#Comfortable housecoat

[babagreen]

Introducing our premium Women's Kimono Robe – the perfect blend of comfort and style! Made from ultra-soft, breathable fabric, this robe feels like a dream against your skin, ideal for both lounging and casual wear. Thoughtfully designed with a flattering V-neck and chic ric-rac trim, it offers a touch of elegance to your everyday routine. The 3/4 sleeves are practical, keeping your hands free during tasks, while the two deep pockets provide convenient storage for your essentials. With adjustable internal and external belts for a secure fit, it's great for everything from cozy relaxation to busy household chores. Whether you're expecting or just want to indulge in comfort, this robe makes a perfect gift for yourself or a loved one. Easy care, machine-washable, and wrinkle-resistant – it's your go-to for effortless style and comfort. https://amzn.to/4ehfMjW

[jupiter-balls]

Åse finally got her pajamas after 3 failures 😂

They're basically like those 1950s-60s babydoll pajamas. I drafted the entire thing from scratch and I'm very, very happy with the results. They're so frilly and cute 🥰 the buttons might be on the large side but design feature 🤷‍♀️

[ceilidho]

landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

-

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours. 

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet. 

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you. 

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you. 

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing. 

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock. 

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console. 

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff. 

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him. 

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning. 

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away. 

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?” 

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under. 

The first week of December hits town like a truck. 

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance. 

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue. 

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first. 

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you. 

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that. 

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark. 

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake. 

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress. 

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water. 

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there. 

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out. 

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance. 

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed. 

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering. 

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur. 

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again. 

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan. 

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up. 

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch. 

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip. 

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back. 

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you. 

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside. 

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized. 

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured. 

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble. 

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly. 

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache. 

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle. 

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor. 

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you. 

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky. 

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs. 

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body. 

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you. 

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

[konigsblog]

early mornings with farmer!könig

early mornings with könig include his firm, tight grip on your waist. he doesn't let go, not for a second. his tight grasp doesn't falter despite your squirming. groaning out and scolding you for moving so much, his face and nose buried in your hair — huffing at your sweet, strawberry essence. wearing nothing but your lace panties and bra, his thigh between yours and your legs intertwined with eachother.

it takes a lot to get up, too comfortable in eachothers silence and warmth. the sun peaking over the horizon, flashing through the blinds and allowing some cool air to seep through the gap in the window. the birds sing their melody, and he begins shuffling and moving. you almost think he's getting up — only pulling you closer and closer to himself. “sonnenschein...” his voice raspy, he grumbles out, eyelids slightly open before closing again, feeling as you turn to face him.

pressing your forehead against his, he smiles and chuckles before holding you tighter. his eyes finally crack open to admire your morning beauty, kissing your soft lips and leaning back on his white cushion. large, brute arm hung loosely around your waist, pulling you against him and covering his eyes with his other forearm. “so tired,” he mutters , you giggle. trailing your fingertips over his covered chest, a loose and breathable jumper on, the sleeves rolled up to his forearm.

he sits up, removing his jumper before leaning back down. a groan leaves him as you run your fingers to his abdomen, chuckling and holding your wrist before interlocking his large, calloused hand with yours. the sounds of birds chirping can be heard from outside, trees a bright green as spring approaches summer. the flowers are painted beautiful pastel colours, such as; purple, yellow and white.

chickens making the cluck-cluck sound and the sun a golden colour. the strawberries look ready for picking, perhaps you'll make a strawberry cheesecake or a pie of some sort whilst he works on the farm. his hands finding their way into your hair, noticing you zoning out. “what are you thinking about?” he smiles, seeing you flutter your eyes closed, a small smile curling the corners of your mouth. “nothing, baby.”

it's early, 05:21 to be exact. just twenty-one minutes past five o'clock, you had some time to spare. a knitted blanket at the end of the bed, and a yawn coming from your mouth as you finally wake up. sitting up, you pull your housecoat on, a white wooly robe around yourself, your bra peaking from the top. “coffee or tea?” your voice laced with honey, picking up his glass of water on the bedside table. “coffee, please, schatzi.”

the kettle boils and you do some dishes laying around in the sink, putting them away and adding the some milk before heading back upstairs with the mug in hand. he grabs the handle, smiling at you before you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for the early start of your day. cold water on your face and your breath fresh, a short, lace sundress on your form and some boots to go pick the growing, fresh fruit; the perfect season for them.

he's ready once your basket is full of red and blue berries, placing it on the counter before he heads off and onto the farm to feed the cows and chickens and sheep, calling you out to milk them. you giggle softly at his clinginess in the mornings; embracing warmth and comfort, holding you and snoring quietly behind you.

you did end up making that strawberry cheesecake, his favourite.

[another-lost-mc]

Your dreams are haunted when you sleep at the Demon Lord's castle.

BARBATOS x gn!Reader 0.8k words | NSFW | Dark/creepy elements. Implied non-con (somnophilia). The Creepy Castle AU [Part 1] NEXT

You feel haunted as you walk through the shrouded hallways of the Demon Lord’s Castle. It’s the middle of the night and you should be asleep.

You were asleep, until a fleeting dream left you gasping for air and gripping your sheets. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had strange dreams in this place. Diavolo insisted you have your own guest room available whenever late nights working at RAD made the walk back to the House of Lamentation too daunting. Last night you offered your help to Barbatos, and as the clock reached the eleventh hour he invited you to stay.

The room available for your private use is small but cozy, big enough for a comfortable bed and small writing desk in the corner. There is a painting above the dresser - a fallen angel, faceless with broken wings and feathers bloodied on the ground around them, and a serpent with hungry eyes lying in wait by their feet.

Sometimes you dream you’re on a bed of feathers and there’s a tail slithering across your skin. You wake up to the sensation of a tongue flicking against your thigh and aching arousal between your legs.

When you look at the painting, you wonder what the angel felt at that moment. Did they embrace the serpent’s tantalizing seduction? Did they feel the same rush of lust and fear that you do?

The castle is eerily still this time of night. It’s lacking the light and warmth you’re used to when you visit for dinner or attend one of Diavolo’s bustling parties.

You follow the candle lit torches to the kitchen. It's quiet and you think it’s empty, but then you see light under the door.

You knock softly before stepping inside. 

Barbatos looks up from his seat at one of the countertops. There’s an old-looking recipe book open in front of him, but when he sees you, he shuts the cover and pushes the book aside.

He looks different than usual. The top buttons of his shirt are undone and you can see glimpses of his pale chest. The sleeves are rolled haphazardly to his elbows.

It’s difficult not to stare - he never looks like this. You clear your throat and hope he doesn’t notice.

(Of course he notices.)

He sees your unsettled countenance and pulls a chair out for you so you can sit with him. He watches you stifle quiet yawns and he offers to make you herbal tea to help you sleep.

You both sit in silence. Your hands are wrapped around a warm porcelain cup. He leans an elbow on the counter and rests his chin on his hand while he watches you.

“Do you have trouble sleeping often?” he asks quietly when your cup is empty and you’ve refused a second serving of tea.

You shake your head. “I have dreams sometimes and they wake me up.”

(You don’t call them nightmares because they’re not nightmares, are they?)

“Would you like to talk about them?” he offers.

The thought of sharing even a glimpse of what your mind conjures is enough to make your face warm up for an entirely different reason. “No, thank you. Your company is enough.”

And it’s true, the companionable silence that settles over both of you is comforting. You're not sure how much time has passed. You don't even realize how drowsy you are - you almost make a fool of yourself and lean too far over in your seat in an effort to get more comfortable.

Barbatos is quick to catch you before you end up sprawled across his lap. His hands are gentle when he holds you against him.

“Let me escort you back to your room,” he says. You don’t have the energy to refuse.

The walk back is slow, fog-like, a blur. You don’t notice much else except for Barbatos at your side, his arm brushing against yours while you walk, and the soft shuffle of your slippers on the stone floor.

You think you feel something brush against your bare leg underneath your housecoat - but when you startle and glance down, you see nothing but your feet on cold, grey stone. Barbatos tips his head to the side questioningly, but you shake your head and keep walking while you swallow around the lump in your throat.

He opens your door for you but touches your arm gently before you step inside.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asks. In the dim lighting of the hallway, his eyes are like glittering pools of black water. 

Your voice cracks when you tell him you’ll be fine. You don’t know what else you could possibly want of him in the middle of the night. You can’t even begin to guess what he might offer you if you ask him to stay.

He bids you pleasant dreams when you slip into your room, and he closes the door behind you. You shrug off your robe and let it fall into a heap on the floor. The covers are cool when you slide into bed and you roll onto your side. You close your eyes and ignore the painting of sin in your room, the greedy serpent that follows you into your dreams.

Outside your door, a demon with a barely-there smile and forked tail waits for you to fall asleep.

[nerissavenus]

Lilies by NerissaVenus

Toto has a heartfelt talk with his daughter about her mother and how much she loved her.

Never would he forget such a magnificent woman.

Enjoy,

Nerissa x

The sound of a clatter startled Toto from his sleep. He got up quickly, throwing on his housecoat and rushing out his bedroom into the dark hallway.

His heart raced as he thought of the possibility of an intruder in his house - his house that housed both him and his daughter.

Stopping just before he reached the kitchen, he grabbed the vase of fresh lilies off the table. Taking a deep breath he crept into the dimly lit kitchen, raising the vase only to stop suddenly at the sight of his daughter on the floor trying to quickly clean up the cereal that was everywhere.

Singing in relief, he placed the vase on the counter and bent down to help his daughter. “Lily,” he spoke, causing her to look up at him with familiar green eyes that never failed to drive a stake through his heart. “What are you doing, Kleine Blume?”

She quickly stood up, all the cereal back in the bowl. “Getting cereal, Papa.”

He rose from the floor, taking the bowl and placing it on the counter. “Yes, I can see that, but why?” He placed her on one of the stools, checking her over to make sure she had no injuries, “why didn’t you come to me and ask for me to get you something?”

Lily blushed and looked down, refusing to make eye contact.

“Come on, Kleine Blume, tell me, it’s okay. I promise.” Reassured Toto, raking his hands through her dark hair.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered, playing with her fingers.

“You can. You can tell me anything. I want be mad.”

As soon as she looked up, meeting his eyes, her own filled with tears and she broke; a flood incoming. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m horrible — so horrible.”

“No,no, Kleine Blume. You could never do anything wrong.” Said Toto, bringing her into his arms, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I just didn’t want to bother you,” Lily said, muffled from her place in his arms.

Toto moved backwards and cradled her head in his hands and spoke very seriously, “You, my darling girl, could never bother me.”

“But,” she started helplessly, “You already do so much — all on your own.”

Suddenly something within Toto clicked and he sighed sadly, gathering his daughter in his arms and moving to the lounge to sit comfortably on the couch together.

“Lily,” he said, staring at her - his little girl, the only thing he had left of you. “I don’t do anything on my own. Your Mama is here,” he placed one hand over her heart and the other on his, “We are never alone. She is always here and she would hate for you to think any differently.”

“Yeah, but it’s my fault.” Sobbed Lily, burying her face into her hands, years of unnecessary guilt coming out.

“No.” He said firmly, taking her hands in his and wiping her tears, “There’s was no way of knowing that there would be complications. Your mother brought you into this world fighting and you want to know what she said to me?” Lily nodded with curious eyes, “she said ‘Our daughter will be the most important treasure you’ll ever have, Torger. No matter what happens, let her know that I love her — love her more than anything in this world - this universe.’ She knew if it came down to you or her, she would choose you every time. And do you know why?” She shook her head in a daze at hearing about how much her mother loved her, “Because you are worth more than the stars in the sky. To us, Kleine Blume, you are priceless.”

He sat with her in his arms for a couple of minutes before making his decision. “One minute.”

He rummaged around his office for the familiar orange box and once he found it, he made his way back down stairs.

Sitting back down, he opened the box carefully and picked up a sealed letter in the green envelope.

“This,” he said, placing the envelope in Lily’s hands, “is a letter from your mother. She made thirty in case anything happens — that’s how much she loved you. She was so… afraid that you would never know her or worse: hate her.”

“Hate her?!” Yelled Lily in surprise, “I could never — she’s my Mama.”

Toto chuckled lightly, remembering his wife - you - fondly, and tucked a stray curl behind Lily’s ear, “Yes, your Mama was quite an over thinker.” He gave her a pointed look and she flushed at the idea of having something in common with the woman she loved but never met.

“You are so like her.” He said, pain lacing his tone, eyes full of love and heartbreak, “You have her eyes that shined and made everyone instantly fall in love with her. You also have her smile that could charm anyone. And not just that, you have her kindness; she could see the best in people, even when they themselves could not.” He stared at his daughter with a melancholy smile, reminiscing the memory of you, “You’re much more alike than you think.”

It was silent for a while until Lily had the courage to speak, “I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too, Kleine Blume, me too, she was… wonderful, brilliant, everything good wrapped up into one.” There weren’t enough words to describe you, you were something beyond comprehension — you were too bright for something as frivolous as words. “She picked your name, though it was a no brainer.”

Lily smiled brightly, “Yeah, you’ve said before. Her favourite flowers were lilies.” Some would say it’s cliche, but to Lily it meant the world to know that something her mother held close to her heart and loved was given to her — a token of her love.

“You’ll always have her with you, Lily. She’d want you to know how much you’re loved.” Choked Toto, the thoughts of his wife louder than ever, looking at her spitting image.

