#and then keeping them in my head like a doll who i have terrible thoughts abt

[skitskatdacat63]

Often punch myself for not taking the chance to draw weird fanart when I had the passion since the spark will never be the same after the fact. Not saying I don't have passion now, I mean specifically the at minimum 10 unhinged blorbo fantasies I have whenever I consume media

[cacoetheswriting]

Request!!

Eddie walking in on reader fantasizing abt him<3 and ine thing leads to another they are fucking and then confessing each others love. Smut to fluff basically

If not that’s cool!<3

pairing: roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 3k

content warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, modern day au, friends/roommates to lovers, smut, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, dirty talk, sexual fantasies, masturbation (f), mutual pining, fingering, allusions to sex

Eddie Munson works shifts.

His schedule is scribbled in black marker and terrible handwriting on the calendar stuck to the fridge of your shared apartment — although, it’s not like you needed to double check when your curly-haired roommate was and wasn’t going to be home, embarrassingly enough, you pretty much had it memorised.

In your defence, it’s not overly hard to remember. 

While your hours are standard, Monday to Friday, nine to five, Eddie works at a nightclub in the city centre — The Black Door. He starts late in the afternoon, so as you come home, he’s rushing out the door with a sandwich between his teeth while he throws on his raggedy denim jacket.

“Have a good night, doll face,” he usually says when you pass each other in the hallway. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

You roll your eyes and usually reply with something you think is witty, if you’re not completely enamored by the way his locks bounce and fall perfectly around his face.

“Try not to burn the place down, Munson. You still owe me half of the rent for this month.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says with a grin, “Cross my heart.” He mimics his words and winks, before disappearing down the stairs.

When you close the apartment door behind you with a gentle kick, you have to lean against the frame and take a breath to compose yourself because the feelings you’ve recently developed for your metal-head roommate were too much, too complicated. You needed to try and keep them buried deep.

So, like every other night alone, you do the only thing you can think of to distract yourself and whip out your phone. After some doom scrolling and texting Steve for advice — since he’s the one who gave up his room in the flat, recommending Eddie move in — you open the apps. 

Swipe left, swipe right, left, right, left, left, right. It’s not hard for you to get matches, it’s even easier to get messages which lead to many dates. The odd dinner here, the odd drink there. You like to suggest The Black Door because even though you’re doing this to get over their head bartender, there’s a certain thrill in having him watch you flirt with other guys.

Unfortunately tonight’s date — Tobie with an ie not a y, as specified in his bio — texts to reschedule just as you finish applying some blush pink lipstick. 

Tobie: Hamster died

Tobie: (typing)

Tobie: Next time?

You groan in frustration. Nevertheless, you reply to keep the possibility of a next time open.

You: Sorry to hear about your hamster. Next time, for sure.

Then you type out a quick message to Steve, letting him know he doesn’t need to stalk your location since your date just cancelled. 

Steve: Good. He looked like a douche anyway.

Ignoring Harrington’s comment, you lock the screen then move to the couch where you finish the glass of wine you had poured to drink while getting ready. The alcohol is bitter on your tongue and after you swallow, it makes you feel even more lonesome than moments prior.

Spending your evenings alone wasn’t the worst by any means. You liked to think of yourself as an independent woman and there certainly were other ways you could continue to distract yourself — ways that didn’t involve a man. 

A movie perhaps. Some new Netflix releases to binge watch. Catching up on a favourite podcast. Back to doom scrolling for a minute. Or… You glance at the time on your phone. 7:16pm. Eddie wasn’t due back from his shift anytime soon.

Without giving it a second thought, you lay your head down on the throw cushions and close your eyes. You then proceed to slide a hand down your clothed stomach and you don’t stop, even when you reach the waist of your skirt.

Warmth immediately spreads through you. Even more when you hear a certain sultry voice in your mind, ordering you around. “Come on, doll face.”, or “Show me how much you want me.”.

Well fuck. So much for not thinking about your roommate.

He’s there, behind your eyes. Standing at the edge of the sofa, watching you touch yourself. And he’s doing the same. Fingers wrapped tight around his erect member, rubbing intently while he tells you to keep going and what a dirty, filthy, thing you are.

Cloud nine. Or ten. Who the hell cares. 

You’re lost in your own nasty thoughts, lost in the fantasy, completely oblivious to the sound of metal sliding in the keyhole and the click of the lock. Oblivious to the creak of an opening door and teeter of feet. Oblivious to the fact that there was someone now watching you with their mouth agape.

You’re about to reach that complete high. The mountain top. But then someone clears their throat. No, not just someone. Your roommate, Eddie — and not in your dreams.

Eyes snapping open, your heart drops. You remove your hand from its current position instantly, then slide on the sofa into a seated position, horrified and way too embarrassed to meet his struck gaze.

“Sorry, I-I,” Eddie stumbles and if you had enough courage to look at him, you’d notice he was beet red. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, no,” you protest and stand quickly, “I’ll ehh, I’ll go and yeah, sorry you had to see that.”

You continue to avoid his brown-eyes as you rush to your room, locking the door behind you for good measure. Then, since you’ve already lost all self respect and probably also his respect, you slam face first into your bed and scream into your pillow.

What you don’t see is Eddie who grimaces as the shrieks reach his ears. 

He honestly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but it seems if he told you that now, you wouldn’t believe him. He just felt pervy standing there without your knowledge. And would it make it worse if he said he didn’t mind what he saw? That it was actually really fucking hot? Probably, yeah. He should definitely keep his mouth shut.

But Eddie can’t. Not when it comes to you.

Instead, he drops his backpack to the floor and strides toward your bedroom door. One big breath later, he knocks once, twice. No answer.

“Doll face, can you come out and talk to me? Please?”

“Go away, Munson. You’re never seeing my face again.”

He sighs. “Come on, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” Eddie tries to reason. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t really see all that much. I-I shut my eyes the second I realised what was going on.” It’s a lie, but it’s a white lie. No harm in a white lie.

There’s shuffling inside and the door flies open.

“What are you even doing home so early?” Deflection. Great tactic.

Eddie leans against the frame, stretching his right arm across to pick at painted splinters. “Got into an argument with some weirdo. Bossman sent me home.”

The metal-head must sense your sudden concern because before you can say anything or ask any questions, he says, “And don’t you worry your pretty face about that rent money. I still have a job to go back to ‘cause my actions were in complete self-defence. I was just told to go home and cool off, or whatever.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What did you fight about?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie brushes it off and shrugs after dropping his arm back to his side. “What are you doing here by the way? I thought you had a hot date.”

“Dead hamster,” you say without further explanation, then quickly wonder, “How did you know about my date though?”

“Harrington.”

“Of course.”

There’s a minute of silence. Not awkward, despite everything that’s happened. Quite comfortable actually because that’s how things always are between the two of you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eddie asks, another attempt at trying to stir the conversation even further away from what transpired mere minutes ago. “In my room, if you’d prefer that.”

Tried and failed since you glance at the couch and tense all over again. 

There is no way you’re going to sit with him in the same exact spot you just tried to get yourself off to fabricated thoughts of him, all while he walked in on you. You’re probably never going to sit there again, ever.

“We might actually need to invest in a new sofa,” you say, full of shame, and glance up at the curly haired boy.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Would it help if I dropped my pants and—”

“Eddie! Gross!” You screech and smack his chest. “No, it would most definitely not help.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Relax, doll face. I was  kidding.” The grin on his face spreads. “At least we know you weren’t thinking about me earlier, judging by that reaction to my very kind offer.”

There must now be a grimace on your face, some sort of physical reaction that you didn’t manage to contain as Eddie’s joke settles in the air around you, because a beat passes and your curly-haired roommate's gaze goes wide. His lips part and something flashes in his brown eyes that you can’t quite deduce, but one thing’s for sure, he knows.

“Oh. Oh.”

Without saying anything else, plausible deniability and all that, you try to shut the bedroom door in his face. Eddie however, has fast reflexes and his foot is now blocking you from doing so. But you keep trying and you lean against the wood, shoving it with your back.

“Now you can really go away, Munson.”

“It’s not—”

“If you utter the words it’s not that big of a deal, I will jump out of my window.”

On the other side of the door, Eddie laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, doll face. No one needs to be jumping out of anything, okay?”

You sigh, looking up at your ceiling as if it held all of the answers.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one having extremely specific dirty thoughts about your roommate.”

Silence. 

Oddly, now it felt slightly uncomfortable. You sense it immediately. The shift in the air. It’s a little unnerving. Okay. A lot unnerving. Which is why, again without really thinking about what you were doing, you stand straight and open the bedroom door to reveal your roommate’s back. He’s staring at the empty wall, hands on his hips.

“You know,” Eddie starts in a quiet tone and you begin to think the worst, (although you’re about to find out there is really no need). “Before you were my roommate, you were Harrington’s smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl roommate.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following.”

Eddie sighs. He spins back to look at you, hands still on his hips.

“Jesus. Okay. Uhm… You’re not the only one with, what is it you said, extremely specific dirty thoughts.” 

You raise your brows in surprise. This is not the turn of events you were expecting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

And then, for reasons not completely clear in that moment, you laugh. Loud and clear. Velvety. It’s music to Eddie’s ears, so he smiles, watching you. You. Still that smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl he had a schoolboy crush on. Even more beautiful when you laughed. And all those nights he’d invite himself over, back when you still shared the flat with Steve, and he’d talk nonstop about this girl he liked but didn’t know how to ask out (you), well, all those nights finally felt worth something because now he knew you liked him too.

Eddie’s shoulders relax and he drops his arms from his hips, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You notice immediately, eyes glued to where his points are digging into the flesh of his mouth, and the laugh freezes in your throat. The realisation of what Eddie just admitted dawns on you fully. He’s gotten off on fantasies of you long before you ever saw him that way. You don't, however, get to ask him what any of it means, or where you two go from here, because Eddie makes the decision for you.

He reaches for you. One hand on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His eyes race over your face, as if he’s taking every little detail in since you’ve never stood this close together. You’re admiring his features too. Memorising each crinkle and line. Each mark and freckle. He’s attractive, for sure, but this close and personal, Eddie Munson is the most alluring guy you’ve ever seen.

“I think I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers, brushing a thumb over your lips. “Unless you’re still thinking of jumping out the window.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and between your legs. Your gazes latch onto one another and you tip up your chin, inviting him to stay true to his words.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He takes your mouth, causing your knees to buckle beneath you, but the hand he’s got on your waist holds you up in place as his lips interlock with yours. The sweetness of the kiss surprises you. It’s pleasant and you find yourself hoping he’ll kiss you this way again, and again. And when the tips of his fingers trail against your cheek, when they travel to the back of your head, settling in place and pushing you in closer, you part your lips and moan softly into his mouth.

He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in and intertwines it with yours. The hand holding your waist falls slowly, lingering against your body like a shadow as he drops it lower and lower. When he reaches the hem of your denim skirt, he freezes there momentarily.

“I don’t want to overstep, doll face.” Eddie murmurs against your plush lips.

“Please…” You all but whine in response.

“Please what?”

His hazel eyes go dark. Hungry. It sends a shiver down your spine, knowing that he wants you just as much as you want him, if not more.

“Overstep, please.” You slide your nose alongside his, nudging him slightly as you say, “Eddie, t-touch me. I’d like you to touch me.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Swiftly, he pops the button and slides the zipper, letting the garment fall to the ground so that you’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment with your skirt around your ankles, exposing the black lace of your underwear to your roommate.

Eddie kisses you again. It’s rougher this time, more needy. And while his lips work against yours in perfect harmony, his fingers slide in between your thighs. 

Slowly, Eddie traces your wet heat, teasing with just one finger. Your body is jolting with anticipation. Your skin is soft and warm, writhing under his delicate touch. He can feel tension building as your legs start to tremble and he smirks into your mouth, clearly pleased with himself because he’s barely even touched you. 

Gently, he presses the pad of his index to your entrance, carefully slipping inside as you whimper. He continues pushing in slowly, knuckle by knuckle and you melt around his intrusion. Your arms now pressing your bodies together with all the strength you can muster.

Lewd, wet sounds drift up from between your legs as Eddie begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. Rough. Hungry. He breaks the kiss, crazed eyes looking back to admire your face as you slowly start to come undone. Then you gasp: he curls a finger inside your pussy to mash his palm into your clit, massaging the spot relentlessly.

A moan grows in your throat and your lips part, desperate to let it out. Eddie has another idea though. His free hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the sound. It causes your eyes to widen in shock, but surprisingly to both of you, you lean into it and after a few moments of this treatment, your walls close around his fingers.

You arch your back and Eddie struggles briefly to keep his hand over your mouth. He thinks for a second that maybe he’s being too forceful, forehead to forehead, pushing into you further. Somehow his force only makes you react harder and in a matter of seconds, you deflate, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum all over his digits.

Eddie drops his hand from your mouth, grinning. He removes his other hand from between your thighs and you miss him desperately already, though you don’t immediately say because you don’t want to come off as such. He licks his fingers clean then leans down to peck you on the lips as your orgasm haze clears. You can taste yourself on him and it drives you crazy all over again, but when you try to deepen the kiss, your metal-head roommate places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says simply. 

“Right now?” You pout and manoeuvre your hand in between your bodies to reach for his hard member through his work slacks. “‘Cause I wanna repay the favour.”

Eddie grins then places his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together. He pulls it out and brings it to his cheek, brushing it softly against his light stubble.

“I am loving the enthusiasm, doll face.” Eddie begins, “But I’d like to try and do this thing right, which means dinner before I further corrupt you, okay?”

“Maybe I’m the one corrupting you.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile, “Either way, the faster we get out of here to grab some food, the faster we can come back and maybe even put that couch to good use.”

You laugh at that.

“So will you stop being stubborn and let me take you to dinner?”

When you nod your head, Eddie’s smile grows even wider. He drops your hand, but only momentarily, to lift your skirt and button it for you. He smooths the material, then once again, he reaches for your hand to lead you out of the shared apartment.

Eddie Munson works shifts.

Only, from now on, whenever he comes home late at night, instead of going to sleep in his room, he stumbles into yours, more than invited.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[prosypepper]

“parenting class” with kei tsukishima

this is part six of my kinktober event :3

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nsfw, timeskip tsukishima, breeding, talks about pregnancy, tsukki is maybe a little bit bad!, finishing inside, unprotected p in v. 18+ mdni!

notes: who tf was gonna tell me pregnancy scares are real

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

kei tsukishima didn’t know what had come over him.

personally, he blamed that stupid parenting class that was required, for some reason. kei thought it was idiotic, but he needed it to graduate. and they absolutely doomed him when they put both of you in class together.

there was something about you, his sweet, beautiful and kind girlfriend that had already won his heart a million times over, doing things that a mom would do. of course, they provided those dumb dolls that cried and stuff—but you seemed to be able to calm the robot baby down instantly. the smallest appearance of a smile came over his face when you’d bounce the doll in your arms, or feed it the fake food.

god forbid when they made you wear that horrible pregnancy vest, because it gave your boyfriend terribly amazing imagery of what you’d actually look like carrying his child. maybe he was weird for it, but after the few weeks of that class was over, kei couldn’t stop himself from only thinking about one thing;

getting you pregnant.

he hadn’t ever been the dad type, until now.

“do you want kids?” tsukishima had asked you, all the while focused on a homework assignment. the question was one you hadn’t talked about before. it took you by surprise, obviously, and you wondered if it was something your tsukki wanted, too.

“if you want them, yeah.”

and that reply is what led kei to his current position, deciding between two ways the both of your lives could go. but as you laid there in his dorm room, trapped under his arms, all the excuses he could make for what he was about to do ran through his head. both of you were adults, set to graduate college in a few months, along with jobs lined up the second you got your diplomas. he already had a ring for you, he’d decided he was going to marry you a long time ago—

what did he have to lose?

“are you okay? you seem out of it, tsukki,” you say, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s blond locks. you had been waiting for a few minutes now, and all kei was doing was staring down at you, the look in his eyes gradually shifting over time.

