” And it was gorgeous, a set of diamond earrings that she was honestly afraid to ever wear.

“You thought I only got you one present??” 

She laughed, not understanding. “Well, I only got you one present!”

“That’s fine. Hell, you could just put a bow on yourself and I would be happy. I got everything I could ever need or want. But you have presents under the tree from everyone and everyone has a present from you and us. Get dressed.” 

At her shocked expression, Michael figured that she was not used to getting many, if any gifts. However, he decided to keep the mood light and playful. 

“You surprised? You been naughty this year or somethin’? Expectin’ a lump of coal?” 

She offered him a sly grin. “Oh I’ve been real naughty. But somethin’ tells me that being naughty got me more presents from Santa than being nice would’ve.” 

“You damn right, girl.” 

She let out a cackle and rolled her eyes before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Before she knew it, the entire family was surrounded by an explosion of wrapping paper and stacks of gifts. 

Raven loved all of her gifts from Michael’s family. They gave her a lot of books and gadgets for writers and readers but she loved all of them. She imagined that was all they really knew about her but she appreciated that they put effort and thought into it. 

“Ok, baby girl. Last one from me,” Michael handed her a box with a neat bow around it. The rest of the family had dispersed to get dressed for the day and for brunch, leaving the couple in the living room surrounded by everyone’s presents. 

“Baby…” she let out a playful whine. Most of her gifts had come for Michael and while they were all sweet and thoughtful, she knew they had cost him an arm and a leg. Another first edition book, a gorgeous Chloe tote bag for her to take to work, and more jewelry than she knew what to do with. It made her gift feel measly in comparison but she had done her best. “You already got me so much. Don’t need anything else.” 

He shook his head. “Well, this is the gift that matters.” 

She paused. “Well I have yours upstairs… I just wanted to give it to you when we were alone. Wanna go up there and exchange?” 

He nodded, both of them heading up to his room with bright grins on their faces. She sat her gift down on the bed while she went into her stuff and pulled out a small book. 

She held it close to her chest, taking a deep breath. “It’s not much… I d-didn’t know what to get a man who has well… everything a person could want. But I thought, well, maybe you’d like this. O-or at least you’d give me an A for effort,” she chuckled. “But if you hate it, I totally understand. You don’t gotta pretend if you don’t like it.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow and laughed, closing the space between them. “Why don’t you let me see it before you decide that I don’t like it? Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.” 

She nodded and held out the small book to him. It looked like a professionally printed book, with a beautiful but simple black and gold cover. 

The title read: The Fall by Raven Turner 

Michael opened the first page, which read: 

It’s not much but you were the first person in a long time to make me want to pick up my figurative pen again. And this was the result: a story dedicated to every moment of the greatest fall of my life. I love you. 

Raven

“You wrote me a book?” He asked quietly as he examined it in his hands. 

She nodded. “Y-You like it?” 

He rushed forward and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.  “I more than like it. This is the best gift anyone’s ever gotten me!” 

He peppered her face with kisses that made her giggle. “You sure? My other option was like a watch or something…”

He laughed. “Total waste of money. This is more valuable to me than 100 Rolexes. Thank you. I’ll read it tonight.” 

Nothing would have taken the smile off her face. 

“Now it’s your turn,” he urged as he sat his gift on his bedside table. 

Raven sat on his bed as she gently ripped the bow off and opened the box to find an envelope inside. It was odd, Raven could not possibly understand what the gift could be. 

She ripped open the envelope to reveal a plane ticket and hotel reservation to a resort in Thailand. 

“Y-You’re serious?? Thailand??” 

“Wanted to ring in our first New Years together somewhere special.” 

“Babe… this is…” 

“Exactly what you deserve. I have a feeling next year is gonna be your best year yet and I think we should usher it in with some style.” He had more than just a feeling, as long as his real surprise was wrapped up by their trip, it would surely be her best year yet. 

She laughed, wiping her tears away. “This is most certainly style. Thank you. I love it.” 

“I’m glad you do cause we leave tomorrow night.” 

Her mouth dropped open. “W-what?? Babe I gotta get my hair done… a wax, my nails! These aren’t vacation nails…” she glanced down at her beautiful but very Christmas themed nail set.

“You think I’d book you a trip to Thailand and not take care of everything?” His face scrunched up in a faux annoyance that made her chuckle. “You’re in for a day of pampering tomorrow while Jason picks out pieces and has his team pack for you. I plan on having you naked for most of the next two weeks so you ain’t gonna need much clothes.” 

“And work?” 

“You’d be surprised what a handsome face and nice smile will get you,” he remarked with a shrug. 

She stood and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

“You’re you. That’s all it takes.” 

She smiled and kissed him again. She glanced at the bed, lust curling in her belly. 

“How long before your family comes looking for us?” 

She shrieked and laughed as he gently pushed her down on his bed. 

“Long enough for me to make you cum at least twice.” 

***

Raven was thankful their bungalow at this resort was fairly distant from the others as Michael seemed committed to making her scream over and over and over again for the last five days. She had seen very little of the resort aside from when they emerged for dinner. They had a private pool and private access to the beach. 

Michael had not been lying when he said he planned to have her naked for most of the trip. All she could do was laugh when she realized the only panties packed for her had been part of very sexy and elaborate lingerie sets that would not count as clothes for anyone with eyes. When she was not in a bathing suit or an outfit for dinner, she was in lingerie that did not stay on her body for long. 

Michael quite literally ravished her from sun up to sun down on every surface in their suite, in and by the pool, underneath the waterfall shower in their giant bathroom, and in the sand on their private beach. Though, neither of them did that one again due to the uncontrollable and annoying nature of sand. 

But every moment of it was pure bliss. She loved how he switched, often at a moment’s notice, from treating her like a grand prize he won to a convenient hole for him to fuck. It was not uncommon for him, while they were mid conversation about something utterly random by the pool or over lunch, to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her senseless simply because he felt like it. Their games did not diminish but seemed to amplify the more their relationship blossomed. 

Today, their game was orgasm denial. It was New Year’s Eve and Michael practically ignored her most of the day. After several days of being woken up with his head between her legs bringing her to orgasm, she was almost saddened to be woken up with a mere call for breakfast. 