“Thanks Papa.” She said, leaning in to give him a big hug.

“Of course, my lily-flower.”

[ceremorph0sis]

We've Made It, My Dear

Pairing: Gale x Drow!Dark Urge (Named)

WC: 1.9k words

Tags+Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Post-Canon, Happily Ever After, Hurt+Comfort, Nightmares, Mentions Of Gore, References To Death, Dark Urge Storyline Spoilers, Epilogue Spoilers

Author's Note: First time in a WHILEEEEE I've actually written something, and I'm pretty proud of it! Even while on the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hype train, I'm still enamored with BG3 and the Forgotten Realms haha. Didn't edit this brute, but I did look at it and nod approvingly before finally posting. Please let me know if I missed any tags or warnings. Enjoy!

It wasn’t the weight of the tressym on his chest nor the gentle breeze whispering through the open window that awoke Gale. It was the absence of a warm, familiar body by his side.

The milky moonlight spilling into the bedroom framed his belongings -their belongings- a cool silver hue, sharply contrasting the blots of darkness Gale’s eyes hadn’t yet attuned to. A deep sleeper, Gale wasn’t prone to waking in the night, but when he did, it always amused him to see how Nobody passed her time while waiting for him to stir. Some nights, she would read by his side, her pitch-black gaze flitting across every word with more ease than it would in daylight. Other times, she’d patter about the room as stealthily as a drow could manage, inspecting the manner of trinkets and artefacts he had collected over the years. Tonight, she was nowhere to be seen.

Gale carefully shifted Tara off his front and pushed back his blanket, affording himself a quiet congratulations for managing not to wake his fussy companion. Carefully setting his feet on the cold hardwood floor, he navigated the cluttered pathway from his bed to the door, each footfall as silent as the last. He reached for his housecoat, which typically hung from the doorknob, only to find it missing.

He frowned slightly as he turned the knob and made his quiet exit. Down the hallway and to the right, the glow of a gratuitous amount of candles emanated from downstairs. A somewhat concerning sight, knowing that Nobody was as at home in the darkness as she was in light.

The journey to the first floor was a mite more hurried than his escape from the bedroom had been. As he descended the last few steps of stairs, Gale examined the living room. Fully lit. Not a soul to be seen.

“Straj… Sorry, love. Get back to bed. I won’t be far behind you.”

Gale whipped his head towards the kitchen entrance. His startled heart calmed slightly when he saw that it was only Nobody, her grayish-white hair still mussed from sleep, as his must have been. She leaned against the doorway with a guilty smile and his own housecoat wrapped snugly around her frame, yet her eyes told a different story than what her casual demeanor sought to imply.

Nonetheless, Gale sighed in fond annoyance, crossing his arms. “Well, bully for my students, I suppose. They’ll ask me tomorrow, ‘Professor Dekarios, did you get even a wink of sleep last night? You look positively dreadful!’ And I’ll have no choice but to tell them the truth.”

“Oh?” Nobody purred, amused. “What would that truth be, sweetmeat?”

Wandering carelessly to the sofa before the hearth, Gale sat himself down, leaning back on its arm and lifting his legs onto the cushions, spreading them just enough for a lithe drow to slither between and rest her head on his waiting chest.

“That Mrs. Professor Dekarios cruelly abandoned her husband in the cold,” Gale answered simply, eliciting a snort from Nobody. “Don’t you try and tell me that Tara would gladly be my blanket on your behalf. We both know that she’s only a cuddling type at the most inconvenient of times.”

Just as expected, Nobody quickly caught onto her opportunity. She sauntered over with eagerness and slid into her rightful place, a territory she often playfully bickered with Tara over. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she basked in his warmth, the harried expression she worked to hide beginning to melt.

With one hand, Gale lavished her back with slow, languid strokes, the curves and dips of her body flowing familiarly beneath his touch. His other cradled her head with the tender care of a man who had seen her at her worst; who had seen her slick with the blood of innocents, watched as she writhed and thrashed against the bindings he himself tied to keep her from slaughtering him where he stood and cried wordlessly at her corpse after her last stand against her unholy father, the God of Murder. He held her as if after everything she did in the past, in another life, she still deserved comfort. Care. Love.

To Gale Dekarios, formerly known as Gale of Waterdeep among his peers, she truly did. The Dark Urge and Chosen of Bhaal, in his humble opinion, had died at the hands of Orin the Red years ago, back before their adventure had even brought them together. The woman he had met who lay in his arms was his wife, Nobody Dekarios, who had yet to come up with a proper name for herself, always promising him with a cheeky grin that she’d ‘get to it eventually.’

And he’d be damned to the Nine Hells before he let any matter trouble his incorrigibly mischievous, indescribably wonderful wife, no matter how inconsequential.

Or how early in the morning. Or late in the night. Gale hadn’t a single clue what time it was, and frankly, he was hesitant to find out.

“My love,” he said delicately.

“Mhm?”

“Is something bothering you?”

Nobody’s eyes flicked open, her steady breathing hitching. The slight furrow in her brows from earlier returned to her face. The smile on her lips became that much more strained and her eyes refused to meet his, as far as he could tell.

“I’d rather not keep you from your beauty sleep, sweetmeat,” she chuckled uncomfortably.

“Hm… I see. If it’s something we can’t solve with a fireball, you can tell me,” he chided her, gentle yet clear. Nobody rarely took her own issues seriously. Gale learned early on that she often needed a little time to come to terms with what she faced before talking her emotions out.

The corners of Nobody’s eyes crinkled as she exhaled a little laugh at his joke. “Gods, now that I’m awake, it seems rather stupid.”

“My love, the stupidity of your troubles matters not to me.” Gale gave her hair a gentle tug, prompting her to look at him. “I’m here. You’re here. If it’s something we can solve right here and now, we’ll do it together.”

Nobody went silent for a while. She absentmindedly rested her cheek back to his chest, her brow knitting together in a different manner, thinking on how to word her problems out. All the while, Gale held her close, still stroking her back and toying with her hair as patient as could be. Her breathing grew even and her eyes closed, and Gale had almost thought that she had fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

“I- ugh. I had a nightmare.”

Gale’s hand paused its leisurely stroll down the planes of her back. Nobody seldom fell into true slumber, instead opting to go into reverie. As a drow, however, the sleep of ordinary folk was not unknown to her. It seemed that one of her off nights wasn’t as restful as she needed.

“It was… uncanny,” she continued quietly, looking to him once again. “Remember the first party Withers threw for us? We were there. Everyone was the same as they were at the time, happy and smiling and drinking. Except you.”

Gale tilted his head with curiosity. “Is this where the dream goes south?”

“I was- you were- it was sad,” though she laughed through her words, she was distant, trying to talk without thinking about what she was saying. “We did it- we finished off the Absolute, the Chosen, everything. But the crown… you wanted the crown. You wanted to challenge Mystra, so you did. You failed.”

“Your mirror image told me everything in your place: how you got the Crown of Karsus, how you fought Mystra for her domain and how she obliterated you. You gave me a letter I couldn’t bring myself to read. I tried to kiss you, and… nothing. I guess I forgot that it wasn’t you- just a projection. It told me before it disappeared, ‘I can see why I loved you.’ And then it was gone. You were gone.”

Nobody’s voice cracked on the last of her words. Despite his best efforts, Gale recalled the day that Nobody died. His heart shattered on the floor of that wretched temple when Nobody fell to the ground. He felt as if he was drowning, overwhelmed by everything in that moment. The smell of blood permeating his senses. The blank stares of the surrounding cultists, witness to the fall of two leaders in one day. The thoughts in his head, asking over and over why? Why now? Why, when we’ve finally come this far? Why so soon after I’ve only just found her?

“No Waterdeep, no Mrs. Professor Dekarios, no homemade hundur sauce,” Nobody laughed humorlessly. “And look at me, on the verge of tears because of a bad dream. You’re a patient one, sweets.”

“I love you.”

The words came out of Gale’s mouth without a single thought, as they tended to. Loving her was as easy as breathing and to say it was as natural as any spell. Still, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

With a soothing smile on his lips, he pulled Nobody into a kiss, taking in every facet of her being. From the way her long hair tickled his cheeks to the natural scent of her, all petrichor and night-blooming flowers, and even the small noise of surprise she made at his affection, she was breathtaking. Resilient, but most importantly, she was here. Home, in his arms.

They’d made it. The worst of their days were over. Perhaps not forever, but they could breathe easy and live and love each other while they waited for life to take them on their next adventure, whether it be the next Dekarios family reunion or another cult to battle against for the fate of the world.

Gale Dekarios was nothing if not profusely verbose. Even if his kiss had told her all she needed to hear and feel, he refused to let a single doubt plague Nobody’s mind. When she pulled away, he cupped her cheek, reveling in the sweet smile she spared just for him.

“Whatever the Gale in your dreams said and did, give him a good clip ‘round the ear for me next time you see him,” he said firmly, making her giggle. “If he starts sulking on about ambition and godhood again, let him sulk. If he believes that the mere chance of godhood is worth more than the most wonderful woman in this plane and beyond, then I consider that excellent news- more of that aforementioned woman for me to enjoy, I’d say. If I give you even a fraction of a fraction of the happiness you give me every day, then I can confidently say that we don’t need to worry about either what happened before or what could’ve been. Safe to say, the less you think about that prat, the better.”

“You’re not getting jealous of Dream-Gale, are you, sweets?” Nobody teased.

“Jealous? Hah! Hardly,” Gale sniffed. “Disappointed? Definitely. Furious at him for making you distraught? Absolutely, if you’ll pardon my pun. But I refuse to be jealous of a man who’s already fallen after flying too close to the sun. Who needs the sun, when I’m already able to hold the world in my arms?”

Nobody buried her face in his chest, hiding her expression. His love was always too modest for her own good.

“You… ugh. I love you too, but stop that.”

Gale grinned, kissing the crown of her head.

He didn’t plan to.

~Fin <3~

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 70: Alexander's Punishment

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, body control, captivity, hand whump, eye whump, everything whump, stabbing, psychological torment

September 1905

There was no possibility of Fitz relaxing, of course. Not when both his fate and Lex's hung in the balance. Not when tonight would make the difference between a life of freewheeling theater and travel and laughter and a life where his body was no longer his own and his mind was tortured out of him bit by agonizing bit.

He idly flipped through a catalog that Lily had left on her coffee table, trying to trick himself into being interested in fine wool housecoats and imported cosmetics. The tick of the cuckoo clock on the wall was loud enough to be deafening, and the cheerful floral wallpaper felt as though it were closing on on him. He wished that he could pray -- but then, none of the gods he'd ever heard of were likely to want to help a vampire succeed in his mission.

Lex usually tried to conceal his feelings from Fitz, blocking off their shared mental connection, but tonight was different, perhaps because all of his mental efforts were directed towards controlling his platoon of vampire hunters. Fitz could feel his fear, tempered by his determination, and just the briefest flashes of hope. At one point, Lex consciously reached out to Fitz, calming him, and Fitz closed his eyes and allowed himself to soak up the comfort.

His chest ached with the intensity of Lex's fear.

The cuckoo clock was becoming unbearable.

A sudden terror washed over Fitz, and then everything went quiet. Fitz's heart skipped a beat, knowing what this might mean and wishing he didn't. And then Lex's command echoed through his mind, clear as a bell.

"Run."

The clock chimed.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, standing up. It was over. The worst had happened. They'd lost.

He had to go. That's what Lex wanted him to do. Lex had handed him a small fortune in loose bills and very clear instructions, and Fitz had no desire to still be here when Lex's sire arrived. He could hail a cab, get to the train station, hop on the first train out. He could ride it as far as it would go, or hop in another state and try to get on a boat to another country -- somewhere he couldn't be found. He needed to do it right now, before it was too late.

His hands felt slick with sweat as he grasped the wad of bills. He knew exactly what he needed to do, but actually doing it meant acknowledging the worst -- that Lex had lost, that the future they'd hoped for had gone up in smoke, that he'd probably never see Lex again. That he might be lucky if he never saw Lex again.

He really should have known that this was all too good to be true.

Just as Fitz dug deep for the willpower needed to get his feet moving, Lily appeared in the doorway of the parlor, disheveled. "Lily," Fitz croaked, his mouth gone dry. "I think Lex failed. I need to leave now."

"Mmm." She looked intently at the floor, not moving from the doorway.

"You could go too. There's still a few hours before sunrise, but I don't know what you'd do after that. But I don't think you want to face your sire either," he said. "But I have to run now. I need to make it to the train station before…"

"Showtime, Fitz."

Fitz's eyes went wide, his mind starting to shut down before he could even register what was happening. "What? Why?" he asked, struggling to keep his eyes open as he began to slump over.

"Shh." Lily approached him, taking him in her arms and laying his head on her shoulder, stroking the back of his head. Fitz was fighting the enthrallment with everything he had, but he still couldn't pull away from her. "Shh, Fitz, it's showtime. Just sleep now, Fitz."

"Don't…"

"I'm sorry. I really am sorry this time. I don't want to do this, but I had an order from my sire, just a few moments ago. I have to keep you here, or else he'll torture my Nellie along with you." She brought Fitz, now limp and pliable against his will, over to the couch, and laid him down with his head in her lap.

The floral wallpaper was a blur as his eyelids began to flutter shut. "You betrayed me. You betrayed Lex," he managed.

