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rosietrace · 1 year

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Mercury Menodora

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“It may look like a peaceful safe haven, but once you're in the lion's den, there's no way out.”

— Mercury Menodora

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General Information

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Full Name — Mercury Menodora Ludwig Von Monarch

↳ Mercury: Meaning to trade or wages in Latin, taken from the Roman God of trade, merchants, and messenger of the Gods of the same name. It also happens to be the name of a metallic chemical element.

↳ Menodora: Of Greek origin, meaning ‘gift of the moon’.

↳ Ludwig: Taken from the Germanic name ‘Hludwig’, meaning Famous in battle.

↳ Von: A term used in the German language as a nobiliary particle indicating a noble patrilineality.

↳ Monarch: A term used to refer to the sovereign head of state, while also used to refer to a large migratory orange and black butterfly that mainly occurs in North America.

Japanese ver. — マーキュリーメノドラルートヴィヒフォンモナーク

Romaji ver. — Mākyurī Rūtovihi Fon Monāku

Twisted from: Vidia

❐ — Vidia (Tinkerbell/ティンカーベル)

V/A(日本語): Tetsuya Kakihara(柿原徹也)

↳ Voices Wanderer, Genshin Impact

V/A(英語/EN): Patrick Pedraza

↳ Voices Wanderer, Genshin Impact

Age: 16

Birthday: December 17th

Horoscope: Capricorn ♑

Species: Wind Faerie

Height: 154 cm

Hair color: Purplish Blue

Eye color: Light Blue

Gender/Pronouns: Male, He/They

Sexuality: Aromantic

Dominant hand: Right

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Extra Information

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Homeland: Shaftlands, 「 Northern Region 」

『 Family:

Yona Von Monarch Rhys (Aunt/Legal Guardian)

Minami Rhys (Uncle/Legal Guardian)

Kiara Rhys (In-law)

Victoria Shard (Cousin) 』

Dormitory: Bystro Letyuschiy

School Year: 1st Year

Class: 1-A(seat no. 17)

Club: Spelldrive Committee

Best class(es): Physical Education, Navigation

Worst class(es): Water Dancing

Like(s): His family, Spelldrive, combat training, lockets, fashion, gossip, calligraphy, lounging around, reading, spending time with friends

Dislike(s): “Gossip”, loud noises, arguments of any kind, Camilla's singing, Grimhilde, failure, abandonment

Hobbies: Reading, playing spelldrive, combat training, gossiping with Watatsumi and Ivy /hj, combat critique

Talent(s): Calligraphy, bilingualism, physical strength, flexibility, combat critique, navigation

Flaw(s): Judgmental, resentful, easy to annoy, condescending, overprotective, ignorant of the impact his words bring, afraid of change

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Personality

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Mercury… Sweet boy, when he wants to be.

He's considered one of the best students in Bystro Letyuschiy, in spite of the obvious fact that he's only a first year. Many in the staff — and student body — see potential in him.

Mercury grew up believing that he had to live up to certain expectations from other people. He resents the outlook most of his family shares, and tends to keep his distance when it comes to most of them.

Only ever agreeing to Scepter Hall to start his life anew, Mercury tries to not sound as judgmental when it comes to the people around him…. And fails. The boy can't keep his mouth shut, he has an opinion and he can't help but want those around him to know it.

Unfortunately, the result is him being completely ignorant of the impact of what he's saying has on other people. His words, his tone, down to the way he conveys it through his body language — It has an impact on other people that he's yet to properly realize.

He loves and cares for the people in his life, truly, but that often comes off as overprotectiveness on his end. Despite his wish for a change in his life, it seems Mercury's afraid of going about that change.

He's not heartless. At the end of the day, he's yet to have truly discovered the kind of person he is — and what people genuinely think of him.

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Unique Magic: Faster than sound (音よりも速く)

◊ Allows its user to move faster than the speed of sound. How this ability operates goes as follows;

The user builds up a good portion of their magical energy on a certain part of their body — eventually channeling that mana and using it to increase their typical speed.

The effects of the ability will last for as long as the user can manage their mana. Once that portion of mana has been depleted of usage, the user will return to their normal speed of movement.

Albeit with the limitation of falling unconscious if they ever tried overexerting themselves.

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Thoughts on them

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“Oh, don't you nary a peep about my nephew. He means well, truly, he does. Alas… Well, you'll figure it out eventually.”

— Yona Von Monarch Rhys, Mercury's Aunt

“I didn't realize he was so…. Honest? Is that the right word? I'll admit, his words cut through me for quite some time since we first met. Yona said that he's warmed up to me since then, but I'm not so sure anymore.”

— Minami Rhys, Mercury's Uncle

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Additional Trivia

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✑ Main Theme: Deviltown by Cavetown

✑ Backstory: 『 The Finer things in Life 』

✑ OC Playlist: TBA

༝ㅤ･ㅤ˚ㅤ。ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ↛　❝🦋❞

◊ Mercury has a soft spot for certain people in his life. He doesn't like to admit it openly, but he's particularly softer around the following individuals:

↳ Yona Von Monarch Rhys, who raised him ever since his parents ‘disappeared’

↳ Watatsumi Kiyomizu, one of the first friends Mercury made in SHI (belongs to @jasdiary!)

↳ Kiara Rhys, his in-law that he grew up with after Yona and her brother got married

↳ Meryl Hollow, the daughter of his school's headmistress who he wants to protect the innocence of

◊ Mercury likes to make it known in SHI that he doesn't really like to associate much with the Shards. He loves his distant relatives, but his knee jerk reaction when they do something moderately messed up is 😬

◊ He spent a lot of time with Kiara and his cousins growing up, as Yona didn't want him to grow up alone.

↳ He only really maintains contact with them just to receive important news.

◊ Mercury claims to dislike gossip, but c'mon. He's had his moments, and every once in a while, he likes to gossip with Watatsumi and Ivy.

↳ Before coming to SHI, he also liked listening to the gossip Camilla had acquired!

◊ Literally can't stand Sinan. Great Sevens, it always feels like a bloodbath every time Sinan annoyed Mercury a little too much.

◊ Unintentionally took up the unofficial occupation as Meryl's babysitter. Eclair noticed the attachment her daughter had to Mercury, and took it upon herself to appoint him as her ‘unofficial’ babysitter.

◊ Mercury owns a locket — that he doesn't wear in public — that contains a picture of him and Yona when he was 2 years old. (He thinks he was an ugly baby, but finds the photo to be nostalgic and endearing)

◊ Mercury is fluent in English and German!

↳ Victoria was appointed by Yona to be the one who taught him the language at a relatively young age.