The only time he touched her was during breakfast, as he - without a single word - slid his favorite vibrating toy into her pussy. She expected him to turn it on and bring her to orgasm right there, but he did no such thing. Instead, he told her of the tour of the nearby islands they were going to go on after breakfast. 

From that moment forward, all of his touches were chaste at best and decidedly frustrating to his girlfriend, much to his satisfaction. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face as if willing him to turn on the remote in his pocket as their tour guide jetted them around on a boat ride along the gorgeous blue water. 

It was difficult to ignore her for him too but he loved how eager she was, how the more he pretended he had not put the vibrator in her, the more aware she was of its presence. He watched her intently, how she tried to pay attention to the tour guide as she droned on and on about history, how her body squirmed in her seat with every platonic touch he offered, how her shoulders fell in disappointment every time those platonic touches did not turn into more. 

The boat ride was three hours of pure torture and he knew if he touched her, she would be dripping wet underneath her very revealing bathing suit and cover up. 

As they returned to their resort and stood up to get off the boat, Michael turned the vibrator on its full setting, Raven letting out a groan and her knees buckling beneath her. 

She almost fell completely to the floor of the boat but Michael skillfully caught her and feigned concern for her. 

“You ok, baby?” He glanced back at the tour guide before discreetly cutting the vibrator off. “Think the heat just got to her. Let me get you inside, love.” 

Raven was so consumed with the short-lived but amazing pleasure that all she could do was nod. She wanted to curse at him, scream at him. 

He held onto her tightly, keeping her flush to his side, as if he was helping a sick person until they made it back to their secluded bungalow. And by that time, Raven was fuming. 

“What the fuck, Bakari! In front of that lady as I was getting off the boat?? After you ignored me all morning??” She was not actually angry at him, she was just so fucking horny that she was angry. 

Michael grabbed her by the arm and put his hand around the base of her neck as he held her in a rough grip that made her thighs clench together. 

“If you want to cum at all again before 2023, I’d shut the fuck up. Understand?” he warned, his voice so strong and dominant that her mouth immediately shut.

Fuck. Admittedly, 2023 was only 12 more hours away, at least in Thailand. But she did not think she could wait 12 more hours. She was most certainly not God’s strongest soldier. 

“Y-Yes sir.” 

He grabbed her hand and led her outside to their private pool. “Sit,” he gestured toward one lounge chair that faced the pool. 

She sat down immediately, surprised when he disappeared back into their room, returning with several ropes. 

Fuck, she thought to herself again. Whatever he was about to do, she knew it would be extremely fun for him and a sort of delicious torturous fun for her. 

“Lay back.” 

She laid down against the warm fabric of the chair. He adjusted it so she was leaning back. He grabbed both of her hands and raised them above her head, tying them to the top of the lounge chair. Instinctively, she tried to move them but his knots were tight.

Then she watched as he did the same with each ankle, tying them to either side of the lounge chair so her legs were spread open. 

And then much to her surprise, he shed his clothes and slid in the pool. Her eyes filled with pure lust as she took in the droplets of water cascading down his perfect chiseled chest. She’d never get used to him. 

“Seems like you keep forgettin’ whose runnin’ this shit. So maybe this’ll teach you.” 

She did not fully understand what he meant until she felt the vibrator turn on, this time at its lowest setting. Her hips rolled as much as she could with her body restrained. She bit her lip to stop the moans from escaping, part of her not wanting to give him the satisfaction as she knew he was going to drag this out as long as possible. 

“You can try to keep quiet if you want to, baby. Honestly that’ll just make the show more entertaining for me.” 

And a show it was. Raven could only imagine how she looked to him as he leaned against the opposite edge of the pool and controlled her pleasure from afar. He talked, telling her about his upcoming projects for 2023, how he was so excited for his directorial debut of Creed 3. At first, with the toy on its lowest setting, she found it easier to ignore and engage in a conversation with him. 

However, as he steadily increased the intensity, her questions and responses were more broken by moans and groans that she could not hide. 

“How many books are in that series of yours?”

“Supposed to b- SHIT!” She cried out as he increased it to the highest setting. “Fuckkkkk,” she moaned as her hips started humping the air to increase the pleasure as she came close to her first orgasm of the day. However, as soon as she got to the edge, he cut it off, robbing her of it. 

“Michael!” She called out in frustration. 

“10.” 

“10 what??”

“Spankings. 5 for not answering my question and 5 for not addressing me properly.” 

She desperately wanted to roll her eyes. This nigga. 

“Three… the series is three books.” 

“Good girl.” 

The cycle and their conversation continued. Michael asked her more random questions about writing and her writing process and expected full answers as he brought her to the edge of an orgasm but took them away five more times. He gave her ample time to calm down in between each one but each time made the climb more intense and made the lack of an orgasm more painful.

And all the while, he sat unmoving like a statue across from her, watching as she moaned, begged, pleaded, and writhed around against her restraints. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you, baby?” He asked, moving for the first time to wade over to her. 

She was in tears as she nodded. “P-Please, d-daddy. I n-need to cum. I c-can’t take… much more. Please.” 

He lifted himself out of the water, Raven’s eyes studying how his biceps flexed at the swift motion. 

He grabbed her chin to force her to look at him. “You’ll take as much as I tell you. Besides, do you deserve pleasure before you’ve been punished?” 

She groaned. She hated him so much but she loved him so much that she would indeed take as much as he told her to. 

“N-no, no I don’t.” 

“That’s right. Only good girls get to orgasm. Are you gonna take your punishment like a good girl?” 

She nodded desperately. “Y-yes, I promise.” 

With that, he untied her and helped her up. He made her crawl behind him to their bedroom. He helped her onto the bed. 

“You know what to do.” 

Indeed, she did. Raven quickly discarded her bathing suit and climbed onto the bed and assumed his favorite position for both pleasure and punishment. Her face pressed against their comforter as she placed the deepest arch she could in her back. 

“Good girl, you want my hand or the belt?” 

That was an easy choice in her mind but she appreciated him letting her choose. “Your hand, please,” she asked innocently.

She knew it was both of their preference. Something about feeling the extent of his strength with every lash, seeing the red marks on her ass in the shape of his palm, made every punishment well worth it. She also knew Michael preferred it too. 

“Count ‘em out or I start over.” 

She groaned. This was the hardest part, focusing on each one enough to remember the number. 

She shrieked as he hit her the first time. She was not gonna be able to sit comfortably for the rest of their vacation. 