“mhm.” is the only reply you get out of him, but he finally starts to move his eyes up and down your face, skimming over your lips and soft cheeks. kei felt like he could moan aloud when you wrap your arms behind his neck and lean up to give him a small peck.

he loved how sweet you were to him, a stark contrast in his own personality. he was never one to show affection in many ways, but you made up for it with the amount of affection you gave him. you had kei wrapped around your little finger, and boy, did he know it.

wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull kei in impossibly closer, the warmth in between your legs now was prodded at by the tent in your boyfriend’s boxers. kei harshly sucks air through his teeth at the pressure, absentmindedly rutting against you, feeling your panties and the dampness behind them, absolutely soaked. kei could tell.

“i don’t have a condom,” he remarks, subtly watching how you’d react.

“oh—um, it’s okay,” you reply almost instantaneously, “i’m on birth control, tsukki.”

damn it.

tsukishima nods his head, leaning up to allow space for the both of you to strip away the clothing that was keeping him from being inside of you. scooting back on the bed, you allow him room to join you. kei climbs up on the mattress with you, slotting himself between your already spread thighs, cock immediately pressing against the warm wetness of your cunt. you whine at the teasing, though it isn’t intentional, and kei hushes your noises with a sweet kiss.

as your lips lock and your skin becomes warmer at your lover’s contact, kei’s slender hands come to grab under your thighs, situating you in a rather unexplored position—a mating press. his head draws back again, just to take in the sight of you; in his shirt, and rather everything else completely exposed to him. the small light coming from his desk lamp illuminates you perfectly, shows off how soft you are to kei, the perfect body to carry his kids—

“kei,” you whine, “are you sure you’re okay?” your question is half concern and half desperation, wanting him to either move or tell you he isn’t horny; though, the raging erection he has would say otherwise. “if you don’t wanna do it, we don’t have to—oh!”

your rambling is cut off by a harsh thrust inside, kei wasting no time to completely insert himself into you. he was never one to be too rough, maybe a little erratic, but never completely silent and impatient. you can tell there is no patience left in your boyfriend, with how he immediately begins a grueling, fast pace, slamming his length into you with unrelenting force. your pretty little brain, usually so sweet and composed, has no time to think about what’s got him so worked up, because he has you yelping out within only a few seconds.

“kei—kei!” you chant his name, it’s falling off your lips like a routine prayer, stuck on loop like a broken record.

kei’s knees dig into the fabric of his sheets, his thighs completely straightened, and it feels like he is using every bit of strength to wind his hips up and violently slam them back into you. becoming so fond of this position, you can feel him in new depths, as the slit of his cock taps – no, angrily impales – your cervix. he’s no longer calculated, or sweet, whatever had gotten into kei had made the man completely animalistic.

syrupy, soaked walls clamp around his length ridiculously tighter with every meeting of your hips, and you mewl. the first remnants of sweat creep on your boyfriend’s hairline, his glasses are beginning to slip down his nose, he’s almost silently panting. when your eyes aren’t squeezed shut, you can see the blank, mean expression settled on tsukishima’s features; it wasn’t a softened version of his face like normal.

“feels s’good, tsukki!” you manage to stammer out, arms flailing to the pillow you rested your head on to hold.

“yeah?” followed by a grunt is the only reply, the only words tsukki has given you the entire interaction. he usually liked to tease you, or have more remarks when you babbled on about how good he felt. but no, not now. not when he could feel himself getting closer from the death grip your pussy has on him, not when he can feel himself about to knock you up. “look at me.”

your eyes shoot open, despite the signals from your body telling you to keep them closed, lose yourself in the pleasure. you wouldn’t dare to disobey your boyfriend, not like this. so, of course, you lock your eyes with his, his cock still bullying its way deeper into you. kei savors the scrunched up, dirty look on your face, that of one he hasn’t seen before.

were you enjoying this that much? even if you didn’t know his intentions, were you finding pleasure in the thought of getting pregnant now, by him?

“i’m gonna finish inside,” kei states, and it’s not a request, nor a demand. it’s a simple statement, something he is going to do. you’re able to notice the passion, the need in his voice. and you think, for just a moment, that you understand his intentions.

however, the rough pounding he’s giving you leaves no time for thought.

“mm—finish in me, tsukki,” you motivate him, trying your damnedest to maintain the eye contact with him, “m’gonna cum too!” your voice pitches higher, and kei’s sure whoever’s trying to sleep on the other side of the wall probably hates him right now. but he doesn’t really care, no. he’s determined.

“yeah? close, hmm?” tsukishima teases, finally, in between heavy pants. you nod your head pathetically, not even asking for permission as you clench around him again and cum all over his cock. he’s learned you so well, he can tell when you cum, and he only speeds up the pace of his thrusting to fuck you through it.

at the sound of your pretty noises, kei loses himself, letting the feeling inside snap. thick, white ropes of his cum fly out and stick to your insides, you can feel the extra warmth from it all—it’s hotter than your insides, somehow. even as his pace slows, the thrusts remain just as hard; fucking into you all the way, he’s overstimulating the both of you. all for his greedy, reckless desires.

something had gotten into kei tsukishima, and he knew what it was now. it was all an insatiable, needy scratch inside his brain, only to be helped when in a few weeks, you take that plastic test in the bathroom of his dorm, and those two pink lines show up. he’d only be helped then.

[tender-rosiey]

“ETERNITY IS IN YOUR EYES LIKE YOU’RE IN MY HEART”

— the moment when gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji knew they wanted to spend their entire life with you

a/n: I will upload a bsd version of this soon! <3

GOJO SATORU: when you held him after suguru’s death while pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. vulnerability was something gojo despised, but the way it was so easy, so comforting to show it in front of you held his heart in a special type of way. you always know how he feels and you somehow always say the right thing. even if you don’t say something, your presence alone grounds him.

he feels exposed around you and it doesn’t scare him. instead, he finds himself getting lost in your embrace, his safe place, time after time. he yearns for it and he knows and accepts that his heart belonged to you from the start and till the end of time. so when he does get released out of the realm, he doesn’t notice nor question that he teleported right between your arms.

GETO SUGURU: when he found you cuddling mimiko and nanako. the three of you were fast asleep, but there is no mistaking the protective hold you have on the girls, even when you’re asleep. no wonder they look so content and safe like nothing can touch them in your arms. he still remembers how you didn’t hesitate in welcoming them to the family and as time went by, you were their joy and someone they adored, not more than he does though.

he can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face as he chuckles helplessly. he walks towards you and covers you and the girls with the blanket, but not without pressing a loving kiss to your forehead with a gentle whisper of an “I love you” and caressing your ring finger. he has to know the size after all.

NANAMI KENTO: when he came back home and found you trying to bake something for him as a surprise. you’re moving around the kitchen with such determination and concentration that you don’t notice him. so he is left to admire how you work, your delicate hands, your small smile as you think of how it will turn out, and your endearing reactions to certain things like the batter getting on your nose.

he also finds himself admiring every single part of you—till this day he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. it also brings into light just how much you work and that fact that you do it with love does it for him. it doesn’t feel forced; it’s genuine and full of tenderness. so he decides with a smile that your finger has been bare for far too long.

RYOMEN SUKUNA: when you stood up for him against the people who cursed him out even when they had every right to. he is no good man nor does he need someone—anyone—to defend him. but he didn’t feel as irritated as he thought he would. instead, he felt prideful but confused. why? he asks you later and you tell him that it just happened; you didn’t think twice before responding to them. 'it just happened' he repeats in his head.

he is a terrible guy, rough and cruel. he is someone who lives solely for his own desires and self so he is surprised when he finds his head on your lap that day and his hand is holding onto your own, not to keep you from running but to ground himself. it’s pathetic, he thinks, when he realizes that he can’t live without you anymore.

FUSHIGURO TOJI: when he was going to get a glass of water, but your sleepy form held onto him with a soft plea of ‘don’t leave’. even though the action is so simple, it tugged at his heart strings and he realized just how much of a hold you have on him. almost instantly, he got back to bed and pulled you close into his chest.

he murmured, “never leaving you, doll; that’s the last thing you gotta worry ‘bout.” he always denied having a soft spot for you, but the fact that you want him and need him as much as he does for you affected him more than any other. he thinks that being wrapped around your pretty little finger isn’t something bad like he initially thought so he is okay paying quite the sum on the ring so he can see your smile.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will send my cat after you

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

[threepandas]

Bad End: For Us

My sister is the only one who actually knows me. Who looks at me and... and actually SEES me, for who I am. It's because she suffers too, I think. Is beautiful. In that way that drives men too distraction. Poets too the page, artists too a medium. They look at her like she is art, magnificence and beauty given form.

Not a person.

Living, breathing, with thoughts and feelings of her own.

She is... is just BEAUTY to them. Delicate features and graceful limbs. Refined and splendid. A lovely voice reducing all her brilliant thoughts to mere sound. Who cares? How clever and educated, how wise or dignified, she may be? She is decoration. A pretty thing to look at. A prize to be held and won.

And... and I am a cute little pet.

Eternally the toddler, to be pampered and dressed in bows. Girlish things, no matter how old I grow. Handled instead of spoken too. Because somehow I am a child. Fuckable, yet... a child. Cute, innocent, naive. Not because I AM, but because they SAY so. Because it matches their fantasy of me.

I fear what will happen if I dare break that fantasy, with how much they control my life.

My Sister, alone, is the one who SEES me.

And people try to convince me she is... what? Jealous? Bitter? Because I am somehow "stealing" the lecherous eyes of her unfaithful man? I don't want them. I don't want ANY of them. Reborn, somehow, as a Protagonist in some game amongst countless, I can predict the plot points as they come. Read the troupes.

Bah. I am no spunky little bright eyed thing.

As I lay, draped over my sister's splendid skirts, in her private writing room, she quietly sips her tea and writes return missives. Strokes my hair as I hide, curled up like a child against her legs. If the ridiculous outfit I was shoved in would allow it? I would cram myself under her desk. Hide there instead.

As it is? I sit like some sulking maiden, an exhausted pet, seeking comfort in the only refuge I HAVE.

They will not leave me ALONE.

The Knight. Some brash, meat headed, "I'll take care of you" type, crashing into every quiet moment I try to have. Loud and presumptuous. Disdainful of my academic interests.

The Playboy. All too forward "romantic" gestures and ignoring obvious discomfort. More wrapped up in HIS feelings then considering, for even a moment, my own. Selfish and dramatic.

The Duke. Cliché and terrible. "Kind" to no one but me. Endless expensive gifts, pressuring grand displays, and eyes that linger possessively. Violence at the drop of a hat.

But oh, let us not forget the ASSASSIN! Yes, the LEADER of the ASSASSIN'S Guild! That somehow, someway, decided I was a prize worth possessing. A cutesy little "interesting" doll. That? Gods only knows, what will happen when he grows bored.

Lingering and haunting me. Crawling through windows. Standing too close, to touch my hair and drop cryptic bits of information that always hint at terrible things. Having to watch my words so SO carefully. Lest someone end up DEAD.

And let's not forget the WORST offender! The most clingy of them ALL!

My sister's FIANCÉ.

The Crown PRINCE! Yes, not some average noble, but a ROYAL!! And the man can't CONTROL himself! But does anyone else care? Noooooo! It's ROMANTIC. True loooove~! Aren't we CUTE together? Surely my Sister, his FIANCÉE, is just JEALOUS. How VILE. Disgusting, they scoff!

I should start throwing chairs.

This house is a nightmare.

I curl closer to my sister. Releasing her skirts to slip an arm around her waist. Hugging her, pressing my face close. She puts her cup down with a soft clink. A second hand joining the first to stroke my head. Cup my cheeks.

"My Dearest, you can not hide against my skirts indefinitely. As much as I would love to let you." She says, voice soft and cool like swirling mist, tilting my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "You DO need to eat eventually, as do I. Unfortunately, I can not keep you here forever. Come, help me plan the wedding. We can look at cake styles."

I'd rather be planning a funeral.

"Not until I get a son out of him, I'm afraid."

Wut.

I blink, not sure I heard that right. Look up at my softly smile sister. No. No, I probably didn't. Wishful thinking maybe? Or I've just been around Stabby too much. I scramble to my feet. Fighting my own girlish abomination of a skirt. I hate it. It's cutesy to the point of mocking. I'm in my TWENTIES for God's sake! Not EARLY twenties either!

Why do I have a BOW ON MY ASS?!

Because I am the Protagonist. Baby faced and Pwecious~☆. Fucking INFANTALIZED. I could BITE.

I sigh, take the arm my sister offers me, and tuck myself into her side. Rest my head upon her shoulder. It's a little uncomfortable, with all the jewelry she must wear. But damn it! I want my cuddles!

I bask, as we walk, in the comfort it brings.

She's strong and graceful. Smells like a delicate spring morning, all rare flowers and new growth. A hint of expensive spice. I LOVE being the little sibling. When it's HER that's treating me so. Because she makes it precious. Comfortable. Like we could spend our lives, together like this. The best of friends.

Happy.

If only people would... you know... stop trying to FUCK me. I prefer my hobbies. For God's sake, I'm RICH and a second child. I HAVE basicly no responsibilities except "don't embarrass the family". Or that WOULD be the case? If our parents weren't so intent on... "pushy dating advice".

"Would you like some lovely news, Dearest?" Whispers my sister, as she sweeps us past some upset looking maids, towards the tea room. I nod. "I've made some wonderful headway with some... ambitious gentlemen, about your little cockroach problem. They are quite efficient. I'm likely to recommend them."

I stiffle a snort. Oh my god. My sister sent thugs after a few of the suitors? Holy shit! That's amazing! Is THAT why I haven't seen them around lately? They got scared?

We settle in our seats. Tea and snacks. The maid looks... nervous. Weird. My sister smiles kindly, somehow startling the poor thing, making her flinch. Oh dear. I try to smile reassuringly. No harm no foul, right? Yet the poor girl reacts like I've cast myself into a lion pit for her. Flees.

....I'm beginning to suspect someone is abusing our waitstaff.

It's probably that bastard lech of a fiance.

We need to keep him away from the maids. And me. Women in general honesty. If I had my say, he wouldn't be allowed near my SISTER either. But she insists, and- Oooh! This one's CUTE! Sis, Sis! LOOK at the little details on this one!

"Hmm? Oh that IS lovely! Do you like it? If so, we shall sample it at once. I want the day to be perfect for us, Dearest. You're my world after all. There's NOTHING I wouldn't give you. A shame though, that our parent's will likely be too sick to see me wed."

It really was. I had my differences with them, but... it was their DAUGHTER'S WEDDING you know? Whatever they had caught, during their endless string of parties, was ravaging their health. It seemed agonizing. Slow. Yet even in the midst of planning her WEDDING, all the gossip and backstabbing, my sister dutifully visited them. Brought them tea and kept them company.

I didn't know how she could bear it.

She was a better person then I, I guess.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

New Year, New Career

barbie dolls: boss!Regulus Black x gn! Secretary!reader

word: 7.2k

summary: office au, black brothers run a publishing company, youre regulus’ assisstant, idk they have simmering tewnsion, they are cool and i like them so yeah read it please cuz i had to so now you have to

warnings: modern ish I personally was thinking like 2000s romcom but idk what you feel, this was supposed to be short 😔, food and eating mentioned, slight mention that regulus used to skip meals so he could work more, slight mention of healthy relationship weight gain, mention that you're proud of regulus gaining a little weight, istg it's not a feeder thing I just thought it was cute cuz like his assistant makes such a big impact on his life that he-, one mention of breeding Sirius I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY, Remus likes Sirius, open ended ending, really dumb character moment to further the plot idk take it up w my manager, fun and joy ig

part two

You actually moderately enjoyed your job. Of course, it was real fucking boring, answering calls, reading emails, and setting up meetings weren’t exactly your favorite parts of life but it wasn’t terrible. You could’ve gone somewhere else, maybe do taxes or even become a writer yourself. Though you doubted anyone would pick up your books anyway. But would any other job have a boss as hot as your current one? You doubted it. 

Black Brothers Publishing was your top pick because you’d seen The Black Brothers on your walk to the meeting room where you were being interviewed. You knew you couldn’t find another job as entertaining as this one. Sirius Black was sipping on his mug, yammering to his brother while Regulus flipped through a folder. 