◊ Always brings a pair of soundproof earplugs. You never know, he could encounter a singer that's just as bad as his cousin! /hj

◊ More or less owns a mini library in his dorm room. When Watatsumi first visited for a sleepover, she was genuinely surprised to see the number of paranormal romance novels on the shelves! (Mercury refuses to openly admit he unironically likes the genre)

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Appearance

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Mercury's Tags

#mercury von monarch • #『 mercury 💜 』

#mercury menodora (lore)

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timelessphoenix · 9 months

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The way someone you love tells you their favorite color and you feel the need to understand every beautiful facet of that color

#i'd already been slowly loving the color orange more and more the last few months #but now?#gimme all the orange you possibly can #love the color orange #sunrises #sunsets #marigolds #autumn leaves #oranges (already my favorite fruit those beautiful bastards)#monarch butterflies #jellyfish #simply beautiful #i already loved these things #but knowing now that someone i love looks at them with a particular fondness just because of their color?#will never see this color the same

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msb-lair · 3 months

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Clutch #3463 - Vee/Zee

Mated On: 2024-01-14 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2024-01-19

Progeny:

Hatchling 9216 (Enfer) - Aether Female, Obsidian Bar/Sunshine Butterfly/Cantaloupe Monarch, Common - 15 gems on 2024-01-19

Hatchling 9217 (Riot) - Aether Male, Obsidian Python/Watermelon Flicker/Gold Monarch, Uncommon - 15 gems on 2024-03-08

Hatchling 9218 - Aether Male, Obsidian Bar/Cerise Butterfly/Marigold Monarch, Common - 15,000 ON 2024-02-15

Comments:

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biracy · 1 year

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artist ask game 14 + 30 :3c

14. UHHHHH man do I do motifs? I like dogs and fish (especially dog skeletons and fish skeletons) as motifs with Jo, any kind of Christian imagery as a motif with Jezebel, and La Llorona and the Weeping Madonna with Lune. I need to draw more

30. Really and truly still OBSESSED w Pork Soda it's definitely one of my best pieces to date. I still love La Llorona too I should definitely redo that soon

#lune actually has a Lot of motifs going on i really like monarch butterflies and aztec marigolds with him for obvious reasons #like he's goth. and mexican. and grief and death and acceptance is his entire arc. so day of the dead stuff is gonna be really prevalent

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simblrbyambsey · 2 years

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Koi aged up before his party. He got a sad moodlet, but I planned a party for him and everything.

It didn’t dampen the party. Most of the siblings were there, and Koi met his first celebrity and got an autograph!

#100 baby challenge #ts4 simblr #Monarch Orange #Koi Orange #Papaya Orange #Mimosa Orange #Rusty Orange #Marigold Orange #Amber Orange #Mandarin Orange #Ginger Orange #Pumpkin Orange

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zoe-oneesama · 1 year

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Kwami Swap Master Post

Marinette:

Cat: Maotif (Lady Noire Variant), Original Design Fox: Huli Rouge Turtle: Bi Xi Bee: Marigold (original post), Marigold redesign, Marigold Chinese, first sighting Butterfly: Mariposa Peacock: Plumette, Belle Blue, Belle Blue with Chloe Snake: Serpentine Dragon: Snapdragon Horse: Yili Monkey: Surili Rabbit: Lucky Rabbit Mouse: Multimouse redesign, chibi Pig: Piglette Tiger: Báihŭ

Adrien:

Ladybug: Original Design Fox: Malin Rouge Turtle: Michelangelo Bee: Buzzy Bee Butterfly: Ombre Snake: Aspik Redesign Dragon: Dracon Pig: Hogwash

Alya:

Ladybug: Ladybird, Heroes Day, first sighting Turtle: Koki Marina, hair options, first sighting Bee: Myèl Jaune, first version

Nino:

Cat: Cat Scratch Fox: Fox Trot, first sighting

Chloe:

Ladybug: Scarlet Lady, Heroes Day, first sighting Cat: Chartreux Butterfly: Monarch Peacock: Blue Blood Rabbit: Satine Random Sketches

Lila:

Ladybug: Harlequin Coccibella and Bella Stella, Bella Stella, Harlequin Fox: Good Fox Volpina Bee: Miele and Regina Butterfly: Farfalla Rabbit: Leprotta Good and Evil Mouse: Multi Topi Rooster: Fenice Pig: Good and Evil (unnamed) Dog: Cucciola Ox: Dominataur Goat: Caprascuro

Sabrina:

Cat: Bob Cat Fox: Kit Bee: Andrena, first sighting Peacock: Mystique Mouse: Comousiner Rooster: Favorelle Dog: Miss Hound redesign, Original Design Phalène Ox: Blue Belle Goat: Chevron

Luka:

Cat: Cat Sith Fox: Zorro Turtle: Heavy Metal Bee: Aristaeus Snake: Viperion Redesign Rabbit: Hoppollo

Kagami:

Ladybug: Lady Tentou Cat: Kuro Neko, first sighting Fox: Kitsune, many chibis Turtle: Kame Verte, many chibis Bee: Mistubachi, first version, many chibis Dragon: Ryuko redesign, first version, many chibis

Mylene:

Ladybug: Lady Beetle Mouse: Polymouse Redesign, Original Design Sourette Rooster: Gold Wing Dog: Ultimutt Ox: Buckaroo Goat: Brebisou

Ivan:

Cat: Wild Cat Bee: Killer Bee Mouse: Rat Trap Rooster: Spring Chicken Dog: Bull Terror Ox: Minotaurox Redesign Goat: Battering Ram

Nathaniel:

Cat: Picatso Fox: (currently nameless) Mouse: Microdent Rooster: Caladrius Dog: Painted Dog Ox: Battle Bison Goat: Caprikid Redesign

Rose:

Ladybug: Dotted Lady Fox: Foxy Bee: Bumble Bee, first sighting Rabbit: Bun Bun Pig: Original Design Miss Piggy Tiger: Unnamed

Juleka:

Cat: Panthera Noir Bee: Yellow Swarm Peacock: Sweet Pea Pig: Unnamed Tiger: Purple Tigress Resign, Chibi, Original Design Tigresse

Max:

Ladybug: Spotted Guard Bee: Yellow Guard Horse: Pegasus redesign

Kim:

Cat: Hell Cat Bee: Roi Abeille

Alix:

Ladybug: Beetle Bug

Gabriel:

Cat: Black Plague

Nathalie:

Fox: Jackal

Jagged Stone:

Bee: Sting

Aurore:

Fox: many chibis Turtle: Shellegant, many chibis Bee: Miss Sting, many chibis Dragon: Pleut Blue, many chibis Rabbit: Lapin Royal

Ondine:

Turtle: Tortue Marina

Marc:

Mouse: Tiny Mouse Rooster: Rooster Bold Redesign Dog: Furmidable Ox: Oxenfree Goat: Goat Gruff

Zoé:

Ladybug: Coccecilia Cat: Dandy Lion Fox: Fox Glove Turtle: Shellonia Butterfly: Gladiolus Peacock: Poinciana Snake: Hydra Gea Dragon: Drakanthus Horse: Peony Trail Monkey: Simia Rabbit: Cotton Tail Mouse: Rodendron Rooster: Chick Pea Pig: Pigsqueek Tiger: (unnamed) Dog: (unnamed) Ox: Moobloom Goat: Fauna

Emilie:

Butterfly: Unnamed

Very Old Season 1 Kwami Swaps Compiled for Marinette, Adrien, Nino, Alya, Chloe, and Lila

#kwami swap #kwami swap master post #my art

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channydraws · 4 months

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Woooow crazy how that comic from a million years ago didn't have a conclusion...

#channydrew #ocs #marigold monarch #jinji

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adore-laur · 5 months

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DADRRY: PART THREE

— part one | part two

October - Flashback

Leaves from the oak and cottonwood trees are changing color at last. Their shades of varietal greens bleed into marigold and maroon ones to commence autumn in California. The weather is more than adequate when it nears the end of the year, with days never below seventy degrees. Brisk winds blow by the ocean and migrating clusters of monarch butterflies flood orange milkweed with their stained-glass wings, looking similar to the plants they flutter around.