“One.” 

By the time she hit 15, she was in tears but she would have begged him not to stop. 

“Ten more, baby. And you’re doing so good…” he grabbed the remote he had discarded next to them and turn it on to its highest setting. “You can cum whenever you want.” 

Raven felt like her whole body was in flames as he rained down the last ten blows while the vibrator did the work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost against her g-spot. She tried to grab a pillow to bury her face in as her screams reached a fever pitch that she imagined could be heard across their resort but Michael grabbed a fist of her braids and forced her head up. 

“Nah I wanna hear you.” 

She could not even register the last two spankings as she blissfully felt every part of her body, down to the cellular level, become overwhelmed with mind-numbing, life altering pleasure. Her entire body collapsed forward onto the bed, her legs unable to hold her lower body up. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mumbled as she felt the vibrator turn off and started to come down. 

Michael smiled as he took in her form, he had utterly depleted her as she laid there, her entire body covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

He climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back soothingly as she laid there, her brain not fully functioning or cognizant of his presence. 

Raven used the little bit of energy she had to settle into his arms, burying her head into his neck. She appreciated his commitment to aftercare, particularly when their sessions were super intense. Oftentimes, they were just so intense, they rubbed Raven raw emotionally and left her feeling vulnerable. And when they were merely fake dating, she had to often ignore those needs because she was afraid to ask him for more. He always checked in and ran her a bath or gave her a massage, often brought her food to ensure she was ok before he went to his guest room to sleep.  

But now, she could snuggle up against him and feel close to him, feel his love and receive his praise while she recovered. And she had not realized just how much she was missing. 

“You ok?” He asked. “That was intense.” 

“I’m excellent. And still horny but I don’t think my legs work to move,” she moaned. 

“Well, rest. I’ll wake up when it’s time to get ready for dinner.” 

He watched her for a while before he set an alarm and dozed off himself. 

***

“Figured we could go watch the fireworks on the beach. They told me the good ones start around 11:30… so in a bit.” 

Raven smiled as she continued eating. They had slept most of the day away after their session and she was starving. Michael had a private dinner scheduled for them in their suite, which she appreciated. She still got dolled up in a flowery two piece crop top and skirt but it was nice to have dinner in their own space. 

“So my mom asks this every New Years Eve… what do you want out of 2023?”

Raven’s fork paused in mid air as she thought on the question. What did she want out of the new year? She had no idea. 

“Umm… whew, I dunno. I’ve just been counting down the last couple years truth be told. Kinda felt lost and all over the place without my career? Didn’t really think I had much to look forward to? But…” 

“But…” 

“But now I feel like I don’t want everything to just pass me by? Like even if I’m not free to do what I love just yet, I wanna feel… happy? I wanna feel good and enjoy life.” She shrugged. “It’s kinda stupid.” 

He held his hand out for her to take it and squeezed, his thumb rubbing her hand. “That’s far from stupid. I have a surprise for you.” 

He took a deep breath and reached under the table to grab a box. 

She smiled and shook her head. “This trip wasn’t a surprise enough??” 

“Nah. And this is really just a late Christmas gift. Legal shit delayed it a couple days… but it seems fitting. Here’s to a 2023 of happiness and freedom.” 

He held the box out to her, it exactly resembled the one he had given her with their surprise trip to Thailand inside only this one had a large stack of paperwork in it. 

“What’s this??” She pulled the heavy stack, her eyes growing wide as she thumbed through them, skimming them quickly. “I-Is this what I think it is?” 

“If you think it’s the rights to your book, which are now yours to do with whatever you want, then yes. If you were thinkin’ it was somethin’ else…” 

Her mouth dropped open. Her breath came out more as a strangled sob than anything else as she continued reading. 

“This is…” she laughed nervously. “This is a joke right? Y-you didn’t… I know this had to have cost like… someone’s yearly salary money.” She stood and shook her head. “Y-You have to let me pay you back for that. It’ll take me like a fuckin’ decade,” she admitted. “But you can’t…” 

Michael gestured for him to come to her. He kept her flush to his lap as her entire body trembled from the pure shock. He had expected this reaction and was prepared. But he had not done what he did and paid what he did lightly. It was worth every single frustrating conversation and dollar spent.

“Yes I can… and I did. Getting rid of the last piece of dead weight you were dragging around was worth every dime. You deserve to tell your stories and they took that from you. So I took it back and am giving it to you. One signature,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and held it to her. “And they are all yours.” 

A tear fell on the papers before Raven tossed them down to the ground and threw herself into Michael’s arms as she sobbed into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as he held her.

“I love you… so much.” She whispered through her sobs. “T-this is the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for m-me.” 

His palm wiped away the tears streaming down her face as he kissed her. 

“It’s nothing.” 

She shook her head. “No, it’s literally everything… I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, shaking her head. 

“Yea you do. And all the other good things in this world. I’ll spend every day making sure you know it.”

They finished their dessert with Raven still on his lap, the young woman too shocked to really speak or offer much to the conversation. She could not believe it, could not believe him. She knew it would still be a long road to self-publish and figure all of that out but now? Now she had options, she could figure it out without waiting for the timer to hit zero. 

And he had done that for her. 

“Come on, fireworks are about to start.” 

Raven nodded and smiled. “Give me 5 minutes? Gonna put these somewhere safe,” she grabbed the scattered papers off the floor. “And fix my makeup. Can’t have you kissing me at midnight with eyeliner running down my face. That’d be a tragic start to the year.” 

“I’ll be by the pool. Don’t take too long.”

He watched her walk away and smiled before walking outside to the balcony. The fireworks were already in full swing and he could hear music and laughter from the main beach of the resort. 

It was the perfect end to a perfect night. Well, almost. A buzzing in his pocket redirected his attention. Tasha’s name scrolled across his phone. 

“This girl,” he mumbled. He knew her well enough to know if he did not answer she would simply call back. 

Michael glanced over his shoulder and sighed as he swiped across his phone. 

“Hey,” he offered coldly. The truth was he had forgotten everything about Tasha, had not thought about her once since her name graced his screen on Raven’s birthday. 

He did not hate her or offer her ill will, he just had no interest in seeing or speaking to her again. 

“Hey baby. Happy New Year.” 

“Happy New Year.” Michael’s tone was short and clipped, praying he could get her off the phone before Raven came back from the bathroom to find him. 