“I told them the tomato thing was weird, they didn’t listen of course, and now look where they are,” Sirius said, taking another sip of his coffee or tea, or whatever was in that mug. Regulus looked up, glaring at Sirius. 

“Bankrupt. I know Sirius…” Regulus glanced over in your direction as you passed by them, following after the interviewer. When your eyes connected you felt something tug you towards him. You could feel something switch in your head, making the lights warmer and colors brighter. Metaphorically of course. You stopped in your tracks, tilting your head at him. Regulus’ head turned in the same direction as yours, eyes squinted like he was studying you. Sirius's hand flew in front of Regulus’ face, snapping. You were pulled from the connection, looking back at the interviewer. She was already three feet ahead of you. You chased after her, trying to put the interaction behind you entirely.   

Were you expecting to get the job after that interaction, Absolutely not. But did you receive a call in two days, saying you got the job and started training Monday, yes you did. You’ve had a feeling Regulus called in a few favors since day one but you’re not complaining. You were hired full-time after a week of training under the previous assistant. According to him, Regulus was a fine boss. He was orderly, everything needed to be perfect and he needed time slots added to his schedule for cooling down time when he stared out the window with a dead look on his face. You didn’t question anything, nodding along. 

You settled in quickly. Once you got the basics you knew how Regulus worked. He pulled you along with him to work parties to keep track of who he was speaking to, how many appointments he promised to people, and most importantly, the time he could fucking leave. You picked up his lunch order oftentimes from a small sandwich shop a short walk away.

 When you slipped into his office with the branded bag, he was usually on his phone. You set out his food and drink, tossing the bag into his small trashcan nearby. Regulus turned around. He held up his hand so you would wait. He leaned his head to the side, pressing the phone to his shoulder. Regulus reached forward, picking up one of the wrapped sandwiches. He stuck it out to you. You raised a brow, wondering to who you were supposed to deliver the sandwich.

Regulus pointed at you, pulling that hand away to cover the bottom of his phone. He whispered that it was for you. You paused, smiling at him with a suspicious look.

Strange.

You took it from his desk, taking a step backward. Regulus gave you a small smile, turning back to his phone with disdain. You held the sandwich close to you as you began walking back to your station outside his office.

It happened every time he ordered food outside the office. He’d pop his head out the door to ask what you wanted. You weren’t embarrassed by it at all. If anything you were joyous. Sometimes you’d feel bad he was paying for all your lunches and he’d always reply that the effort you put into your work was more than enough payback. 

Regulus even dragged you along to meetings you were sure he didn’t need you for. You knew this because Sirius never brought his assistant. Sometimes even the people they were meeting with asked about it.

You were walking through the lobby, following after Regulus and Sirius. A few steps behind because unfortunately you did get very briefly distracted by a very nice flower plant in one of the large pots. 

“Mr. Black, I do fear I’m not properly prepared for this. I’ve only been with the company, much less working for you, for a few months. I still can't figure out where people are finding the extra copy paper. If there isn’t any paper in the printer, I go upstairs to the part of the office I have no business being in so I can copy paperwork. I don’t even understand why you need me he-“ You stepped over the elevator gap, silently hoping you didn’t drop anything. Regulus and Sirius turned around in sync, making your eyebrows furrow. You stepped around Regulus, standing behind him. Regulus hummed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Which is why I brought you. You go out of your way to make sure my company-“ 

“Our company.” Sirius jutted in, tilting his head back to give you a grin. 

“-Runs smoothly. You would rather go to an entirely different floor than waste time trying to find the extra copy paper. Which by the way is in the cabinets in the printer room. You’re quite smart. I’d like you to just sit in, and take notes if you want to. I don’t particularly care. I just want you to see this part. I think it’s important. We’re a team. You support me, I support you. I support our company, our company supports us.” Regulus said, allowing Sirius to press the button on the elevator wall.  

Sirius and Regulus were usually in suits though today it made you extra weary. At around 10 a.m. every day, Regulus slipped his suit jacket off, and around noon, Regulus rolled his sleeves up. Around three he loosened his tie. Currently, it was 1 p.m. and he was still wearing his jacket. It was unusual to find him this dressed at this time of day. Much less that he made you stand outside the restroom with Sirius as he fixed his hair. Now his curls were perfectly placed instead of finger combed and messy. You completely understood why assistants slept with their bosses. 

Furthermore, you understood why the Black family lineage was as strong as it was because holy shit you didn’t realize your other boss could look like that. Sirius was rarely dressed professionally. He often came to work looking more like a lost, though stylish, delivery driver than the head of a very wealthy company. Now in a suit and his hair precisely braided down his back, you’d casually breed him. You almost missed the beat-up leather jacket and messy curls piled up at the top of his head. At least then you had self-control. You completely understood why his assistant stared at him with those big wide brown eyes now.

”And my name is Regulus, not Mr. Black.” Regulus tilted his head back, glancing down at your lips chin for a moment before pulling his eyes back to yours. When he turned back around, you quickly wiped at your chin, hoping you rubbed away whatever he was looking at. Sirius looked over Regulus’ shoulder at you. He gave you a soft smile, pulling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. You followed his silent directions, squaring your shoulders and lifting your chin. 

You held it high as you followed the two of them to the meeting room, and when you sat down next to Regulus. You tried to keep it high as all the important company people glanced at you uncomfortably. Regulus and Sirius all shook hands as they were greeted with their names. Mr. Black this, Mr. Black that. Eventually one of them finally mentioned it, asking who you were. Regulus of course said you were his assistant. They, of course, asked why you were there. It was a meeting on their work together as two companies not much of a learning opportunity. You felt yourself shirk. No matter how much you wanted to act like you belonged you knew you didn't. Regulus furrowed his eyebrows, leaning forward on the table. 

“Personally I would watch my mouth when a contract that could only help your company is in the air and undecided. That might just be a personal habit.” Regulus said, staring blankly at them. Sirius glanced over at you, and then Regulus. He hummed, looking back to the other company head. 

“I suggest you start picking up after him,” Sirius said, sitting back to pull his braid over his shoulder. Regulus waited for them to respond. A muttered sorry before they moved on, clearing their throats. Regulus looked at you. You stared at him, silently questioning if you could leave yet. You didn’t want to be taken to one of these meetings ever again. Regulus’ hand moved from the table, pressing two fingers under your chin. He tilted your head up, before looking back to the actual meeting. 

Maybe the behavior between you two wasn’t regular boss-employee behavior, but it was Regulus boss-employee behavior. It worked for you two and the publishing company hadn’t fallen yet. 

You kept your eyes on your computer as you typed out another paragraph. You had flown through all the tasks Regulus asked of you. Then you finished 10 levels of solitaire. Not necessarily won, just finished. You got so bored you decided to entertain your new side project. You were writing a book. If you could even classify it as a book. It wasn’t much and you didn’t plan to take it anywhere you just wanted to get the story out onto paper. Or a digital document in this case. 

Your mind and fingers flew together as you pumped out words. You were pulled away from the world when a hand flashed in front of you. You looked up, pausing your typing to stare at Siruis’ assistant, Remus Lupin. He gave you a small smile, a stack of files in his arms. You’d talked a few times, at work parties and lunch breaks. You worked similar jobs for similar people so of course it was easy to become causal friends. What’s worse is you both had similar feelings for your respective bosses. You smiled brightly at him, turning your chair slightly away from your computer. 

“Hey, Remus.” He smiled back, lifting two of his fingers from the bottom of his file stack as a wave. 

“Sirius wants me to give these to Regulus. I think you can do that?” He stuck the files out towards you. You smiled and nodded. You stood from your chair, taking the stack from Remus. Remus sighed. 

“He’s working me to the bone today, I’ve had to go to the coffee shop twice today so I think he’s stressed out. Maybe even pulled an all-nighter.” Remus said, pressing his hands to his hips. You hummed sympathetically. 

“Sometimes when Regulus gets like that I go out and get him a chocolate croissant and a mint tea. Then I take all his calls for an hour or so, he gets some quiet time.” You offered. Remus glanced up at the ceiling, plotting. He let out a breath through his nose, nodding. He reached over onto your desk, scribbling down on a Black Brother’s Publishing branded memo pad. He ripped the page off, folding it and shoving it into his pocket. 

“Thank you, I’ll let you know if it works,” Remus said before quickly walking off towards Sirius’ office. You moved away from your desk knocking on Regulus’ door. He called you in. You pushed the door open, heading straight to his desk. He looked up from his computer, giving you a small smile. Regulus pulled his hands away from his keyboard, giving you all his attention. You dropped the stack of files onto his desk. 

“These are from Sirius.” Regulus frowned and stared at the stack. He thumbed through a few of the pages before looking over to the clock. Regulus smiled up at you. 

“Luckily it’s our lunch break. This, I can worry about in 50 minutes.” Regulus said, standing up. You hummed, feeling your lips tip up. It didn’t take much from him to make you smile. He snatched his phone off his desk, unlocking it. 

“Sandwiches?” He asked, looking away from the screen to you. You held your hands behind your back, humming thankfully at Regulus. 

“I’d love that.” Regulus started dialing before pressing his phone to his ear. You spun around. ”I’ll go make you some tea.” You muttered before heading off to the break room. 

You didn’t mind getting Regulus snacks and drinks during the day. He always let you go home an hour early, though you mostly ended up staying anyway. He was hot too so getting to make him smile and well-fed made you quite happy. When you first started Remus told you Regulus’ last assistant told him that Regulus rarely ever ate because he’d so wrapped in his work. It was easy for you to fix that. You set a simple snack routine, coming in his office every few hours to drop off a snack and linger your hand on his shoulder, while you stared at what he was working on. He always seemed convinced by your touch and presence, dropping his pen to scoop up his snack. You’d hate to gloat but he’s already complained about how his clothes are a little snug now. Healthy weight gain, you’re really making good progress with this assiant thing. 

You carried Regulus’ tea and your drink that you took from the vending machine back towards his office. You paused when you saw him on the phone, standing behind your desk, and staring at your computer. You picked up your pace, keeping an eye on Regulus’ tea so it didn’t spill. You joined him at his side, setting down your drink and his tea. You stared over his shoulder as he slowly scrolled down the pages of your side project. You held onto his arm, trying to pull him away from the computer. Regulus looked up, glancing at you before looking back at the screen. 

“No. No mustard…Yes, thank you. The name will be Regulus. Yes, I know it is a little unique. Right, thank you.” Regulus muttered into the speaker of his phone. You tugged on his arm again, silently begging for him to look anywhere else. Regulus hung up his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He turned to you, pointing at the screen. 

“When did this manuscript come in? Why haven’t I seen this yet?” Regulus asked, glancing back at the screen. You shook your head, reaching around him to click a key on your keyboard, turning your screen off. You mentally kick yourself for not doing that before you left your desk. Regulus frowned at you. 

“It’s not a manuscript, Regulus.” You said. You pulled up Regulus’ tea, handing it to him. Regulus gently took the cup from your hands, humming and glancing back at the screen like he could see it again. 

“Well where’d you get it, it’s really good?” Regulus said, taking a sip from his tea. You looked away from him, deciding to reorganize a stack of papers. You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was okay at best, much less you didn’t get it from anywhere other than your own brain. You decided to stay silent and completely ignore your boss. Regulus leaned forward into your view, raising an eyebrow. You huffed and glared at Regulus. Regulus dropped his shoulders, staring at you with a knowing look. 

“Well?” Regulus urged, taking another sip from his tea. 

“I didn’t get it from anywhere. I wrote it.” You muttered. You hoped he didn’t hear you and wouldn’t bother asking again. Regulus sucked in a soft breath, setting his tea back down on your desk. 

“You wrote it? Wow, why didn’t you tell me you wrote so well? Much less that you were writing a book. Can I see more of it?” Regulus said, clacking at your keyboard to wake your screen. You glared at him more as he leaned down to try to decipher your password. 

“What’s your password?” Regulus asked. You shook your head, swatting his hands away. You lightly pushed him away and stood between Regulus and your computer. 

“I didn’t tell you because it’s just a side project, it’s nothing astronomical or anything. Furthermore, If I will even will finish it. Even if I did give it to you, you’d probably publish it just because you know me and then I’m a product of nepotism or something.” You said, caging your computer behind your back with your arms.

Regulus frowned at you. His shoulders sank. He moved forward gently settling his hand on your side. You stared into his eyes, getting swept away in his curls resting on his forehead. You waited for him to move forward and even brush his lips against yours. He slowly moved you to the side, tugging you just a smidge closer. You felt your chest squeeze, itching to feel his lips on you already. You wouldn’t mind if he pulled you into his office now. You know how to close the fancy curtains on the window wall. Regulus pulled away, leaning down towards your now-open computer. 

“Is your password ‘password’?” Regulus asked, typing out his attempt on your password. You paused, letting the moment wash over you. You tried to let the very inappropriate experience and thoughts slip away, but he was still so close to you. 

“Maybe it’s your birthday,” Regulus muttered, typing on your keyboard again. You finally felt your mind and body rejoin, pulling yourself away from your thoughts. You pushed Regulus away from your computer, typing in your password. He smiled at you, gently rubbing your shoulder in thanks. You stepped away, giving Regulus free rein on your book. He reached back, stealing your chair. He scooted up to the computer, settling in with his tea to read through it. You rolled your eyes and gathered your things to go get the order from the sand shop. 

Maybe Regulus was a bit strange. Maybe you kind of enjoyed that strange part of him. Maybe he really did like your writing, or maybe he just really liked you. As his assistant or otherwise, you weren’t fully sure yet. Either way, he complimented your work all throughout your shared lunch. You let him talk your ear off, busing yourself with your rather good sandwich. Regulus continued to smother you in compliments as he followed you back to your desk with his half-eaten sandwich. 

“I’ll have to send it to Sirius. Email it to me, would you?” Regulus said before chomping into his sandwich. You ignored him, continuing your game of solitaire. 

”Please?” Regulus said. You looked away from your screen, finding Regulus widening his eyes and sticking out his bottom lip. You sat for a moment, pretending you knew how to hold yourself together when he looked like that. You sighed through your nose, turning back to your computer. Regulus didn’t need to see you open your email, he already knew he won. 

“Thank you.” He muttered. You sent Regulus the email before pulling up Remus’ email. You silently typed up a small rant to Remus as Regulus continued his speech to you, taking a few breaks to chew. 

Dear Remus, 

I hope this email finds you well, I fear I may have made a large mistake. Regulus has found my side project. He will not let me rest. He has been talking to me about it for the past hour. I find it frustrating. Regulus won’t even allow me to work, he is leaning against my desk as I type this. He has forced me to send him my writing so he can send it to Sirius. I apologize that I have now passed on this issue to you as well. This is spreading like a bad flu. Remus, I do hope you find me a lovely coffin. I would prefer that I am buried in my best rather than my work attire. I fear Regulus might follow me home to continue to tell me about how much he loves the book I haven’t finished. He has begun-

“What are you typing?” Regulus asked through his mouthful. You paused, looking over to Regulus. 

“Small email to Remus about the work I finished, he needed me to type something out to him.” You said, giving Regulus a small grin. Regulus nodded. 

“Right, as I was saying, I really like when-” 

He has begun explaining the plot points I have written to me. Remus, please find me help, I’m not sure I can continue to live like this. Remus, I find that I prefer being trapped in small talk than this. 

Warm regards, your coworker

You sent the email, pulling back open your solitaire. You continued to pull the cards around as Regulus continued to not shut up. You threw in a few hums every now and then to pretend you were listening. Your computer let out a quiet ring as you received a new email. You pulled it open quickly. 

Favorite coworker, 

sounds like a skill issue

Warmest regards, Remus Lupin 

You let out a sigh, closing out your email to look back at Regulus. He gave you a small smile, continuing to talk about your story. He seemed to have gotten through another three bites. Progress is progress you suppose.  

part two

[leahsflwer]

LOTR pref - Y/N being drunk and flirting with them 🫣🤪

Warnings: Not much Really.. fluff mixed with very light smut :)

LOTR characters x Reader 🌸

Aragorn -

At first he was laughing at you when you started drinking and just let you do you, but when you came over to him and started outlining his jawline he became panicked. As much as he wanted it he wouldn’t try anything while you’re drunk. So off to bed for you, don’t bother trying to say anything else because it will be a simple

“No. You’re drunk doll. Now sleep.”