Driving alongside the premature sunset, you press on the brakes and pull into the crowded parking lot of the restaurant. Harry has been setting up and bartending for a wedding's cocktail hour, which he seldom does under his title as head chef. He mentioned before he left that he wanted to talk to you about something important after his shift, so he reserved a table in the dining area where both of you could eat dinner and discuss. Luckily, he doesn't have to work his way into the early morning since someone will replace him once the reception officially starts.

It's Harry's last shift before he's home for an extended period. He managed to save all of his annual vacation days and is free from work for the last month of your pregnancy, as well as the twelve weeks of paternity leave he's allowed once the baby is born. That means four months to adjust to a new reality.

It's difficult to imagine how much convincing it took and the scheduling difficulties he had to come across to get everything sorted out. You're worried the restaurant will crumble without his supervision, but you shouldn't judge his expertise on the matter. He knows what he's doing.

You stroll through the front doors while smoothing the chiffon fabric of your dress that flows over your bump. You have been frequently wearing Harry's shirts ever since your stomach has gotten too large to wear your own, but you wanted to look nice for yourself tonight. It has been grueling trying to accept your changing body, which is why you strive to do little things to take care of your mental state. And even though you've been more concerned about your physical state lately, if something as simple as putting on a pretty dress will boost your confidence, you'll take advantage of the opportunity.

Carefully weaving through the decorated tables, you peer at the bar area built against the farthest wall. Harry's familiar back profile is turned to you as he washes cocktail glasses. His defined muscles shift under the tight, black button-up he wears, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing the tattoos on his forearms. He's also sporting fitted slacks with matching attached suspenders. He's been growing out his hair within the last couple of months, the curls now flourishing past his ears. He always keeps them pushed back with a bandana or headband so they don't fall in his face while he works.

You don't want to be a nuisance and steal a seat from any guests, so you stand off to the side and wait for him to finish his cleaning duties. His bulky rings clink against champagne glasses as he dries them and puts them under the counter. You can hear him faintly whistling along to the music coming from the nearby banquet hall.

Once Harry finishes wiping clean his station, you watch him sneakily take out his phone and start typing something. You assume he's texting you to let you know he's done. He then washes his hands while another bartender walks behind the counter to clock in—they must be the one replacing him. You're not too knowledgeable about who all tends the bar since Harry is usually in the back running the kitchen, but it's intriguing to see him in a different environment nonetheless.

He gives the employee a friendly squeeze on their shoulder before clocking out and heading in your direction. He nearly brushes past you while taking his phone out again, completely oblivious of your presence, and you laugh before stopping him with a hand on his chest. It makes him stumble back with a confused pout, but he soon smiles in surprise when he recognizes you.

"How'd you get in?" he asks breathlessly, kissing your cheek.

"I told the security guards at the gate that my husband works here, and I'm picking him up. If they said no, I was going to tell them my water broke."

He smirks proudly. "Clever. How are you feeling? Baby's good?" He holds your upper arms, and his eyes scan your body as if you've changed drastically since you saw him only six hours ago.

"All good. Just a sore back like usual." You toy with one of his suspender straps. "What about you? It's your last shift for a while."

Exhaling happily, Harry clasps your hand in his and says, "I feel fantastic. Let's go eat, yeah? I'm starving."

He guides you through an open doorway leading to the restaurant's dining area, where the reserved table is. In the back of the room, you spot a candlelit booth with plates, silverware, and two glasses filled with ice water. The water doesn't go unnoticed by you, considering he set a goal for himself to stop drinking alcohol along with you.

A vase of beautiful red roses on the windowsill catches your eye as you sit down. Harry slides into the seat across from you. Only a few other booths are occupied—otherwise, the room is serenely quiet, with the occasional clink of metal and sprinkle of light chatter.

"You look angelic, by the way," Harry says before taking a delicate sip of his water.

"Thank you," you whisper, nudging his foot with yours under the table. "I like your suspenders. They remind me of when you used to be a rookie assistant chef that I'd come to visit. You would wear them under your chef coat with a fancy little neckerchief. I thought you looked so adorable."

"Now I'm old and weathered," he says wryly.

"Well, you're turning thirty soon. Plus, you'll be a dad in a month. Isn't that when someone officially becomes a DILF?" You're not sure why you casually mentioned the acronym over a romantic dinner, but it's too late to retreat now.

Harry's eyes gleam, and he fails miserably at hiding a smile under his scrunched nose. "Pardon? What are you trying to insinuate, darling?"

"Nothing! Never mind,” you backtrack, embarrassed that you ever spoke. "I was only trying to bring up a nice memory—reminiscing, if you will. Forget I said anything."

"I'm definitely not forgetting that. The ugly neckerchief, however..." He laughs at himself. "God, that feels like forever ago. Time flies."

"I thought it was kind of attractive," you mumble around the rim of your glass.

He raises his eyebrows as a warning not to start something you don't want to finish, then clears his throat and sets his forearms on the table. "Speaking of work, that's what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I want you to keep an open mind, okay?"

Your lips downturn in curiosity. Just as you're about to reply, a waiter arrives at the table with a tray of steaming dishes and places them in the center. You had texted Harry what you wanted from the menu after he left this morning, and since he's the boss, everything is free, cooked to perfection, and served promptly.

"Thank you," Harry says politely before focusing back on you. The waiter leaves, and you begin picking at your food to distract yourself from your increasing heart rate.

"Um, did you say work? Did you get a promotion? Is that even a possibility for a head chef?"

You physically see the color drain from his face. "So," he says nervously, ignoring your questions, "the baby's coming soon, yes? Obviously."

"Right..." you reply with a suspicious tone.

Shifting in his seat, he runs a hand through his tousled hair. "Listen, the restaurant during fall and winter isn't as busy as the summertime. You know that. And because of that, I want to be home with you and the baby as much as possible. I will with paternity leave, but once I go back to work my hours will pick up again, and it'll be—"

"Harry, just tell me," you interrupt gently. He has a bad habit of running circles around topics.

He blows out a short breath. "I'm demoting myself. It's in the works that I'll be the sous chef when I return, so that means fewer hours and more time at home."

You're glad you haven't taken a sip of water yet because you almost choke at the admission that left his mouth. Demotion? He has never mentioned that word to you before.

"Can I ask why in the world you would do that?" you ask sharply. You don't mean to sound snippy, but pregnancy hormones, on top of Harry's revelation, cause a pit of unwarranted annoyance to simmer in your gut.

"Love, let me explain." He reaches forward to grasp your hand across the table and squeeze it. "This is my choice. It's final, all right? I'm not going to be working ten hours a day, six days a week while you're at home with our baby. That's ridiculous."

"Harry, what about—"

"Stop while you're ahead because you're going to overthink it," he replies calmly. "If you're worried about money, don't be. It's only a slight decrease in my wage. Everything will be fine."

Your annoyance wins as you slide your free hand down your face. "You realize that we'll need more money when the baby comes. It's common sense. Why would you think cutting your hours and pay is smart?"

Harry scoffs like what you're saying is absolute insanity. He leans in closer so the impending argument doesn't disrupt anyone's dinner, his voice hushed yet stern when he retaliates, "Would you rather me come home every day absolutely knackered and then spend a maximum of four hours with our child before I have to get up to do it all over again? Hmm?"

You shake your head in irritation and stubbornly remove your hand from his. "It's called adapting. It may be tough at first, but it becomes second nature. We just have to wait until the baby gets here to figure out a schedule that works."

