#i love them they just make me feel violent

[vrystalius]

sniff sniff I SMELL AN AMAZING BLOG!1!1! I REALLY LOVE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE KEEP UP THIS AMAZING MASTERPIECE!1!1! Also can i request the first 3 uppermoons with a female reader human who likes to bite them a lot? Like imagine training and you feel a bite on your shoulder or talking and then! BOOM! reader cutely bites their nose and cheek :3

Biting the Upper Moons

How will the Upper Moons react to their human biting different areas of their body?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x reader

Biting areas included: Ear, nose, cheek, bicep, arm

Kokushibo

Ear: 3/10

To reach his ear, you first have to brush some hair away, meaning Kokushibo will be aware of your intentions. You don’t whisper into his ear out of nowhere, but you do like to bite him there. So, most of the time, he’s simply dodging your attack before you could come any closer. He’s very hyperaware of his senses, meaning he doesn’t want anything to disturb them. Especially his vision and hearing.

“Do not even try.”

Nose: 3/10

Your face rapidly approaching his might suggest a kiss at first, but your mischievous grin told a different story. Similar with ears, Kokushibo simply dodges you. If you annoy him further with attempts to bite him, he’ll threaten to bite you first, flashing his sharp teeth at you. That usually shuts you down and leave him to meditate in peace. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness, he lets you bite his nose. His whole face would scrunch up in dissatisfaction and will remain like that for the rest of the day.

“Why are you so insistent of biting me? Did you have issues during childhood?”

Cheek: 4/10

He barely has any cheeks to bite onto, so you’ll resolve to biting his chin. Again, Kokushibo mistakes you leaning in for you wanting a simple kiss, so he obliged and parts his lips slightly in anticipation. He truly is too trusting with you, he learned that the moment you bit his chin and then scrambled away to hide. He didn’t bother to chase you, it was his fault that he’s letting his guard down like that. Perhaps he’s too lenient and loving with you.

“How foolish of me to think that you, my spouse, wanted affection from me.” (Is he even capable of sarcasm? Everything he says sounds to serious.)

Bicep: 8/10

Feeling you bite his bicep makes him feel oddly proud of his muscles. Is this your way of complimenting his body? Or a way to seduce him? Because weirdly enough, Kokushibo gets aroused when you bite him there. It reminds him of other moments where you desperately hold onto his bicep and shoulders and the way your face contorted into pure ecstasy. Perhaps you biting his bicep like that is your way to invite him into your bedroom? He’ll have to ask you why exactly you chose to bite his bicep out of all places.

“Are you trying to court me, dear? Just say the word and I’m yours tonight.”

Arm: 6/10

You biting his arm randomly during certain tasks amuses him slightly. It’s kind of fascinating to him why you are doing this. Do you crave his attention this badly? Once your teeth sink into his skin, his muscles would tense and Kokushibo might pull you around a little, like how someone would do with a puppy or energetic toddler. But do not expect him to look enthusiastic. His face will remain stone cold while playing tug-war with you. You have to be beware of how easily he gets fed up with the games though.

“Release my arm. Now.”

Douma

Ear: 6/10

It’s amusing to him how you continue to find ways to catch his attention. If Douma is busy preparing for another sermon, cleaning himself off after a feeding or just simply lounging around, you come up to him and bite his ear. He giggles loudly and would try to bite you back in any way. One time, he snuck up on you. As a payback for biting his ear very harshly that day, Douma wanted to bite yours in return! You jumped very violently once he pounced onto you and bit down onto your ear. From that day on, you now have an additional earhole in your ear for even more jewrely! That was his plan all along! Totally!

“How about I bite your other ear so you have symmetrical ear holes? That way, I can get you even more earrings! Wouldn’t you like that, lotus? …No? Okay.”

Nose: 7/10

It’s so cute to him! You mostly do it when you two nuzzle your noses together affectionately when you chomp down onto his. It surprised him, yes, but it’s so so cute! You being so adorable and just biting him stirs some kind of cuteness-aggression within him. Douma would trap you in his strong and large arms, squeaking and nuzzling his face against you. He’ll probably bite you in all kinds of areas himself during this fit, kicking his feet and grinning brightly.

“You’re so cute! My adorable little human! I could just eat you right up!! Lemme have a taste, hm? May I?”

Cheek: 5/10

Out of all the ways you bit him before, cheek bites are his least favourite. Not that Douma hates it, he just prefers to be bitten in other ways. Cheek bites remind him of cheek pulling, wich reminds him of a way a mother would scold her child. No mother ever bit her child’s cheek as a form of punishment (as far as Douma is aware of), but just feels like it. Gentle nibbles make him grin and pepper your face in kisses, but a whole bite and pull makes him whine loudly. He’d rather not get them.

“Mhh, don’t do that! Ouch… Give me a kiss on the cheek instead!”