"I can't simply disobey my sire, and Lex knows that. He knows this is a consequence of his failure. I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much that I'm sorry, but I am. But you'll be taken either way, don't you see? Even if I tried to help you escape, he'd only hunt us both down. It's better this way." She pet Fitz gently as he fell under her spell. "For what it's worth, Lex couldn't save me either."

Perhaps he was just imagining it because his vision was blurring, but Lex thought he saw tears in her eyes. "What do you…?"

"Shhh, just sleep. Get some rest and comfort while you can. Just sleep, dear, and have a lovely dream."

A loud, crisp snap caused him to open his eyes. He was no longer on the couch with Lily. Instead, he was in in the middle of a nightmare. He was standing ramrod straight, stiff as a board, in front of the Maestro. His pitch black suit made him look like a tear in the fabric of reality.

The panic within him felt like it would make his heart leap from his chest. Lex had just tried to kill him. They both had. If the Maestro had burned him merely for showing off on the auction house stage, what would he do as revenge for attempted murder? Fitz was very certain that he'd be better off dead.

The only small comfort was the wound on the Maestro's neck, mostly concealed by his collar, but visible nonetheless. At least one person had managed to touch the untouchable.

"Good evening, Fitzwilliam," said Lex's sire in that musical voice that did not reveal his cruelty. "It seems as though Alexander was eager for me to begin your training a day early."

Fitz wasn't sure his question would be tolerated, but he had to ask anyway. "Where is he, sir?"

"Alexander is in his customary cell in my dungeon, bound in silver. He will remain there without comfort and without blood for some time. He has not yet been punished, as I needed to collect you first."

Apparently, being locked in a dungeon and bound in burning metal didn't count as punishment. "I would like to see him, sir," he said. Maybe if he could at least see Lex, and put on a brave face, it would give him some small relief -- which was why he was certain the Maestro would not allow it.

"And so you shall," said the Maestro, to Fitz's surprise. "Lily."

"Yes, sire."

Fitz hadn't even realized that Lily was standing behind him until she stepped forward. She looked only at her sire, as though Fitz weren't even there, resignation written on her face.

"Oh, Lily." The Maestro took her hand gently, oh so gently, and ran his hand over hers several times before snapping her index finger with a sickening crack. "You knew about this." He snapped her middle finger. Lily barely flinched. "You knew about this, and you didn't see fit to warn me." Her ring finger was next. Fitz felt lightheaded from the sounds and the sight of her digits unnaturally bent. "I can understand why you didn't. You'd be a fool if you didn't wish me dead, and I know very well you aren't a fool." Her smallest finger was bent all the way backwards. "You aren't a fool, unlike your sire-brother. That's why I'm so disappointed in you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sire," she said, her voice wavering.

"I will attend to your further punishment later, but I must see to Alexander tonight," he said. "You will need to be patient."

"Yes, sire."

"Very well then, I'm off. Follow." He snapped at Fitz, and Fitz's body followed him out the door as though he were a wind-up toy soldier, his legs refusing to obey him no matter how much he pleaded.

The night breeze blew through his hair, and Fitz wondered if this was the last time he'd ever feel it. Was this the last of his autonomy? Would he ever be free again? He'd squandered his precious freedom while he'd had it, always wanting more, more, more. And now he would have nothing, not even his own body and mind.

There was a carriage waiting outside of Lex's house, and it was, unsurprisingly, as black as the night, with black horses to match. The Maestro didn't acknowledge the coachman as he entered the carriage, pulling Fitz in after him, and Fitz guessed that this was another thrall. Fitz found himself compelled to sit next to Lex's sire -- no, his new master, wasn't he? -- as the carriage lurched forward.

Fitz was a child again, sitting up straight next to his father, watching and listening so carefully for the inevitable disapproval and punishment.

The Maestro took one of Fitz's hands. His skin was like a doll's, or like fine china, smooth and cold. Fitz couldn't stop himself from letting out a whimper, sure that his fingers were about to be broken just like Lily's. But instead, the Maestro rolled up one of his sleeves and ran a finger up his arm.

"Exquisite. I will need to exercise caution when I scar you, lest I mar the canvas."

"Scar me, sir?"

"You should realize that I am presenting you with an opportunity that few are ever given, the opportunity to be made perfect. You should be grateful."

Fitz swallowed hard. "Yes, I am grateful, sir." Before he could register it, his ears were ringing from the slap to his face.

"You lie very prettily, but you still lie."

Fitz knew this game. Search for the thing that would appease him and spare Fitz the pain. "I will have to learn to appreciate the opportunity, sir."

"Better." The Maestro sighed and leaned back just slightly, not relaxing at all, still as stiff as a steel bar. "I was expecting a quiet evening before all of this nonsense began, you know."

He couldn't actually expect Fitz to feel sorry for him, did he? Fitz kept his head low and said nothing, wondering what the punishment would be for ignoring his new master.

Several long minutes passed by in silence before Fitz realized he wasn't being punished. His body was still in the vampire's grip, but the Maestro himself was staring out the window as they rode through city streets.

Fitz took what little range of movement he was allowed to look out the window himself. If only he weren't being held, he could take this moment to leap from the carriage and flee. The momentary fantasy danced before his eyes -- running through alleyways to evade the vampires, begging and busking for money, leaving on the farthest train out of town before the sun set the next day.

It was all just a fleeting fantasy to take his mind away from the present moment, one which crumbled to dust when they arrived at the Maestro's manor. It managed to be as foreboding as its occupant, surrounded by a high wrought iron fence and a stone courtyard. Every window was shuttered, with no hope for sunlight in daytime and no indication of life at night. The paint and trim were eerily pristine for a house so old that otherwise appeared to be abandoned, as though it were frozen in a time long gone.

As he drew nearer to the dread entrance, Fitz strained as hard as he could to stop himself from following along behind the vampire and sealing his fate, to no avail. All too soon, the moon and the stars and the city streets were gone, possibly for good.

The inside of the manor was pitch dark, the only light the faint flicker of a gas lamp from a distant room. If Fitz had to navigate the manor himself, he would never be able to do it without fumbling and bumping into walls. Instead, he was being moved effortlessly through the blackness, as though he'd been untethered from the Earth and was now floating in a starless night sky. His stomach lurched as he was puppeted down a steep spiral staircase, the air growing cold and dank as he went down, and down, and down.

Finally, the Maestro lit a weak lamp, which flickered and guttered as though it did not want to be here any more than Fitz did. As his eyes adjusted, Fitz could make out iron bars and stone walls. Occasional soft groans and rattling of chains made it seem as though it was inhabited by ghosts.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps Fitz was a ghost as well, a poor soul who was already dead and simply hadn't realized it yet.

The Maestro wordlessly brought the lamp over to one of the cells. The flame was reflected in blue eyes, eyes so dull and lifeless that Fitz nearly didn't recognize them.

Lex.

He was slumped over against the wall, wrists and ankles bound in heavy silver cuffs. To Fitz's surprise, he seemed physically uninjured, but mentally, he was a million miles away. He didn't look up at Fitz, and Fitz couldn't call out to him, even if he wanted to.

Fitz wished he could be a million miles away as well, dream himself to wherever Lex had gone and leave their bodies behind in this miserable cell.

There was a wooden crate next to Lex, and the Maestro picked it up and dropped it in front of Fitz with a rattle. His head was directed downwards so that he could peer into it. It was filled with wooden stakes and silver knives of many different shapes and sizes, some roughly hewn and some with delicately wrought handles, all sharp and ready.

"These are the material goods that I confiscated from the intruders Alexander invited into my house," said the Maestro, as Fitz flinched from hearing his voice so suddenly after so long in complete silence. "They are weapons that are used to kill vampires, of course, but they are only fatal if the vampire is stabbed through the heart or beheaded. Otherwise, they only cause immense pain, and wounds that are difficult to heal."

Fitz felt himself bend over, forced to pick up a serrated silver knife, weighty and cold in his hand.

"That is why you will not be stabbing Alexander in the heart or the neck."

Fitz's arm was pulled upwards, a puppet on strings. Lex didn't even look as Fitz's body stabbed the knife into his thigh, not even making a sound when the Maestro compelled Fitz to twist the knife, dark blood gushing forth and pooling on the floor.

"Alexander meant for these weapons to be driven deep within my heart," the Maestro said. "It is a mercy, then, that I am avoiding any place that would kill him."

The next knife was driven into Lex's face, his beautiful face, and Fitz was not even able to close his eyes or look away as thick, chilled blood ran down his hand and around his wrist. He couldn't block the sight. He couldn't block the smell.

It had been easy to think that this would all be worth it, when he was safe in bed with Lex and the Maestro was a distant threat, one which could be thwarted. It had been easy to think that, even if he were captured and it all ended in tragedy, that Lex would never regret it, that even in captivity and torture he could comfort himself by knowing that it had all been worth it for a moment where he'd felt wanted.

It had to be. It had to be worth it. Or else…

Everything felt like a nightmare as Fitz was made to take the implements from the box, one by one, each one finding its home in a wound on Lex's body. Pretending like this was a nightmare, like none of this was real, was the only way Fitz could endure this. Judging by the emptiness in Lex's eyes, the way he barely looked at Fitz, he was doing the same.

Lex's body would heal from this, but who could say if his mind would?

How many times had something like this already happened to him?

What if this was what it was like from now on? Fitz forced to torture Lex each day until neither of them recognized the other? The Maestro could do that, if he wanted.

After an eternity, the box of weapons was empty. Lex was barely recognizable, lying in a pool of dark blood and silver knives. Some of the knives were still sticking out of his body. He was slumped over, unmoving.

He wasn't dead, Fitz knew he wasn't dead, but it might be better for Lex if he were.

"You've played your part adequately, child," said the Maestro. "As I expected, Alexander decided to care about you, enough to risk… this." He walked closer, standing just behind Fitz, with Fitz unable to move or even flinch. "I want you to answer this honestly. Do you think you were worth all of this pain?"

Fitz couldn't even pretend to himself that it wasn't an easy answer. "No, sir. I'm not."

"Of course not," he said with something dangerously close to amusement. "Hopefully Alexander will learn an important lesson from it."

He'd learn that it had been a mistake to care about Fitz. That's what this had been about all along.

Fitz felt himself turned around to face the Maestro. He looked Fitz up and down with disdain, and Fitz was acutely aware of how much of Lex's blood had soaked through his suit.

"Because your presence has been educational, I won't punish you for Alexander's trangression," he said, and Fitz almost laughed at the notion that he hadn't already been punished. "After all, a thrall as yourself couldn't possibly know better. No, child, I intend to reward you with the gift of my tutelage. I will make you perfect."

He pulled out a single black glove from his pocket, put it on, and used one finger to tilt Fitz's chin upwards so that he was looking straight into cold, dark eyes. "I have no doubt that you'll commit transgressions of your own that will require punishment, in due time."

Committing transgressions was one thing Fitz excelled at. And he might as well commit one now while his tongue was still in his head.

"I wish Lex would've killed you, sir."

He tried not to look terrified as he stood, anticipating the torture that he had been fearful of all night -- no, the torture he'd been fearful of since that day in the auction house. A part of him wanted it to happen, to end the dreadful uncertainty. But after several long minutes, it was apparent that it wasn't coming. Not yet.

"No doubt," said the Maestro. "Unfortunately, despite his considerable innate talent, my Alexander is a failure more often than not. I do hope you won't be like him."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: How Alexander was initially broken.

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[vaspider]

I have a really big question that you may not have the capacity to answer, and that's totally ok, but I thought I would try asking anyway.

How did you successfully start a business and get it to the point that you could survive/live comfortably and pay other people on it? How did you survive the psychologically damaging years of hell work while you were building it up?

Well.

To start with, I don't want to give you the impression that we're totally financially stable and have a bunch of full-time employees. We aren't, and we don't. We're still in the building and growth phase, and we're lucky to have people who can work part-time for us (in part because we pay them what we pay them per hour - there's no way they'd be able to hack it if we were paying them $10/hr or even $15/hr).

Quite honestly, I don't think we would have survived the pandemic as a business if it weren't for the fact that my wife has a stable IT job. Emet and I work on the business full-time, and Evie works full-time at her fancy IT job and works with us on events and does IT and infosec stuff for us, and then we have 2 part-time employees, Jake and Erykah.

So I'm glad that we give the impression of having it all buttoned up, but we don't, and I think that's one thing you need to know. We are ducks, friend: serene on the top of the water, paddling like hell underneath where y'all can't see it. The building phase lasts ... well, a long, long time.

I remember what it's like working for Wells Fargo, and I never want to do that again. I remember what it was like working for a mortgage processing job where we knew the company was fucking around with people's escrow accounts and we couldn't do anything meaningful about it. People anonymously reported things to the Attorneys General of various states, but nothing ever came of it. My spouse got demoted for "anonymously" reporting the fake account fuckery at Wells Fargo and I basically got run out of the company for the same thing -- they just made it so miserable for me to work there that I quit. That's part of how I survive it, honestly: I remember the alternative.

But it comes down to the fact that you really do have to desperately love what you're doing. You have to love it so much that you cannot imagine not doing it. And on the days when you might struggle to love it that much, you just have to hate the alternative a little more than you hate the hard parts of running a business.