Harry falls back against the booth and throws his hands up in frustration. They slap against his thighs before he says, "Do you realize how stupid you sound right now? You're talking about money and scheduling like we're fuckin'—"

"I'm leaving." When you stand, Harry's mouth instantly clamps shut. You don't care that you barely ate your food—you can't listen to him anymore. You're awfully close to lashing out.

Heading the way you came from, you hear Harry's footsteps behind you. Once you're in the parking lot, you groan when you remember that he has to ride home with you since you dropped him off earlier. While you struggle to unlock the car, you see Harry in your peripheral, striding to halt you from going any further.

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." His shoulders sulk, and he looks genuinely distraught. "Can we just talk this through when we get home, please?"

Your eyes dance over his defeated expression. You don't have the choice to say no since you live together, plus you promised years ago never to go to bed angry. So, you nod your head, and he gives you a timorous smile before withdrawing to the passenger seat.

As you drive, you give Harry the harrowing silent treatment. He deserves it, especially since he's looking out the window and pouting like a child with his arms crossed. The only sound in the confined space is the air conditioner running and cars zooming past on the highway. Your stomach grumbles, and you feel terrible about leaving two plates of food at the restaurant untouched.

After several minutes of dreadful silence, Harry finally breaks the tension when you park in the garage. He grabs a white envelope tucked in the console and asks, "What's this?"

Oh. You forgot about that.

"Nothing," you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Harry rolls his eyes and flings it onto the dashboard, then reaches over to take the key out of the ignition to unlock the front door. Seconds pass before you hear a slam and an echo from him shutting the door harder than necessary. It causes you to swallow down more vexation. There have been tiny arguments more often since you got pregnant, and you blame your hormones every time for getting irritated so easily. Harry usually isn't the reason for those heightened emotions, but there are situations when he can be so stubborn that you just want to shake him out of it.

Eventually, you get out of the car with the envelope in hand and head down to the beach for some time alone. It'll be nice to sit by the water and cool down, figuratively and literally. You have an inclination that if you try to hash it out with Harry right now, it will only result in more regretful words.

You reach the private stretch of sand, holding your bump protectively as you decline the wooden steps. It's chilly by the oceanside this time of year, so you grab a towel that was left on the railing from previous evenings and drape it over your shoulders in case you get cold. The October sun has fully set, with orange and pink streaks expanding across the skyline.

You sit down and reflect on the unfortunate escalation of your conversation with Harry. You love him and could never feel an ounce of hatred toward him. He has never given you a reason to doubt anything, but to put his career on the back burner without mentioning it to you is hurtful. You almost feel guilty knowing he made the choice because of you and the baby. You sometimes shy away from being the main priority because you don't want to feel like a burden. In retrospect, it's incredibly thoughtful that he wants to work less to spend quality time with the baby when they arrive. On the other hand, you can't help but worry that you won't be financially secure because of it.

"Hungry?"

Your head shifts to find Harry walking toward you with a spoon and a strange-looking fruit in his hand. It's impossible not to smile when you note the outfit he changed into—banana yellow trousers and an argyle knit sweater. All of his rings are off except for his wedding band.

He's the love of your life and has nothing but pure intentions, so how could you not trust his decision?

"What is that?" you ask, pointing to the half-cut fruit as Harry plops down next to you.

"A papaya," he replies with a shrug. "A blog said at thirty-two weeks, a baby is as big as one of these bad boys. So, naturally, I bought one."

You have to turn your face so he doesn't see your smile. You're not giving him the benefit of seeing you crack from his endearing ways just yet. "You're an unusual man, Harry Styles. Do you plan on buying more fruit for the last four weeks?"

"I already put pineapple on the grocery list," he says unconcernedly as he scoops out a chunk of the fleshy fruit. "Anyway, I didn't come out here to discuss fruit." His tongue sticks out as he takes a bite, the spoon leaving his mouth with a pop before he points it at you. "Still mad at me?"

You internally sigh, knowing it's useless to continue acting like he's in the wrong. "I can't stay mad at you. And I don't know why I got so worked up. I was just being overdramatic."

Harry hums in thought as he swallows another bite. "Expressing how you feel isn't overdramatic. Don't apologize for having those feelings, especially toward me. Yell at me if I'm being a dick, kiss me if I'm being a dreamboat—it’s simple, baby." He finishes his little speech by shoving another spoonful of papaya into his mouth, chewing introspectively while staring at the waves.

"Was it Socrates who said that?"

He plucks your bottom lip with the spoon and murmurs, "You're feisty today."

"Back to the topic," you say before he can proceed. He knows it riles you up when he calls you that. "Money shouldn't have been what my mind first went to. It's still a concern but ultimately, making time for our family is the most important thing. I apologize for freaking out."

"You're forgiven." He scoots closer and holds a spoonful to your mouth. You accept the sweet flavor as he adds, "And I'm so sorry for calling you stupid. Please know that is the furthest thing from the truth."

"We all say things we don't mean sometimes. It takes basic empathy to understand that part of life," you reply. There's no use in acting like you haven't done the same thing in the past.

Harry slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in for a warm side hug. "What you said is true, by the way. We have time to figure things out and adapt. Let's enjoy the last month we have to ourselves.”

You nod in agreement and say, "I also want to thank you for being so thoughtful and putting our family first. I trust you with this new chapter in our lives. I don't doubt you at all."

"Don't worry about it," he says with a kiss to your temple. "I'm proud of you for dealing with every mental and physical change these past eight months. And I will always be here for you through the good and bad moments. In sickness and in health, remember?"

You smile fondly and take the white envelope out from under your leg. "Are you in the mood for a good moment with me?" Harry looks confused, but he nods anyway. "When you saw this in the car, it's not nothing like I said it was. It's from when I went to my prenatal appointment a few days ago. I know we decided to find out the gender a month before, so I have the results. I haven't looked at them yet."

Harry's eyes widen, and his mouth parts as he sets the papaya down. "I am not prepared for this. Wait, hold on. Let me breathe for a second." His head tilts up toward the sky as he takes dramatic, calming breaths.

You laugh and set the envelope on his thigh. "Do the honors, Styles. Let's see if your prediction is right."

He picks it up and carefully opens the seal. Unfolding the paper filled with medical information, he quickly skims the tiny lettering to look for the answer he's been waiting for.

"Holy shit," he says, his voice cracking as his hand covers his mouth.

"I'm guessing you're right?" you ask, your eyes watering.

"Girl. We're having a girl. Jesus, I'm gonna cry." He wipes away his tears. "Why am I crying? I was confident it was a girl."

"Because it makes it more real," you say, leaning over to kiss his damp, rosy cheeks. "Now we know for sure."

"Come here, honey. Let me take a look at her."

You sit on your knees between his spread legs. Harry sets the envelope down and lifts your dress, revealing your bump that puts quite some distance between you and him. His hands splay across the taut skin as he leans down to kiss right above your belly button. He gazes up at you under his wet lashes and smiles against your stomach, his dimples carved deep with happiness.

"I love you," he whispers with a sniffle. "I love both of you so much. With my entire soul."

Within the simple moment, everything falls into place.

——

July - Present Day

Everything is falling apart.

Well, not really, but you sure feel that way as you bend over the toilet at seven in the morning and empty your queasy stomach once again.

It's the first Sunday in July, marking ten weeks of your second pregnancy. When you woke up with a wave of morning sickness a couple of hours ago, you noticed something peculiar. As you were rubbing circles on your abdomen to ease the nausea, it appeared that your stomach had seemingly popped overnight. The curve was more prominent and firm, a small bump you must have mistaken for bloating. The bump is pretty much nonexistent in a loose shirt or hoodie, but anything tight will hug it and be a constant reminder of baby number two growing in there.