Legolas -

He felt his fingers begin to tingle from the alcohol he was not used to. Only elvish alcohol was what he could take. But he was still slightly there to notice how drunk you got. You were a runaway elf, so you were used to running to different places and drinking different alcohols none like him. But he became instantly flustered when you sat on his lap and started playing with his hair. He just admired you with a smile and you both eventually passed out.

Boromir -

You never thought of him in a dirty way until that alcohol hit your system. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it bothered you. But you couldn’t deny how good he looked and it helped you realised that you actually liked him. Making you confident enough to straddle his lap and kiss him. He would be shocked but quickly grin and melt into the kiss. Gradually pulling back and looking into your eyes.

“I’d kiss you again if you weren’t drunk love.”

Faramir -

You had your little pouch of goodies which secretly included little bottle of alcohol. Which due to the terrible state you were in with the war soon to be, you drank it. Faramir noticed you drinking and sat beside you, taking it a having the last amount for himself. But he wasn’t expecting you to grab his chin and make him look at you. You complimented his eyes and he got flustered but just laughed and thanked you for the drink.

“Now we should sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us darling.”

Merry -

He was dancing like a maniac with Pippin and only stopped when he was exhausted, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes as he laughed, trying to bring himself back together. Only to feel hands cupping his cheeks. He got shy when he saw you looking at him. You wanted a kiss and your eyes said it all but Merry knew it was was odd. But he was drunk as well so he also had a side that wanted to.

“Be careful Angel. I might have to ignore my mature thoughts and kiss you if you keep staring at me like that” he chuckles.

Frodo -

He was immediately flustered and confused when you gave him a back hug. Your lips placed a warm, yet soft kiss on his neck. It sent shivers throughout his body. You were only slight taller than him, but he liked that. Turning his head to look at you just shyly smiling, trying to laugh it off like he was all good and not panicking inside.

“H-Hey! It’s a fun.. ah.. party?” Shy king

Pippin -

Pippin already noticed how drunk you got and saw you checking him out as he danced. So right at the end he made the move by pulling you onto the table and kissing you. Merry laughing and everyone else clapping. You were drunk and were the one however to try and continue the kiss after you both got off the table. You grabbed his hand and took him to a private area, but Pippin didn’t care he kissed you until Aragorn showed up and asked you to the get a room. Cringing and ruining the moment making you both laugh.

Sam -

He was so sweet and kind. Not knowing how to feel when you started being all affectionate. He enjoyed it but was confused by it coming from you who was usually stubborn and nothing like that. He just panicked and talked about the first thing that came to his mind. Blushing anytime you got closer to him.

“Ah.. potatoes.. are- what are you! Potatoes I said.. they’re delicious, yes?”

Arwen -

She was just having fun with the group and smiled as you laid your head on her lap, playing with the lace on her dress. She loved how soft you looked in your drunk state. When you gently tugged on her dress and pulled her down to your level, she blushed and was fine until she noticed her father in the area and she shyly backed away and sat back up, shyly giggling.

Lindir -

You were a dwarf-human and he was not expecting you to actually enjoy elvish wine so much. But you did and he just admired you, leaning on the table and laughing at you as he swirled his wine around in his glass. Blushing when he felt your hand on his thigh under the table. Elrond was across the table from him and he would be in a whole lot of trouble if he got caught. He placed his hand on yours to try and stop you from moving at all. He definitely had a red face and was asked if he was alright by other elves.

“Yes. I’m quite alright Lord Elrond.”

[artemisrogers]

Pain Jason Newsted x reader (body insecurity)

I adjusted my shirt for the last time hoping I could hide the small pudge I had from Jason. I pulled my skirt over my tummy as well to help flatten it. That's one thing I was embarrassed to tell Jason about, me being insecure about my looks and body. I attempted to put my hair into a braid but gave up brushing it out again. I jumped not realizing Jason was there until he pressed his lips against my bare shoulder.

"Baby you ok? You've been up here for 15 minutes."

"I'm ok Jas, just something on my mind is all." I tried to lie but of course he read right through it.

I was a terrible liar because I'm always honest. Jason tilted my head up to look at him. I looked at him through my eyelashes feeling a jolt of insecurity shoot through me as I pulled my shirt down when it rode up a little bit. Jason caught me doing this and moved my hands away.

"I think I know what's going on. Your shy about something?"

"I... have insecurities. I hate that I'm a little bit fat and how I looked like a rat. There I said it." I said blushing in embarrassment. Jason softly laughed that adorable laugh he had as he kissed me.

"So? I think you're beautiful just the way you are doll."

"Yeah but you are always gawking at those pretty girls who see you backstage."

"That's cause they're delusional. I don't find girls who look like plastic. I like girls like you. Pretty, kind, sweet, I could list all the things I love about you Y/N." Jason said as he sat me down on our bed we shared and traced my stomach.

I tried to lean back but he leaned with me. I knew he was being honest with me but it still felt shameful. As if he read my mind he pinned my hands above my head as he nipped my body over my shirt. I felt lust shoot through me. My insecurities slowly went away as I wrapped my arms around Jason's waist feeling his abs tighten.

"There you go doll, let me take care of you. I want to explore this beautiful body and take my time with you tonight."

I softly smiled feeling better about myself when he lifted my shirt up leaving a dark hickey on my stomach. I was lucky to find someone so caring and understanding like him. He knew how to keep me grounded and feel safe. I mean everyone thought I'd be dating someone like James or Dave but I proved them wrong. I have loved Jason since we were kids. I softly moaned when he squeezed my small breasts and I knew this was gonna be a long night for us.

[tkdb-hell]

My one week break has turned into a two week one. A lovely friend of mine has encouraged me to do so to prevent what would probably be my inevitable burn out.

Sorry for the dry desert that is my long form AO3 content right now.

I still Love writing though, so I've done a little thing as a treat to myself. I've been having fun figuring out who exactly my OC, Zero is as a person and a ghoul. Here's a writing exercise I did with him while on a work call that just Would Not End.

Featuring @silly-string-guitar and @coastalwatch

OC CONTENT! If you're not interested in that, just skip this post ♡

Lightning

Does lightning strike twice?

Zero wasn’t sure. That question had been rattling around his head ever since Vagastrom’s finest, Seiya, sent him a message that was particularly suggestive. The kind of message that made Zero’s heart race and his mind wander into places he probably shouldn’t let it.

They’d been flirting off and on for a while now—mostly online, where it felt safer. It was the kind of banter that danced on the edge of plausibly deniable. Innuendos wrapped in casual phrasing, innocuous comments that carried implications so heavy you’d have to be blind to miss them. And every time, Zero would grin at his screen like an idiot before firing back his own quip, praying he didn’t come off too eager.

It was exciting. Fun, even. One of the few things that made life at Darkwick bearable lately. Right up there with his unlikely friendship with Jo Waker from Frostheim.

Jo Waker. A firecracker in a house of ice, that one.

She wasn’t just his friend; she was his champion, his co-conspirator, and the one person at Darkwick who seemed to genuinely get him. It had been Jo who’d called him out—blunt as ever—for being too much of a coward to say what he wanted to Seiya. She hadn’t just encouraged him; she’d practically shoved the two of them together like a kid forcing mismatched Ken dolls to hold hands. And, against all odds, it had worked.

Seiya seemed to like him. At least a little. Maybe not in the deep, mushy, heart-on-sleeve way Zero found himself leaning toward in quiet moments. But the flirting, the smiles, the way Seiya’s voice softened when they spoke—it felt like something. Something real.

But Zero knew better than to get carried away.

He’d been here before. He’d had a good thing once with a guy from Frostheim—a talented gambler who didn’t mind letting Zero sneak into the common room to play the piano, even after hours. It had been sweet while it lasted. Until it wasn’t.

Every time, without fail, Zero’s Stigma had been the wrench in the gears. Probability manipulation sounded cool on paper, but in practice, it was a recipe for chaos. A frustrating date that went completely off the rails. An argument sparked by a stray thought he hadn’t meant to say out loud. A perfectly good moment turned into a disaster by an unseen chain reaction he couldn’t control.

So here he was, lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of his dorm room. The distant din of the Sinostra casino drifted up through the walls, a familiar hum he’d long since learned to tune out. It settled into his ears like prescriptive tinnitus, a constant reminder of where he was and why he was there.

Could he keep it together long enough to be someone Seiya might actually want? Could he hold his tongue, manage his impulses, and keep his damn Stigma in check?

Or would the terrible dance of chaos and misfortune play again, ruining one of the best things he’d had in years?

Does lightning strike twice?

Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. And Zero found himself hoping—really hoping—that it wouldn’t.

[beerecordings]

Graceling AU: as Jameson approaches his thirteenth birthday, Anti spirals dangerously.

This turned out long. I would open it in another tab if I were you. Warnings for alcohol use, some gore, and references to depression, suicidal ideation, and past sexual abuse.

Graceling AU is not the most popular AU but it will always have a grip on me!! Let me know if you enjoy.

.

He dreads the fall, welcomes winter.

When the leaves start to turn in that year, he feels a coldness go down the line of him, like something petting its fingers along the inside of his body. Anti pulls his hood lower over his eyes.

Autumn's been difficult for a while. There was what happened with his uncle. There was what happened with the guildsmaster. There was what happened with his white-eyed Monster, so powerful a pain it used to debilitate him throughout most of September. Groaning for the first person who ever loved him in his whole life to come back, just so he could tell him again he was sorry he failed him.

And then, of course, there was Jameson.

He's so glad his little brother came into the world, make no mistake. But every October, something terrible happens: Jameson gets a little closer to being a man.

Anti sucks in a breath of air, growing crisper by the minute, and he steels himself square up against it: says a “fuck you” to his own petty need to keep him small, to contain his favorite human alive into someone who will always love him perfectly (safely). JJ is not his doll anymore and he knows that that truth is important. It was simpler when he was, in a way, before Anti admitted to the both of them that he loved him completely. When he was a puppet for Anti's revenge, he wouldn't have cared so much if JJ was now tall enough to climb onto White Bird without help.

The thought nearly leaves him breathless, which is stupid. So stupid, the way his stomach turns over, like it will erupt its acid all the way up his throat and come up in a mess of bile.

He has to set his own stupid, selfish desire aside, like he always does, and have a calm, happy birthday for the most important person in the world.

Thirteen. Thirteen. Thirteen.

Somehow, he thinks it's going to be a little harder this year.

.

“Can't I have something other than knives for my birthday this year?” the love of his life asks him, tilting his head at him, smiling just enough that it could be a joke.

Anti blinks at him, straightening up to look at him from across their dining table. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know you were at the blacksmith's. Are you getting me more weapons?”

The teasing feels strange. Of course he is. Why would he not be?

“JJ, you need to be able to protect yourself.”

The humor falls off his little brother's face and JJ looks away from him. Did he just roll his eyes? Hell, he really is getting to be a teenager.

The thought is even less funny than the teasing.

“You're just little,” Anti says. “You need – ”

“I'm not that little!” JJ's hands clap together with the words. Anti scoffs, stepping back from him, shaking his head. “Anti, look at me.”

“I'm looking! Fuck's sake, what?”

“I'm not little, I'm going to be thirteen! And I know how to protect myself. It's all you've ever taught me. I don't want any more knives or bows or anything. Can't I have some normal presents this year?”

“You're still little,” says Anti, louder than he means to. “You're just small.”

JJ stares at him. The face of the person he loves most in the world is full of a sort of determination Anti's not used to. When did he become so sure that he wanted anything other than what Anti taught him to want?

“I'm just saying,” JJ begins.

“Yeah, Jameson,” Anti snaps. “I see what you're saying. I'm going to my rendezvous. Dinner will be up for you.”

If JJ replies, he makes it a point not to see it. It's not until he's saddling his mare that the conversation hits him in the chest. Anti sucks in a deep breath, covering his face with his hand for a moment, and White Bird pushes her neck against him.

As he rides away, he glances back at his keep, and sees his heart watching him go from the garden, sitting on a bench he used to have to be lifted up to sit on.

.

“Marry me,” Anja says.

Anti weighs her delivery carefully, adjusting his scale on the stone floor of the abandoned house where he meets her once every two months. He doesn't bother to look up at her. “I beg your unbelievable pardon.”

She laughs, throwing back that untamed dark hair. Wild little killer, she always has been. When she sharpened her canines into points, though, he didn't figure she was in the market for a husband.

“Why so shocked? Wouldn't we be a good match? We both have some land, both run a brutal market or two. I spend half the year out of the country, you wouldn't get sick of me.”

“You've never even seen my face,” Anti points out.

“As if I care. You can't be much uglier than me anymore.”

It's interesting to be propositioned by anyone not aware of what he looks like. Anja's seen his eyes and hands, but not too much else. He's masked and hooded now. Then again, maybe the curves of him are enough. There used to be people who could look at him beneath a cloak and still know, somehow. People always find out. Doesn't matter who they are. Eventually, everyone wants him.

There had been another Monster or two, of course, once upon a time. He remembers the feeling of sitting, surrounded by people, and knowing they wouldn't hurt him, or touch him, or gaze at him with that heaviness that suffocated him so many times. Shit, it was like another life. There had even been someone he thought he loved, before that. He would have married Dark, if he let him. Look how that turned out.

“The amount is correct,” Anja tells him.

Anti blinks, realizing he's still staring at his scale.

“Right,” he says, tucking it away. He gives her her payment. “It'll be a no on the marriage.”

“If it's about the kid, I can be sweet to kids,” Anja says. “Look, I brought him a present like I always do when I'm out of the country.”

Anti had informed several of his contacts that he had an heir. In some ways, it was a risk, but JJ would be his successor eventually. They would need to know. Anja was cleverer than most of the men he worked with: she knew the way to his heart was through Jameson. He turns to see her holding out a very fine carved horse, painted with blue reigns and a white saddle. He takes it tenderly. JJ's favorite.

“He'll be a man soon enough, anyway,” Anja adds. “He could handle it if you took a wife.”

As soon as the feeling of warmth came, it's gone completely. Anti's gaze darkens. He hands the horse back. “I won't be bribed into marrying you, Anja.”

“Oh, just take it for the boy, Anti. If you don't want to marry me, I don't care.”

“No. Maybe next time I'll bring it to him. But not the same day you asked me to marry you.”

She shrugs and laughs at nothing, slugging her pack back over her shoulder. “Offer stands, if you ever change your mind. If it's kids you're concerned with, I could give you a couple. Who cares? I like babies. You could do the rest from there. My hair, your eyes. Maybe we'd be a handsome couple after all.”

He rolls his eyes at her and leaves, leaping back onto White Bird, but the idea strikes him in a weird way, twisting uncomfortably in his stomach – but lighting something up, too. JJ was the cutest five-year-old. Anti missed the earliest years with him, and JJ suffered so much in his absence. What a blessing it would have been to have had him from the day he was born, so nothing ever hurt him.

Would things be different? Would Jameson not be acting the way he started acting months ago? Would he understand more or less?

Does he understand at all, now? There had been what happened with the beautiful blue Monster, the one who LOOKED at Anti. Maybe JJ never forgave him for that. Jameson's face after it happened...

Anti closes his eyes. He wishes he could shut out that image. And then everything else, too.

.

It's been bad lately. Hurts to admit. He was doing so good for a while. He was past all that shit. He was working too much to think, and spent the rest of his time with his Jameson. Everything was under control, under his control, the way things need to be. He was... he was safe, felt safe, felt... loved, even, in a way he never has before. He never went to bed without a hug from his little brother, like a hot water bottle pressed against his chest, and when he woke up, they would eat breakfast together, and JJ would lean against his side sometimes, and chew his food loudly to annoy him if they started to argue over anything at all. Anti felt good.

He doesn't know where the pain was able to slip back in, black smoke filling up cavities in his brain and liver. He doesn't know where the old thoughts found the roots to grow back up. Maybe it's his fault. He can't tell anymore.

It's been bad lately, though. Sometimes, when JJ hugs him before bed, Anti wonders if he hates the love of his life. He wonders what it would be like to leave him in this castle forever and never come home.