Now that I've made art for a living -- something that my parents told me I'd never be able to do, as I'm sure most artists were told -- I can't imagine doing anything else. I keep my wacky sleep schedule, and it's fine. Right now, I'm sitting alone in the living room putting together the cotton sleep shirts/housecoats that we're launching this fall, and I'm like... really excited to be able to share these with everybody. I'm anxious about the show we have tomorrow, yeah, and I'm anxious about money and a bunch of other stuff but I'm also really excited about seeing somebody put on a brand new skirt they just bought from us and twirl. I'm excited about seeing somebody laugh when they turn a page in the patch book and see a particular patch. I'm excited about the way that people's eyes light up when Jake pulls out the Aromantic or Agender or Genderfluid patch book and they realize just how many choices we have in their kinda-rare flag.

And I'm really excited about sharing these zip-front housecoat jimmyjams with y'all.

That's how I keep doing it. I can't imagine not doing it.

Hope that helps, because that's all I've got. :)

[metal-mouse]

I Feel Better With You

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x gn!MC

themes: Smut. Fluff. Ominis is stressed af and you comfort him. Insominis. kinda subinis.

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. m!receiving oral sex. everyone is aged up.

summary: 4.5k words. Ominis Gaunt has had an awful day, and he can't get to sleep. Instead of driving Sebastian mad with his anxious energy, he gets up and wanders wherever his restless feet will take him. What he doesn't expect is to run into you.

note: Tried to leave reader's everything ambiguous. I proofread this half of one time, sort of. i also finished it at 3:30 am lol oopsies. This started out with completely pure intentions, but i am a wee creature of debauchery and added a little sprinkle of spice. I can apparently only perceive Ominis if he's in the ROR, next time we can take him somewhere nice I promise.

Ominis lay on his back with his eyes closed despite his annoyingly alert mind. The events of the day just would not leave him alone - from his abysmal attempt at brewing a befuddlement draught, to accidentally changing your hair colour to what Sebastian had called ‘troll bogey green’ in transfiguration, to even just how he spoke to others during dinner... He let out a sigh, his hands coming up to run through his bed-mussed hair. He rolled over for what felt like the millionth time, unable to find a comfortable position. He let out another annoyed sigh.

“Sigh again and I’m going to smother you with a pillow.” Sebastian’s annoyed half-asleep voice came from the other side of their shared dormitory. Ominis made sure to sigh loudly one more time, causing Sebastian to throw a pillow across the room at him, before getting up and snatching his wand from his night table. He shrugged on his housecoat and shoved his feet into his slippers before crossing the room towards the door. One hand held his wand, the other was outstretched until his palm pressed against the smooth wood of the door. He was scowling as he pushed the door open quietly and made his way down to the common room. Just because he was unhappy from his inability to sleep didn’t mean he had to take it out on Sebastian - he could go mope in peace elsewhere. 

Ominis Gaunt was not usually one to find himself wandering the halls of the school after dark, but tonight was an exception. He just hoped the fates had some mercy so he didn’t come upon any teachers. He had no plan on where he was to go, he just allowed his wand and his feet to guide him through the halls. He stewed in his thoughts as he walked, his face fixed in a permanent frown. The worries about his day slowly shifted into his constant stresses about getting good enough marks on his N.E.W.Ts that were approaching far too rapidly, and that the safe space he’d found at Hogwarts was no longer going to be his safe space. Once he graduated, he’d be at his family’s disposal. They’d have full access to him, and he didn’t know how to get away from it all. While he knew that he had a place to stay in Feldcroft, he also knew that he couldn’t impose on Anne and Sebastian forever. Eventually, he would have to strike off on his own and that caused a flurry of emotions that he’d never anticipated. 

His grip on his wand tightened as his mind lingered on those emotions he was feeling day in and day out. While he was losing the safest place he’d ever lived, he was also going to lose you. Ominis had grown accustomed to spending every day with you since you’d gotten close during the catastrophe that was his fifth year at Hogwarts. The idea that he won’t be able to enjoy breakfast with you every morning, or a butterbeer in Hogsmeade, or even just a quiet study session broken up by your quick quips and amusing stories, made his throat knot painfully. And now, he’d made an ass of himself turning your hair bogey green. He should be spending every second he could with you making good memories, not defacing your appearance. Merlin, why hadn’t he partnered with Sebastian instead–

“Ominis?” A voice from the other end of the hallway made him nearly jump out of his skin. With one hand over his thundering heart, he scowled in the direction of your quiet laugh. 

“That, was not very kind of you.” Ominis said sharply, before cringing at the memory of today’s transfiguration class. At that moment he almost wished it was Professor Weasley standing before him, and not you. 

“You’re not still thinking about my hair, are you?” You asked. He listened to you coming towards him, his heart still thudding violently. A deep burn of shame and embarrassment settled in his stomach, and Ominis greatly regretted ever leaving the sanctuary of his bed; even if Sebastian would have smothered him. 

“I am terribly sorry about that.” Ominis said, feeling as though his apology was rather lame. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Ominis. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Professor Weasley had me back to normal in a matter of minutes.” The kindness in your tone was not lost on Ominis, you meant what you said. He felt a fool as the thought of you not being angry with him calmed his mind quite a bit. He took a moment to assess his surroundings, realizing he’d made his way to the foot of the Astronomy Tower. 

“Thank you…” He said. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” Your question was simple, but it caused Ominis to swallow nervously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you that he was too worry-filled to sleep, especially when you were one of his worries. You had been through so much during your time at Hogwarts, he didn’t need to burden you with his trifles. 

“I-I… couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d go for a walk.” He said carefully. 

“Ominis, we’ve spoken of this before, if you ever need to talk about anything I’m here to listen. I can see you’re unhappy.” You said in that insufferably kind tone, your hand even going as far as to rest on his shoulder. You’d made that gesture hundreds of times since he’d met you, why did this time feel different? Why did your touch make him on edge? He supposed it could be his lack of sleep, or perhaps it was just because you’d caught him lamenting about his future without you. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” He questioned. He would be doing the interrogating, if you were skulking around the halls in the dark then you couldn’t be up to any good at all. Your grip on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly, the smallest indicator that he was right. You were either causing trouble or in trouble. Ominis couldn’t decide which was more likely, or which was more worrying. Before you could answer his question, heeled footsteps clicked against the stone floors heading right for you. 

“Damn it. Follow me.” You whispered, your hand sliding from Ominis’ shoulder to grab him by the bicep. He blinked in surprise at your strength as you tugged him towards the stairs. He wasted no time following you all the way to the top, utterly confused. This was a dead end, whatever faculty or prefect that was heading towards you would surely find you. He supposed there were some spots at the top of the tower, under the observation deck or in the astronomy classroom… His frown deepened when he heard a door groan open in the hallway, and you unceremoniously shoved him inside. Your hand left his arm, and he paused to adjust to his surroundings. 

“Where have you brought me?” He asked, curiosity cutting through his irritance. The room was filled with the most curious noises, and he could feel every pulse his wand made detecting what was in the space surrounding him. He could hear cauldrons bubbling to his left, the sound of papers flapping like wings in the air above him. Water trickled deeper in the room, and Ominis swore he could almost hear the distant crashing of waves. 

“This is the Room of Requirement,” You said smoothly, “And, if you must know, I am out of bed because I was here. One of the Unicorns was foaling, and I wanted to be here in case she needed help.” Your explanation for being awake so late only gave Ominis more questions. The way you had said one of the unicorns indicated that there were several, here, in the walls of the astronomy tower. That was outrageous, even on magical standards. 

“What?!” 

“Er… right, I suppose a tour is in order…” You mumbled sheepishly. Ominis was stunned into silence as you guided him around the room, showing him almost every corner of the magical room. He’d heard rumours of the room of requirement before, but he had never been able to find the entrance. It deeply impressed him that you had made such a detailed place, it truly had everything a person would ever need. He realized at that moment he was very much intruding into your personal space. A hideaway you had crafted that was entirely personalized to you and your needs. It was almost as though he was in your head, every word you spoke and every telltale pulse of his wand gave him a better idea of his surroundings. 

“You mentioned unicorns?” Ominis asked, his head tilting expectantly. You chuckled, your arm hooking with his. He could feel the heat of your skin through his housecoat, and his throat felt a little dry. You’d certainly never seen him like this, dishevelled and in his nightclothes. It was utterly indecent of him. He exhaled softly in surprise when the unmistakable breeze of fresh air brushed his skin, and you guided him through a doorway. One moment he was in the comfortable warmth of your Room of Requirement, the next he was clearly standing outdoors. He could hear the chirping of birds, he could smell the flowers and the unmistakable odour of animals. It was like he’d stepped out right into the Care of Magical Creatures classroom. 

“Here you have it, Unicorns. Five of them now, with the new foal and all,” You said, coming to a halt suddenly, “And a family of Kneazles, a few Diricawl, Puffskeins… I rescue Magical Beasts from poachers and bring them here to one of my vivariums.” Your voice was close to his ear, your breath lightly tickling against his skin as you spoke softly. Shivers ran down his spine, and his face was heating up from your proximity. In the last year and a half you had gotten taller, and stronger. 

“I… don’t know why I expected you to be lying. You’ve never told me anything but the truth.” He admitted.

“When someone suggests they’re keeping unicorns in the astronomy tower, it’s a healthy reaction to be skeptical,” You teased with a laugh that worked its way right under Ominis’ skin. “Do you want to pet them?” You asked him. Ominis nodded, and marvelled at the warm strength in your hand as you took his and held it out. The velvety nose of a unicorn nudged his palm and he found himself smiling. Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind right now, and your presence had subsided that persistent tug of anxiety in his mind. 

“I’m happy to be wrong, in this case.” He said, gently working his way to the unicorn’s neck. 

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” You asked, and Ominis sighed. He knew he could trust you, just as he knew that you would actually listen to him, but something made him hesitate. He was no stranger to feeling bashful when you were around, sometimes your presence was just so… overwhelming. Every kind word you spoke, and every time you laughed, he was reminded of your unconditional support of him during one of the most difficult times in his life. He often thought about the day after Solomon had died, when he’d broken down and cried on your shoulder. Or when you’d been abducted by Rookwood, and done the same to him, exhausted and terrified. You’d broken down and confessed everything to him that day, about your ancient magic and the quest you were on. He’d shown you his weakness, and in return you’d shown him yours. 

“I suppose I’ve been rather anxious as of late…” He said cautiously, his hand running strokes down the unicorn’s soft neck, “About… well… my future. Where I’ll go after this year, what I’ll do. I-I’m worried about my family. If they bother to even try and reach out to me, I fear they won’t be… pleasant.” His heart rate quickened as he began to voice his internal thoughts that plagued him. Ominis continued to pet the unicorn who whickered softly, nudging him with its muzzle.  

“I’m still listening.” You said, your shoulder brushing his as you stood next to him. 

“I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to leave. As eager as I am to never brew a potion for Sharp ever again, I like the familiarity of my days. I like waking up, knowing you’ll be waiting at breakfast. That we’ll go to double charms together every Tuesday, and then work together on our assignments on Wednesday. I… I’ll have to find somewhere to live, I can’t stay with Anne and Sebastian forever. Sebastian already has plans to find a flat in London, and Anne has been courting that man from lower Hogsfield, and I-I-I…” Ominis knew he was rambling. He was floundering over every word that came out of his mouth, but you’d opened the floodgates.

“Ominis.” Your tone was patient and gentle, interrupting his stammered attempt to continue speaking. Just the way you said his name jolted his brain back into forming words.

“I am going to be alone, and I am going to be a disappointment. It doesn’t matter where I go, or what I do, I just know it. And perhaps I deserve that.” He breathed out, a horrible ache in his throat as he admitted the baseline of his worries. 

“I don’t believe that for a second, Ominis.” You said, and his brows furrowed as he frowned. His hand stilled on the unicorn’s neck, earning himself an insistent nudge from the magical creature. He resumed his petting of the beast, giving you a chance to explain yourself. When you refused to elaborate, he huffed. 

“What do you mean?” He demanded.

“You are going to do wonderful things, Ominis. You will not disappoint any one of us who love you, and the opinions of others are irrelevant. You are intelligent, charismatic, and very hard-working. I have no doubt in my mind you will be successful in whatever it is that you wish to achieve.” Your hand closed around his wrist. It made him feel ridiculous how much comfort your words brought him, yet made his entire body tense up with your touch.

“What if-” You cut him off with a finger over his lips, and he was frowning again.

“What ifs are not productive thoughts. You have told me many times that I am not my past, and the same principle applies to you. We’re finishing school, Ominis, we’ve still got our entire lives ahead of us.” Your hopeful tone carried so much conviction that it made his heart ache. 

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“I still want breakfast with you every morning too, Ominis. I did promise you we would face it together.” You said. You believed in him, and showed no inclination to abandon him. He thought back two years, when you’d promised to face everything together. He supposed there didn’t need to be a murder to cover up between the two of you this time to still apply. In fact, he rather preferred this scenario instead. Together. He loved the word, especially when it came to you. Ominis had learned of his weakness for you very early into your meeting, and that weakness had rapidly spiralled into what he could only describe as devotion. Your hand slowly released its grip on his wrist, and he turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours. He loved how warm and strong your hands always were, especially as he found himself cold more often than not. 

“I’m glad you understand.” Ominis said, giving your hand a little squeeze. His head lifted when he heard the distance chime of a clock, his brows rising in surprise at the late hour. He hadn’t realized how long he must have spent tossing and turning. Class in the morning was going to be torture. 

“We should stay here tonight.” You said bashfully, your fingers flexing as though you’d pull your hand from his. He held onto your hand firmly, nodding and hoping you didn’t notice the little shiver that ran down his spine. It wouldn’t do to try and go sneaking back to the Slytherin common room now, especially with the prefects and professors lurking near the astronomy tower. That was at least the excuse Ominis was going to give himself. He followed you from the Vivarium, back into the comfortable atmosphere of the Room of Requirement, and then through the door you’d shown him earlier. You excused yourself to go prepare for bed. 