Dizzily standing, you move toward the sink to brush your teeth for the umpteenth time, then gurgle some spearmint mouthwash to diminish the rancid taste in your mouth. Pots and pans can be heard clanging downstairs as you wipe your lips, and the occasional giggle from your daughter mixes with Harry's theatrical voice, which he puts on whenever she watches him cook.

The smell of sizzling bacon doesn't help the swirling feeling in your stomach as you head downstairs to the kitchen. Their lighthearted commotion grows louder, and you stop to stand in the doorway to soak in your favorite part of Sunday mornings. Harry is in front of the countertop, and your daughter stands on her tiptoes on a step stool next to him, the two of them watching pancakes turn golden brown on the griddle.

He's in full dad mode with tired eyes and an outfit that screams: I have a toddler and pregnant wife at home. In other words, a black button-up with pink flamingos and grey pleated trousers. They don't match whatsoever, but you know he doesn't care.

He voyages around the kitchen, pouring orange juice, dropping chocolate chips into the batter, and ensuring your daughter's little hands don't touch anything hot. Your hand subconsciously holds your bump as you think about how you'll get to see him interact with a newborn again — cradling them, teaching them to walk, pretending to eat their hands and feet. He still does that with your daughter, but it breaks your heart knowing she'll grow out of it one day.

"Good morning," Harry acknowledges with his back turned, halting your daydreaming. How does he always sense your presence?

When you don't say anything, he turns to glance at you while setting a heart-shaped pancake on a plate. Your smile grows wider as you curl your pointer finger to beckon him closer. He gives you a confused look before unplugging the griddle and instructing your daughter not to touch anything on the counter. She'll be too distracted by the cartoon playing on the television to even notice that the both of you will be gone for a moment.

Sauntering toward you, Harry sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick the excess batter off. "What's up, baby?"

"I have a surprise to show you," you whisper, accepting his kisses.

"Yeah? S'it my half-birthday or something?" he asks, his voice still gravelly and slurred from sleep.

"No, this isn't about you," you tease with a pinch to his side. "Come with me."

You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom just down the hall. Turning the lights on, you stand in front of the mirror and say, "I'm ten weeks today. I woke up with a little morning sickness, but look!" You lift your shirt and turn to the side to get a better angle of your stomach. "It was just pudge before, but it's an actual bump now."

Harry stands behind you and rubs his hands over the swell. "No fuckin' way. You… this happened overnight. I was spooning you this morning! How did I not notice?"

"I don't know. I didn't notice either, and it's my own body." You shake your head disbelievingly and place your hands over his. "I read that women's second pregnancy will have them showing earlier. I guess that's why I popped so soon. Last time, I didn't show until fourteen weeks or something like that."

He hums lowly, pulling you further back against his chest. "I've missed seeing you like this. It makes you glow more than usual." His mouth is by your ear when he quietly murmurs, "Makes me hard."

"You're so naughty in the mornings," you say, removing yourself from his grasp and pulling down your shirt. "C'mon, let's eat breakfast."

Harry whines in protest, gently grabbing your face and turning it toward him so he can nip your jawbone and then lock your lips together. After your stolen moment alone, the both of you head back to the kitchen to enjoy another blissful Sunday morning.

——

Takeout pizza is on the menu tonight. The trunk of the Volvo is open, with blankets and pillows strewn about to create a fort-like space for the three of you to sit in. Harry had driven the vehicle down to the beach so you could watch the sunset and feel the breeze from the ocean.

You get comfortable in the trunk and set paper plates and napkins down. Harry and your daughter are in the beach grass picking the wildflowers that blossom there. Her hand grips bunched stems while her other holds her dad's as they wander. Her precious fruit-patterned dress flows in the wind.

Moments later, they come strolling toward the car with soft smiles. Your daughter clambers into the trunk with your help and hands you a makeshift bouquet of yellow and purple wildflowers.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you say with a kiss to her windswept hair.

Harry places his hands on either side of your thighs and leans in for some of your affection. You peck his lips; they're pink from the strawberry Kool-Aid he made earlier. Before he retreats, he glimpses at your baby bump. He exhales and looks at you with a crooked smile, his thumb stroking the underside of your baby bump.

"Kumquat," he says with a click of his tongue.

You laugh, albeit not understanding. "Come again?"

"A baby at ten weeks is the size of a kumquat," he explains like it's a well-known fact.

"Interesting," you say. "Well, the kumquat is hungry, so get up here and cut the pizza."

Your daughter is oblivious to the conversation as Harry scoots next to you and begins rolling the pizza cutter. His forearm flexes, and the veins bulge when he does it. "Small bites, little lady," he tells her as he puts a slice on her plate.

Reaching behind you, you grab a bottle of sparkly pink nail polish you brought out. "She told me when you were picking up the pizza that she wants you to paint her nails."

Harry nods and pats his lap. She excitedly sits between his legs and waits patiently. After taking the bottle of polish from you, he shakes it when his ringtone suddenly goes off. He juts his lips out as he reaches into his pocket to check the number.

"Hello?" he answers, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. He opens the cap and begins painting her nails.

You observe his facial expressions. He has a serious look and frequently nods as he listens to whoever's on the other end of the line. You pluck a green pepper off the pizza and hold it up to him. He opens his mouth and takes it, scrunching his nose as a thank you.

"I'm good for tomorrow? Are you sure?" he asks through his chewing. You hear an unfamiliar muffled voice before he says, "Awesome, thank you. Call me if anything changes. Okay, bye." He sets down the nail polish and hangs up before resuming painting her pinky finger.

"Who was that?" you ask while tucking a wildflower stem behind his ear.

"My boss," he says, licking his thumb and wiping a smudge he made. I don't have to go in tomorrow since there are barely any reservations."

"No sparkles," your daughter blurts before you can reply. Harry freezes and eyes you perplexedly.

"What?" you ask. She points to one painted nail and purses her lips. You gently take her hand and observe it closely — no sparkles are showing up. The polish must have gone bad. "I'm sorry, baby. It must be icky polish. We can take it off and get another one."

It's almost scary how quickly the waterworks start. You exhale as you take the plate from her so she doesn't throw a fit and make a mess everywhere. She's crying and staring at Harry like he's the cause of no sparkles. Well, maybe he didn't shake the bottle enough, but you keep your mouth shut so you don't make matters worse.

Harry grabs her waist and props her in front of him. "We're not gonna start this. Mumma said we can get some more, all right? Behave, or I'm not painting your nails."

You could have predicted what happens next from experience. Her harmless fists hit his chest in frustration as she sobs. Undried polish smears all over his shirt. Harry has always been good at controlling these minor mishaps, so he inhales deeply before lifting her writhing body.

"Early bedtime it is, then," he mutters while walking toward the house.

You begin cleaning up the short-lived dinner. It isn't anything new you've had to deal with, but it exhausts you, especially when she has a tantrum during family time. You take the pizza box out of the trunk, then close it and decide to clean everything else tomorrow. You drive the car to the garage and lock up everything before stepping inside.

After putting the pizza in the fridge, you slowly go to your daughter's bedroom, listening for any crying or screaming. A sigh of relief leaves you when only subsiding whimpers indicate she's done for the night.

Your heart softens at the sight you walk in on. Harry sits against her headboard, his feet hanging past the edge of her tiny bed as he cradles his baby girl. He soothingly rocks her side to side, his eyes closed as he rubs circles on her back. Her heavy eyes are barely open, her tear-stained cheeks smushed against Harry's chest. She's in her pajamas now.