Thirteen, oh, fuck. Thirteen. He doesn't know why he's throwing up at midnight on a perfectly harmless night, but for the first time since JJ insisted on moving out of his room ten months ago, he's glad his baby brother isn't here to hear him.

It's bad again. Really bad. He doesn't know what to do.

.

The reach the end of September in a slide of heat-shimmering sunsets and hot cider served alongside their dinners. Anti lets Jameson go to the fall festival in the southern village every year, and though he has no energy for it, he knows he can't get out of bringing him. Protesting or complaining will only make JJ look at him in that borderline disgusted way he's been doing lately, like his big brother is such a burden to him. Anti laughs humorlessly, pulling his cloak around him.

“I could go on my own this year,” Jameson points out, stepping in front of him so he can see.

“Yeah, fucking right,” Anti flings back, and JJ all but scowls and ties up his little boots. Anti watches with some satisfaction. No matter what he says, he really is an under-sized kid. Anti swoops down and kisses the side of his head, surprising him.

“Come on, cheer up,” he tells them both, ruffling up JJ's hair. “We'll go get you something sugary and a new knucklebones set.”

He lets JJ run around the festival grounds while he watches from a good spot on the hill with some shade (shadows to hide in) from a groaning oak tree he knows well. He prefers to be set apart from others, for more reasons than one. Would be bad to be recognized as a Monster, of course, but it might be almost as bad to be recognized as an assassin with a business so poisonous he could be arrested for carrying a quarter of his daily merchandise. Luckily, if anyone ever does catch him or become too suspicious, it only takes some gentle Persuasion to disperse their doubts.

Still, when he sees Jameson squaring up with some huge man trying to tell him he's too young to sign up for the archery competition, Anti wishes he could be beside him. He starts laughing hard. They're not far down the hill and he can see the determination on Jameson's face.

The city folk... well, most of them know by now there's a kid with no voice who lives in the strange, private keep near the forest. Even Anti didn't feel it right to keep Jameson away from making friends, so he's let him interact with local children enough that now, it's not so unheard of for a little boy to be unable to speak. He doesn't like it, though. Any extra eyes on JJ are eyes that could identify him too, even if there's only a sliver of a chance.

Or decide that he's a vulnerable young boy. Pretty too. Small and harmless. If someone wanted to harm him, they could just – Anti hisses and strikes himself in the side of the head, trying to cut the thought off before it goes any further. No. He can see him. He knows where he is. And right now, he's sternly insisting, with nothing but gestures, that he plans to shoot in the competition.

They don't end up letting JJ do it – they're shooting bows too big for him anyway – but they do give in and let him take a little hunting bow and show off. A couple boys he hangs out with every now and then watch with disinterest – and then shock – and then delight, whooping and hollering, as Jameson sinks four arrows so close into his target they must chip each other's heads.

“Yeah, thatta boy,” chuckles Anti. “One thing I gave you worth having, I guess.”

He sure hasn't taught Jameson to be a good person. In truth, he has no idea where he got that from. Would it be better, if Jameson had the same sort of ferocity he had as a kid? If he didn't always smile so sweetly at every stranger he passed and swear to Anti that he would keep him safe with his first knife?

No. There's nothing that would ever be worth Jameson being the sort of scared and alone that turned Anti into the person he is.

Someone runs past him, a kid with soft green hair. Anti stares at him as he stumbles and falls to his knees, turning to look back at Anti with huge mismatched eyes, so bright they seem to shine with color. It's not fear there, though. Just the pure, feral need to survive. A cornered animal. Anti does not speak.

Absalom scrambles up and keeps running. He won't get away, though. There wasn't anywhere to go.

Anti realizes he's striking his head again. He clenches his hand into a fist and does it once more, to make the thought stop, to make his skull ring. In the grass below, Jamie is jumping around with his friends and laughing so brightly Anti feels the need to turn away.

Where was he when he was thirteen? No longer running. Staring numbly at the ceiling and waiting to die.

.

He knows that his client told him the target's name. Adam? Aaron? Anthony?

Something. Son of something, did something for work. Doesn't really matter now. They won't identify him by an introduction.

At this point, they might not identify him at all.

Anti cackles and brings his blade down again, letting it find soft liver and a fresh spray of hot sweet blood. He gets so bored, locked away in his tower. The trade keeps him busy most of the time, sure, but busy is different from this, this, this. Not sure how many times he's stabbed him. Something, something, something. He should have counted to thirteen just to make it poetic. A chunk of something wet and slimy flies into his eye and he flicks it out, sitting back for a second.

He finds himself panting, struggling to breathe through the wetness of his mask. He pulls it down his chin, sucking in autumn air and the copper dessert of his kill, hands tight around his knife.

A kid stares at him from his place at the head of the dead man. His knees are tucked under him, a streak of freckles cut across one side of his face, a flash of blood hiding the other side. In the darkness, his green hair looks dark, one strand falling tenderly into his brilliant eyes.

“Go on, then,” Anti pants, letting his knife thud against the earth beside the boy. “Have your turn at him.”

Absalom stares at him, eyes alight with some burden of intent Anti cannot recall without pulling a thousand memories up too, like blood beneath a thorn in his hand.

“The first time you do it, it will be such a relief,” Anti whispers. “The helplessness evaporates like water on the red-hot tool the blacksmith forges. You suck in a breath and your chest is clear. You stab him again.”

Anti pulls out a second blade and buries it in the stomach of the corpse. “And when you do, you feel better. What a shock to the system: the impossible truth that he will never, never touch you again.”

He throws his head back and laughs again, high and wild. Never, never, never again. Absalom doesn't move.

“Go on, then,” says Anti, louder now, howling. “You stupid runt. Have your go at him!”

Absalom's long white fingers touch the unfamiliar handle of the blade.

“For once in your fucking life, just fight!” Anti screams.

He's alone in the darkness. Even the moon has left him without a friend, and the spirit of the man beneath him is long gone from his cooling body.

“Absalom,” Anti hears himself whispering, gripping at his emerald hair. “How could they?”

Blood stains his arms and face.

.

Not doing well. Not doing well.

JJ will be thirteen in a week, and he can't know.

But he does.

He's hovering around his door all the time, bringing books in and asking him to read to him like he used to when Jameson was littler, before he decided he didn't need to lie on his shoulder and put his little arm around his stomach for a few warm moments every night.

Anti stops coming downstairs for dinner and has his food left outside his door so he can eat in his room. Writes his business partners and lackeys and reroutes distribution for a few weeks, pretending he's out at sea. There will be a cut in his profits, but money stopped mattering so long ago anyway. Why did he even bother to become so profitable? For the guildsmaster? He was less than trash to Dark. He's less than trash to everyone old enough to lust after him. Maybe it's just time to accept that he can't make himself worth anything no matter what he tries.

He can't believe he's in this place again, this darkness. It's so much work to get out. He doesn't know if he has the strength. Again and again and again. How many times in his life does he have to do this? What is he even holding on to anymore?

“Anti?”

Jameson's in his doorway again, and Anti looks up from a scab he's been picking at, making his face calm. “Yes.”

Jamie hovers, twisting his shirt in his hands for a moment before he releases and raises them. “Wondered if you wanted to go for a ride?”

Hell, could Jameson have asked him anything that would require more energy? Anti could melt, really, he thinks to himself. Right here in this bed. If he laid down long enough, he might just melt into a slug of a man. He wouldn't sleep, no, but he would lie here as goop for hours on end. Not thinking is such a relief.

“Sure, darling,” he says, trying not to croak. “Be down in a few.”

He puts himself together for him, and it's easier than he expected, in a way, because his body just seems to drag itself through doing what needs to be done. He's coming out of his room, fixing his mask over his mouth, when JJ makes a gesture at him from the hallway.

“Do you really need that?” he asks earnestly. “We'll just go out over the quiet side of the hills. No one will bother us. You can let your hands and face free, right?”

Anti stares at him.

JJ expounds. “I just thought it might be more comfortable for you.”

“It wouldn't be,” Anti tells him shortly. “You've never asked me something like that before.”

JJ twists up his mouth and doesn't press.

He's had the foresight to tack White Horse himself, which Anti appreciates more than he tells him. He didn't know if he had it in him to get through all that. “Okay, where's Bertrand?”

“Can I ride with you on White Bird?”

Another surprise. Jameson loves his own pony, always has. There's no reason for them to ride together. But Anti nods, offering him a hand, and Jameson swings up onto Anti's horse.

That's... close. Which is – it's normal, to be close to his little brother. Why is there an alarm bell trembling in the back of his head, ready to ring?

This is my Jameson, he tells himself coolly, closing his eyes for a second. My brother. There is no one safer in the world.

He'll be thirteen in a week, whispers back another part of him. You had a sister once too. And you remember when she became old enough to forget you were her blood.

Anti clears his throat, touching his heel to White Bird's side. They ride out along the hills, the grass beginning to brown and the trees flourishing with red and orange, and he tries to stay focused, feeling far away from himself. The warmth of JJ in front of him is supposed to be a comfort, and his little brother doesn't make him talk, sitting contentedly against his chest and sometimes patting Bird's neck.

“Let's stop here,” JJ says, pointing to a grove where they used to come have lunch and practice their sign language sometimes, after his voice was taken. Jameson caught onto it so fast, faster than Anti.

They sit beneath a familiar tree and JJ puts his head against his shoulder. Anti touches his head and gazes at him for a second.

Jameson catches him watching and sits up a little, sucking in a deep breath before raising his hands. “Anti?”

“Yeah, kid.” “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Listen,” Jameson picks at his sleeve for a second. “I'm worried about you.”

Anti lets his head thunk back against the tree, biting back a sigh. He really is the shittiest big brother. “You don't have to be, Jameson,” he says tensely. “I'm fine. You're a kid, just worry about kid stuff, okay?”

“Half the time I'm just a kid, and the other half, you need me to be ready for everything,” JJ says. “What I'm saying is, I'm old enough to know you're not yourself.”

“I'm not, am I?” Anti asks, irritable now.

“Anti, are you really going to make me confront you with everything I've noticed?”

“You can spare us both the conversation by stopping it right now.”

Jameson stands and Anti misses his heat. His little brother paces around the grove for a second, and it really does remind him of a little man somehow, with the way he scowls and holds his hands clenched.

“Look, Anti,” Jameson says, turning back to him. “You can't go on like this. And you don't have to!”

Anti groans, rubbing at his face.

“I mean it! You just – you make yourself a prisoner in that keep! You don't speak with anyone but me and the freaks you work with! Of course you're miserable.”

“You say that like I have a choice over this,” Anti snarls. “If you can recall, I'm the freak, Jameson. I'm trying not to get – to get – to get hurt.”

“I know, Anti, but it doesn't have to be like this. What kind of a life is this for you? You need to make – just, even one friend, and I'd be happy!”

Anti laughs with no humor at all. “Right. I can't believe that after all these years, you still don't get it at all. No, you know what, that's not fair of me. You're a kid, you're not supposed to get these things. But you can't tell me what to do about my own deformity, Jameson.”

“People with deformities get to have friends and family, Anti, even if some people will always be cruel. But you don't have to tolerate anyone who's cruel. You have Persuasion, and you're so fierce! You could handle anyone who tried to hurt you, couldn't you? Why do you hide away when you've proven a thousand times you're deadlier than anyone else out there?”

Anti's starting to get this cramp in his stomach that's... not unfamiliar, but old. Been a long time since he had that particular anxiety. He closes his eyes. But no, he swore to JJ he'd never block out his signing just because he could.

“You have to come out with me more, you have to meet some people. You will never talk to me about what makes you so scared – ”

“I'm not fucking scared.”

“But you have to talk to someone.”

“JJ.” Anti clasps his hands together and takes in a deep breath. “Jameson. Look. I get this, okay? You're worried about me. Would it help if I admit that – that I – I have been a little under the weather?”

Jameson scrutinizes him, standing in front of him with his hands at his side.

“But it happens,” Anti continues, more steadily. “I know it's unpleasant. I'm sorry I can't get better right away. But I will. I've been through this before and it always clears up soon enough.”

“Yes, and then it comes back again.”

Anti stops short, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

“You were like this a couple times when I was littler, too,” Jameson plows on. He just says it like he's not ripping Anti's belief in himself apart in front of his eyes. “When I got my growth and you couldn't fix it, you stopped eating the same way I did, I still remember. And you looked so pale all the time, and you would slap your head like you've started doing again. Then when I was eight – ”

“JJ,” Anti croaks.

“No, I promised myself we would talk about this!” JJ insists. “I'm not a little boy anymore, I want to help look after you! When I was eight you were coming home in blood every night and then lying in bed all day, and after Marvin – ”

Anti grits his teeth together. “Don't talk about that.”

“You were leagues away from me even when I touched you,” JJ says, and his big eyes are welling up now. “You're leagues away from me now!”

He feels it. He feels like he's a league above him, watching all this happen. Like someone other than him is finding out that he has failed to hide his hard times from Jameson on repeat, for years. He never wanted Jameson to have to worry about this.

“Anti,” JJ says, and Anti thinks that if he could say it out loud, it might come out as a whimper. “Please, you have to do something different. You can't live like this anymore.”

He comes towards him and tries to get him to reach out and hug him, but Anti finds himself staring right through him, registering his motions belatedly. Even when he does, he can't hug him.

“Anti,” Jameson repeats, and he crouches down to touch his beard with his nails, his other hand cupping Anti's cheek. When did his hands start to grow? He used to put his tiny nails along his cheek and scratch Anti like he was a cat. It was so cute. He was so tiny and so affectionate.

“I love you, I can't watch you keep doing this. My friend Peter, the other boys say his mom got so sad she died from it. I don't want you to die from being sad, Anti. I'm sad too, okay? We spend all day in our keep, and even with the other kids, I know I'm an outcast. We don't have to live like this. Marvin said – ”

But Anti can't bear to hear one more time about the blue Monster and his magical family that loves him despite everything, in his little kingdom where no one hurts him. It's a myth he told Jameson to comfort him, to make him believe that a Monster like them could ever have a happy life. He should never have let Jameson grow close to him. He doesn't understand.

“We do have to live like this,” Anti hears himself say, voice completely flat.

“I can't live like this, Anti,” Jameson signs, and after that, Anti doesn't even remember how they get home, or if he tries anything at all to make Jameson stop crying so hard his shoulders shake.

.

It's the sick part of him, he thinks, that finds it so easy to shut Jameson out completely. His little brother tries to talk to him a couple more times, but Anti can't seem to remember anything he says, not in detail. Just that he's unhappy. That he doesn't want to keep going like this.

He's old enough now. He's realized that Anti can't give him a normal life. Probably not even a happy one. He wants something else, and isn't that his right?

It's the day before Jameson's birthday that Anti finds himself in the empty kitchen, grasping at a bottle of alcohol he knows the cook put there, so long untouched that his fingerprints show in the places where they clear dust. He hasn't had anything but wine since... since when? Sometimes, he would drink with Dark, practically sitting at his feet. And once or twice, Wil brought home strong stuff to drink, and he loved how the twins would get louder and more excited when they drank, but he doesn't think he touched any of it with them.

The burn of the drink is foreign to him. He probably shouldn't have started by throwing back a long swig of it, kneeling by the cupboards while Jameson sits with his tutor two rooms over, but it doesn't matter. Once he starts drinking, he doesn't stop. He goes to his study and paces for hours, half-heartedly pulling out some work, but soon he's too drunk to even pretend he's doing anything other than talking to ghosts.

“Maybe he'd be happy if you were here,” he tells Robbie, slumping to the floor beside a memory of him, consumed with a sudden need to help him brush his hair and get dressed for bed again. “Even when you were unwell, didn't we have each other? Then he wouldn't say I have no friends. We were always friends.”

He would kiss his face if he could, kiss it a thousand times.

“But I'm the one who let them kill you,” he croaks. “Everything's already ruined for me. If he goes too, what will be the point to being alive? If I can't make him happy, why am I doing any of this? Does it even matter if I get what's mine, or if my mother suffers?”

Even as he says it, the weight of his hatred for her rears up and strikes him in the chest, and he groans around it, teeth clenching.