Bicep: 8/10

Douma grins at your antics again, but this time, his smile is much more darker. You really are a brave one, aren’t you? Did you forget that he is still a demon? He only lets you bite him because you stir such strong emotions inside of him. Oh if only he can bite you back and taste your flesh on his tongue… You must taste like a heavenly feast, your blood rivalling those of marechi in taste and sacredness. Perhaps if Douma asks nicely you’ll let him try a droplet your blood. But for now, he’ll let you bite his bicep as you please. You look cute while doing it and he can barely feel it tickle, so why not?

“Dear Lotus, how about a little deal? I’ll let you bite down as hard as you like in exchange for a teeny tiny droplet of your blood?”

Arm: 7/10

Aren’t you just adorable! Douma’ll let you bite his arm and maybe even pull some flesh out if you like, as long as you’re enjoying yourself. He likes watching you entertain yourself like this with his body, it’s a great opportunity to observe some human emotions on your face. Seeing you so happy and excited about something simple like biting down onto his arm makes him wonder if you want to bite other areas in his body as well. Douma wonders if you’ll have different reactions to different firmness or taste of his skin. For example, will you bite him more often if he rubs some sugar onto his skin? Or how will you react if you bite his flexed thigh? Oh the opportunities! He might have to write down a list of reactions and behaviours he wants to test out on you!

“Lotus, how about you bite my chest? I can flex them a little and- hm? No, it’s one of my kinks, I’m just curious about something!… No, not like that! My, what a filthy mind you have.”

Akaza

Ear: 1/10

It sounds weird to him when you nibble his ear. It makes his whole body shiver, and not in a very good way. Akaza will side eye you in slight disgust whenever you even attempt to bite his earlobe. Playing it off and feigning innocence doesn’t help either and he’ll avoid you for the rest of the day/night. He doesn’t want to risk you even thinking about it.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Nose: 3/10

Nibbling his nose makes his whole face scrunch up in uncomfortableness. It tickles when you bite his nose and Akaza doesn’t like the way it makes him feel childish. He hates being tickled overall and almost always fights back as gently as he could against your tickle-assault, but you only biting his nose and immediately backing off feels like some kind of way to cheese his reaction. You get to see how his face scrunches together and how much he hates being tickled while also not feeling or seeing the consequences of doing so. Biting and running off is too fast for Akaza to process immediately since he almost always lets his guard down around you to show how much he trusts you. Yet, you prove to him how untrustworthy you truly are, you minx.

“Come back! You don’t get away with this again!”

Cheek: 6/10

Tolerates it at best, pushed you away at worst. Akaza doesn’t really mind you nibbling onto his cheek, as long as you don’t disturb him during something. He’ll actually welcome it when you two are cuddling, for example. He’ll even grin a little at your adorableness when you do, but if you draw his attention away from his training just to nibble against his cheek, Akaza will glare at you. Also, he doesn’t like to admit it, but he also likes to nibble a little on your cheek as well. Especially when Akaza is cuddling you and you blush. Your cheeks are very warm and nice to bite onto!

“Can we do that later? I’m busy right now.”

Bicep: 8/10

Akaza would also feel very prideful when you bite down onto his bicep. He doesn’t want to appear weak in front of you, so he’ll try to figure out when you’re planning to bite him. That way, he’ll flex his whole arm as a way of showing off. But also, that way, you started biting him more less. It’s not so nice to chew onto a boulder-like muscle, so you preferred softer areas in his body (like his cheek). But Akaza wanted you to bite his bicep! He wants you to feel how strong and powerful he is! So, he started offering his not-flexed bicep to bite onto. Now, it’s one of your favourite areas to nibble!

“You’re a really odd one. I chose the weirdest human to love.”

Arm: 7/10

Similar to his bicep, Akaza wants to flex his forearm in order to demonstrate how powerful he is! But after noticing how you preferred softer areas, he reluctantly offered his softened arm to you to bite down onto. Once you start biting down hard, he’ll notify you to stop immediately by flexing his muscle. It’s not like he feels any pain when you bite down as hard as you can, it just… tickles.

“Let go. Let go now. Hey! No! Let go of my damn arm!!”

💠

I am thinking about posting some sort of NSFW drabble for Douma I’ve been thinking about the oast few days… Maybe during Oktober. But anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you’ll continue to enjoy my blog!! Also, I have now written three fics that include biting in some form… does that say something about me or you guys? XD But keep requesting anything you like!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Wonderful Winter Time

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

'❄️IT'S SNOWING!❄️' 

You hit send and put the phone down. You glance through the window on the other side of your desk and smile. You have it all set up so your heavy laptop doesn't block out the scenery, though it's just the alleyway.

The suite in the building across from yours usually has a rich array of flowers on the summer. And the sun hits nicely at a certain time of day and almost illuminates the brick. 

The whole desk buzzes and you read the response. Lloyd almost makes you laugh with only a '😿'. He used to tease you for all your emojis but now you find yourself trying to decipher his use of them. Sometimes he doesn't make much sense. He is a funny guy. 

You pick up your phone and take a picture out the window of how the powder starts to pile on the railing across from you. You hit send and add a follow-up, 'so prettttty.' 

You smile as you peer out again. Another swell of nostalgia floods through you then rolls over to a sense of longing. Your dad would love it. He'd be trying to goad you into sledding, even though he always lost control of his toboggan.  