You kneel next to her bed, and she extends her arm, reaching for you. Harry jolts awake, sharply inhaling and blinking open his eyes. His grip loosens when he notices that she wants you. You stand and take her in your arms, her legs hugging your waist. You then sit by Harry's thighs and quietly laugh when you see the residue of nail polish staining his shirt.

Harry lazily grins and clasps his hands behind his head. "It's not funny. I bought this shirt because of her, and this is what I got in return. She's a proper menace."

You squeeze his ankle in good nature before replying, "I wonder where she gets it from."

He gasps in faux offense and grabs your daughter's hand, shaking it playfully. "Mumma's being mean, don't you think?"

She sleepily shakes her head. You raise your eyebrows smugly before smattering her cheeks with kisses until she smiles and tiredly whines into your neck.

Harry yawns before catching your gaze and jerking his head toward your stomach. "Should we tell her?" he mouths.

Your heart rate quickens. You're not too worried that she'll get upset, considering she has asked on a few occasions — as best she could with her limited vocabulary — if she could have a sibling. You think it's time to tell her the news now that you're showing.

As you nod eagerly, Harry swings his legs over the mattress and crouches between your knees. You shift your daughter so she's settled sideways on your lap, then nod again to let him initiate the conversation.

"We have something to tell you, sweetheart," he says, a fond gentleness in his tone reserved only for her. Her head turns away from the safety of your neck. "You know how you've been asking about a baby brother or sister?" She nods languidly, prompting him to ask, "And do you see her belly?"

You situate her next to you so you can lift the stretchy material of your tank top. Harry says, "There's a baby in her belly." He guides her hand to your bump. "Your brother or sister is growing in there."

Her expression is unreadable at first, but then she gazes at you with curious eyes. "Baby," she utters drowsily. She's about one second away from slipping into a deep sleep.

"I don't think she'll remember in the morning," Harry says with a laugh.

You smile dotingly and stand before tucking her into bed. You kiss her forehead and watch her doze off as Harry tells her goodnight, whispering his boundless love for her and sealing his truthful words with a feather-light kiss to both of her cheeks.

Shutting off her bedside lamp, you leave the room with Harry hot on your heels. You're in the process of pulling your tank top down on the way to your bedroom, but before you can reach the door, Harry grabs your hips, stopping you in the dark hallway.

"You can't look this good and go straight to bed," he says lowly, his breath warm and intimate.

"Mom needs her sleep before work tomorrow," you reply with a smirk, keeping to yourself that you wouldn't mind staying up a bit longer if he continues praising you like this.

"Please, baby," he murmurs, his hands drifting dangerously lower. "Just a quick one, yeah? I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Don't give in, you think to yourself. Make him work for it.

"Anything?" you ask sensually as his fingers begin to brush along your inner thighs, causing your knees to weaken temporarily.

Harry licks his lips, his tongue poking your neck with the faintest touch. "Don't act like I wouldn't let you ruin me, darling."

You clench your thighs around his hand, and he hoarsely groans against your skin. "But I'm so tired, Harry. It won't last very long if I want to do what I want with you."

"Like I give a shit." He cups your core with his palm, his impatient fingers stroking over the fabric of your silk pajama shorts. "You could give me the sloppiest blowjob ever, and I'd still worship the ground you walk on."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to moan. "Will you run me a bath afterward?"

"We can just fuck in the bath instead if that's what you fancy."

You ponder for a brief second. "It would be an easy cleanup. We'd have to do it in the downstairs bathroom, though, and you'd have to be quiet. Think you can handle that?"

"Dunno. Do you plan on making me scream?"

"I could put those suspenders you wore today in your mouth to shut you up."

He exhales a sexy sound, one that reveals you caught him off guard. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You hum and grab his hand, raising it to your mouth to nip at the calloused pad of his thumb before walking down the stairs to the bathroom just around the corner. The porcelain tub awaits, and you turn the knob and plug the drain, water gushing out. The bay window it sits in front of exhibits the endless ocean and horizon view. The sky is fading into starlit blues and purples.

Once the water is high enough and sufficiently warm, you shut the faucet off and begin removing your clothes. Harry enters the bathroom a few moments later and quietly closes the door behind him, flicking the lock. He unbuttons his shirt painstakingly slowly while facing the mirror, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

While he undresses, you step into the tub and watch him. He's taking his trousers off now, his exposed back muscles flexing along with his biceps as he shimmies the garment down his legs. His body is truly something from an empyrean vision. Every indent and definition on his skin magnetizes your eyes.

He's entirely stripped when you break away from your reverie, his legs gracefully stepping over the tub's ledge to settle behind you. A muted moan escapes him when his cock rubs against your lower back.

"Already making noise? I haven't even started yet," you tease, leaning into him.

"Can you blame me? I've got my wife" — his fingers glide against your pulsing entrance — "dripping for me already. Absolutely soaked."

"Then do something about it."

Harry palms your clit, and you instinctively bend your knees. "I thought you wanted to be in control tonight."

"Will you be good? You have a reputation for getting antsy and taking over."

His hands travel upwards and squeeze your sensitive breasts. "Yeah? Does that bother you?"

"You know I like it when you're submissive. Especially when you whine for me and try to touch me when you know you can't."

"Go on, then. Take care of your husband."

You turn around and straddle his thigh, your name inked permanently above his kneecap visible through the water. "I'm going to take care of myself first."

"Ride it. You're the only one who's allowed to." His hands try to latch onto your waist, but you slap them away.

"Touch yourself while I ride you."

Harry's tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he exhales heavily. He grips his cock, squeezing and twisting to relieve himself from the throbbing ache. You begin grinding on his leg to relieve your pressure and stifle your moans in his neck, your core slick with arousal as his thigh muscle flexes with each motion. He starts pumping, one arm resting on the edge of the tub. Your hands place themselves on the side of his neck, and your thumbs apply light pressure there, causing him to release a choked moan.

You shush him. "You have to be quiet. What do you need? Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you since you're being so good."

"You," he whispers with a pained look etched on his face. "Need you around my cock. Need you pressed against me. Please, please, please."

His voice dies with each plead, and you cradle his limp head as he fully submits to you. Whenever he begs, you entirely unravel. Your dominant wall crumbles with his whines, and his deep voice always goes a pitch higher to show his desperation for you. His pink lips form solicitous praises and carnal noises of desire. You want to kiss them until they become swollen and numb.

"I know," you say, kissing the scrunch between his furrowed eyebrows. "Fill me up. I'm ready."

Shakily lifting on his thigh, you get Harry to sit up more in the tub so he can line his cock up with your entrance. When you slowly sink, he stretches your walls and hits you deep, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. Your fingers scratch his soft stomach, and your body leans into him as you begin to ride him. Your hand reaches down to squeeze one of his balls, making him let out a guttural moan before you stop him by covering his mouth. His muffled whimpers encourage you to go faster, your stomach pressing into his abdomen with each thrust.

"D-don't want to," Harry stutters through ragged breaths. "Let me come on your stomach. Please. You're so beautiful like this."

Who are you to say no to such a filthy request?

"Are you close?" The question lingers, and Harry seems to be spaced out from pleasure because he doesn't answer. You can feel him throb inside you as he jerks his hips up at a different angle. His glistening chest is heaving, his eyes pinched shut.