“Wanted to see if the New Year was gonna bring my favorite customer back to me?” 

“Look Tash…”

“It’s been a few months, Mike. You promised.”

Michael rolled his eyes. He had let her get far too comfortable, so comfortable that she thought he’d always be there. Which seemed like a base level foolish assumption given her line of work. But either way, he had moved on. Raven was his present and his future. He had no interest in anyone else. But this was the weight he was dragging around behind him, he quickly realized. And every day that he did not tell Tasha that truth and let her believe there was something there for them, was a disservice to her, Raven, and himself. 

“I know what I said but shit changed. I love her, Tash.” 

A wave of anger hit him as he heard the woman scoff, which was filled with disbelief. 

“Her?? You love her??” 

“Yes, her. I love her and even though it started off as somethin’ not real, it’s real to us both now and she’s everything I want.” He sighed. “Look, you are a great girl, I enjoyed our time together but I can’t see you anymore. Ever.” 

“You serious right now??” He could feel her rage through the phone but that did not deter him. Raven was everything for him and nothing Tasha could say would change that. 

“Dead serious. I know this ain’t what you wanted to hear but it’s over between us. I’m sorry.” 

She was seething. “Fuck you, Michael! You can’t just drop me outta fuckin’ no where! What am I supposed to fuckin’ do??” 

He bowed his head. Her reaction was not out of the realm of possibility, he just had not considered it at all, had not considered that he would have to “break up” with her officially. But he did not regret nor was he phased by her anger. That part of his life - whoring and using any and every woman who would let him - was over and in the past. 

“Find another client to replace me. I can’t be the first client to move on.” 

There was a long pause. “Nah you ain’t the first. But you’re the first to fall in love with a fuckin’ hooker and try to pass it off as a real relationship. Imagine the money TMZ would give me for that story.” 

Michael’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding right?” 

“I ain’t’ fuckin’ laughin. You can leave me for that country ass fake bumpkin, you can put her in designer clothes and call her your girlfriend but unfortunately for you, I know what she really is. A whore. And while you might think you can wave a wand and make her a housewife, everyone else? They’ll fuckin’ tear her apart. You really want that?” 

Michael couldn’t believe this shit. In all his years of being famous and having money, he had never had someone try to blackmail him. Michael clenched his eyes shut. “How much?” 

“There we go. Glad we could come to an agreement. $10k for now. I expect it as soon as you get back to LA. And then we can figure out an arrangement that works for both of us. Happy New Year, baby.” 

And with that, the phone went dead. Michael clenched it in his hand in frustration as he turned and shook his head. He quickly deleted the call from his call log to ensure Raven did not accidentally see it and sent Alex a text. 

Mike: We have a BIG problem

“Wow, those are gorgeous!” 

Michael slid his phone in his pocket as Raven emerged and stood next to him, her make up pristine and her body now clad in a very sexy ocean blue lingerie set. Michael forced a smile onto his face as he grabbed her ass and squeezed. 

“Not as gorgeous as you.” 

“We got five minutes till midnight and then I figured we could create some fireworks of our own?” 

“I like the sound of that…” Michael mused. 

He knew he needed to tell Raven about Tasha but he did not have the heart to do it right then. She was so happy, so happy that her whole body seemed to radiate with it. He refused to let anything diminish or take that feeling away. And he refused to let another selfish person steal her joy and relaxation while they were on vacation. He had a week to figure out a plan and get Tasha out of his life once and for all. And he had every intention of doing so and telling Raven once it was all said and done. She was finally happy and she deserved to stay that way. This was exclusively his mess, he would get himself out of it. 

“Oh you never told me,” Raven said as they sat down and stuck their feet in the water while the fireworks continued to boom loudly around them, painting the sky in bright colors. 

“What?” 

“What you want out of 2023?” 

Michael glanced down at her and the bright smile on her face. “I think I got everything I want for 2023. I got you, about to finish the biggest run of my career. I guess I just… want to make sure I don’t lose it all?”

She gently shoved him with her shoulder and chuckled. “Well, you aren’t gonna lose me.” 

“That a promise?” 

“Yes it is.” 

Off in the distance, they could hear the faint countdown from the giant crowd at the beach. 

Five… four… three… two…

“Happy New Year, Rae.” 

“Happy New Year, baby.” 

They shared a deep kiss under the fireworks before Michael swooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed, their room becoming a fireworks show for two. 

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r

***

A/N: the babies are in relationship blisssssss. And how perfect is Michael? Getting her book back for her. Also I tried to do some research on how all that works and it is really confusing so any real authors reading - don't hate me if I got it wrong LOL it's fiction! Well, as we all knew it would, Tasha has come back to claim her man again... what do we think? Should he have told Raven? Or should he wait till they get home? Or should he just deal with Tasha on his own? Anndddd this is the last update for this story for like a month - so so sorry to leave it like that LOL love yall though! Hope you enjoyed it!

[seijorhi]

SHAKE

Choso x female reader

a Valentine’s Day Collab

tw: murder, blood, dismemberment, stalking, yandere themes

The message from your friend said you’d be wearing a red dress. Choso counts four women, all wearing varying shades of red, three of those being dresses. Fitting, he supposes, considering this human holiday of yours.

Ultimately, the descriptor is unnecessary. Choso could pick your face in any crowd.

You glance up at his arrival, that expression – that hesitant, hopeful smile – searing its way through him. It falters, slightly, when you get a good look at him, and your lips part. “Oh– Sorry, I’m waiting for someone and I thought you were–”

He cuts you off by speaking your name, a short smile of his own to put you at ease. You’re not quick enough to completely mask the confusion that flashes across your face, but to your credit, you do try.

“Ah, you must be Jin, right? Sorry, I– my friend said you’d be–”

“Choso,” he corrects.

“P-pardon?”

He pulls out the seat across from yours. Sits. “My name is Choso. It’s good to meet you, I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.” 

You blink at him, the words clearly taking a moment or two to process. He doesn’t blame you for the hesitance, for your confusion – no doubt his name, his appearance, the cursed nature of his spirit that’ll never truly feel right to you, it all goes against the image you’ve created in your head, perhaps even what your friend told you to expect.