Ominis took his housecoat off doing his best to ignore the knots in his stomach, climbing into the comfortable bed in the room. He tucked his wand away safely on the small table beside the bed, and got under the remarkably soft covers. They were far nicer than the scratchy things he slept with every night in his dormitory. When soft footsteps padded across the floor towards the bed, Ominis’ mouth went dry. He’d slept in a bed with others before, you wouldn’t be any different. The bed impressed slightly as you crawled in on the other side. Ominis rolled to face away from you, his face suddenly burning. 

“Well… Good night.” He said a little stiffly, clearing his throat and shifting in his spot to try and get comfortable. 

“Good night, Ominis.” You agreed, your voice as tight as his body felt. Silence blanketed the room, and Ominis closed his eyes willing sleep to finally tug at his overactive mind. The familiar feeling of tiredness never came, no matter how long he lay there. Instead, all he could do was lie there and listen to your breathing. It was peaceful enough, he supposed, although this whole situation was far too intimate. You rolled, and Ominis’ face burned when your hand bumped against his back before pulling back quickly with a mumbled apology. He lay there with his heart pounding violently in his chest, silently praying you couldn’t hear it. It seemed like an eternity passed, when he rolled onto his back with a loud sigh. You huffed a laugh next to him.

“You can’t sleep either.” He noted. 

“Not with you tossing and turning like that. I’m surprised Sebastian didn’t stun you.” You said. He was not amused in the least. 

“He did threaten to smother me with a pillow.” 

“That would work.” 

“Far too permanently for my taste.” Ominis rolled to face you.

“I’d try something… different.” You were close enough that your breath fanned over his face. The proximity only made the tension in his body build further.

“And what would that be?” He asked. Your warm hand reached up and ran through his hair. He let out an inadvertent groan, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the feeling of it. You slowly and carefully ran your fingers through his hair. The tension in Ominis’ muscles seemed to melt at your touch, his body visibly relaxing. Your deft fingers massaged at his scalp, slowly working your way down to his neck. Another groan slipped from his lips as the pads of your fingers traced over the sensitive skin of his neck and down onto his half-exposed collarbone. Your hands felt glorious on his skin, he leaned into your soft touch. Your fingers traced back upwards, combing through his hair again. Merlin, it felt so good.

“How’s that?” You asked, your fingertips lightly brushing along the outside edge of his ear. The only reasonable response he had was to grab you by your shirt and haul you against his lips for a hungry kiss. It was no small satisfaction to him, the way your fingers knotted in his hair and you pushed in closer. Ominis felt as though his heart was going to burst from the way your lips moved with his, and how your tongue slowly caressed his bottom lip. The small, pleased sound that rumbled in your throat as his hand smoothed over your chest went straight to the already uncomfortable strain in his pants. 

He gasped as you shifted forward, gently pushing him onto his back without breaking the kiss as you leaned over him. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, taking advantage of his gasp. Ominis’ hands found your waist, snaking up under your night shirt to paw at your heated skin while his tongue met yours eagerly in long, lazy strokes. Merlin, the way you tasted. It was enough to drive a man mad, how sweet your lips and tongue were. Your fingers were at the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them nimbly as you trailed kisses from his lips to his jaw down onto his neck. He cursed violently when you bit down on the base of his neck and licked a stripe back up his sensitive flesh. 

“Filthy little mouth on you.” Your voice was husky at his ear, your teeth lightly closing on his earlobe and your hand on his bare chest roaming down and down over his stomach towards the waistband of his bottoms. Ominis’ head tilted as he searched for your lips again, his hips bucking slightly at the groan you let out when he found them. He knew he’d chase this forever, the shivers you sent down his spine, the aching arousal you caused, the taste of your tongue… Ominis had been devoted to your mind and your heart before, but this was an entirely new beast and he loved it. A fractured moan ripped from his throat as your hand grazed along the length of his cock through his pants, the sudden friction made him absolutely ravenous for your touch. His hands roamed under your shirt, getting acquainted with every inch of your body that he could reach. Your hands, however, had gone annoyingly still.

“Please, do you want… I want…” Ominis could hardly string a sentence together. He could be embarrassed about it later, for now he just needed you to touch him. 

“What is it that you want, Ominis?” You asked in a dangerous tone, your hands withdrawing from his body altogether. He was reminded of your power, and the importance you held in this world, and it sent a thrill to his heart that he was here and sharing your bed. 

“You. I want you.” He breathed out, his fingers curling into your skin gripping your waist tightly. When you slid a finger along the waistband of his pants, he had to stop his hips from bucking. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as you pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips and withdrew from his grip. 

“You have me.” You murmured with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw. He bit down on his bottom lip as you trailed kisses down his exposed chest, down and down to his belly while your hands ran down his sides. When you reached his bellybutton, your fingers hooked into his pants and he raised his hips to assist while you pulled them down. He let out a sigh as he was released from the confines of the tight cotton. Nerves coiled in his belly momentarily as he lay exposed before you, this had passed the untoward phase quite a while ago, and this would certainly change your dynamic forever. 

Ominis’ nerves evaporated as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and you let out an appreciative hum. He choked on a moan as your warm, wet tongue swirled around the tip of his length oh so slowly. A soft sound of longing rumbled in your throat, and that sinful tongue of yours ran up the entire underside of his cock before swirling around the head again. One of his hands gripped the sheets beneath him tightly, the other flew to his hand to muffle the moans that wouldn’t stop tumbling from his lips. You pressed a delicate kiss to the tip, before taking it into your mouth. Your tongue teased along the bottom of his tip as you slowly inched towards the base. His cock throbbed at the attention, and he could have sworn he had never been this vocal before. He was leaking already over your tongue, his hips tilted upwards as you took more and more of him. Ominis was in disbelief as your nose bumped against his pelvis and you moaned, creating the most delicious vibrations. 

“Please.” He panted out, and you obliged. Your head began to bob to and fro, your hands massaging up and down his thighs. Ominis was sure he���d found utopia, and then your cheeks hollowed and you sucked. He whimpered out your name, his hips bucking as the hand covering his mouth found your hair and took grip. He’s got to be drunk, he’s had to have taken some sort of drug, for this amount of sheer pleasure to be making his toes curl like this. Your warm mouth took all of him, and he was a moaning whimpering mess as his hips rose up off the bed. You were moaning too, as his hips bucked and rolled and he fucked into your mouth to aid in your efforts. Ominis had lost coherent thoughts, the only thing he was capable of thinking of was you and the pressure that was rapidly building at the base of his spine. His hand twined in your hair pushed you down further as he lost all control. You stayed in place dutifully, with your tongue caressing him and the tantalizing sucking motion sending him barrelling towards the edge of an orgasm. 

“Oh.” Was the only word he could manage as one of your hands lifted to massage at his tight sack as he fucked your face. Dull nails dug into the sensitive flesh just inside his thigh, and he was gone. His entire body tensed in anticipation as he reached his peak. Pleasure exploded inside of him, his toes curling and his hands gripping tight to your hair and the bedding respectively. Ominis hips rolled into your mouth over and over again as he filled your throat with his seed. You refused to let up on him, sucking him absolutely dry until he was whimpering and twitching beneath you. He was limp on the bed when you finally lifted your head, releasing him. He could hear your heavy breathing, and a ragged little laugh. He was sure he was a sight to behold. Likely a sweaty mess, completely disheveled and a far cry from his usual tidy appearance. 

“You taste amazing.” You said, your voice a little hoarse. Ominis didn’t have the energy to respond in full, instead letting out a weak sound of acknowledgement. His mind was completely clouded with thoughts of you, of the lingering grips of the pleasure you’d brought him. Gone were his worries, there wasn’t a hint of anxiety remaining in his mind. You crawled back up beside him, tucking yourself against his chest. He was conscious enough to wrap an arm around you, keeping you close. Utterly spent, Ominis’ eyes closed and he listened to the sound of your breathing until sleep began to finally tug on him. As he gave into that tug of exhaustion, he listened to you whisper words of love to him. He drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of all of the ways he’d show you he loved you too.

[filmtv2022]

The The Bitter End: Comfort (Extra Scene)

18+ MDNI

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: John and Y/N, share a heated moment alone. The pair find comfort in one another's arms.

Warning: Spice/Smut + alcohol

A/N: Here we go again with another extra scene for To The Bitter End! I hope you all enjoy it and as always... I apologize for any mistakes.

The dense cloak of night had settled into every corner of the worn home filling in the gaps and leaving behind a muted silence. It seemed to inhabit the space as a stalwart tenant, immovable and proud yet unable to comprehend the passing of time. Ripped from the trap of restless sleep, the heavy sound of your ragged breathing was rough through the cotton sheets curled below your chin. Perspiration had collected in a heavy sheen across the expanse of your exposed skin, sticking your threadbare nightgown to your body. Returning to sleep was a lost cause. The only choices were to lay awake contemplating the very worries that plagued your dreams or to return to the nightly routine that had become your escape from it all during the previous weeks.

The decision was easy. Pulling back the covers, goosebumps ran wild over your arms and legs. The blind search for your housecoat came to a quick conclusion as the supple texture was easy to find even in the pervasive darkness that shrouded the room. You wrapped it tightly around your body, tying the belt in a sturdy knot at your hip. The only light that seeped between the curtains was that of the moon beyond the windows. A cloudless night meant the silvery haze was strong enough to guide your steps into the hall. Forgoing slippers, you focused on the rough grain of the ancient hardwood beneath your bare feet. The slow ambling journey away from the bedroom was made by memory as you tracked the path away from your nightmares and into the arms of the person who soothed your soul.

A soft glow illuminated the area around the piano, and basking in it sat John. His lithe frame moved gracefully with the music he played from memory. Lost in the melody, it appeared as though your arrival went entirely unnoticed. It was from your vantage point at the bottom of the stairs that you watched in awe of the sheer talent and passion that emanated from him. His face was slack and tender, free of the worry that often knit his brows together. The only sign of struggle that remained was the stained and tattered handkerchief which sat perched near his glass of whiskey atop the piano.

John’s shoulders tensed in a fight against the shallow cough that took control of his body. This had you moving toward him, seeking to comfort and be comforted. His focus remained fixed on the keys, but the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he heard you approach. The soft pad of your steps blended with the rhythm of the music before coming to rest behind him. Out of need and instinct, you reached for him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulders as he greeted you gently, “Hello, darlin’ ”

“Hello, my loving man.” Working your thumbs into the vicious knots along his back, you dipped to press a kiss to his cheek. It was warm, flush with the ever-present fever that accompanied his ailment, “How are you feeling, John?”

“I’m right as the rain.” He continued to play even as his lungs spasmed once again.

“That’s good,” letting your hands wander to his chest, you brought your lips to the broad column of his neck. The gentle caress of your whisper against the shell of his ear was distracting beyond measure causing him to fumble in the music, “It’s my turn.”

“Of course,” John lifted his hands from the keys to find you. The steady balance of his grip guided you to sit on the bench in front of him. With feather-light strokes, you ran your fingertips over the ivories. Doc took advantage of this and allowed himself to drift aimless touches over your body. He mapped every curve and valley paying close attention to tender spots that needed caring for, and the way you reciprocated his movements. Finally, you began to play, and he recognized the song immediately, Chopin’s Nocturn No. 19. It was the same one you’d heard him play the first night you met, and hearing you skillfully navigate it filled the hallow depths of his soul.

He let you play, happy to luxuriate in the firm press of your back against his chest. John’s wide palms found their homes low across your stomach and hip, letting him toy with the knot of your housecoat. Your concentration waned at the feeling of him nipping a line of fire along your neck. A soundless gasp accompanied the tug of his fingers at the knot. He made quick work of the barrier, pushing the sides of the garment back to give him more of what he wanted. With only the thin fabric of your nightgown now standing as an obstacle between the pair of you, he explored to his heart's content.

Leaning in, he found the hem of your pajamas bunching it between his fingers as he drew it higher and higher. John nestled the fabric at your hip before returning to your body. He started at your knee, drawing lazy circles on your skin, each stroke brought him closer to where you longed for him the most. Nearly there, he chuckled at the hypnotic arch of your body into this touch.

“Is there something you’d like, darlin’? Hmm?” the smooth vibrations of his questioning hum had you ready to beg, but the words to ask just weren’t there. Instead, he was met with a pleading whimper, “Use your words.”

“John,” breathless, you tried to keep playing, but your coordination failed completely at the feeling of his hand running along the inside of your thigh, “Please.”

“As you wish,” and with that he gave into his desires. Threading his free hand into your hair, he fixed your position so that he could claim your lips in a bruising kiss. A sharp tug at the base of your neck earned him an unholy groan. The embrace grew desperate, tongues clashing in a heady battle for control. This fight would be one that you lost without an ounce of regret because in doing so you surrendered yourself to his protective and loving embrace.

John’s sure touch found its mark without fail. Over and over, his calloused touch sent electricity singing down your spine. Settling into a rhythm, John listened to the hitch your breath the closer you came to the edge. Warmth pooled low in your body forming a band of pleasure that was nearly ready to snap. You clung to him, your hands searching for purchase anywhere you could find it. With one hand twisted in the silken strands of his hair, you reached back to find him while the other fell to his wrist holding him in place.