Your phone shakes violently in your hand. This time, it doesn't stop. You answer Lloyd's call, "uh, hi?" 

"Whatcha doin'?" 

"Uhhhhh," you lean your elbow on the desk, "just finished some work. Was going to put the kettle on--" 

"Forget the kettle. I'm outside." 

"Outside? Lloyd." 

"I know, tootsie, you're a creature of habit but I'm a man without rules," he snickers. 

"I didn't even know you were back," you say. 

"Wow, some welcome, huh?" He scoffs. "Thought you'd be happy to see me." 

"I am," you argue shrilly. "Alright, let me just get my stuff. It might take me a few." 

"Sure thing, candy girl," he says, "I'll keep the seat warm. Crank this thing up to ten." 

"Right, bye," you hang up and stand with a sigh. 

You're happy to have a friend but Lloyd can be a bit... demanding. He's a bit oblivious too. He doesn't always ask, he just kind of does. You're much the opposite but you suppose it makes it more interesting.  

You grab some socks before you tuck your feet into your boots. You stand and grab your jacket. You lost a button and replaced it with a close dupe. Still, it stands out. 

You shove your phone in your purse and pause. Your forgetting something. You scurry back to grab the bundle on the armrest then pluck up your keys. You hurry out and barrell down the stares. He may have caught you offguard but you always hate to keep anyone waiting. 

You kick up snow as you near his car and the doors unlock loudly. You sit with your feet outside and shake off the snow. You pull your legs in and shut the door with a brr. 

"I thought you liked this sh--stuff," he snorts. 

"I do!" You hold out the bundle, "welcome back, Lolly." 

He smirks and curiously eyes the sewn pouch. He takes it and chuckles at the nickname. One autocorrect mixup and it just sort of stuck. 

"Remember, you can't call me that around others. I got an aura to maintain," he says as he loosens the string and looks inside. He tugs out the wolly mitt with its black and grey ombre. He narrows his eyes and slips the other free. He examines them, feeling the stitching. 

"You don't have mitts so I made some," you say, "just in time too!" 

He looks at you then back at the wool, "you made them?" 

"Yeah, like mine," you bounce excitedly, "you like them. I hope the colour's okay. I didn't have black but I found that on discount." 

"They're... nice," he says. 

"Please, try them. See if they fit. I had to guess and my hands are tiny." 

"Uh, yeah," he flinches and looks down again. He shoves his hand into one and raises it, stretching is fingers inside, "perfect. Warm." 

"Awesome," you smile proudly. "But uh, you know... if you don't like them. I know they're not really your style. Oh, maybe I could sew in a Gucci tag--"  

"Stop," he slips it off and puts them back in the bag, "I love em, okay?" 

He leans over and pulls open the glove box. He puts them inside, his shoulder against you, and snaps it shut. 

"Make sure I don't lose them," he sits back and rests his hand on your seat, "so, anyway, you're not gonna make me feel like a chump so easy. You're not the only one with a surprise." 

"Please, I'm not dressed for that bar," you protest.  

"Ha, no, don't worry, you'll be fine," he assures you. 

"Can I have a hint?" You ask as he pulls away from the curb.  

"Nope," he makes the P pop. 

"Hmm, alright. I'll be patient." 

"Just sit pretty, tootsie roll," he steers down the snowy street cautiously. "Wanna turn on some of that girly trash you listen to?" 

You roll your eyes and tap the touchscreen of the stereo. You search for the 00s station and hit play. An Xtina classic comes on and you turn it up. 

"Oh, I love this one," you wiggle in your seat. 

"Really?" He remarks, "wouldn't think..." 

You sit back and tap your foot to the rhythm. You watch the snowflakes drift and peer up into the deepening blue evening. It's so pretty. You're just happy not to be alone. 

You look over as the tires crunch to a stop at the light. At least he has the sense not to drive like a maniac in this weather. As you glance at him, his lips curve around the lyrics of the song silently. You chuckle softly and turn back to the window. You knew he liked your music. 

[nadvs]

push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[gatorbites-imagines]

In that case… Could I please request Killer Croc/Waylon Jones with a supringly really attractive boyfriend (like a male version Jessica Rabbit level hot, like it dosen’t even make sense for someone to be that hot) who no one understand how Waylon pulled. Waylon’s boyfriend is very sultry and alluring.

And Waylon roughly breeds his boyfriend doggy style 😇.

Thank u :)

Waylon Jones x Male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend squad, how is everyone doing? Classes are still running at a max level, and I’m starting to think this is just how it goes. So, time to chillax with some Waylon.

Not as smutty as I would have wanted, but this honestly just built a life of its own and started running.

We see in the comics, or at least in one run, that Waylon does have game and knows how to pull somebody very attractive, so its not too surprising so could pull you. That’s what you think at least, since he’s a great guy, to you.

I imagine you two met after he left the circus, maybe you guys even left together. With Waylon being the circus’s “freakshow” and you only being there as eye candy to sell tickets. With you both being reduced to nothing but your looks, you two find solidarity with each other, and fall in love.