But Choso’s come to know you better than you know yourself. Those gears tick over behind your eyes, your mouth opening and closing, you flounder for words and then–

“You’re… my blind date? Mikako said…” you swallow, shaking the thought free. “I must’ve gotten mixed up, I’m sorry.”

Choso’s lips quirk upwards. That’s four times now you’ve apologised. 

“You look beautiful.”

Your smile warms a touch with the compliment, and Choso treasures the sight. “Thank you. So, um… you work with Mikako? In accounts?”

“Mm.”

The waiter comes by with a wine list, and the menu’s already set – Choso pays it no mind. He cares no more about the food than he does the odd looks from the couples seated around you. 

Which, judging from the slightly forced nature of your expression, cannot be said for you.

“So um, Choso,” you draw out the syllables of his name, “tell me about yourself. Mikako mentioned that you’re into photography?”

Photography, huh? No. His ‘hobbies’ as such are not so mundane, and definitely not dinner time conversation. 

He could tell you about his desire to slaughter the sorcerer who delighted in toying with his human mother and tried to manipulate him into killing his younger brother. He could tell you about his cursed techniques, and the blood mark that extends across the bridge of his nose – the one you’re trying valiantly not to look at – and what it does. 

Choso could tell you that aside from the world of curses and jujutsu sorcerers, he spends his time consumed by thoughts of you, and with every moment he can spare, he keeps you safe, watching, following from a distance. It’s how he knew of this date of yours, where you were meeting, what you’d be wearing. Who you were supposed to be meeting with. 

He could tell you what he did to the man, this… Jin. How dispatching him quickly was a mercy, yet Choso couldn’t quite bring himself to make it painless. 

“Please– please! Whatever you want– you can take my wallet, you-you want my watch? Take it, it’s yours!”

He’s shaking, clumsy fingers fumbling for the gold strap as Choso advances. The blood that oozes from the self inflicted wound glides through the air, spinning into razor-sharp discs that circle his hand. 

“Please, what do you want?!” the man begs, the front of his pants darkening, pissing himself in fear. 

Choso could make this clean. He could make it quick. The grudge he holds with the human is not a personal one – he’s simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

…  Interested in dating the wrong woman.

Choso’s resolve hardens. 

The first blood chakram severs his right arm.

The second rips through his thigh. He’ll bleed out before any help can come. 

A third forms around his fingers. He keeps it there for a heartbeat, listening as the man chokes and gurgles, the pitiful whimpering as blood drains from his body.

Choso sends it slicing through the man’s throat. 

He could tell you these things, but he doubts you’d appreciate them. Instead, he shrugs, “I’d rather hear about you.”

“Oh, there’s not really much to tell, I’m kind of boring,” you laugh.

Choso begs to disagree.

Despite that, he lets you talk, tell him things about you he already knows. The wine comes, and then entrees. You eat and carry the conversation, more out of discomfort, he thinks, than any genuine desire to share.

That’s okay, he’ll take what he can get. With you, Choso wants to be greedy.

And then your purse vibrates. 

You wait a few minutes, thinking you’re being subtle and shoot him an apologetic smile as you slip it from the back of your seat and onto your arm, “Bathroom,” you say.

But it’s when you return, your fragile, human heart racing like a hummingbird’s, and that strained smile is altogether gone that he knows this little game of his is up. 

“I’m sorry, my uh… there’s an issue with my apartment, I’ve– I’ve got to go, but it was nice meeting you, really.”

You truly are a terrible liar. 

His hand snaps out to seize your wrist before you can so much as turn. 

“You should stay,” he tells you, exerting just a fraction of his considerable strength when you attempt to tug it free. Your eyes go wide, an instinctual sort of fear taking hold as cursed energy all but bleeds from his person. 

Blind to it you may be, it poisons the air around you.

“We aren’t finished with our date yet.”

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Forever At The Pumpkin Patch.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - wow, my first fic from my 'halloween chronicals' and i cannot wait for you to read what i have written for you all!

word count - 4.4k

in which, your boyfriend knew that halloween was your favourite holiday of the year, you tended to go all out, you liked to dress up in extravagant costumes, you decorated your shared house more than you did at christmas and made little goody bags to give to the children that knocked on your door. after being together for a total of four years, your lover boy organises a candle lit picnic at your favourite spot, the pumpkin patch where he asks you a very important question.

trope: boyfriend!harry

Halloween is your favorite time of the year, and there's an undeniable magic that surrounds it. The anticipation starts building as soon as the leaves begin to change, and the air gets a chill. What you love most about this bewitching season is the opportunity it offers to express your creativity and indulge in some delightful traditions.

Each year, you eagerly await the chance to dive into your costume collection. Dressing up in different costumes is an absolute highlight of Halloween for you. It's like stepping into a new character's shoes, even if just for a night. From classic monsters to iconic movie characters, you relish the chance to transform yourself into someone or something entirely different. Whether it's crafting a homemade costume or scouring the stores for the perfect ensemble, the excitement of choosing a new identity adds a sense of adventure to the season.

Decorating for Halloween is another aspect that fills you with immense joy. In fact, you go all out, sometimes even more so than you do for Christmas. The house becomes a spooky spectacle, adorned with cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, eerie skeletons, and ghostly figures. It's the perfect opportunity to let your imagination run wild and turn your home into a haunted haven that sends shivers down the spines of all who pass by. The ambiance created by these decorations truly embodies the spirit of Halloween.

One of your cherished Halloween traditions is preparing little goody bags for the children who knock on your door. As darkness falls, the excitement in the air is palpable, and the sound of children's laughter and eager footsteps approaching your doorstep is enchanting. You carefully assemble these treat-filled bags with an assortment of candies, small toys, and spooky surprises, ensuring that each one is a delightful treasure trove for the young trick-or-treaters. Seeing their faces light up with joy as they receive these goody bags is incredibly rewarding and keeps the spirit of Halloween alive for you.

In the end, Halloween isn't just a holiday; it's a magical celebration of your imagination, creativity, and community. It's a time when you can let your inner child run free, embracing the thrill of dressing up, decorating with abandon, and sharing the joy with the little ghouls and goblins who come knocking at your door. Halloween is a special time when you feel truly connected to the spirit of the season, and you eagerly await its arrival year after year.

It was 31st October, at four in the afternoon, You find yourself standing in the kitchen, a warm and cosy atmosphere filling the room. The enticing aroma of toffee apples wafts through the air, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy as you prepare this Halloween treat. You're dressed in nothing but one of your boyfriend's oversized shorts and a pair of his boxers, topped off with fluffy socks that keep your feet snug against the cool kitchen floor.