“I’ve got you,” staying steady, John watched you fall apart in his arms. Waves of desire tore through every nerve with his continued movements. His lips found yours again swallowing the frantic gasps and moans that poured from you. In time, your body relaxed into his. Your muscles were loose and pilant as he held you upright in his arms. Even with the release you’d just found, your body begged for more. Inhaling deeply, your lungs settled enough for you to speak.

“Take me to bed, John.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed them to your neck. A low huff of laughter rumbled his lungs, the end of which was punctuated by a small cough, but nothing could dampen this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. The only thing that mattered was the overwhelming trust and love that flowed between the pair of you. Together anything, and everything, felt possible.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for leaving my window open?

Little bit of a setting, i live in a basement suite with 1 other person, K. The house is pretty old, but we are just focused on our area. Its a bit of an L shape, with the front door, bathroom, and my bedroom on one side, and K's room, the living room, and K's office on the other. The kitchen is basically a hallway connecting these two areas.

K is a wonderful roommate. Pays rent, does her half of chores, and helps me with stuff as things arise, just like i do for her.

So the conflict: i like my room cold. The house thermostat is controlled by the upstairs neighbours, and they like to keep it quite warm. To combat this, i like to keep my window open.

Its partially a medical thing, because i am heat-intolerant, so i have a harder time functioning the warmer it is, and it feels like i can actually breath at night when its a little chilly, but also it just helps me sleep and is comfortable.

K likes to be warm. This is reasonable. I keep my door shut to help keep the cold exclusively to my room, but the house is old and the door is a little drafty. Now the heater comfortably warms the rest of the area and her room fine, but the area outside my room, which includes the bathroom, gets quite cold.

This has lead to constant complaints from K. I have tried to shut my window during the day, but it doesnt do enough to fix the problem. She refuses to wear a housecoat or anything. This only bothers her when she needs to go to the bathroom, but every single day its brought up. Its just a comfort thing for her.

She has asked me to use my portable AC unit that i bought to keep my room cool during the summer, but i think thats ridiculous. I want my room to be cold, the air outside is cold, what difference will it make if it is run through a loud machine? I dont see how using the AC would do anything other than make me sleep worse and waste energy.

So far i have just refused to set up the AC, but am open to hearing other options for how to fix the situation. I need to have my room cold, thats non-negotiable. But it very seldom effects her and i feel as though she is being a little unreasonable. The temperature in my room is usually 63-72° or so, depending on the weather, so its not like im in an icebox.

TL:DR my roomate wants me to use the AC instead of using my window to keep my room cold during the colder months but i refuse to try it.

What are these acronyms?

[enqmind]

 Picture this.

 You’re over at your friend’s place, the one who dragged you out of work for a shotgun wedding at the Registry Office with the Scot floozy you kinda liked and kinda hated.

 She wants you to help her new friend, John’s coworker’s new… Honestly? You weren’t sure. You couldn’t see a ring but she had a matching set of tattoos to his that looked concerningly fresh for a newly pregnant woman. Anyway, her pick out some knitting patterns for the baby.

 Being a, the solid mate you were and b, a compassionate soul who was happy to befriend Simon’s fragile looking new belle and provide her the emotional support that you were fairly sure he wasn’t capable of giving (you did get the impression that he did at least try, which was a mark in his favour) you agreed and lugged over your collection of books and patterns.

 One of them is a vintage book with knits for the whole family. You knitted a christening shawl for the McTavish bairn from it. (One that didn’t get used, but it was hard to be too mad. They had one from John’s family already.)

 “There’s one thing in here I’m not actually sure about,” you hum, flipping through the baby section.

 “Go on.”

 You flip back to the offending knit. A housecoat with copious amounts of looped trimming.

 You turned it to the other two, the front door opening and a couple of large bodies (and a wee ickle baby one) coming inside.

 “I can’t decide if I think it’s kinda sexy or very silly.”

 Your friend tilted her head in thought and your newer one scrunched up her nose.

 “I don’t know either.”

 “Yeah, I’m also a bit torn.”

 You turn it back.

 “I can’t tell if I think it might be sexy, or the model’s just sexy and it’s colouring my view.”

 “Oh, she’s definitely sexy,” the expectant mother said firmly.

 “Agreed. Oh, hi John!”

 Your friend’s bright smile at someone behind you made the body moving behind you something to ignore.

 Even the hand on your shoulder wasn’t a concern. (This was why you kinda hated him, to be honest. Very touchy feely.)

 Your comfort evaporated when bristles touched your cheek and an unfamiliar voice hit your ear.

 “Let me have a -”

 Your brain ran the fight/flight/freeze/fawn roulette and landed on option one.

 You moved shockingly fast, bringing the book up to the face over your shoulder as hard as your knitter’s arms could.

 There was a pained grunt and a crunching noise as the body behind yours staggered back.

 Now was the time you froze.

 As your friend stared in horror and your new friend’s breathing broke into a nervous laugh, heavy steps came through the house at speed.

 “Wha-" Simon's voice began harshly, before immediately breaking into confusion. "What?"

 You turned slowly to watch the towering Manc try to work out why the (not quite as) large man next to him was clutching his nose like he’d just been punched by Mike Tyson.

 John joined the confusion.

 “Captain, what happened to your face?”

 Oh god.

 You just assaulted your friends’ partners’ boss.

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Aftercare

Notes: thanks for the request anon! I decided the aftercare was going to go both ways. Hope this is fluffy enough for you 🥰

Content: 1k words, 18+, aftercare, implied rough sex, LeonxReader, g/n reader, fluff

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. Leon laid down next to you with a huff. His breath was still heavy, his eyes closing with post-release drowsiness. You took a moment to take him in. His blonde hair was falling into his face, gently outlining the sharp angles of his cheeks. His lips were parted slightly as he panted for air. You admired his aquiline nose, so straight and strong, but most of all, you loved his eyes. Light blue and usually so serious, it seemed sometimes like these moments were the only times he ever looked soft.

One eye popped open and he looked at you, grinning.

"What?"

You felt yourself giggling, "that was a lot of fun."

"Yeah?" He propped himself up on one shoulder, pushing the hair out of his face. His biceps curled as he supported his weight and the usually straight lines of his shoulders sagged as he relaxed. He almost looked like a painting. Narcissus or something.

"Yeah," you agreed. He leaned down and kissed you softly. Sweetly. When he pulled away, those blue eyes were so serious again. "How are you feeling?"

His hands were warm as they traced your body, gently tracing where bruises and bite marks were forming. A bite mark on your shoulder was deep enough to draw blood, and it looked like bruises were already rising on your thighs in the perfect shape of his fingertips. You reached up and took him by the jaw, tilting his head towards you so he could look you in the eyes.

"I enjoy all that stuff, you know." You reassured him. You knew sometimes he got scared of his own strength. "Even when it hurts, it feels good. I know you'd never really hurt me."

His fingertips brushed your cheek, eyes softening again.

"You're avoiding the question," he said. You smiled up at him.

"I'm pretty sore. Tired. A little bit overwhelmed I mean... Babe five times? Five times."

"Would have been more if you'd let me," he flashed a cocky grin at you. Then he sat up, breaking the moment of comfortable afterglow. You sighed. You should probably use the washroom, get cleaned up and all that. You went to stand, but your legs shook, refusing to support your weight.

You fell into Leon who supported your weight like it was nothing. His hands held your elbows while you steadied yourself. He helped you to the washroom where you cleaned up a bit, and when you swung the door open again, he was there waiting with your fluffy housecoat.

"Babe, you didn't have to..."

He wrapped you up in it. When you were all cozy, he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into you. He was so warm, so comfortable. He took your hand then and walked you into the kitchen, where he sat you down on a chair.

He pulled the little first aid kit from under the sink and then produced a tube of polysporin from that. He dabbed a bit of the white cream onto a q-tip. You pulled down the shoulder of your housecoat. He wiped the bite mark off with an antibacterial wipe, then applied the polysporin.

"Thank you, Dr. Kennedy," you teased. He didn't say anything. He just smiled up at you softly, then returned to doctoring your battle wounds.

"Do you want an advil for the bruising?" He asked as he packed up the first aid kit. You hummed a negative. He tossed the first aid kit back under the kitchen sink and then crossed over to the freezer. You raised your eyebrows in a question, then almost squealed when he produced two tubs of ice cream.

"Babe is that... No way." You took a tub from him greedily, reading the simple label. "The honeycomb ice cream from that mead place! You didn't have to go so far out of the way just for me."

"Just for you? No, c'mon, these are both for me."

"Over my dead body," you snapped it away from his lunging grasp. You brought your feet up to his hips, holding him off while you stretched your hand as far from him as possible. The chair rocked backwards. His reflexes never failed. He braced himself against the table with one hand, catching your chair with the other. His tub fell into your lap.

You looked at each other, then burst into laughter while he pulled the chair back into place.

"My hero," you teased.

"Grab us some spoons and meet me in the living room," he says, still smiling at you.

You oblige, gathering your fluffy house coat around you. You pulled the last two clean spoons from the drawer and meandered into the living room at an easy pace. He was lounging on the couch, sweatpants and a faded t-shirt hugging the form of his body. One arm outstretched as he flicked through the options. He saw you and opened his other arm, beckoning you to lie with him. You do, resting your full weight on him, knowing he can handle it. Both tubs of ice cream sit on the floor, cracked open and within easy reach.

"Can we watch something funny?" You ask.

"Have you heard of Always Sunny?"

"Ew," you scrunch your nose, "I hate that show. Do not."

He laughed and conceded.

"How about the Simpsons?"

"Okay! But only before s-"

"Before season eleven, I know."

You hummed happily, comfortable in this domestic moment with him. Your hips still hurt, and you were still tired, but the ice cream and classic Simpsons raised you from your sub drop. He stroked your hair, the two of you content in each other's company. By the end of the first episode you were feeling much closer to normal again.

"Thank you for this," you eventually mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream.

"Thank you for always reassuring me. After. I just... Need to hear it sometimes," Leon replied, kissing the top of your head.

"I know." You leaned your head up to him, giving him a kiss. It tasted like cream and honey and sugar. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[another-lost-mc]

Second Chances

Even though you're dating his brother, Leviathan struggles with his feelings for you. He doesn't realize you feel the same way.

LEVIATHAN x f!Reader x MAMMON 5.4k Words | NSFW | Threesome | Levi-centric | Fluff and Smut, First Time Content Warnings: Threesome scenario (there is no sexual/romantic touching between Levi and Mammon); vaginal fingering; consensual voyeurism; oral sex (male and female receiving); PIV sex [ Obey Me! Masterlist ]

Levi launched the DevilTube app while he waited for you to finish in the shower. Mammon was going through a duffel bag on his bed a few feet away, mumbling something about this part of the Devildom being too damn cold. The demon brothers had parted ways after dinner and everyone else retired to their rooms for an early night’s rest.

Choosing room assignments for this holiday vacation had been surprisingly peaceful. Mammon and Levi paired off first to the last empty room at the end of the hall. You claimed the single room next to theirs; Lucifer always booked a separate room for you on trips like this even if you rarely used it. Asmo dragged Satan by the arm to the room next to yours, and Belphie yawned on his way towards the room he shared with his twin across the hall. Beel had already disappeared to get some snacks.

When you came to their room earlier, you were carrying a large shopping bag. Levi squawked in embarrassment when you dumped the so-called gifts on his bed: two sets of pajamas and housecoats, one each for him and Mammon. You explained that matching family pajamas were a popular trend in the human world and that you already delivered sets to the rest of his brothers. His face burned bright red and he declared that he wasn’t going to subject himself to ridiculous normie customs. Mammon slapped the back of his head and told him to embrace the spirit of the holidays for once. Levi rubbed his head and sighed dramatically, picking up the t-shirt and scrunching his nose at the red and green plaid pattern. 

Levi looked up from his D.D.D. when he heard the bathroom door swing open. You wore a bright red plaid nightgown that fell just above your knees. The hem rode up your thighs slightly as you sat beside Levi on his bed and got comfortable.

“What are we going to watch again?” you asked. 

Levi’s head snapped back to the screen. “The Magical Ruri-Hana: Demon Girl Christmas Spectacular livestream - it just started.” Azuki-tan was dancing across the screen wearing a Santa hat. Levi mentioned it earlier that day, and when you seemed interested in watching it too, he didn’t hesitate to invite you over so you could watch the broadcast together.

You grinned and snuggled closer to his side as you watched different characters from the show parade on-screen in festive outfits. “It looks amazing!”

Levi was ready to launch into some of the critical analysis he was already planning to post online later, but the excited twinkle in your eyes caused the words to die in his throat. He nodded in agreement instead. He draped a pillow across his lap and propped up his D.D.D. so both of you could watch the show.

After a few minutes, Levi felt you squirming next to him. He nudged your shoulder with his and made a questioning noise, glancing between you and the screen.

“Sorry, I’m a little chilly,” you mumbled, rubbing your arms. You were both sitting on top of his comforter against the headboard. He guessed your flimsy nightgown was made of the same thin cotton material as his own pajamas. 

He set his D.D.D. down and moved the pillow aside. He slipped off the edge of the bed. “Here, move for a sec,“ he suggested, tugging at the sheets. He fixed the pillow and D.D.D. after you were both settled back in bed with the sheets pulled over your laps. You cuddled into his side again and turned your attention back to the show.

Levi winced when you pinched his arm to his side uncomfortably. He lifted his arm out from under you and draped it across your shoulder. You took it as an invitation to move even closer into him, resting your head against his shoulder and your hand against his chest.