"Harry." You cradle his cheeks to bring him back to earth. "Are you there?"

He hears you this time, nodding fervently until, little by little, he slips himself out of you to stand up in the water. You get up with him and sit on the edge of the tub so he towers over you, and he holds his cock and looks up at the ceiling as he comes on your stomach and chest. You hold his free hand to balance him, his legs trembling and his lips pulled inward to stop any moans from escaping.

His warm release drips down on you, and once he finishes, he falls to his knees in the water, some of it splashing over the tub and onto the floor. His hands grip your ankles to put them over his shoulders, leaving kisses up your legs. You spread them more so he can finish you off. You could quickly come in two seconds if he puts his mouth on you.

"Fingers or mouth?" he asks, hair falling over his eyes.

"Mouth. Can I come on you, too?"

He whines against your inner thigh. "Yeah?"

You whimper and nod. Harry immediately latches his mouth to suck on your clit. There's already pressure building in your lower stomach. He moves down to lick inside of you, his nose nudging your clit as his large, veined hands splay almost protectively on your bump.

"Feels so good," you say, placing your hands on the tub's edge to steady yourself. "I feel it. Please don't stop."

He licks a long stripe, not holding back by fucking his tongue inside so deep that it makes you ache. Your legs tighten around him as you clench multiple times until you can sense your burning climax approaching.

"Harry. Please, I need—" You can't finish your sentence because Harry stands up abruptly and hooks his hand under your knees to lift you, carefully stepping out of the tub and sitting you on the rug. It's messy, and it's uncoordinated. However, he's never one to give you a stagnant sex life.

He's cradling you as your body shakes, then lays down on his back so you can fulfill your request. You straddle his torso, your clenching core settling on his abdomen that's deliciously slick in the low lighting of the bathroom. His thumb presses onto your clit, a move that always allows your orgasm to boil over.

Your neck tilts back, and you orgasm. Harry's hands are everywhere — kneading your ass, rubbing up and down your thighs, groping your breasts. You're grinding on his stomach as you ride out the last of your release, your hands on his sternum. His skin is sticky with your arousal, and you eventually collapse on your back next to him in exhaustion.

"C'mere, love," Harry rasps, his arm extended. You're too far away."

You breathe tiredly, your hands resting on your bump. "I can't. My legs feel like jelly."

Harry snorts and sits up with a groan. He quickly unplugs the drain and crawls over to hover above you, leaving a wet kiss on your stomach. His hand blindly finds a towel around and begins wiping you down.

"This is the lamest aftercare ever," you say, laughing. The dry towel doesn't feel nice on your sweaty skin, and Harry's movements are lazy from the physical exertion.

"That's enough outta you," he slurs through his exhaustion, gently wiping your stomach.

"Should I take off work tomorrow?" you wonder aloud. "I want to sleep in."

"Yes," he whispers, grabbing your hands to sit you up. His eyes take in every bit of you. "Look at you. You're gonna be the death of me."

Every nerve of yours seems to tingle at his words. "Hey, remember when I was pregnant last time, and you nearly broke my back during sex?"

Harry cackles way too loud, and you hush him as his hands slap over his mouth. "I was so scared when that happened. But I could only take you from behind because you were ready to pop, so it's not entirely my fault."

"Excuse me? How is that not your fault?" You yank the towel from him and begin cleaning him. "I'm surprised you didn't make my water break with how hard you were going."

"Jesus, you've got a dirty mind. Save it for later, would ya?"

A comfortable silence ensues while you both get up, wrap towels around your bodies, and then head to the bedroom. You pick out one of Harry's shirts and a pair of underwear to wear as he slides into some black boxers. While you ruffle your slightly damp hair, he sneakily picks you up and lightly tosses you on the bed, making you squeal in surprise.

"Gonna take off work tomorrow?" he asks, kissing down your throat.

"Yeah. I'll lie and say my morning sickness is bad."

His kisses move to your cheeks. "And what if it actually is?"

"Then my husband will wait on me hand and foot," you say with a grin. "Feed me soup in bed. Massage me. Kiss me better."

Harry tucks your hair behind your ear. "You know I'd do that anyway, right? Just say the word, and I'll do anything for you."

You stare at his kind eyes and inviting lips. His shadow of a dimple even when he's not smiling. His perfect nose that resembles your daughter's. His cheeks that were meant to be pinched fondly. His bunny teeth that made you fall in love from day one. The love of your lifetime with a soul that shelters a heart overflowing with endless love.

"I love you."

A whispered reciprocation is spoken, and it's all you need in this world.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #dadrry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur

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talulagrimm · 4 months

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This is part 2 of uploading all the sketch requests I got on instagram here.

Megatron fighting Hawkmoth / Natalie / Viperion falling in love with Marinette

Adrien's villain outfit with the cat, butterfly and peacock miraculous / Black Clover / Luka with the cat miraculous

Marichat / Ladybug with Chat Blanc / Marigold from Scarlet Lady

Marc Anciel / Mari and Felix glaring at each other / Marinette with the rabbit miraculous

Ladynoir / Betterfly kicking Monarch 1.0's Ass / Luka

Queen bee meets Vesperia / Kagami with the Peacock Miraculous / Julerose

Lady Wifi / My favourite character using my two favourite miraculous. (Which would've been adrien with the cat / peacock but since I did something similar a couple sketches before I gave adrien my next favourites, the tiger and fox)

Part 1

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #chat noir #cat noir #adrien agreste #ml ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ladynoir #my art #luka couffaine #transformers #somehow?

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midnightsunnyday · 4 months

Text

“….And remember that to sin is not as simple as to be angry or hungry. We do not judge the lamb who seeks resource, or whose emotions, though strong and unpleasant, lead to righteous action. Rather, it is the excess of those feelings that defiles the laws of man, nature, and the divine. For to sin is not only the death of one’s soul, but to forsake everything that the Father holds dear and shelters. So, is that clear for everyone? Asmodeus?”

“Hm? Come again?”

During his time in the Celestial Realm, there was only one angel that Asmodeus admired most, for both his beauty and his strength.

“Would it kill you to pay attention?” Lucifer said. “It’s not like I’m reading this for my health.”

“Right, sorry.”

Every so often, or rather more often than not, Asmodeus, Mammon, Belphegor, and Lilith found themselves gathered before the favored son of morning. The four always managed to wander and abandon their duties, causing trouble for the older Seraph, whose lectures lasted longer than the sun met with the sky.

Each time they sat in the gardens near their quarters, as no other place was beloved more than the ground Lucifer tended with his hands, with plants so vibrant and bursting with life that one would assume them to be showing off. The pergola that led to its center was draped in roses that bloomed open like the flounce of a wealthy maiden’s dress. From there one would see the Thuja trees standing guard around its boundary, with orange and yellow marigolds shouting, “Look at me! Look at me!” Lavender and rosemary had no need to announce themselves, as it swooned one with its sweet scent, while sunflowers rose from tall, emerald stalks, always facing towards the light as if to outduel it. Asmodeus always found the flowers garish, preferring the soft pink petals of the Angel’s breath that grew low and huddled within their plots. Yet they were Lucifer’s favorite flower and lined most of the grounds’ edges and beddings.

Lucifer swept his sight across his siblings, sighing. “I regret even asking but Mammon, since you’re the only one managing to stay awake, how about repeating what I just said?”

Mammon tapped his chin. “Uh…that sin is bad?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Close enough,” then turned back towards his text. “Now, where was I…oh, right.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “As children of the Father, we have a sworn duty to instill His will. Naturally, this is not a question of whether one understands said will, as none are capable of knowing the Father’s ways, but to have faith in the plan regardless.”