As you stir the bubbling toffee mixture on the stovetop, the catchy tune of "Monster Mash" fills the kitchen, courtesy of a nearby speaker.

You can't resist the urge to sing along with Bobby Pickett's classic song. With a grin, you belt out the lyrics,

"He did the mash, he did the monster mash,"

Whilst swaying your hips playfully to the rhythm as you continue to stir.

The sugary concoction in the pot thickens, and you dip the apples one by one, coating them in the sticky, sweet toffee. The chorus of the song approaches, and you sing with even more enthusiasm,

"It was a graveyard smash!" Your voice fills the kitchen, blending with the upbeat melody, creating a spontaneous moment of pure Halloween delight.

After carefully setting the toffee-coated apples on a parchment-lined tray to cool, you take a moment to enjoy the whimsy of it all. Your makeshift Halloween outfit – those oversized shorts and boxers – reminds you that this holiday is all about having fun and letting loose. It's a time when dressing up doesn't have to be elaborate; it can be as relaxed and spontaneous as your current attire.

As you savour the toffee apples, you can't help but let your mind wander to memories of Halloween's past. Each year, you've embraced this holiday with creativity and enthusiasm, from crafting costumes to decorating your home with spooky delights. It's a time when you feel truly alive, and the joy of the season infuses every aspect of your day, from making toffee apples to singing along to "Monster Mash."

With a satisfied sigh, you turn off the music and take a moment to revel in the warm, cosy kitchen and the delicious treats you've created. Halloween, with all its traditions and whimsy, brings a special kind of magic to your life, and you can't wait to share these toffee apples with friends and loved ones, knowing that they'll appreciate the spooky fun just as much as you do.

As you're about to walk out of the kitchen, a sense of accomplishment washes over you. Your toffee apples are cooling, and you turn, ready to leave the cozy haven of the kitchen. However, when you glance toward the doorway, you're met with a surprising sight. Your boyfriend, Harry, is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a mischievous smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. You didn't even hear him enter the house.

You can't help but let out a startled shriek, your heart racing from the sudden surprise.

"H, you scared me!" you exclaim, your voice a mix of astonishment and delight.

He chuckles, pushing himself away from the doorway.

"Come on, give me a hug, y’know v’missed m’favorite girl." he says, his tone playful as he extends his arms toward you.

But you, still caught off guard and determined to return the favor, shake your head with a sly, playful smirk. "No way! You scared me fair and square!"

Undeterred, Harry takes purposeful steps toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. Before you can react, he scoops you up effortlessly, making you involuntarily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. It happens so quickly that you can't help but laugh, the tension from your initial scare melting away.

With a grin, Harry holds you close, his voice a warm, low murmur in your ear. "Well, now that V’got you, m’not letting y’go."

You playfully roll your eyes but tighten your hold around him, your heart filled with love and happiness.

Harry places you gently on the kitchen countertop, and he steps in between your legs, his hands finding their familiar path as he runs them up and down your arms. It's a comforting and affectionate gesture, one that never fails to make you feel cherished.

With a soft smile, he asks, "So, how was y’day, m’love?"

You lean in, enjoying the closeness, and reply, "Well, it was pretty fantastic until you startled me in the kitchen, Mr. Sneaky. But now it's absolutely perfect."

Harry chuckles, a warm and genuine sound. "I promise, I'll make it up to you."

And he always lived up to his promises when it came to you.

With your curiosity piqued, you ask, "And how was your day at the studio?"

His eyes light up as he starts talking about his day, "Was great, actually. We made some good progress on those new songs we've been working on. I think y’going t’love em’."

You smile, genuinely interested in his music and the passion he pours into it. "I can't wait to hear them. You always make the best music."

His fingers trail back up your arms, and he leans in closer, his voice low and intimate. "M’lucky t’have y’as my biggest fan."

You can't help but blush at his sweet words, and you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in for a tender kiss. It's a moment of pure affection and love, where words aren't necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

Harry, standing between your legs and continuing to run his hands up and down your arms, suddenly leans in and whispers, "V’got a surprise f’you tonight, m’love."

You tilt your head, intrigued. "A surprise? What's the occasion?"

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No occasion, just a little something t’save us the hassle of cooking tonight."

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you inquire, "Oh, really? Where are we going?"

Harry grins and leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he says, "S’a surprise, babe."

You pout playfully, "Come on, give me a hint!"

He chuckles, "Nope, not a chance. You'll find out soon enough."

But then, as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace, a thought strikes you. "Wait a minute, H. What about the goody bags I made for the kids? I don't want them to go to waste."

Harry furrows his brow for a moment, then his face lights up with a solution. "Well, here's the plan. V’booked a table f’us at eight o'clock, before that, y’can still give out the goody bags t’the little trick-or-treaters. How does that sound?"

Your eyes twinkle with gratitude as you realise Harry's thoughtful gesture. "That sounds perfect, H. You're the best."

He smiles and places a gentle kiss on your lips. "Anything f’you, love. Now, let's enjoy our night out and make Halloween even more special."

You nudge your nose closer to Harry's, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and say with a sly grin, "So, we've got a bit of time then?"

Harry's eyes meet yours, and he responds in a low, husky tone, "Yes, we do."

With that, you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, and you whisper seductively, "I want to thank you for organising tonight, upstairs."

Harry's speech momentarily deserts him as he's taken aback by your unexpected boldness. He nods his head, unable to find any words to respond.

Not wanting to let the moment linger too long, you hop off the countertop and grab hold of his hand, tugging him gently. "Come on, then. Let's not waste any more time."

With a knowing smile, Harry allows you to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The anticipation of what's to come adds an extra layer of excitement to this already memorable Halloween evening.

The soft, early evening light filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You sit gracefully at your vanity, the polished surface reflecting your image back at you as you put the finishing touches on your ensemble.

Your dress, chosen with care, drapes elegantly around you, a warm shade of orange that shimmers in the gentle light. And gives off the impressions that it’s Halloween. The fabric feels cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of anticipation that courses through you. The neckline of the dress showcases your collarbone, adorned with a delicate necklace that glints with a solitary pendant.