No one ever really took your love seriously back then, just thinking you were using Waylon for protection, since someone as pretty as you couldn’t be safe anywhere.

Insert the “seriously, what do you see in that guy?” “he makes me laugh” scene.

If we go with the verse where Waylon was in Halys circus, then the only ones that seemed to have some version of acceptance of your love was the Grayson’s. it was one of the reasons you two left the circus, having a strong feeling of what had truly happened to them and who caused it.

After leaving the circus, you couldn’t live in the sewers like Waylon. This meant you got an apartment, in the beginning in crime alley since it was cheapest.

You may have been so beautiful it would drive people mad, but you also had a head on your shoulders. So, in the end you set up a legitimate business, maybe you even become something akin to a designer. Mainly because your lover is so big, there’s no other way to get him clothes.

And maybe during your time in crime alley, you stumble upon a scrawny kid who, though he may act tough, still has a light in him. And maybe that kid ends up being batman’s second robin, who remembers how kind you were to him and everyone around you, so he doesn’t go as hard against Waylon.

The past you have with the Grayson’s also means that Dick takes it easier on Waylon, and they even settle down and talk at times. You’ll regularly find the two former robins hanging around your art studio, even years later when they aren’t robin anymore.

Your lover goes to Arkham, a lot. But you never hate him or even argue with him. You’ll just pull up to Arkham in your most beautiful outfit during visitors’ hours and hold Waylon’s hand as you two act like a new married couple, even if it’s been twenty at this point.

And it may have been twenty years, but you just seem to have become more handsome with age, aging like fine expensive wine. You don’t become shrewd or corrupted by the world around you, instead you stay kind and patient. You’re still in Gotham though, so you’ll turn violent if you have too.

No one really believes that Waylon purrs, until you show up and he becomes as meek as a kitten, ready to roll in your manicured hand.

Its no secret that you, one of the most famous designers around, and Killer Croc, are together. But its just such a normal part of everyday life now, that no one really questions it. your works never been dirty, you help those around you, and lift up poor and struggling artists whenever you can. So, what if your husband is tearing up the road trying to bite Batman to bits.

Theres a viral video in Gotham of you stepping out during one of Waylon’s rampages, and just scolding him, wagging a finger in his face and still looking so unbelievably gorgeous as you do so.

And yes, of course your design trademark is crocodile scales, or anything along those lines. You’ll never use real crocodile skin, but you do use the print or shape.

After all this time, people don’t fear Waylon as much as they probably should, all thanks to you. Its kinda hard to fear a guy when you know his boyfriend is unofficially titled the most beautiful man in Gotham, who’s also as giving and kind as the Waynes, whilst being more involved in the nitty gritty, since you still live in Crime Alley.

Someone has threatened Waylon with telling on him to you at least once too, which doesn’t stop him, but it does cause him to freeze and get an “oh shit” expression, long enough for people to run to safety.

Being one of the most skilled fashionistas around also means you have met the Waynes on multiple occasions.

The shared past with Dick and the circus, and Jason, though you don’t remember him as vividly, means you get called on more than most.

As you measure them out and start making designs, conversations flow, and Damian most likely ends up bluntly just asking you why in the world you decided to pair up with Killer Croc of all people.

You correct him in your answer, referring to your husband as Waylon, and then you just start waxing the poetics. Of your shared past, of the deep unshakable love you both share, and how under all his struggles, Waylon truly is an amazing man.

You’ve never confirmed that Dick was Robin, even though it was very obvious. Its not your place to judge how he, or his family, deal with their trauma or whatever they have going on. Your lover swims through the sewers, you can’t really say anything.

A few passing comments are made though, obviously. You tell the Waynes to “take it easy next time they see Waylon, wont you?” with one of your heart shaking winks before you saunter out, ready to start putting together your latest design.

Its kind of an accepted, not really a secret, secret. Its never put into words, and they know that you know, and you know that they know you know. Nothing ends up happening with it though, outside of you making some jokes and judging their hero outfits.

With age you’ve become less sultry and alluring, at least in the way the public can point out as obviously as before. You have simply mastered your field, and know just how to play people around you if you need too.

Though, you didn’t really learn to master it for the public. It’s mainly just for Waylon, so you like to see how his nostrils flare, and when he starts chuffing in the back of his throat when you saunter around in nothing but a silk robe.

The bats know that the first place Waylon goes when he gets out of Arkham is to you. But…they also all know to wait at least a day or two before they come for him. To allow you to spend some time together, but also because most of them have caught of glimpse of you… reunions…

Bruce wont admit it, but he’s at least impressed with you being able to take two of them at the same time, even after all these years. He might note down your many skills somewhere… just in case.

Reunions with Waylon are typically a hot and steamy affair. Or well, as hot and steamy as a guy whose as cold as a reptile can get. There are days where either of you may not be up for it, and then its just cuddles and having some nice domestic time together before he’s taken back to Arkham again.

But when it does get hot, then you are very happy you own the entire building. Waylon can get quite loud, but never as loud as he still makes you even after all these years.

Sure, you’ve learned to handle it more after all this time, but it still makes you squeal when Waylon fits both his shafts inside you at the same time, lifting and moving you around like a doll.