Levi glanced nervously towards Mammon’s bed. His brother was facing both of you, his back against the wall, legs stretched out and crossed at his ankles in front of him. He was wearing the same sleep pants as Levi, but he was shirtless underneath the housecoat tied loosely around his waist. He had this month’s issue of Grimm Monthly in his lap and he flipped through the pages quietly while he read.

You were transfixed by the medley of holiday dances flashing on the screen, but Levi’s mind wandered elsewhere. Your soft laughter tickled his throat with puffs of warm air; your fingers were tracing small, lazy patterns on his chest where your hand was resting; he could feel where your breasts pressed into his side; and he could tell that damn nightgown of yours had ridden up even higher when you threw your leg over his, your naked thigh resting on his knee. Levi’s cock was hard and twitching underneath the pillow on his lap. He stopped paying attention to the show, too distracted by the urge to rut his hips upward in search of friction. He had to take deep breaths to keep himself from panting.

He heard the sound of clothes rustling from the other bed. Levi’s eyes darted towards the noise, and he froze when he caught his brother’s gaze. Mammon, who had tossed his magazine aside Heaven knows how long ago, was staring at him with dark, knowing eyes.

Levi started to panic like an animal caught in a trap. He knew you and Mammon were together. There was no way he could talk himself out of this. He should’ve sent you the link to watch the livestream from your own room. Why did he let you cuddle against him with your soft skin and damp hair that smelled like floral shampoo? He hated how weak he was. Deep down he knew you were off-limits but he still wanted you anyway he could have you, and when the opportunity presented itself he just couldn’t resist—

“Levi?”

He jumped when you said his name. He tore his gaze away from Mammon and looked at you with wide eyes.

You nodded your head towards his D.D.D. where the screen had gone black. “The show is over.”

He swiped it off the pillow quickly and started pulling up random social media apps, trying to find an excuse to get you to leave as soon as possible. “I’m going to be up for a while posting my reaction on my blog and some other forums. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.” He rolled over onto his side so you couldn't see his face. He scrolled through his Devilgram feed and tried to ignore you.

“Are you alright?” you asked. You sat up and he could feel you staring at his back. He could picture that worried look on your face; you were always looking out for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine! Otakus don’t worry about things like eating or sleeping. You’re pretty fragile even by normie standards, so you should go to bed.” Levi cringed at how much that sounded like a strained plea rather than a thoughtful suggestion.

“I guess so,” you said slowly. You shifted towards the edge of the bed but then you stopped. “What if I want to stay?”

Levi frowned at his phone, refusing to look over, scared to reveal the emotions he wouldn’t be able to hide if you could see him properly. “What kind of a question is that?!” He sputtered. “No, I mean, of course not - you should go to bed, and…and…”

His voice trailed off when Mammon sighed loudly. He heard the bounce of mattress springs nearby, the soft shuffling of bare feeling crossing the carpeted floor.

Oh, no. Levi shut his eyes and braced himself for punishment.

“Babe, I don’t think the subtle approach is going to work.”

Levi’s eyes flew open and he turned his head, watching Mammon rub your shoulders affectionately. You and Mammon seemed to be having a silent conversation.

“What are you talking about?” Levi rolled back over to look at you both properly, making sure to keep the pillow on his lap. When he glanced between the two of you, it felt like he was missing an important piece of a very obvious puzzle.

Mammon ignored him. “I told you, you need to do it like they do in those - what’re they called again?”

“Dating sims?” you offered.

Mammon clapped his hands. “That’s right, like they do in those datin’ games of his. Flirty pick-up lines, grand gestures - he’d pick up on those in an instant.” He laughed while you dropped your head in your hands and shook your head.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Levi asked. He didn’t mean to yell; you jumped beside him at the sound of his voice. It was sharper now, embarrassment and confusion swirling like a deadly mixture inside him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, waving your hands between the two of you vaguely, “when you invited me over tonight I thought we could - I mean, I wanted to -“

Mammon tsked under his breath. “Treasure wanted to invite you to join us in bed tonight,” he said simply, like it explained everything that was happening right now.

It didn’t.

“Mammon!” you scolded him half-heartedly, a pink blush rising in your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

Levi’s anger simmered when the pieces finally started to put themselves together. 

“When you say join you in bed, you mean…for more than sleeping?” Levi felt his cock twitch with renewed interest, but he had to be absolutely sure he was understanding this correctly. 

Your eyes looked away from him while your face still burned in embarrassment. “Yeah, but only if you want to.” You looked down at your hands in your lap. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re interested in being with me like that.”

Mammon leaned down and brushed his lips against your forehead. “Babe, he’s been stiff under that pillow since you got cozy with him earlier.”

Levi couldn’t deny it when you shot him the most surprised, hopeful look. The anger and confusion from earlier melted away. He was starting to feel a little hopeful now too, like this was his chance to have you the way he always wanted. Levi felt his face heat up but he jerked his head, nodding his confirmation. 

“See? Told ya he wanted you as much as I do,” Mammon said. “Well, almost as much.”

Levi looked between the two of you. “So, how exactly does this work? I mean, no offense, but I’m not really interested in…you know…” he trailed off, jerking a thumb towards his brother.

“Oi! You still gotta show your older brother some respect!” Mammon yelled while you tried and failed to stifle a giggle behind your hand.

Levi gestured wildly in Mammon’s direction. “If you were the love interest in a dating sim, I wouldn’t want to play it!” he yelled back.

You shushed both of them, trying not to let the evening be completely derailed by their antics. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you get uncomfortable or want to stop, we can stop.”

“Treasure’s gonna be the only one touchin’ you,” Mammon clarified for Levi’s sake. “Hell knows I don't want to,” he mumbled loudly enough for Levi to hear.

“What are you going to be doing then?” Levi asked Mammon with a confused tilt of his head.

“While she’s got her hands full touchin’ you, I’m gonna have my hands full touchin’ her. And you’re lucky enough to get to watch.”

Levi watched while you raised yourself onto your knees and scooted closer to him. When he tossed aside the pillow hiding his straining cock from view, he knelt in front of you and felt gratified when you looked him over with obvious interest. You faced each other in silent anticipation. You moved first, leaning forward and placing a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, one hand resting gently against his chest and the other cupping his cheek. He slid one of his hands into your hair, tilting your head and slotting your lips more deeply against his. Your tongue brushed against his and Levi groaned. He cradled your neck while he wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You gasped into the kiss when you felt the hard warmth of his cock against your belly. You squirmed in his hold. He realized what you wanted and guided you down to the bed, laying beside you with one of his legs between yours.

Levi drew one of his hands down your body overtop of the nightgown you were still wearing. He cupped your breast and brushed his thumb over your nipple. He felt it harden underneath the thin fabric. He pinched your nipple gently, teasing the small bud between his fingertips. When you broke the kiss with a needy moan, he moved his head down and kissed your nipple through your nightgown, swirling his tongue before closing his lips and tightening them with a suck. You arched your back into his mouth, desperate whimpers falling from your lips as he continued his ministrations.

You reached for his hand and he paused. The question he was about to ask died on his lips when he raised his head to look into your face; he stared at your kiss-swollen lips, a deep flush dusting your cheeks, and your eyes were molten with desire. He wouldn’t be able to resist anything you asked of him in this moment, not when you looked at him like he was something you craved so badly.

You spread your legs and guided his hand over your belly and between your thighs. You moved your hand away as he explored you through your panties, feeling the heat from your skin and the dampness that was starting to coat his fingers. After a few moments he sat up and grasped the waistband of your panties and tugged gently, urging you to lift your hips so he could slide them off you and down your legs. When he laid back down beside you, his hand returned to the soft skin between your thighs. He groaned loudly when he felt the wetness that had spread into your folds. He dipped a fingertip gently into your entrance and you gasped. He started running his finger up and down the edge of you, rubbing at your clit with slow, teasing circles.

Levi continued his gentle exploration and leaned over to kiss your panting mouth. “Show me what you like.”

You reached down and covered his larger hand with your own, slipping your fingers between his. You rubbed your finger against your clit and let him feel how fast you liked it, where you liked to put the tiniest bit more pressure. After a few more moments, you raised your fingers to him; he opened his mouth and licked away the glistening arousal that coated them. You let your hand fall away, holding onto his shirt and digging your fingers into his back while he copied your movements. He was a quick learner.

Levi could tell you were close. You were moaning more frequently now, loud and unashamed, and he felt your hips move in sync with his hand to encourage his touch where you wanted it most. Your thighs were trembling against him. He felt your entire body tense like a spring, and when you finally came, you cried out with your head buried against his chest. He teased your body through the aftershocks until you closed your legs and forced his hand to stop moving. You were trying to catch your breath while soft whines escaped your lips.

He smoothed his hands through your hair and held you close. When you raised your head, he nuzzled his nose against yours and pressed soft kisses against your mouth. You sighed as you came down from your release and basked in his affections. He was slowly grinding his hips into your side and you felt his cock, hard and heavy, between your bodies.

You raised yourself to your knees and sat back on your heels, looking at Levi with so much emotion that he found it hard to breathe. You reached for the hem of your nightgown and hesitated only for a moment before raising it up and over your head. You felt nervous and more exposed as you watched his eyes roam over your naked skin. You looked down nervously, resisting the urge to cover yourself with the nightgown you had clenched in your lap.

Levi followed you, sitting back on his hands while he watched you bare yourself to him. It was impossible not to stare at the way his pact mark seemed to glow against your skin. He felt something in him break when you looked away with so much uncertainty. Did you really think he would reject you? You were perfect.

He didn’t realize he said those words out loud until your hands flew to your burning red cheeks and smiled, sneaking bashful glances at him from beneath your lashes. 

“I mean it,” he implored, hoping if you trusted nothing else, that you believed him now.

“I know,” you said happily.

Levi glanced behind you. Mammon was sitting quietly in an armchair near the foot of the bed. He discarded his housecoat at some point and was bare-chested now, his sleep pants riding low on his hips. Levi could see Mammon’s cock was in the same state as his; he was palming his erection while his eyes roamed up and down your naked backside.

Mammon rose from his seat, kneeling on the edge of the bed behind you and tilting your head so he could run his lips along your neck.

“See, Treasure?” he asked between kisses. “Told ya he wanted you.” He scraped his teeth against your ear lobe. 

You moaned and nodded, leaning back against him and resting your hands on his thighs. He reached across your belly and ran his hands slowly up to your breasts, cupping them and tweaking the nipples gently between his fingertips. You arched your back against him. 

“Mammon, please-” you breathed. 

He moved one of his hands between your legs. “We’ve got you, don’t we?” Mammon glanced at Levi over your shoulder.

Levi’s mouth was dry watching Mammon tease at your clit with his thick fingers. He nodded. “Whatever you want,” he promised hoarsely.

Mammon slipped two fingers inside and held you still when you bucked in his grasp. He moaned loudly when he felt how wet you were. 

“Tell us what you want, babe,” he said as he thrust his fingers inside of you lazily.

“I want-” you whined, panting when you felt Mammon’s greedy fingers searching for that spot inside you that made you squirm. “I want you to touch me while I go down on him.”

Their reactions were instant.

“Oh, fuck,” Levi said with a sharp exhale, lifting his hips and sliding his pants off hurriedly so he could free his aching cock.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Mammon groaned into your hair. He thrust his fingers inside you a couple more times, faster and rougher, before withdrawing his hand from between your thighs and sucking his fingers clean.

You braced your hands on your knees while you adjusted to the sudden loss of Mammon’s fingers stretching you open. You watched Levi undress and couldn’t help but glance appreciatively at his cock; it was impressively long but not too thick. The desire in your expression must have mirrored his own because you looked at each other for a moment like time had stopped; when the moment ended, you started crawling towards him.

Levi shoved a pillow behind him and laid back in a low recline, legs spread wide to make room for you. You put your hands on his calves and trailed your hands up and over his knees as you gently pushed them farther apart. He moaned as you left a trail of kisses up his thigh, your lips sucking marks into his skin as you inched closer to where his cock was twitching.

You met Levi’s eyes when you wrapped one of your hands around the base of his cock, drawing it away from where it was laying across his belly and bringing it closer to your mouth. You licked up the shaft, tracing a vein and following the curve of his cock with your tongue. You lapped up a drop of precum beading at the tip. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and sucked.

Levi’s hands shot into your hair when you started bobbing your head. You set a slow, easy rhythm, licking the shaft and flicking your tongue over the tip while your lips tightened into a sweet vice. You used your hand to stroke the length of his cock that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

Levi was moaning your name between bitten-off curses and incoherent praises. His hips jerked further into your mouth when a particularly hard suck left him gasping. He heard you sputter quietly, but when he tried to pull away, you took him even deeper into your mouth and hummed. The hand near his hip urged him to thrust again and he moaned when he felt you swallow around his cock.

Levi dazedly looked past you where he caught glimpses of Mammon positioning himself behind you. Your hips were raised high in the air while your front was bent low as you lavished Levi’s cock with attention. Mammon gripped your hips and pulled your body to him and then his face dove between your thighs.

Your mouth opened with a loud moan and Levi’s cock slipped out between your lips. You stroked his shaft and peppered kisses around the base of his cock and the skin of his hips and belly while Mammon’s greedy tongue lapped at your folds, sucking your clit and teasing your entrance. The vibrations against your clit sent jolts of pleasure that made your hands tremble and toes curl. Mammon’s hands were on your hips, the tops of your thighs, the soft mounds of your ass. He squeezed and kneaded your skin as he encouraged you to rock back against his face. You sucked Levi’s cock back into your mouth while your body swayed between them.