Your fingers, adorned with delicate rings, move with practiced precision as you pick up a pair of exquisite earrings. The intricate design of these earrings catches the light, scattering it into a dazzling display of sparkle and shine. You slip them into your earlobes, and they hang there, framing your face like twinkling stars in the night sky.

A sweep of mascara enhances your lashes, framing your eyes, while a touch of eyeshadow brings out their mesmerizing color. You admire the reflection in the vanity mirror, a vision of elegance and beauty, all ready for the evening ahead.

The room is filled with a subtle fragrance, a floral perfume that envelops you in a delicate embrace. As you gaze at your reflection one last time, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You're not just dressing up; you're preparing for a night of shared moments, laughter, and connection with someone special.

As you're putting the finishing touches on your ensemble, the doorbell rings, its cheerful chime resonating through the house. You glance out of the bedroom window overlooking the driveway and spot a group of excited little kids standing at your front door. Their eager faces are illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light, and you can't help but smile at the sight.

With a burst of energy, you race out of the room, past Harry who's meticulously fixing his hair in the hallway mirror. You hear him chuckling at your sudden sprint as you rush down the stairs, your heart filled with warmth and joy.

In a hurry, you grab the box of goody bags you prepared earlier, feeling the weight of anticipation as you make your way to the front door. You can't wait to see the smiles on the faces of these young trick-or-treaters.

As you swing open the door, you're met with a chorus of excited voices and colourful costumes. "Trick or treat!" they shout in unison, their eyes wide with anticipation.

You grin down at the little witches, ghosts, and superheroes on your doorstep.

"Well, don't you all look amazing! Happy Halloween!" you exclaim.

The children eagerly extend their candy bags, and you start handing out the goody bags you prepared with care.

"Here you go, sweetie," you say to each child, making sure they each receive a bag filled with treats and small toys.

One young pirate with a plastic eyepatch looks up at you with wide eyes and says, "Thank you so much! Your house is the best!"

You can't help but laugh at their enthusiasm. "You're very welcome! Have a fantastic Halloween night, everyone!"

As you close the front door behind you, a sense of contentment lingers from the cheerful encounter with the trick-or-treaters. The warmth of their smiles and the joy of sharing the Halloween spirit still linger in your heart.

However, just as you're about to turn around and join Harry, you feel a sudden pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist. A startled gasp escapes your lips as you're once again caught off guard.

Harry chuckles softly, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he asks, "Did I scare y’again?"

You turn to face him, a playful pout on your lips. "You certainly did, Harry, baby."

With a mischievous grin, he says, "Well, are y’ready t’get going soon?"

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement for the evening ahead. "Just let me put my shoes on, and I'll be all set."

Harry releases you from his embrace, and you quickly slip on your shoes. As you stand up and adjust your outfit one last time, you take Harry's hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grasp.

He’s wearing orange as well seeing as he instead that the two of you match. His suit jacket is a warm orange almost burned orange with a pair of beige, green and red stripped trousers, a white vest under neath the jacket with a pair of vans.

As you finish putting on your shoes, Harry approaches you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and his hands hidden behind his back. You tilt your head to the side, a playful smile curving your lips, and ask, "Baby, what are you up to now?"

With a grin, he reveals his hands, holding up an eye sleep mask. You burst into laughter, the unexpectedness of the item catching you off guard. "An eye mask? What's that for?"

Harry chuckles and shrugs, a mischievous sparkle still in his eyes. "Well, I didn't ‘ave a blindfold handy, so I thought this would ‘ave t’do."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "A blindfold? Why do I need a blindfold?"

He smirks and takes a step closer, the eye mask still in hand. "S’a surprise, m’sun."

You can't help but grin at his playful insistence.

As he gently ties the eye sleep mask around your eyes, you're plunged into darkness, your other senses heightened in anticipation. You hear his soft voice by your ear as he whispers, "Just a little longer, and you'll see."

As you ride along in the car, your senses are heightened by the darkness of the eye sleep mask Harry placed over your eyes. You can feel the subtle vibrations of the road beneath you, and the sound of the engine purring is your only connection to the outside world. The anticipation of where you're heading fills the car, and you can't help but wonder where this surprise will lead.

Your excitement bubbles over as you sit back in your seat, trying to piece together clues from the sounds and sensations around you. You feel the car slowing down, the engine settling into a quiet hum as it comes to a stop.

You can hear the car doors opening, and the cool night air flows in, carrying with it the scents and sounds of your mysterious destination.

As you carefully step out of the car, Harry quickly comes around to your side, extending a helping hand to ensure you exit safely. The night air is crisp and filled with a mix of earthy scents and distant laughter, further deepening the sense of mystery that surrounds your romantic adventure.

Harry takes your hand, leading you somewhere, though you have no idea where. You can feel twigs scratching at the bottoms of your legs and the occasional crunch beneath your feet, which you assume to be leaves scattered on the ground. Your sense of curiosity heightens as you try to navigate the path, relying solely on Harry's guidance.

Despite his careful assistance, you find yourself stumbling over the uneven terrain. In a playful tone, you tease, "Is this where you finally kill me?"

Harry, always quick with a witty response, leans closer and whispers in your ear with mock seriousness, "Y’just become too annoying."

But before you can react, he bursts into laughter, and you can't help but join in. His playful nature adds an element of lightness to the evening, reminding you of the deep connection and laughter you share together.

As you continue walking, following Harry's guidance and playfully tripping over the uneven ground, you suddenly come to a stop. You feel his hands gently settle on your waist, steadying you with a sense of purpose.

With a soft and affectionate tone, Harry informs you, "We've arrived, m’love."

Your heart flutters with anticipation as his hand comes up to your face, fingers finding the edge of the eye mask. He slowly, very slowly, starts to pull it off. As the fabric gradually peels away from your eyes, the world around you begins to reveal itself.

The sight that unfolds before you takes your breath away. The entire Pumpkin Patch, where you had your first date four years ago, has been transformed into a scene of enchantment. Fairy lights twinkle in the trees above, casting a warm, inviting glow over the area. A red carpet pathway leads the way, drawing your eyes to a charming picnic set up in the middle of the field.

The picnic area is adorned with soft blankets and plump cushions, a low table adorned with flickering candles, and a spread of delectable treats and your favourite dishes. It's a scene straight out of a fairy tale, bathed in the soft, romantic ambiance of the evening.