Where Waylon may be rough and violent in every other part of his life, Waylon is slower and much more careful in the bedroom. He doesn’t want to lose his senses and hurt you on accident. You have some very faded bite and claw scars on your body, back from when you first got together, and Waylon likes to remind himself of that.

Sometimes you do want him to be rougher about it, so you pull all the skills you’ve gained over the years. And Waylon is but a man, even with the scales and all, so he can’t resist you for very long. It always ends up with you writhing, face in the pillow that’s stained with your tears and drool or pleasure, as Waylon growls and snarls behind you, his big, clawed hands moving you back and forth with ease.

He always feels a bit guilty about it afterwards, especially seeing how much you leak all over the sheets. Expect to find yourself being pampered and loved on for the next couple of days. Even the bats seem to leave you to it, most likely having heard your cries. You get a feeling the people in the next building heard them too. But you honestly don’t care anymore.

You may have Waylon, and many others, wrapped around your finger, but so does Waylon with you. And neither of you really seem to mind anymore.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.75)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Getting you home and into the nest proves to be a bit more of a challenge.

Tags: forced caretaking, feral omega's, m/c acts a little violent at the beginning, biting, blood, brief injury, kinda inspection kink if you squint, pre-heat, nudity, cramps, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega, possessive behavior, omegaspace, yoongi has slight self-esteem issues, manhandling,

W/c: 8.6k+

A/n: i feel guilty because i had to snip this chapter in half because there was simply too much stuff going on in my life at the moment. on the bright side i will try to get the second part out in one week, and i will also be very drunk at a engagement party when this is posted <3 gotta love that for me. in all honesty although it says 5pm...it will probably be posted a little earlier in the day so...be aware!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

"I don't think her fingers are broken, fuck- do you think Jin would let me take her to the hospital?"

"You just got home Joonie-" Tae whines while Jimin shakes his head, handing over the gauze for Namjoon to wrap it.

"I know but-"

Instead of wiggling your fingers, you flick water in Namjoon's direction. It hits his face with an audible plop. The pack alpha flinches.

The rest of them just stare at you.

Namjoon wipes the water off of his face, slow and intentionally with every movement of his body. No one breathes and no one moves. You sense Namjoon's composure is about to slip. Good- you really want it too.

"See! Pups fine!” You flick water at Namjoon again. Grinning, dopy and so high on heat hormones that you think it is funny how his jaw rolls. Your hand isn't broken even if your knuckles are a little scraped up. Really- you'll be fine. They don't need to act like you're dying.

You try to do it again but Jimin grabs both of your wrists, holding you still. "That is the opposite of helpful." Tae snaps.

"Don't yell at me. I'm too tiny." You say, your voice that. Small.

Namjoon whips his hands on a kitchen cloth slowly. Staring you down without saying anything.

Yoongi runs his teeth over the back of your throat, hard enough that you feel it. He's not sure why you need the release of violence before your heat begins, but you do. Whatever instinct is currently making you act like a brat needs to come out one way or another.

Yoongi would rather it be now than when you're actually in heat.

Jimin and Yoongi keep you in one place as you try to lunge for Namjoon. You barely even jerk in their firm hold. Strong as they are. every one of them has more than half a foot on you, you'd never stand a chance really. Jimin holds you effortlessly- without even breaking a sweat. muscles and veins in his arms hardly flexing.

You want to bite him, teeth and gums aching for it. To feel the give of your alpha's under your teeth, under your claws. To bite and nip and see what he's made of.

It's like Namjoon can see the ache rocking through you, the violence of it in the honey tremble of your body. He cups your face so tenderly, and you almost want to hiss at him. Lip lifting in a soundless snarl. His voice is a gentle hush, a tone you are intimately familiar with.

it's the same tone of voice that has preceded every punishment and scolding you've ever received from the pack alpha. Every time he's ever coaxed you to take his knot (icky) or an orgasm (less icky). As he drags you close and speaks to you. Soft but firm. Gentle but unyielding.

"You are allowed to be needy, you are allowed to be small. You are allowed to need everything and anything and I will personally make sure that each one of those needs are fulfilled."

You snap your teeth at him, trying to bite his hand. He only just gets away. Your teeth brushing his knuckles playfully. You giggle, behind you, Yoongi snorts.

Instantly the pack hold your face, your jaw, not jimin but your mate and tae. Holding your mouth open. Fingers digging into your lower lip. Making your lips push out. You push at them but they hold you still. saliva pooling around a whine as you try to gnash your teeth again but are unsuccessful.

"Cute drooly puppy, so messy. what are we to do with you?" Tae's voice is a lethal purr.

You like it. You like feeling your alpha's strength, your mate's strength. Where they begin and you end. You want to test it want to make sure they can protect you.

For what? You can't say. You think it might have something to do with the terrible sensitivity between your thighs, the bleeding hot need slowly gripping you, a distant storm rumbling. But you're not sure.

"You need to make sure we're capable of protecting you through your heat? is that it pup?"

You whine, needy around Namjoon's fingers.