“No wonder JJ doesn't want me. What a complete misery to be around I am.”

He laughs and lets his head fall to the side as it swims. He's drinking again, cold in the place where Robbie should be beside him, when he hears the door swing open.

Somewhere, there's a distant rush of panic - he's not supposed to see this – but it's as numb as most everything else.

"Go back to bed," he manages, trying to stand up, though he can't quite get there. "It's late by now. You're supposed to be sleeping."

JJ just looks at him. What? What's that gaze for? Anti scoffs and sits back down, shaking his head at him.

"You just wanted something else to be annoyed with me about, huh? Go back to bed! How did you even know I was down here?"

"I could feel you from all the way in my room," JJ signs back coolly.

Anti doesn't know what the fuck that means, and he doesn't care.

"Why are you doing this?" Jameson asks. In his sleepshirt, he looks bigger than usual. Anti realizes he hasn't bought him new sleeping clothes in... how long, he wonders? Did he start growing the day he moved out of Anti's room, and now his little brother is just on the other side of the castle, becoming a stranger to him? Anti groans as a wave of something almost physical lances through his chest, gripping at the floor, and JJ flinches too.

"I can't stay a baby forever, Anti," his little brother tells him anyway. Anti cackles, shaking his head, half slumped over himself at the table.

"Why not?" he asks.

Jameson just shakes his head at him, and Anti laughs again. The little light of his life, so disappointed in him.

"You think I'm holding you back from something," he says, rubbing at his forehead. "Like being an adult is some privilege I won't give you. All kids think that way, I suppose. So they tell me. I never wanted to - to be an adult. I wished so badly for one day where anybody in my life would just treat me like a child."

If JJ answers, he can't see; his vision is blurring and doubling over.

"Why wasn't I like other kids?" Anti asks himself, squeezing the lukewarm bottle of his vodka. "What was so wrong with me? I didn't ask to be a freak. But maybe it was my fault. I never fought back, you know? Not until I was old enough to kill. And then I never stopped killing. You think I don't know - you think I don't know what a monster I am?"

He catches a smell of vanilla soap through the sharp empty vodka smell, and he looks up hazily to find Jameson close to him, blinking those big, mismatched eyes. Anti reaches up and holds his cheeks between his hands.

"There you are, darling," he says. "Nobody will ever hurt you. You can just be a kid. You can sleep and no one will come in your room. If they did, you could tell me, and I would make it stop. I would make it stop..."

"Anti." He makes out his name on his brother's hands. "I'm here."

"It's okay, Absalom," he whimpers. "I'll make it stop."

There's a pause from his brother. "How?" he signs finally, and Anti chokes on a sob.

"I don't know," he says. "It never does stop. It never does. I kill it and then it lives again. I can't make it go away. I'm always going to be... broken."

He cups JJ's face again frantically. "But you're not supposed to know that. Don't tell."

JJ nods faintly and reaches up to touch his face in return. Anti flinches back hard, and Jameson stills. It takes a long moment, but his hand returns: he sets his nails tenderly against Anti's chin and scratches at his beard. Anti gazes at him, feeling something wet on his face.

"I'll sleep in your room if you'll come rest," JJ says.

Anti blinks, trying to focus. He's not sure he can get upstairs. But JJ's hand wraps around his own, tugging at him. He staggers up, and when JJ pulls him, he follows.

He has some blurry memory of falling into bed. JJ's gone and he jolts up, head swimming hard as he looks for him. But he's back a moment later, slipping into the room and pressing a cold skin of water into his hands.

"Don't need that."

"Drink some, Anti."

"Sign language is so hard when you're drunk."

"Well, here." He pushes the water into his face and Anti laughs.

"I don't like your laugh like that," he thinks JJ signs, but it's hard to tell. "Scoot over, okay?"

Anti's brow furrows as he feels him coming to sit beside him on the bed. "What? I thought you'd sleep in your little bed."

It's still in the corner. He can't move it out of his room. The headboard is decorated with carved ponies.

"Don't you prefer me here?"

Didn't he used to? Every now and then, when JJ would have nightmares or got sick, he would crawl into Anti's bed and wrap his tiny arms around his neck. After his surgery, Jamie slept in his bed for seven months straight. Anti used to wake up four times a night to make sure he was still breathing. Maybe he did prefer that. That warm little body breathing in the bed beside him. He always knew he was so perfectly safe.

But this isn't a little boy anymore. He feels the tears rise up, and he shakes his head hard, laughing again, lower.

“Go back to your own room,” he says hollowly. “You can't sleep in here with a Monster, and I can't sleep in here with you. Bad boundaries. There you go, I'm healing, aren't I?”

He cackles and hears the noise like a stranger's laugh. Yeah, maybe he gets why JJ doesn't like that.

“If I can't sleep here, I'll sit here,” says Jameson, Anti's eyes flickering over to him. He watches dazedly as JJ pulls over a chair from the table and sits himself down in it firmly. “You might be sick otherwise. You drank too much.”

“No, no. You don't need to know about – about this. Go back to bed.”

“You go to bed. I'm not little. I will watch over you.”

And he remembers, vaguely, the first time his little brother offered to help protect him. He was so little – just five, Anti thinks. When he could still speak. When he opened his mouth and out came love and loyalty.

Anti's head spins hard. He wants to wrap his hand around the throat of his vodka and choke himself with it. He's got a little brother, though. Not little for long. Still little to him.

A soft hand settles on his forehead. He feels a thumb rubbing gently against his cheek before he falls asleep.

.

He understands more than Anti thinks he does.

That's what he tells himself as he watches over his brother that night, wetting a cool cloth to put to his head. It's not really for hangovers so much as for a fever, but that's what Anti always does for him when he's sick, so he does it too.

Yeah, he knows about alcohol. He knows that was the stuff that made his dad so mad, and he knows it makes you sick if you have too much. He knows that Anti hasn't touched it in years because the smell brings back bad memories for both of them. Besides, his brother doesn't like to be out of control. No, Anti likes to have control over... everything.

He feels safer that way.

Jameson pulls the covers closely over Anti, reaching up to scratch his beard.

Yes, he knows about Anti trying to feel safe. He knows about the disguises, the Persuasion, the killing, the blindfolded servants and the triple-locked doors. He knows the way that fear ebbs and flows. He knows that when Anti first gave him a knife at six years old, that was him trying to make JJ feel safe too.

Still, it doesn't change the fact that Jameson needs a change. He'll never be normal, he knows about that. Knows about how, even when he does make friends, they don't make much effort to understand him, and consider it a privilege to let him follow them around and do his best to participate. But it's not just the way he feels cut off from the world, with only Anti and one or two tutors to hear him at all.

It's the killing. It's the misery. It seems to radiate through him. And this – while Anti tries to keep secrets of his own – this is his great secret.

He knows how Anti feels all the time. He can close his eyes and he always knows. Sometimes, he feels it in his chest, like he's the one who's scared or angry or numb to everything around him. Sometimes it wakes him at night. He always knows how Anti feels.

He can't bear to feel his pain anymore.

He can't tell him either, of course. If Anti realized that Jameson's Grace was, of all things, Empathy, how long would it take him to realize that Jameson would never in his life become the killer Anti wanted him to be?

“I can't do this,” he signs to his sleeping brother. “I don't want the life you've laid out for me. I want you to stop killing and selling your sickness. This can't go on.”

He's thirteen now, he realizes, looking out at the moon. That has to be old enough to make things change.

It has to be.

.

“My lord?”

Jameson jerks awake on the side of the bed, nearly falling off it as he rises.

The knock on the door sounds again. “My lord? I'm sorry to disturb you, but the little master isn't in his room, and we have his breakfast ready.”

Anti doesn't shift in his bed, breathing thickly against the pillows. Jameson can't believe he fell asleep so easily. He should have stayed up to make sure Anti didn't throw up and choke.

He lets himself flop out of bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold stone of the room they used to share, and pads over to the heavy door. He realizes he forgot to lock it last night. Anti keeps the keys around his throat, and Jameson hadn't thought about it.

Jameson pulls the door open, blinking up at the serving girl, who had jumped back in alarm. No doubt she's only ever spoken with Anti through the door. He can feel her momentary panic, and then the soft wave of her pleasure to see him.

“Oh, hullo there, little master,” she says in relief. “We didn't realize you were up here. We put together your birthday breakfast, darling, and it's getting late.”

Right. It's his birthday. He glances back at Anti, all but passed out on his mattress.

“It's ready whenever you want to come down, dear,” she says. “Happy birthday.”

He nods at her and manages a smile, and she bustles away. Jameson chews at his fingernail for a moment.

Anti's safe up here. And he is terribly hungry... and rather curious about the special breakfast they've made for him. Might be a good chance of sweet buns.

He'll just go check it out real quick.

Jameson puts on socks and traipses down the stairs of their cold tower, back into the less gloomy halls that the servants have decorated just for him. Everything is cleanly swept and there are autumn leaf decorations and carved gourds with leering faces put out for the Samhain celebration. Anti always tells him he was born close to ghosts, and maybe that's why he can always understand things that aren't said out loud.

It's ironic now, when Jameson can feel so much. The servants seem to be in good moods, a warm sensation that seems to curl around his body as he walks into the dining hall, even though there's no one inside. But if he turns his attention back upstairs, he can feel the heavy, heavy pressure of Anti's grief and shame and fear. It's a dark red force that hangs over him and turns Anti into a ghost, so all his loveliness and color turns into something pallid and dragging.

Jameson forces the thought away. He's going to make his brother get better. Why else would he have this power, if not to save his Monster?

His Monster always takes care of him, after all. The dining table is ridiculously full, not just with breakfast, but with sweets to last him all day – all week, really. Candied apples, sugar buns, caramels, fancy lollies shipped in from Corbin. Cider and his favorite cordial. For breakfast, there's a plate crammed with a powdered strawberry sweet bun, thick red strips of bacon, and two white eggs with melted cheese and green onions on top. His mouth waters as he looks over everything. Anti must have asked for all this to be made just for him.

“Jamie?” his brother croaks, and Jameson nearly jumps, turning to see him looking positively harrowed in the entryway of the dining hall.

“Anti.” He runs back to his brother and hugs him around his stomach, feeling Anti set his hand against his head.

“Happy birthday,” Anti says, voice thick, and Jameson wonders if he's still drunk, or just sick from how much he had. “I'm sorry, I meant to take you for a ride at dawn like you like.”

“Do you feel terrible, Anti?”

“Don't worry about me,” Anti rasps. His eyes dart away, and Jameson feels the weight of his guilt come down on his neck like a chain. “I should never have done that, I'm... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... it's your birthday, you're thirteen.”

“Anti, it's okay. You've not been well. It's not your fault.”

“You're thirteen,” Anti repeats blankly, and Jameson feels his mind drifting darkly. He takes his brother's hands in his own and pulls him towards the table, setting him down in the same place he always sits.

“Don't dwell on it. Have something to eat and you will feel better.”

Anti turns away, nauseated. “No, I think you better have some on your own.”

“Anti.”

Anti can hardly meet his eyes. He's so ashamed Jameson realizes he could ask him for almost anything and get it just now, but he's not sure it would matter come tomorrow.

“Please eat,” he tries.

Anti swallows and pulls a plate towards himself. Jameson sees his hands shaking. “You eat and open some of your presents, then, and I'll try some.”

Jameson glances over at the piles of wrapped gifts on the other side of the table. He pulls a couple towards him as they pick at breakfast together. It's hard to enjoy the taste when Anti's emotions dust everything he eats in ash. Jameson unwraps a present instead.

His hands come up in surprise and satisfaction, and Anti watches him carefully. “That's what you wanted, right?”

It's not knives or a bow or anything made for hurting. It's a pretty set of books bound up in red leather. Storybooks! Jameson pulls open the first one to a picture of a girl and a boy holding hands under a full moon. His fingers run over the words of the pages. “Yes, I love nice storybooks.”

“You're not too old for it?”

“No, I like it. Will you read them to me sometime?”

He sees Anti's eyes flicker nervously down to that boy and girl in love. “Um, sure.”

“You used to tell me stories to put me to sleep.”

“Yes,” says Anti, voice small. “Come on, open another.”

There's a beautiful carved horse inside, painted in fine detail, and Jameson admires the weight of it in his hands. Anti's mouth quirks when he hears him laughing over how much he likes it. Clothes follow, and good boots, a small wall hanging with a rabbit for his room, and a belt with some pouches, because he always likes to gather things like acorns and flowers. It's strange – they're more childish gifts than Anti has ever bought him before, and yet they make him feel more like a man.

“You got me real presents like I wanted,” Jameson says.

Anti's eyes are a little watery. “Don't be a little sap. You asked, so I got it for you. Spoiled brat.”

Jameson smiles at him. Anti looks away, pulling in a shaky breath. Jameson gestures and pulls his attention back.

“Anti?”

“Hm.”

“I want you to tell me what's so scary about being thirteen.”

Anti shakes his head quickly, wiping at his face. “Nothing, James. Not for you. You are as safe as you've ever been.”

Jameson plays with his hands for a moment, sighing. “Then what was so scary for you?”

“I'm not afraid anymore,” Anti says, voice hard. “I handled what hurt me.”

It's so strange to grow up and learn about how the adults around you are lying all the time, without even meaning to. Jameson frowns at him for a long moment. “You must tell me or tell someone. You have to.”

“It's in the past, Jameson.”

“No, it isn't, you still think of it all the time.”

Anti sneers at the wall as if there's an enemy standing there, pulling absent-mindedly at his hair.

“You must tell me or someone. I can't take seeing you like this anymore.”

Anti stares into nothing for a long time. Jameson dares to approach him, his hand reaching tentatively out. He sets it on Anti's arm.

“I can't take this, Anti,” he signs. “I love you so much, I can't see you suffering.”

“Don't know where you got that from,” Anti says, apropos of nothing.

“What? Got what from?”

Anti pulls in a breath and turns to him, a hand against his head, which must be pounding. “You will never need to know what happened to me when I was your age. I am not yours to worry about in that way. You take too much care of me already, and now I've let you down again.”

“You didn't, Anti! I love all my presents and treats. It's a nice birthday. Don't be guilty, please.”

Anti ignores him. “If the choices are telling you or telling someone, then I'll find someone.”

Jameson stares up at him with what Anti calls his puppy eyes. It doesn't feel like a victory, but he'll take it. “Okay.”

Anti leans over, and, in a rare display, kisses him carefully in his hair. Jameson reaches out to hold his wrists as he cups his face. “I'm very sorry I got drunk and ruined this,” he says. “It will not happen again. Ever.”

“But just because you hide it from me,” Jameson signs sadly, pulling his hands back.

“Finish your breakfast. I'll take you riding after I've had some medicine for my head.”

“You can rest, Anti, it's okay.”

“No, no. I'll take you riding. I will.”

“Anti?”

His brother's gotten up to leave. “What?”

Jameson avoids his eye. “You don't have to tell me everything. But I'm old enough now. You must at least tell me what my mother did.”

Anti's gone very still above him, staring through his face.

“You always tell me about what my father's done wrong,” Jameson presses on. “But you don't talk about our mom at all. But you hate her. You have to tell me.”

Anti's still for a long moment. His hands drift over Jameson's storybook. He pulls at the pages and finds one of a child digging in the sand, the ocean lapping near his feet.

“Once upon a time,” Anti says. “There was a little boy who was very sad. And lots of people hurt him lots of times. And his mum and dad were supposed to love him and not let him get hurt. But they didn't.”

Anti turns away from the storybook, looking at nothing. “She told me once that when I was grown, I would understand that things are complicated. She told me I would understand the things she and my father allowed to happen. But the worst part, Jameson, is that here you are, thirteen, and here I am, grown, a monster in every sense of the word: and I still can't even begin to imagine putting you through the things they put me through.”

Jameson stares up at his brother. Anti stares through him.

“The little boy realized he wasn't worth saving,” Anti whispers. “The end.”

Anti tries to walk away from him then, but Jameson won't let him go. He grabs Anti's pants and tugs him back. He wraps his arms very tightly around his brother's waist and he clings to him. It's not a hug: it's not for comfort. He just knows, with something deep in his chest, that he can't let Anti out of his sight in this moment. He's scared of what his brother will do.