Asmodeus yawned, to which Lucifer frowned.

“What?” Asmodeus raised his hands, palms outward. “I swear I’m totally focused. Duty and faith in the plan. Understood.” Well, not entirely. He wasn’t sure if he even agreed with said plan, whatever that was. An odd and rather blasphemous feeling for an angel to have, though one he’d never admit to aloud.

“Furthermore,” Lucifer went on, “angels are a reflection of the Father’s righteous bearing, and as such, should conduct themselves accordingly at all times.” His eyes narrowed on Mammon, who shrunk at the sight of it. “Which brings me to the numerous lists of complaints of quote-on-quote “bordering-on-the-sacrilegious” actions. In no particular order we have engaging in human realm debauchery, promising the everlasting life and forgiveness of various human souls for goods, using the divine council room for birthday celebrations, public…”

Asmodeus blinked and blinked again. Tried as he might, he could no longer bear the weight of his own lids. It was a wonder that Lucifer hadn’t punished them for sleeping, yet he supposed it was the same reason he continued despite it. Asmodeus had gotten better at pressing his ears to the wind, so to speak, and through it spoke of tensions. For those who stepped out of line, the Archangels would increase the severity of their punishments, no likely due to the rumors of the Devildom’s soon-to-be appointed monarch, the son of its former king. Though they prepared themselves for war, the Devildom seemed to have no intention in stroking tensions. What’s more is that the demon even requested an audience with Michael of all angels, his aims stated to be “uncharacteristically philanthropic” in comparison to his fathers, yet no less held in suspicion.

Michael agreed. Though there was one unanticipated alteration: that Lucifer would act as liaison on his behalf. And while he’d never admit it, Lucifer was worried. These moments in the garden, huddled away from the bureaucracies of the realm, were the extent of his authority, a simple mercy compared to what would and could await them, as Raphael so plainly informed.

Mammon made a remark, to which Lucifer responded, but Asmodeus couldn’t make head or tails of the rest. Just for a moment, I’ll close my eyes, he thought. And just as his siblings before him, Asmodeus gave way to the mists that blurred the waking world and lead to the land of sleep.

*****

Asmodeus loved his dreams. In dreams, ones limits were boundless, uninhibited by the expectations of the world or what be right or wrong. Here, he could not be judged, allowing his inhibitions to run freely, surrounded by all the things he loved and nothing more. Yet lately his dreams had become less crowded and far too abstract for his liking.

This time, he was alone, flying high above a brilliant, shining city, its limits an endless void, as if nothing existed or mattered outside it.

Asmodeus did not recognize the city as earthly, nor was it Celestial, but it knew his name, and it sang to him and only him. Not with words, but in ways only a city could: the thundering laughter of its people, the waves of pulsating music, the scent of sweat and overripe fruit. A place filled with all the wonder and excitement the world had to offer. A place that not even the eyes of the Father could reach. It was freedom. True freedom. And it was beautiful.

But the city also frightened him. He dared not stare for long, as the glare from the lights burned his eyes and caused his head to split with pain. Like the maw of a giant beast, it threatened to swallow him whole, and the more he struggled, the harder it drew, shifting the winds around him.

Asmodeus flew further, higher, yet the city stretched on as if to give chase, until his wings heaved from the fight, until he could no longer bear to fly. So he closed his eyes, giving way to what lied below. Dizzy and unfocused he fell further and further until finally—

Slam!

“Huh, what?” Asmodeus leapt from his lying place. “Is the lesson over?”

Lucifer tucked the leather bound book beneath his arm. “Yes, Asmodeus, the lesson is over. One in which you all clearly slept through.”

“We weren’t sleeping,” said Belphegor as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Lilith, who continued to rest peacefully on her brother’s shoulder, had not even bothered to stir.

“That’s right. We were totally listening. Definitely heard every word.” Mammon stretched his arms wide and yawned.

“Is that so?” In spite of his wrinkled brow, Lucifer smiled. “Then tell me, how many orders are there in the Celestial Realm hierarchy?”

The question was simple on purpose. Lead them in with a false security, then lower the trap. A typical Lucifer move.

“Ha, that one’s easy. Three.” And of course, Mammon fell for it.

“Very impressive,” Lucifer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Now, starting from the first order to the third, list the ranks of angels and provide a brief summary of their duties. Get it right and I may spare you all from homework. Maybe.”

“We’re doomed,” said Belphegor.

“Right, the celestial hierarchy. Got it.” Mammon gave an awkward laugh. “So uh, Seraph are the loud, yappy ones who fly around the Father and tell him how great he is all the time. No offense.”

Lucifer frowned. “Not the most accurate summary of my job description, yet continue.”

“Then there’s the Cherubs. All they do is look down on the other angels, yet they’re really just glorified maids.” Mammon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Thrones are way cooler anyway. Those are the guys that do all the heavy lifting. That and they get no respect for it. I mean, how’d you feel having to carry some heavy--”

“Never mind.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. “I see that asking you to explain was a mistake on my part. Yet I do expect a written paper with a more proper explanation of our duties. From all of you.”

They groaned. Asmodeus and Belphegor shared a knowing gaze. A silent mocking that stated one thing and one thing only: Mammon was truly hopeless.

A snort. Then a giggle. Until the air bubbled with their heckles and shortened breaths. Despite everything, it was here where Asmodeus felt safest, surrounded by a love greater than what the Father could ever provide. Another odd and rather blasphemous feeling for an angel to have, yet one Asmodeus carried nonetheless.

Lucifer chuckled. “I suppose that’ll end today’s lesson. Which means that you, Lilith, can stop pretending to sleep.”

Lilith’s eyes fluttered open. Her cheeks puffed in a playful pout. “Oh, boo! It seems I can’t get anything past you, big brother.”

“Not even if you tried. Now, come along, Leviathan and Beelzebub should be done with their duties.”

“Wait, Lucifer!” Perhaps certain dreams ceased with reflection. And who better to ask of them? Yet...

“Yes, Asmodeus?” Lucifer gave him a quizzical look. “If it’s about your homework, you only have yourself to blame for sleeping during lecture.” He heaved a weary sigh. “And Mammon, naturally.”

…If his were laid bare to witness, what then? Would he be judged? Shamed?

Lucifer stood without word. And Asmodeus faltered. He supposed that a little lie would have to do.

“Do you think…” Asmodeus lips quivered. “Is wanting to love oneself a sin?”

Lucifer’s eyes raised, then lowered softly. “Of course not. To love oneself is to love the Father, as all things were made in his image. Yet to love oneself above that is a different concern.”

“I see.” Asmodeus did love himself a fair amount, a fact that his growing curiosity with mirrors could attest to, but to love only himself was something he hadn’t thought possible. He only read of one man who did such and in the end, he drowned in a puddle from viewing his own reflection. He shuddered. How could anyone be that foolish?

“Is that all? Or is something else troubling you?” Lucifer’s tone wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it held just enough apprehension to cause Asmodeus’ gaze to falter.

So instead, he gave the brightest smile he could. The one that caused even Michael himself to blush with embarrassment. “Only that my brother is the best angel in all the realm.”

To that, Lucifer gave a smile just as perfect as his own. “Now I’m positive you’re trying to get out of your homework.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me fanfic #not sure what this is...yet #but it was in my drafts and figured i'd just post it #should i make a series from it?

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