Tae keeps your mouth open and Namjoon taps his finger against your tongue, your lips, your teeth. Does he like how sharp they are? They feel awfully sharp in your mouth. Good omega, see? You want to tell him. Strong like you. Not a pup.

You don't whine and recoil the way an alpha would at being poked and prodded at. You fight one moment then go pliant the next. Letting him look, letting him touch and pinch your tongue between his fingers, loling it out and making it cute. Tears building at the corner of your eyes by how frustrated you feel, how much you want.

Tae grips your jaw, turning you this way and that, jimin's claws tangle with yours. yoongi digs his teeth into your scent gland, going sweeter and sweeter and sweeter with every moment.

Tae coo's and you hiss at her- or try too. Namjoon's finger pressing against your tongue stops you from doing anything but whine. Saliva pooling to the point where it almost drips, a little gross, but Namjoon's smile is darker, wickeder.

Namjoon strokes your tongue once, twice, and then a third time. Near your gag reflex but just barely. If you want to act like a disobedient pup, he's going to make you work for it.

You are the lowest ranking packmate, you can't expect your anger to be anything remarkable. they all coo at you- at your innocent imitation of your alpha's behavior.

Jimin smiles. agreeing, flashing his teeth at you that actually are sharp- actually could bite. you like them, like him. jimin holds you so well- so firmly you feel it in the small bones of your wrists. any other time you'd say it was uncomfortable, but it makes you leak slick, just a little. you know they can smell it.

"Cute little omega, acting like an alpha." Namjoon's thigh is between your legs, and you try and grind down on it. He stops you, holding your hips firm. You can't move more than a millimeter without one of them stopping you.

"No, none of that pup. If you want it you'll ask nicely, and you'll ask Jinnie first. I know you can be good."

But you don't want to be good, you want to fight.

~-~

Coming Saturday September 28th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[dollishbabess]

someday my love, I will choose you always - dollish

A/n: yk what single ladies do? THEY WRITE SAD AND HEARTWARMING ROMANCE AND HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS BECAUSE OF IT, mentions of !love and death!

Second divider by @cafekitsune, first one by me

The moon hung high over Gotham, casting a silver glow across the skyline. You sat on the rooftop, the city below a world of chaos and vibrance, but up here, it felt peaceful. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the wind and the quiet hum of life in the streets below. You leaned against the cool brick, your thoughts lost in the beauty of the moment, night city’s were always beautiful.

Jason joined you, his presence both grounding and electrifying. He settled beside you, his arm draping casually around your shoulders. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, and you instinctively leaned closer, seeking comfort in his nearness.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, noticing the distant look in his eyes you wondered what he thought about.

He glanced over at you, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his features. “Just... thinking.”

“About?” you pressed gently, curiosity piqued.

For a moment, Jason was silent, his mind racing back through the memories of his past. Artemis had been fierce and independent, a breath of fresh air in a world filled with darkness. Then there was Rose—her strength and resilience were unmatched, yet their connection had always felt fraught with tension, the weight of unspoken words heavy between them it just wasn’t right… (🐻‍❄️)

But those memories paled in comparison to what he felt with you. With you, there was no tension, no chaos. Just a deep sense of love and understanding that made the world seem a little less harsh and violent.

As he opened his mouth to respond, the words vanished, and instead, he leaned in closer, capturing your lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss. Time seemed to stand still as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in that moment.

When he finally pulled away, your eyes searched his, trying to read the thoughts swirling behind his gaze. “What were you thinking about?” you asked again, your voice soft, almost teasing.

“Nothing,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his touch gentle yet electrifying. But in his mind, thoughts raced like lightning—you. Forever you. He envisioned a life together, one where he would kneel before you and ask you to marry him, to make promises that would span a lifetime.

You, with your infectious laughter and unwavering support, had found a way to heal the wounds of his past. You were a beacon of light in his life, and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his heart swelling with emotion. In this moment, he realized he would do anything to keep you, to build a future together. He didn’t need to speak those thoughts aloud; you already understood in the silence between you.

“Okay,” you replied, your smile warm and reassuring. “I just... I love you, you know.”

Jason’s heart raced at your words. “I love you too,” he said, sincerity lacing every syllable. “More than you know.”

You nestled against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you both stared out at the city, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. Whatever ghosts of the past haunted him, they were just that—past. You were his present and his future, and he vowed silently that he would always fight for you, always choose you, and one day, he would make you his forever.

“I pronounce you now husband and wife” your memory faded away suddenly feeling nostalgic, you wish he was still here.

Please don’t steal! Or translate or put on other platforms

[psink]

Rainy season anime artwork translation:

A complicated chuunibyou guy

Kaidou Shun

(Voice Actor/ Shimazaki Nobunga)

Kusuo’s classmate that everyone knows is a chuunibyou. However because he’s shy, serious and pure-hearted by nature, he can’t maintain his chuunibyou persona.

⏴In the work, his chuunibyou sometimes causes problems for Kusuo, but in reality, he’s a good and timid child. He thinks of Kusuo, Nendou and Kuboyasu as important friends. Hopefully he’ll never lose this innocence.