“Sorry, Jamie,” he hears Anti croak out, as he begins to come back to himself. “If you knew how sorry I am. I'm so sorry, my heart. I love you. Forgive me.”

.

“What's got you even more mopey than usual?” Anja asks, picking up her pace to come ride beside him, her horse snuffling in White Bird's direction.

Anti doesn't turn to look over at her.

“Seriously, this man I'm taking you to, he's powerful, Anti. You should try to be a salesman for ten minutes. Put on some false cheer and – ”

“Enough,” Anti snarls. He reaches up to touch his head. Three days since he humiliated himself in front of his little brother, and he still has a headache like a hangover.

Worse than the humiliation, of course, is the knowledge that he frightened Jameson, who's always tried too hard to look after him anyways. It rises up in his throat almost like it could make him cry, as if he ever cries. He's been a terrible caregiver to him. Is he even any better than his own parents?

Well, yes, but still. This isn't healthy for a new teenager. Anti is the adult. He has to fix himself. Has to do better. But he's been trying for so many years to do anything he could to make it stop hurting, and it never does. What if he just can't do this? Does he have to send Jamie away? Where? Who could he ever trust with him? There's no one in all the world. His head spins slightly and he clutches White Bird's reigns tightly.

“Anti,” Anja repeats, frowning at him now. “Get it together.”

“It's together,” he spits back, in his gravel voice, devoid of either Persuasion or allure. “I agreed to come meet with him because you guaranteed he would want contracts. I don't care about making a new partner.”

“That's your loss,” Anja tells him. “Kumiho's as much a businessman as he is a killer.”

Anti touches his heels to White Bird's side, and she moves ahead of Anja again as the campsite comes into view. It's easy to find the tent of the master of the place, of course, the biggest one, with animal furs laid out at the entrance and along the floor. Something bitter curls in Anti's gut as he dismounts White Bird and steps onto the furs. Dark used to lay furs out like that too. Jackass.

It's been years and he still remembers what it was like to sit at Dark's feet. He remembers, all the more clearly, the moment Dark saw his face for the first time, and the only life he had ever cared about ended. Dark was everything, and the nothing. Anti remembers crashing into that emptiness with nothing to tether him.

The strange thing is, it's not just his imagination when he hears Dark's voice call out to him in a purr: “It is you. I knew it.”

Anti freezes in the open flap of the tent.

The furs lead to a large wooden chair, one he has sat at the foot of many times. In it, there's a man dressed in white and black, with a drink at one hand and a longsword at the other. He's beautiful. He was always beautiful. Even now, aged into streaks of silver hair and lines around his endlessly brown eyes, he's beautiful.

“Dark,” Anti whispers.

Anja presses into the tent beside him, glancing warily between the two of them as Anti's posture shifts into something dangerous. “Anti, this is Kumiho. He runs an assassin's trade in the west.”

Anti's heart is pulsing like it wants to get out of his chest and start firing arrows. His right hand clutches tightly to one of the knives at his hip.

“He runs as assassin's guild in the west,” Anti corrects her sharply. “They call him Darkness out there. Kumiho?”

Dark's mouth curls. “An old name. You wouldn't have come if you knew it was me.”

“I would have come in the night. You would have woken to my blade in your gut.”

Anja's not oblivious to the hatred in the room. “You bastard,” she hisses. “You set us up.”

Dark raises his hands peacefully. “Of course not. You are in no danger here, and I do have contracts that need fulfilled. Especially after our worthwhile assassin killed one of my men not two weeks past.”

Anti chuckles darkly, something hot pounding through his head. “You were mad about that? As if you have any right to be angry with me.”

“Angry? He deserved to die if he was caught doing what I paid him to do. When the men told me how he was killed, I knew it was you. I had to see you again. I have looked for you for years, my snake.”

Something confused trips through the white hot fury and fear collecting in his chair. Anti stares blankly at Dark, shaking his head.

“Anja,” Dark says, rising to his feet. “Leave us be. You'll have your pay.”

Anja glances at Anti, eyes narrow. In his field of work, that's almost a kindness.

“Go,” he tells her. “Can handle my fucking self.”

As she leaves, the silence enters the tent to replace her. It feels dark to Anti now, as though hours have passed, and evening has come to hang over this tent, heavy on their shoulders. He looks at Dark. Dark straightens, steps forward, looks back.

Anti leaps at him with his knife.

Dark catches him like they're dancing and tears his wrist out of the way of his body. When Anti drops a second blade from the sleeve of his other arm, Dark grabs that too, shoving him bodily into the chair, pinning his arms above his head.

“Bastard!” Anti screams, his foot raising to kick at him. Dark angles him away and holds him. “You're a traitor and a pig! Now you come to haunt me? I'll kill you!”

“If you wanted me dead, all you would have to do was command me off of you,” Dark reminds him, smiling at him with a grin like a jackal. “Right, your grace?”

Anti snaps his teeth at him. Dark was always good at resisting his Persuasion. “Fuck you.”

“In fact, I think that if you wanted me dead, you wouldn't have missed just now with that knife,” Dark continues.

Anti bites at Dark's arms, squirming in his grip. “You threw me out like trash!” he screams. “When you knew I trusted you!”

“Trusted me? Not with the truth of what you were.”

“And you only proved me right not to do so,” Anti shouts. “Do you know – do you have any idea how – how – ”

His voice cracks and he shakes his head furiously, and the humor vanishes from Dark's face. He turns his head at him tenderly. “Tell me.”

“I don't owe you anything!” Anti yells. “Go fuck yourself! I don't owe you the story of the days I spent running! Of how you gave me my first taste of what it might be like to be safe, to have a future, and then you ripped that away from me because you wanted to fuck me! Like everyone wants to! Well, fuck you! Fuck you! I hate you, I'll kill you!”

Dark takes his wrists into one large hand and reaches down with the other to touch his chin. Anti snaps at his hands as he speaks to him. “Anti. Anti.”

“You traitor,” Anti snarls again, his whole face so flushed with heat he feels dizzy. “Perfidy! Perfidy.”

Dark grabs his chin. Anti thinks he could whimper, on the verge of collapsing into that chair. He tried so hard not to think of him for years. He never believed he would see him again. The fact that a man like Dark has even lived this long is a chance thing. “It was perfidy,” Dark whispers to him. “I came to tell you I'm sorry, Anti.”

Anti sucks in a breath and then throws it back out again. “You're full of shit. As if a man like you apologizes. What the hell do you want from me?”

“I have made a trade out of death,” Dark says to him, and he stands over him like a tower. “Proudly. I've killed good people and bad ones. Traded blood for coin. But I have never stooped so low as to find myself on the verge of the kind of depravity I did the day I saw what you were.”

Anti's eyes water now, although he thinks they're more for fury than the need to hear these words for him. Still, Dark presses on.

“Anti,” he says again. “I'm sorry. You were loyal to me, and I had told you many times you were too young for me to touch. I should have controlled myself better.”

“Controlled yourself better?” Anti hisses. “You shouldn't have thrown me out! It would have been better to be with you if you just – if – ”

His words fall off. Dark frowns down at him now, brow heavy.

“Don't give me that look,” Anti snaps. “I been just fucking fine without you, as you can see.”

“Really?”

“Shut your mouth. I'm going to stab you.”

But Dark's releasing his wrists. Slowly, he steps back, straightening his sleeves. “Very well then.”

Anti stares at him for a long moment, reaching half-heartedly for one of the many blades on his person. Dark cocks an eyebrow at him. Anti scowls.

“You always did have a soft spot for me,” Dark says.

Anti steps up and stabs Dark in the arm.

Dark bites down hard on his mouth, and for a second the only sound between them is Anti's breathing, heavy and unsure.

“Thanks for that,” Dark says. “Are we even?”

“Absolutely not,” Anti says back, voice barely there.

Dark reaches up and pulls the knife out of his bicep. Blood pours out over his sleeve. “This is practically a letter opener. You could have done worse.”

His fury gone out of him with the blood, Anti stands numbly in front of him, watching his face. Dark tosses the knife onto a side table and yanks up his sleeve, wetting a cloth and pressing it there before he comes back to Anti, standing in front of him and breathing out.

“Anti. I'm sorry.”

“For kicking me out?”

“I told you to leave to protect you,” Dark says softly. “That was in your best interests. I was weak, and the other men had seen you.”

Anti shakes his head at him blankly. “I'm just to believe that you've changed, now?”

“As soon as the shock of the reveal wore off, I was sorry for the way I scared you,” Dark murmurs. “When I realized you were still alive, and nearby, I came to find you.”

“Well. You found me.” Anti stares through his face, trying to figure out what his body's feeling as he looks at him. “Bye.”

Dark grabs his wrist again, and Anti tenses. “You still kill so exquisitely. You can work for me again.”

“I don't want to work for you.”

“I will make up for what I did in your favorite commodities.”

“I don't want anymore blood or gold,” Anti says.

It's strange to admit it out loud. For years, what else has he pursued? But he knows he tired of the money a long time ago. He kills for nothing and pours coins into feeding troughs and rivers for peasant children to find when he feels like it.

Dark is quiet for a second. “I... can understand that.”

“Can you?” Anti's not sure he cares about the answer.

“Why do you think I left the west, where I was all but a king? I'm tired of the trade, Anti. It's become too easy. Everything has.”

“What do you want instead?”

“I'm sure I have no idea.”

Anti laughs bitterly, turning away from him. He's so tired, suddenly, that he thinks he could cry. He wants another drink. Dark comes to his back and touches his side, just gently. Anti breathes through the panic that this touch would otherwise bring.

Fuck, he loved him so much as a boy. He loved nothing but Dark as a boy. And he remembers the pure joy of being able to fantasize about anyone for the first time in his life. Even to imagine that he and Dark would share years of their life together was life-sustaining. He loved being his apprentice. He loved being his.

“Tell me what you want, then,” Dark says. “I will fetch it for you.”

It's a shaking, garbled mess of feeling and hatred and need that comes out of Anti's mouth. He almost wishes he could take it back as he says it, and yet, there he is, turning around and reaching out to cling to Dark's shirt. To cling to him like he won't let him go again.

“I want to be loved,” he croaks out, gripping tight, tight to the fabric.

“Oh, darling,” says Dark.

“Don't 'oh, darling' me. I'm sick of my own mind being my worst enemy.”

Dark clucks his chin gently, and Anti feels like a teenager again, hungry for his attention, dreaming anxiously about his touch, his hands. “I'm not the one for you, my Monster. You were too young for me all those years ago, and now, I am too old for you.”

“I'll decide for myself if I want you or not.” Anti steps into his space, instantly scared of the closeness of his body heat, but he doesn't pull back. “Listen to me.”

Dark runs his eyes over his face, but his gaze does not fix on his mouth or flicker down to his hips. He doesn't wet his mouth hungrily or reach out to touch Anti's side. Anti tilts his head, watching Dark watch him, and all he does is looking steadily back at him, waiting.

Self-control. Anti's not familiar with seeing it in the face of other adults. But Dark always felt so different to him. Maybe it was the only thing that made him attractive in a way that no one else has been before or sense. Anti breathes out shakily.

“I have the Prince of the Grey Isles,” he says, and Dark, for all his usual calm, is instantly astonished. “He is almost old enough to take his father's throne. I'll kill the King and install my child. Then I'll rule from behind his throne, and he and I will both have what we deserve, at long last.”

“Power?” Dark asks.

“Safety,” Anti says, “which is the same thing.”

Dark regards him carefully. “Why do you tell me this?”

“You're bored,” Anti says, and then he hooks his hand into Dark's shirt and holds him. “And I can't do this alone anymore. Come with me. Love me, care for me. Protect me and the boy. You made me your apprentice all those years ago, but I have grown to your stature. Now make me your right hand. I'll give you a kingdom.”

He pulls back his hood, as he wanted to do in front of Dark more than a decade past, when his love for him was swooning and naive. Now he craves equality beside him, and strong hands to lock his doors, and the thrum of Dark's voice in his ear when he's scared. He reaches out to hold Dark's neck between his hands. “To love me will be no chore,” he says, without the distortion of his false voice, with his face on display in a way no one but Jameson has seen it for years. His eyes are very blue, very green, against long dark lashes. “Will it?”

“You will tire of an old man like me,” Dark says to him, but his hands come forward, squeeze Anti's wrists.

“I will make your body forget that it has aged,” says Anti, and he pushes forward to kiss him.

For a moment, after all this time, Dark's his. His large hands come to his hips as if to push him back, but he doesn't. He kisses him too. His mouth is warm. When Anti breathes, he feels his air move over Dark's lip. He's shivering; Dark holds his body.

“You're scaring yourself,” Dark warns him.

“Shut the fuck up and don't condescend to me,” Anti snarls. He tries to kiss him again, but Dark pulls away. His endless eyes bore into him.

“We will discuss all of this further. I would like to be reacquainted with you and newly acquainted with your plan for regicide. But there isn't time now.”

“What could be more important?”

“Anti, listen to me. This isn't the first I've heard of the missing prince.”

Anti draws back immediately, all softness gone. “What?”

“They know he's in this country. I had no idea he was with you. Someone spotted him at the harbor of Tora, on a ship heading here.”

Anti hears his own breathing picking up like a horse set to the whip. “Jameson.”

“The Queen approached me about a finder's fee. I told her that wasn't the kind of business I run, but the money she offered - ”

Anti's already shoving his way out of the tent, nearly stumbling in his rush to get back to White Bird, who doesn't protest as he hauls himself over her side.

“Anti, be calm,” Dark calls, following him out, and Anti realizes, with a shock, that he's unmasked and unhooded in full view of the rest of his camp. “If they haven't found him now, they won't have found him in the hour you've been gone. I'll come back with you – ”

“Meet me if you want,” Anti breathes. “But I'm not waiting for you to ready a horse.”

“So eager just a moment before,” Dark says. “This princeling must mean – ”

“More to me than even my favorite fantasy of you? Yes.” Anti turns White Bird his way just for a moment. Somewhere in his periphery he's aware of Anja gaping at him. “You betrayed and nearly destroyed me. Protect this child and I will consider forgiving someone completely for the first time in my life.”

He takes off without waiting to see the way it makes Dark smile. The trees rush past as White Bird begins her bursting rhythm of movement, and Anti becomes a part of that rhythm, his body curved to hers. Dark can follow if he wants. Dark can love him or no one can, it doesn't matter. But no one will take Jameson from him.

“Not over my corpse,” he says. “Not for anything.”

He puts his heels to her side, and White Bird flies.

[macsimagines]

Yandere!Shinji Hirako

First Bleach Imagine and its a big one! I am accepting bleach requests now but just a heads up please look at my rules and make sure to follow them! Also let me know what you think!

Y/N’s POV

Shinji’s been off, that's all you know for sure. 

He’s always been a huge weirdo in his own charming way but lately, ever since you two had gotten more serious it’s been a bit more… uncomfortable than usual. 

It was small at first, you two just coincidentally running into one another more and more often. At first you were glad about it, you loved spending time with that goofball boyfriend of yours, but then it turned into a constant occurrence. Always when you were with your friends, or even if you were chatting with someone at the convenient store, he’d just pop up!

Then Shinji started to question every move you made.

“Where ya goin’, doll?” 

“Who’s that yer texting?”

“Why don’cha just stay in with me? No? Then I’ll go too!” 

Honestly, this was the exact opposite of how he’d been before. At the start he wanted things to be casual, no strings attached. And you were totally fine with it. You knew he had his baggage and you did your best to respect his boundaries. But after having been through so much with each other you both started to open up more and more. It became clear to him that you were here to stay and he loved that. He loved you. 

You loved him too but now… Shinji’s love was starting to scare you. 

Shinji’s  POV

He knew things were getting out of hand. He was a smart enough guy, he could see a red flag miles away. Of course he’d recognize it in himself. 

It was that damn hollow of his. 

Shinji knew you were cute enough, and he knew he could charm his way into your bed. It was just an added bonus that you were just as quick witted and funny as him. But the second he knew he liked you, really liked you, that bastard had started to pipe up. 

“She’s perfect,” the Hollow had purred, “can’t wait to make her aaaaallll mine.” 