The fairy lights, the red carpet, the romantic picnic – it's all too much, and you can hardly believe your eyes. In a state of wonder, you turn to Harry and stammer, "How... How did you organize all of this?"

Harry chuckles, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and teases, "Well, m’love, being famous does have its perks, y’know."

You playfully roll your eyes at his modesty, knowing that it must have taken a great deal of planning and effort to arrange such a magical evening. With a heart full of love and gratitude, you give him a warm hug, feeling incredibly lucky to be sharing this unforgettable moment with him.

With Harry holding his hands out for you to hold onto, you walk together on the plush red carpet that leads to the charming picnic area. The soft glow of the fairy lights above creates a magical pathway, and each step feels like a journey through time and love.

As you arrive at the picnic spot, the two of you settle down on the soft blankets and plump cushions. It's then that you notice something truly heartwarming. Pictures of you and Harry throughout your relationship are delicately displayed on branches of the trees, held up by ribbons swaying gently in the breeze.

You can't help but lean into Harry's side, a contented smile on your face as you admire the photos above you. They capture moments of joy, laughter, and love from your journey together. Each image tells a story, and together, they form a beautiful tapestry of your shared history.

Harry's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you both gaze up at the memories hanging in the air. It's a touching tribute to your relationship, a reminder of the love that has grown and deepened over the years.

With the pictures of your shared memories above, you turn to Harry, your heart warmed by the enchanting atmosphere he's created. You ask with curiosity, "So, what have you prepared for our picnic?"

He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and begins to describe a mouthwatering array of dishes, all of your favorite foods. From savory snacks to delectable desserts, each item is carefully chosen to delight your taste buds and make this night truly unforgettable.

As he finishes detailing the menu, you can't help but lean in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a sweet and affectionate embrace. It's your way of expressing how touched you are by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

With a playful glint in his eye, Harry picks up a chocolate-covered strawberry and holds it out to you. His fingers delicately feed you the sweet treat, the rich chocolate and ripe strawberry creating a burst of flavor that dances on your tongue. It's a small, intimate moment, but it carries the weight of all the love and care he's poured into this evening.

With a touch of elegance, Harry reaches for a bottle of champagne, the soft pop of the cork resonating in the air as he expertly opens it. He carefully pours the effervescent liquid into two crystal-clear flutes, the bubbles rising like a toast to the evening's enchantment.

As he hands you a glass, the bubbly liquid dancing with anticipation, you clink your flutes together with a cheerful "Cheers!" The sound reverberates in the air, and you take a sip, savoring the crisp, celebratory taste.

With a smile, Harry raises his glass and says, "To the future."

You pause, a slight hint of confusion flickering across your features. But, not wanting to dwell on it, you quickly catch on and raise your glass again, chiming in with a warm smile, "To the future."

As the evening unfolds, and about half an hour has passed since you started your picnic in the enchanting Pumpkin Patch, you and Harry have talked about everything under the moonlight. The shared memories, dreams, and laughter have woven a tapestry of warmth around you, making the night feel like a timeless moment.

While you're enjoying a delicious ham and cucumber sandwich, Harry looks at you with a thoughtful expression. He asks, "Ave’ y’ever thought about the future?"

With a smile, you nod and take another bite of your sandwich before responding, "Oh, all the time. I can't wait to grow old with you, get married, have children – mini versions of you and me running around. The future is something I think about a lot."

With the night sky overhead and the soft glow of fairy lights creating a romantic ambiance, Harry looks deeply into your eyes and says, "I can't wait any longer."

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you ask, "Can't wait for what, baby? What are you talking about?"

His eyes shimmer with affection as he replies, "I can't wait any longer to do this."

Before you can react, Harry takes your hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat as he opens it to reveal a glistening engagement ring. In that moment, you realise what he meant, and your eyes fill with tears of joy.

With your heart racing and tears of joy welling up in your eyes, Harry stands up, gently pulling you up with him. You're overwhelmed by a mix of emotions, covering your face with your hands as if to shield yourself from the magnitude of what's happening.

Amidst the soft glow of the fairy lights and the magical ambiance of The Pumpkin Patch, Harry crouches down on one knee, his expression filled with love and determination. He takes a deep breath and reaches out, gently grabbing ahold of your hand, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you realize that the love of your life is about to ask the most important question you've ever heard. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you anxiously await his words, the future you've dreamed of suddenly taking shape before your eyes.

In the soft glow of the fairy lights, surrounded by the enchantment of The Pumpkin Patch, Harry looks deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with love and sincerity. He begins, "Y’know, from the moment we met, m’life changed in ways I could ‘ave never imagined. Every day with y’has been an adventure, a journey filled with laughter, love, and countless memories."

You can hardly believe what's happening, your hands still covering your face, but your eyes peeking through, glistening with tears of joy. Harry continues, his words carrying the weight of a promise, "V’dreamt about our future together, and I can't wait any longer t’make it a reality."

With that, he opens the small velvet box, revealing the dazzling engagement ring that seems to catch every glimmer of light around it. Your heart flutters in your chest as you gaze at the ring, a symbol of the love you share.

Harry takes a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours as he speaks from the depths of his heart, "Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Will y’be m’partner in all the adventures that life has in store f’us? Will y’share y’laughter, y’love, and y’dreams with me f’the rest of our lives?"

Tears stream down your cheeks as you slowly lower your hands from your face, revealing a radiant smile that shines through your joyful tears. You manage to find your voice, your response filled with emotion, "Yes, Harry, a thousand times yes! I want to marry you, and I can't wait to share every moment of our future together."

As you say these words, Harry's face lights up with happiness. He slips the ring onto your finger, and the two of you share a passionate, tearful embrace. In this magical moment beneath the twinkling fairy lights, you know that your love story is forever bound by the promise of a future filled with endless love, laughter, and adventures yet to be written.

As you and Harry share a passionate, tearful embrace, he brings you close and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. In that moment, words seem unnecessary as your love and connection speak volumes.

He murmurs softly against your lips, "Maybe the pumpkin patch can be our forever?"

Tears of joy continue to stream down your face as you pull him closer and kiss him again, sealing your love and the promise of a beautiful forever together beneath the twinkling fairy lights of The Pumpkin Patch. It's a moment you'll cherish for a lifetime, a symbol of the love and commitment that binds your hearts.