Guy with a complicated love for his younger brother

Saiki Kuusuke

(Voice Actor/ Nojima Kenji)

Saiki Kusuo’s older brother, a genius mad scientist with an IQ of 218. Has a fetish for challenging his younger brother and getting defeated. He messes with Kusuo at any opportunity. 

⏶Contrary to his handsome looks, his real nature is quite disappointing. He’s an extreme masochist (however, this is limited to only Kusuo).

Complicated clingy guy

Akechi Touma

(Voice Actor/ Kaji Yuuki)

A logical and talkative transfer student who came to Kusuo’s class. He talks rapidly like a machine gun without reading the atmosphere of his surroundings. He suspects that Kusuo is a psychic. Although he was once deceived, he persistently continues to investigate Kusuo.

Guy who attracts complicated people

Saiki Kusuo

(Voice Actor/ Kamiya Hiroshi)

A high-school student who can control various psychic powers. In order to keep his abilities secret, he lives maintaining a moderate distance from those around him. His favorite food is sweets, he especially loves coffee jelly. 

⏶Although Kusuo almost never voluntarily expresses his emotions, he shows a blissful smile whilst tasting sweets. Is this cute contrast also a point that attracts people around him!?

⏶⏵In addition to Kaidou, other members of his troublesome group include the strongest idiot Nendou Riki (Voice Actor: Ono Daisuke and the delinquent Kuboyasu Aren (Voice Actor: Hosoya Yoshimasa), whose trouble-causing abilities are immeasurable. Despite that, they're also lovable guys that you can't hate.

(Kusuo’s left shoulder text)

The cheerful, sunny spring has passed and the rainy season has already arrived. Our handsome psychic, Saiki Kusuo, is on his way home whilst avoiding the scattered rain with his telekinesis, but there are people approaching him. His brother, Kuusuke, his classmate, Kusuo and the transfer student Akechi - these three people. Amongst them, Akechi, because of his natural quick thinking and good insight, seems to suspect Kusuo is a psychic!? With the intensity of either a devoted wife or a stalker, he clings to Kusuo and tries to reveal his secret by showering him with machine gun-like talk……Will Kusuo manage to avoid them like the rain and return the clear skies to his heart?

(Kusuo’s right shoulder text)

Just as his older brother, Kuusuke, is coming to pick him up with coffee jelly in one hand, Kaidou, struck by the rain, is showing off his chuunibyou. The transfer student Akechi invites Kusuo under his umbrella, too. Their attention-seeking offensive is even more persistent than the rainy season, how will Kusuo endure it!?

(Big text on white background)

A rain of love from the complicated people pours down intensively on

Kusuo☆

Heart-pounding regretful rain☆

QUESTION

If you were to share an umbrella with someone, who would it be?

Kamiya: Teruhashi-san. Her charm, which causes even the God to be her ally, makes me want to try saying 「offu」 as well.

Shimazaki: Of course, it’d have to be Teruhashi-san!!! Offu!!!

Saiki Kusuo’s Voice Actor

Kamiya Hiroshi-san 

Interview 

The 2nd season of 「Fierce Argument」. 

—If you were to express the growth and changes of Saiki Kusuo in the second season using four-character idioms or similar expressions, what would they be?

Kamiya: 「Fierce Argument (Editor’s note: The sound of swords clashing violently. Also, the state of engaging in heated debate)」 I feel that the degree of this is gradually increasing compared to the 1st season.

–Kamiya-san, please tell us a particular「Kusuo’s charm point」 that you’d like to recommend right now.

Kamiya: I don’t know much about Kusuo, but anyway, Teruhashi-san’s cuteness is a big charm of this work. 

–Please tell us the episode or moment that made you laugh whilst portraying Kusuo.

Kamiya: Kusuo is usually cool and it’s hard to read his emotions, but sometimes during particularly intense situations, he strongly interjects with 「You idiot!」, which is fun for me too.

–Kusuo is always extremely popular regardless of gender, Kamiya-san, if you were in his position, what would you do?

Kamiya: If each of them stays with me with the awareness that we're friends, then I will gratefully accept that.

Kaidou Shun’s Voice Actor

Shimazaki Nobunaga-san

Interview

Right now, I’m at my peak chuunibyou stage in life.

–If you were to express the growth and changes of Saiki Kusuo in the second season from a  chuunibyou perspective, what would that be?

Shimazaki: 「Jet Black Twilight - Ragnarok of Chaos」 Reason: it just sounds cool!

–Shimazaki-san, please tell us a particular 「Kaidou’s charm point」that you’d like to recommend right now.

Shimazaki: I find the contrast between Shun in his full-blown chuunibyou Jet-Black Wings mode and his natural self, who is a bit of a coward but is honest and caring about his friends, to be appealing.

–Shimazaki-sama, if you discovered a completely soaked Kaidou on a rainy day, what would you do?

Shimazaki: I’d protect him!!!

–Please tell us the episode or moment that made you laugh whilst portraying Kaidou.

Shimazaki: In the 2nd season, episode 4 of episode 8x, the loop episode 「Another Time Leap Challenge! I remember saying the same line over and over again like a broken record, it left a very strong impression on me. It was fun!