That was unacceptable. Shinji wouldn’t ever give the monster in him a chance to hurt anyone, let alone you. He tried to keep you at arms length, tried to seem as uninterested as possible. Then of course that had to backfire. 

You started to talk to other guys. At first, he thought that was a blessing despite the sting in his chest. If you moved on and started dating someone seriously then he could move on and quiet the Hollow within. But then he watched the way you cringed when you interacted with them. The way their innuendos made you uncomfortable, the way you fake laughed at all their terrible jokes. You never had to fake it with him. You were always honest with him. 

It took almost losing you in a few fights to really break Shinji. It was better to have you with him where he could protect you than worry about protecting you from him. 

He could keep his Hollow on a leash, he at least knew the damn thing would never want to hurt you. 

“She’s so pretty an’ perfect, we can’t let anything happen to that face.” 

“We oughta make sure our Angel’s alright, you know she’s practically helpless.” 

“Gouge out that bastards eyes for lookin’ at her like that.” 

Ok so maybe he was having a harder time keeping some of his darker urges in check. But there was an easy fix. Just make sure you were always with him. Simple enough right? You’d understand it, he let you in, he loved you. You were perfect. 

So then why… 

“You’re out of control, babe!”

Why the hell were you two fighting. 

“Wha-Whaddya mean!? I didn’t do nothin’ too bad.”

You glare up at him, and Shinji has to fight very hard not to smile at you. He can’t help it even if you’re cute when you're pissed. You’re adorable when you get a little red in the face, and he loves the way your lips quiver when you’re upset. 

“Like hell you didn’t,” you snapped at him, “You didn’t need to go and flex your reiatsu at that other guy, he almost passed out!”

“You should’a fuckin’ killed him.” 

He’s scowling now. He can’t tell if it's from his Hollow piping in where he’s not wanted or if it’s from you defending that guy to him. He was flirting with you while Shinji was right there, he had every right to get mad. 

“You can’t let anyone take what’s ours.” 

‘What’s MINE.’ He thinks back. Shinji wasn’t sharing you with strangers or his inner demon.

“Don’t look at me like that, handsome,” you sass him, bringing him back to reality. 

He can’t help the smile that graces his lips. Even when you two are fighting, you know just how to sweet talk him. The crease in your brow softens and you reach out to hold his hand. “Talk to me,” you beg him, “You’ve been so weird and clingy lately. What’s wrong? What’s got you so… I dunno know. Insecure?”

“Well, a guy’s bound to get a lil’self conscious when he’s got a lady as gorgeous as you.” 

You open your mouth to say something snarky but he pulls you into his arms and buries his face into your hair. “M’sorry. Yer right.” he whispers, not truly believing a word of what he’s saying. 

You wrap your arms around him and return his embrace. “Lighten up a little? You're the only man for me. No matter how weird you are. No one can take me from you.” 

“We know that. We’d kill anyone that would even try.” 

Shinji can’t help but agree with that…

“I love you,” you tell him. And his heart aches with how sincere and wonderful that sounds. He’s got to play this better. A little bit smarter even. He doesn’t need you to see what’s eating away at him. He can hide it. You’ll never need to know. 

“I love you too.”

[princess-of-thebes-bc]

My Sweet Nymph Chapter 1

Yandere Gellert Grindelwald x Female Muggle Reader

I miss writing lowly desires! Too bad it ended. Another Yandere version of you and him. I will write more random scenes of Lowly desire. But, this is a new story and new beginning. Tell me what you think.

This was the fourth bouquet of flowers the past four days! Your brows knitted together in confusion. Your first week of moving into your College Dorm became more stressful.

You were smart in your own way. But, you had ADHD and you committed yourself to study more than your fellow classmates to pass all your classes with B and hopefully higher. But, you realized that after you graduated from High School and during Summer Vacation before college, you have a damn secret admirer!

Why now of all times? In High School, all the boys ignored you. No one asked you for dates. You went to prom, homecoming and all dancing events with girlfriends that took turns dancing with you except the slow dances.

How ironic!

Huffing you tried to concentrate on your homework. You were talented in English and Arts. You were terrible at math and science. You liked astronomy, biology and all that. But Chemistry you hated. 

They were not fun classes to learn.

So, as you reread your textbook you heard a knock on your dorm door. Groaning in annoyance, you opened it to see a box. Inside was cash!

Holy crap! You closed the door and counted it. 2,000 dollars in twenty dollar bills. You can be able to afford three square meals at the cafeteria for the whole semester!

Unlike throwing away the other presents from the mystery admirer, you decided to keep this gift. It is useful.

What you didn't know was that you were being watched by a magical crystal ball. Your admirer smiled as you went inside the shower. You were such a doll. So beautiful. He was a man who was in Prison in Azkaban and was released three years ago. 

He saw your selfie on Instagram and followed you. He was surprised you were not a model. You could've been easily rich and famous. What a waste of talent. You were instead a poor and struggling college student with a dead father.

His heart went out for you as he saw your impoverished home. You were sadly a Muggle. And he was a pure blooded Wizard. He cannot be seen with you. He wants to start an uprising. He hated Humans and was racist. 

He wanted to commit genocide. 

Humans poisoned the Wizarding World. They are devils. And you are one of them…

You were just a Nymph. Nothing more to him. A pretty face. Grindelwald was a womanizer in his younger days. He slept with muggle women before. He thought you were one of them. Maybe if he took a bite out of you, he would get you out of his head and move on with his life.

In the meantime, he will watch you from time to time when he has time to spare apart from his actions of taking over the both worlds.

[ginsengkitten]

Nightfall: Chapter 4

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

In darkness, your subconsciousness twirls through alternative realities. The recent events replay in your memories like horror movies. Everything flashing before your eyes once more. The fear that welled within you. You see a vision of your own self, trapped within the cabin, alone. Your own scream and pleas for release echo in the vast darkness, surrounding you. Slash appears before you, tears streaming down his face, his eyes glow red to black and he whispers something you can't make out. Your own cries increase in volume until light pierces your eyes.

You rustle awake. Duff hovers above you, his face blurs into view. "That's it sweetheart, come on now." He soothes, gripping your face. "Duff-" as his face appears, so do his fangs. Shocking you once more, you sit up alert and frightened, scooting away from him. "Oh my god you're one of them- h-stay away from me-help HELP SOMEBODY HE-" Steven rushes you from behind and traps you in his grasp, covering your mouth shut. You fight but it's useless against his abnormal strength.you pant and grunt as duff helps hold you down. "We won't hurt you! Y/N stop-stop!" He exclaims. "Shhhhh we got you we got you, I got you doll." Steven whispers soothingly in your ear. Your energy to fight dwindles and you can only admit labored pants. "Shhhhh I got you." Steven pets your hair, keeping a firm grip on you.  "Are you going to scream?" Duff questions firmly. Figuring it won't help anyways, you shake no slowly. Steven slowly released his hand from your mouth, and loosened his grip. You pry yourself free and fall to the floor. You lift your head to examine the surroundings. A dark basement littered with dark velvet and tattered curtains much like the cabin, but warmer slightly. You see them standing there. Steven, duff and Axl, watched you intently. All sported razor sharp fangs, peering out from their lips. Slash and izzy absent.

They all looked at you concerned. Gently.

"S-so what is this some kind of weird satanic club? Some sort of black magic shit?" You ask defensively, confused. "You're vampires. You're vampires. Right?" You stutter as you piece it together through a jigsaw of thoughts. "Well- yes-" duff begins to offer further details when a loud, heavy growl rings out from another room. "FUCK!"

Izzy runs in. "Duff, it's slash. I need you in there. He's awake."

Everyone runs to the next room. You follow behind curiously. A small bedroom held them all, Izzy hovered over slash, who lie shirtless on the bed. You watch as the men all grasp his limbs and attempt to hold him down as Izzy tries to pour alcohol on apparent burn marks that cover slashes shoulder and arm terribly. Slash roars out in pain. His eyes a deep red and his voice, guttural and inhuman. You jump back. Three of the men struggle to hold him down. Slashes strength seemingly outweighing all three of them as he thrashed in agony. "Stop fucking moving!" Izzy barks. "Just fucking do it man hurry up!" Axl grunts. Izzy continues to tend to his injuries. The thrashing dies down as Izzy bandages up the wounds. Slash lie flat, his tan chest glistened with sweat and panted up and down. Everyone taking a moment to catch their breath. "What's wrong with him?" You ask peeking from the doorway. Duff meets you at the door, attempting to shield you from seeing. "Vampires- we, well we can't be in direct sunlight. Slash drove you back here in broad daylight, and well, he got burned pretty severely..." Duff explained. Slash had risked his life to rescue you. Suffering burns all down his arm. "Is-is he going to be okay?" You ask nervously. Your immediate earnest concern for him instead of fear, makes duff smirk to himself. "Ah he'll be fine. We all have our moments." Duff proceeds to pull up his shirt, revealing a large burn scar across his chest and back.

-

"So you're all like real- vampires then? Like suck blood n all that?" You ask nervously. "Well- yes but- no. Yes we are vampires, but we don't drink human blood." Duff answered. "We don't murder humans." Axl cut in defensively. You shifted curiously, your knees to your chest on the couch. "Oh- so...all those animal attacks lately- that's not-you-?" You ask. "No- and not animal attacks either." He replied. You raise an eyebrow. "LA Guns." He answered. "They did all those? Why?"

"WE don't kill humans. But that's not the case for all vampires.." axl chirped in begrudgingly.

Duff let out a sigh, exchanging a glance to axl.

"When vampires first migrated to America, most of them were pushed out of the East and forced to travel west. California was full with them." Duff shifts. "The clan master....who led the western migration, fell in love with a human woman.....Clarissa. They had children a-a family together. Three boys, Thomas, Julian and Cyrus. Out of respect for the master and the sacrifices he had made to bring them here safely, the clan decided collectively to abandon human feasting, in order to make his wife and children feel welcome in their home. Most were non violent to begin with so it wasn't difficult to supplement with animals. The clan adored Clarissa and the children. The clan lived harmoniously together with humans in the west for a long time, until the masters brother, Felix, tracked him down from Europe.

When the masters brother had discovered the clan living with humans, his own brother, bearing children with one, he revolted, calling it a mutiny, a disgrace. He forced a violent coup upon the western clan. Flanking them from the north. Felix kidnapped the children and fled. Clarissa immediately fled to find the them.

None of them returned. The master and remaining clan members searched for years. But they had vanished. The master vowed to keep the west a peaceful place, in hopes that it would draw Clarissa and her children back home one day.."

Duff spoke with a heavy low tone. Sorrow in his voice. Axl turned away from everyone, fiddling blankly with an instrument.

"The west remained peaceful again, until the 1840's. One of the sons, Cyrus, had returned to California. Cyrus had survived and been raised by his uncle. His uncle had turned Cyrus, but he had corrupted Cyrus. Cyrus brought his hoard in order to overtake the western territories. A great battle took place between the western clan settlers and Cyrus's hoard. Humans today have rewritten it as the "gold rush". The shattered remains of the vampires would shine like gold..and drew many travelers in search of said gold..

Anyways, I digress,

The settlers and humans together, outmatched Cyrus, and a truce was formed on conditions of split territories. Cyrus would settle north and leave LA alone. That was the deal for quite some time. The settler clan, us, made a good home of LA. Most of us ventured into music, art and film with humans. Music tied the two species together stronger than anything. Hence why LA is so full of musicians.

Over time, our numbers dwindled. And Christianity had also settled in the west. Then the persecutions began...They'd kidnap the settlers and human allies and kill them. Burn them in ceremonies in a place called bohemian grove. Vampires went into hiding. Most of us live in the night now. This is what's left. " Duff ushered around.

You took it all in, in earnest shock. "And what about the two other sons, and...Clarissa?" You peg for answers. Axls head lifted. Duff and Steven glance at Axl and then the floor.

"Well. No one knows for sure...there's-rumors and stuff but no one's seen them since. We don't know that they're even alive."

Axl stood up loudly and roughly, allowing his chair to fall to the floor. He rushed out of the room angrily and quietly.

"Ignore him- Axls uh- he's sensitive." Duff explained. You nodded.

"Anyways, LA guns stemmed from cyrus's northern clan. The northern clan uh- they don't share the same values as the western clan...they feast on humans. But in the past decade, they've slowly moved south towards us, because they've killed off all their prey up there. No one wants to live in the sleepy little northern towns where people go missing. Naturally... "

"So all the recent killings, that one couple that went missing, and that school bus of kids, and that family of hikers? That was them...? Feasting...?" You ask nervously.

Duff nods. "And the animals too. Which is our food. They are essentially starving us out."

[anerdssketchpileblr]

Aaa ok I never thought I'd share this thing anywhere but lately the ml fandom, specifically the Lt au and @sillysiluriforme's work has been really inspiring me. So I introduce to you Emmanuelle Emilie Agreste.

She's an old miraculous oc I've had for years and never done much with outside of my own head tbh. She's Adrien's older sister and also a sentimonster, created bc in my mind/version of things Emilie had to give up on a lot of her acting career after moving to Paris and marrying Gabriel.

So instead she makes Emmanuelle, an almost perfect copy of herself, (except for the eye and hair colour, Gabriel's and Nathalie's respectively as little Easter eggs bc she thinks it's cute, but Emma ends up dying her hair and wearing contacts all the time anyway), who will never age or get wrinkles and who has a head start in the industry by starting acting work as a child. A dress up doll she can mold into the actress she could have been if she'd started earlier, who she can live vicariously through while she stays at home.

Less of a daughter and more of an advertisement, a way for the world to never forget her. Because this child has her face and her voice and will never shut up about honouring her legacy. The concept of Emilie the actress will live on far longer under a slightly different name. Also less of a daughter and more of her biggest fan. The perfect protogee who listens to all her advice and never has alternate ideas on how to do things and will never speak badly of her.

Essentially she exists to stroke Emilie's ego and Act and that's all she really knows how to do at the end of the day. Girl who is so normal about her mother and definitely has a personality outside of her career.

I picture her role as like. Minor/secondary villian (bc she was helping Gabriel through making more possible akumas on purpose bc she wants her mom back too) who has an eventual 'redemption arc' but they aren't actually a better person and it's only bc their brother is a hero it turns out and they like him more than their father. She really only cares about her mother and Adrien, who she is protective of but also more than fine lying to. She thinks he's a dork for wanting to go to public school but whatever. It's fine, Chloe will tell her if something goes wrong there.

She's in the range of 19-22 somewhere, and she works in a lot of projects not exclusively in France, so she's usually travelling and away from home. She's known for getting into relationships with her costars that start when the project is in development and somehow always ends once the hype is over. Adrien talks to her over the phone more than he sees her in person until she gets 'trapped' in Paris for coming home during the akuma crisis and has to actually start living in her TV show set never breathed in room.

I don't think she'd actually work/exist in the Lt au bc my version of Emilie in my head is a different kind of freak than the Lt version, who I do not think would make her. But it's fun to play around with anyway.

Specifically I just keep thinking abt her relationship with Lt chloe tho, bc in my little head world she's Chloe's awful terrible manipulative cool older friend/mentor figure who encourages all her worst traits for funsies and to bring about more akumas. And Lt adds another interesting layer to their dynamic in that chloe is also a sentimonster made to resemble her mother, and both of them idolise their mothers desipte them being not actually that great. girl who was made by her mother to be a copy of her mother vs girl who was made by her father to be a copy of her mother. surely this mentorship will go normally.

I also imagine her being like an awful older sister/mentor figure to the galattaca girls too. At her core she is an enabler and someone who turns a blind eye to fucked up shit to stay 'comfortable'. (And a manipulative asshole too.) What I'm saying here is I think she could make Aurore specifically so much worse and would have fun doing it. Evil girl and her younger blonde apprentices 💙

Summary: shes my horrible evil daughter I'm throwing her in the trash, I'm giving her a biscuit, she needs to face consequences for what she's done I'm denying her the catharsis of punishment she will learn to make meaningful change and mend her relationships, she's great in theory but not in practice, she shouldn't exist and she knows it, she's like if a show pony developed sapience. As you can probably tell, she's infested my brain like the parasite she is 💙