Levi closed his eyes and tried thinking unsexy thoughts that would help ward off the orgasm he could feel building inside him, quicker and with more urgency each time your lips slid up and down his shaft. It was a futile endeavor. You were moaning around his cock while Mammon pleasured you with his mouth, and Levi could hear Mammon’s muffled moans too;  he had slid his sleep pants down to his thighs and was jerking himself off while he ate you out. It became a feedback loop of giving and taking pleasure, the sounds each of you made growing louder and more whiny, more desperate.

It was a matter of time before one of you fell victim to the pleasurable onslaught. You came first, crying against Levi’s hip while Mammon continued to work you with his mouth, wringing the last dregs of pleasure from your body until you couldn’t take anymore. Mammon’s release came next; while you twitched from sensitivity, he pulled back and raised himself onto his knees. He fucked his fist, grunting your name as he came, his cum shooting out onto your ass, the backs of your thighs, and your cunt. He watched the sticky fluid drip from your skin with smug satisfaction.

You and Mammon were both taking a moment to recover, and Levi used the brief respite to find his bearings. He hadn’t come yet and he felt overwhelmed with need. You were panting, head resting against his belly, and he knew you’d suck his cock back into your mouth if that’s what he wanted.

“Wait, wait,” he said gently as he felt you move back towards his cock. He had one hand in your hair and the other was caressing the side of your face. Your eyes glanced up to meet his. You hummed in acknowledgement, massaging the jut of his hip bone with your fingers. Near the foot of the bed, Mammon had gotten a towel and was cleaning his mess off your skin.

Levi gulped and looked away. “I w-want to come inside you,” he said nervously. It sounded like a whine to his own ears and he flinched with embarrassment.

He faced you again when you sat up between his legs. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile. Behind you, Mammon had returned to the armchair with an unreadable expression on his face; when he met Levi’s gaze, he hesitated only for a moment before he nodded.

You shuffled over Levi’s legs and straddled his hips. You braced yourself against his chest and leaned down to kiss him. The desire that subsided earlier returned tenfold when your mouths exchanged wet, heated kisses.

Levi could taste his own salty musk as he licked into your mouth. He moaned against your lips, rocking his hips up against yours, feeling the slick arousal of your cunt when he rubbed his cock against your folds. You reached between your bodies, holding his cock steady while you guided him inside you.

You both groaned as his cock slid inside with one smooth stroke and Levi threw his head back against the pillow. His cock was twitching inside your cunt, the wet heat of your walls squeezed him like some delicious torture, and your soft whimpers echoed in his ears as you lowered yourself even more, slotting into place like you were made to be filled by him. 

Your movements were slow and exploratory at first. You lifted your hips and slid back down, letting the drag of his cock tease the sensitive places inside you. You rocked against him and  whimpered when the grind of your bodies teased your clit. Levi’s hands on your hips held you steady so you could increase the pace as you rode him. You both gasped when you started moving in sync with each other, his hips driving up as your hips slid down to meet his thrusts.

Your bodies were slick with sweat and your legs were trembling. You leaned over and braced yourself on your hands, letting your breasts bounce between your bodies and against his chest. You lowered your face to his, kissing his neck and his jaw, nuzzling against his shoulder and whispering sweet praises into his skin.

“I’ve wanted to feel you like this for so long,” you breathed loud enough for him to hear. 

He moaned and nodded against the pillow. “Me too,” he panted, eyes burning as your confession broke open the secret parts of himself he tried to hide from you. His hands dug into your skin where he was holding you close. “I’m not gonna last, it feels-“ he cut off with a whine. “You feel so good.”

“I want you so badly” you begged, moaning into his neck. 

Levi growled and bent his knees, using the mattress for leverage  as he started driving into you harder and faster than before. He was guiding your body up and down his cock with ease. You were clinging to him, holding his shoulders while he pounded into you with frenzied desperation.

Your body was overstimulated and your nerves ablaze from the relentless glide of his cock filling you to the brim. You knew you couldn’t come again so soon, and you were exhausted, but Levi’s cock kept rubbing against that spot deep in you that made you breathless. 

When he finally came, he grunted your name against your ear while the rhythm of his hips stuttered and then finally stopped when he felt milked dry. He loosened his hold and you pulled away, lifting off his softening cock with a whimper. You could feel his cum trickle down the insides of your thighs. You collapsed on the bed beside him.

Levi blinked rapidly at the ceiling, sweat and tears burning his eyes. He couldn’t let himself fall apart now; he needed to take care of you first. You were laying on your front, head turned away from him while your body shook with a slight tremor. Before Levi could move, Mammon had already stepped in, sitting on the edge of the bed at your side. He stroked your back while you murmured quietly to each other. When you rolled off the bed and stood on unsteady legs, Mammon held you against him while you found your balance. He helped you pick up your discarded nightgown and he watched you disappear into the bathroom.

When Mammon checked on Levi next, he was laying flat on his back, one of his arms flung over his eyes. He was taking deep, shuddering breaths. Mammon reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Alright there, Levi?”

“Yeah,” Levi replied thickly, “m’fine. Just need a minute.” He sniffled. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

Mammon kept his hand on Levi’s shoulder, squeezing every now as he calmed down. Levi sat up after a few minutes. If his eyes were a bit red, neither of them mentioned it. They sat side by side on the bed and Levi slumped over, letting his older brother support his weight. They both stared at the bathroom door. They could hear the water running.

Levi broke the silence. “Do you two…have you done this before? W-with the others, I mean.” 

Mammon smirked at the undercurrent of jealousy in Levi’s tone. “Nah, Treasure said she only has those feelings for you.” Mammon paused. “And I’m not sure I wanna share her like this with anyone else even if she did.”

Levi looked at his brother. “What do you mean?” He knew his other brothers adored her. He also knew at least two of them that would’ve given anything to take his place in her bed tonight, given the opportunity.

Mammon seemed to consider his answer for a moment. “Greed and envy aren’t all that different,” he said. “We’re more alike than you think. She loves you, and I can trust you. This doesn’t have to be a one-time deal. We can figure it out - the two of us being with her - if it’s something you want.”

Levi swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

Mammon clapped his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it when we get home and see what happens. Now, get up and help me change these sheets, will ya?”

You waited until you heard Mammon’s soft knock on the door to let you know he and Levi were finished with their little chat. You’re not sure what they talked about, but they both seemed content when you rejoined them. Levi was smoothing fresh sheets on his bed. Mammon had some bottles of water in the crook of his elbow, and he placed two of them on the bedside table. He handed you a granola bar; when he offered one to his brother, Levi shook his head. Mammon shrugged and pressed a kiss to your brow.

“Alright lovebirds, time for bed.” Mammon announced. He lifted the blankets so you could slide underneath. Levi rolled his eyes but cuddled into the sheets next to you without hesitation.

“What about you?” you asked. It would be a tight squeeze but Mammon could fit in the bed too. Maybe.

Mammon waved a hand in Levi’s direction. “You’re better at takin’ care of otakus than I am.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. “Love ya, babe.” He climbed into his bed and turned off the lamp, hiding a small smile as he laid down and rolled over. It only took a minute before he started snoring. 

“Is he going to be okay?” you asked quietly.

“I think he wants us to have this tonight.” Levi wrapped his arms around you. 

You exchanged hushed whispers and soft touches while Levi held you close. It wasn’t long before you dozed off first, and he grew sleepy in your warm embrace. When he fell asleep, Levi dreamt of sweet kisses and second chances.

[britishchick09]

facts about josefina, kirsten, addy, kit and julie! :D

(from their new pages!)

✿ To learn more about what Josefina’s life would have been like, author Valerie Tripp spent two summers in New Mexico. She visited living history museums and interviewed elderly New Mexican women about the daily lives of Hispanic families and children in rural New Mexico.

The models for Josefina’s home were la El Rancho de las Golondrinas near Santa Fe and Hacienda de los Martinez near Taos, NM. Both are former ranchos from Josefina’s time and now living history museums that you can visit today.

Josefina’s first and last names are drawn from the New Mexican censuses of 1790 and 1823.

American Girl worked closely with the advisory board to decide what Josefina would look like. Board member Felipe Mirabal even cut off a lock of his own hair and sent it to AG to ensure that the Josefina doll’s hair color was just right!

Although Josefina is actually a Mexican citizen, the advisory board felt comfortable calling her an “American girl” because her story presents a history and heritage that’s an integral part of America today.

By the end of her series, Josefina has a new mother. This plot element symbolizes the change for the Spanish settlers of New Mexico and the Southwest, who lost their mother country of Mexico when they became citizens of the United States, their new mother country. ✿

✿ Kirsten was one of the first three characters in The American Girls Collection, along with Samantha and Molly, when Pleasant Company debuted.

The Kirsten doll and accessories were “archived” in 2010 and have only been rereleased once in 2021 and once in 2024 since then.

One of the outfits that was sold for Kirsten was a housecoat and sockor, or wool slippers. The sockor for the Kirsten doll were handmade by a woman in Sweden beginning in 1987 for twenty years.

The original family portrait in Kirsten’s books is made to look like a daguerreotype, which is a type of photograph from the time. Later, the portraits of Kirsten’s family and friends were done individually to match the other American Girl books.

In Pleasant Rowland’s original business plan, Kirsten was named Rebecca, and was a Norwegian immigrant in 1865.

The team who created Kirsten did a lot of research with the Minnesota and Wisconsin Historical Societies, who had a lot of information about the Swedish settlers who came to these states in the 1800s.

Kirsten’s Swedish dirndl and kerchief outfit were first released in 1989. ✿

✿ Addy was the first American Girl doll that came with pierced ears.

The cowrie shell necklace that Addy wears is special, as the cowrie has ritual significance for some West African cultures.

The Addy doll and books debuted in September 1993. She was the fifth historical character and the first Black character.

Pleasant Rowland, the founder of American Girl, reached out to author Connie Porter to write the Addy book series after reading her adult novel All-Bright Court.

To promote the Addy book series, American Girl took author Connie Porter on a 10-city author tour to bookstores, libraries, and schools, reaching an audience of more than 15,000 people.

Researchers on Addy confirmed when the full moon would have been during Addy and her mother’s escape from enslavement in 1864 to ensure historical accuracy in the timing.

The museum program, Addy at Ohio Village, debuted in 1998.

The dialect used in the Addy books was created by author Connie Porter to be a balance between what speech of the time would’ve sounded like and what is accessible for young readers and was reviewed by two dialect experts at Jacksonville State University in Alabama.

Addy was the first American Girl character to have an advisory board. Addy’s advisory board was made up of Black historians, educators, and museum curators who ensured the depiction of Addy’s life and times was historically accurate.

The advisory board for Addy included: Lonnie Bunch, Cheryl Chisholm, Spencer Crew, Violet Harris, Wilma King, June Powell, and Janet Sims-Wood.

Addy’s first three books sold more than a million copies in the year they were released.

Some of the original time periods discussed for American Girl’s first Black character included the Harlem Renaissance and the Civil Rights era, which were used later for Claudie Wells and Melody Ellison, respectively. ✿

✿ Kit Kittredge is the seventh historical character that American Girl created.

When she wrote the Kit books, author Valerie Tripp was inspired by her mother, who was Kit’s age in 1932.

The movie Kit Kittredge: An American Girl was released in 2008 and starred Abigail Breslin as Kit—plus actors Chris O’Donnell, Julia Ormond, Joan Cusack, and Stanley Tucci.

Illustrator Walter Rane used himself as a model for the grumpy grocery store owner in Kit’s stories.

When Kit launched, American Girl held events called Kit’s Share and Care Party where girls were invited to donate canned goods for a food drive.

Like Kit’s dad, author Valerie Tripp’s grandfather paid his staff out of his own pocket as long as he could, but eventually had to close his hotel during the Great Depression.

Kit was the first American Girl character doll with freckles and the first with short hair.

Development on Kit was started before Mattel purchased Pleasant Company (American Girl’s original company name) but she was launched after the purchase.

After the launch of the Kit doll and books, Valerie Tripp received a letter from a woman named Kit Kittredge who had grown up in Cincinnati during the Depression and was very excited about the coincidence!

American Girl’s Claudie Wells, whose stories are set in the 1920s, could have faced the challenges of the Great Depression in her teens and twenties. ✿

✿ When Julie launched, in 2007, American Girl historical characters’ years had always ended in 4, so Julie’s year was set as 1974—even though her stories begin in 1975.

Julie’s stories are set in San Francisco to express the open-minded, progressive spirit of her time. At the forefront of the hippie counterculture, San Francisco’s colorful, creative, free-wheeling vibe strongly influenced the music, fashion, and art of the 1970s.

When Julie debuted, some customers felt American Girl should not depict a girl with divorced parents. But since about 50% of kids today live with divorced parents, the creators of Julie felt it was important to have a character and doll who represented their experience.

Author Megan McDonald has four sisters who inspire many of her stories. Quite a few of the scenes between Julie and her teenage sister Tracy were inspired by Megan’s experience growing up with her sisters.

When she’s running for election to student body president, Julie debates her opponent, a popular sixth-grade boy. The 1976 Ford-Carter election debates inspired author Megan McDonald to come up with this plotline.

When author Megan McDonald was ten, her first published story appeared in her school newspaper. Her story was about a pencil sharpener! ✿