–Kaidou is still in full-blown chuunibyou mode, but Shimazaki-san, when were you the most chuunibyou-like in your life? 

Shimazaki: Right now. I seriously imagine using magic and saving the world every day.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We've suddenly got an abundance of shows with dark themes and adult vibes, with a bit of a mixed bag on their execution. These are available for weekly streaming on Gaga unless otherwise noted.

Smells Like Green Spirit

A fan subber came through and we are now able to watch this show on a slight delay from the airing in Japan. This first episode was great, but be warned that this is not a light watch. This show is less a full blown romance and more of a queer coming of age story with a rather bleak worldview that will likely include a romance subplot. Our story centers on Mishima, a young person who is questioning their gender and just trying to live while being constantly targeted by school bullies. The bullying in this show is graphic and violent and Mishima has already been assaulted and targeted by creeps in the first episode, so take care and ask for content warnings if you need them. I have read the manga so I'm aware of what's in store--if you would like to know what to expect before watching, feel free to ask.

Happy of the End

CWs: Assault, attempted murder, blood, death, forced fellatio/rape (against a main character, graphically depicted more than once), revenge porn, sexual coercion and exploitation, stabbing, suicide attempt, suicide, violence

We have arrived at the end of this story, and it did not quite come together for me. I liked a lot of what it was doing; the relationship between Chihiro and Haoren giving them both a reason to persist despite their general apathy toward survival was compelling, and the actors gave strong performances in some very difficult scenes. I thought the show had a strong sense of style and tone, as well. But for me, it crossed the line into over the top trauma porn one too many times, seeming to revel in making the characters suffer and piling on unnecessary traumas that were depicted quite graphically, making the show deeply unpleasant to watch. And in the end, it suddenly veered into a happy ending that felt like a mismatch for the rest of the story, which was achieved via a time skip and Chihiro and Haoren healing offscreen despite their circumstances only getting worse over the course of the show. @bengiyo laid out why that ending felt like the show pulling its punches, and I agree. I can appreciate a story that has an established bleak worldview telling us about a specific time in these characters' lives where they mattered to each other, but slapping that unearned epilogue on it just makes the whole thing feel like torture porn followed by cheap consolation. It didn't feel honest. I don’t recommend watching this one unless you are pretty comfortable with gratuitous sexual violence.

Love is Like a Poison

We’re zipping along nicely, with this week’s episode mostly focused on the case that Haruto helped Shiba win. That courtroom scene was wild. I’m intrigued by all the advances and the early confession from Haruto, because as we and Shiba well know, the man is a con. What’s his angle, and why does he think romancing Shiba is the way to get it? Whatever he’s after, I think Shiba should give in because look at him!

Chaser Game W 2

This week we met Itsuki’s first love Yoreum, who is now a famous Korean idol and still hung up on her from back when she did a homestay with Itsuki’s family. She did a livestream from Itsuki’s cafe in the special spot where Itsuki and Fuyu like to canoodle; jealousy and dramatics ensued. Then suddenly we were doing an elevator rescue? Idek. I’m rooting for the new girl to break this couple up to be honest.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I feel like Killer often had to act dumber than Nightmare around him. I just know that Nightmare is the kind of guy who wouldn't take kindly to not being the smartest person in the room at any given time. It mostly stems from his own childhood traumas (I'm sure that the fact that nothing he ever did was good enough to make him deserving of not getting abused stuck with him post corruption), but to me he's a walking inferiority complex.

And the thing is that Nightmare isn't stupid. He's a very studious person and he probably retains a lot of the stuff he reads about. But Killer is undoubtedly more observant and logical than he is. I feel like he probably picks up on stuff much quicker (even though he also probably forgets a lot of it just as quickly because of his memory issues).

And, well, I saw a couple of comics of them playing chess and Killer winning every time. And I do think that, realistically, if he played at full capacity every time, he would win against Nightmare. Chess is a game that rewards his kind of smarts so much more than Nightmare's.

But I also think he'd know not to win most of the time (unless his purpose is to piss off Nightmare that day). But, here's the kicker. I think it would be just as humiliating for Nightmare if Killer dominated the entire game only to make some very obviously porpuseful fumbles at the end. Of course, Nightmare could call him out on it, but then he'd need to admit that he would have lost had Killer not thrown the game. And he's not gonna fucking do that. Not when they both already know and Killer is staring unblinkingly at him, challenging him to say something, to admit defeat.

No, he's gonna take that fake victory and he's gonna massage his bruised ego with it. Denial is always a powerful shield.

Yeah absolutely. Killer knows how to stroke people’s egos and notice their insecurities, he will use both against someone for his own benefit. He knows he needs to walk a fine line with people like Nightmare and Chara—those that tend to have huge egos, that are also very fragile. Those whose first instincts are to lash out, and in Chara’s case, throw violent tantrums.

It’s like managing the moods of very explosive, highly dangerous bombs. It’s just that sometimes Killer can’t resist playing a little careless, in a calculated way. He is not above putting himself in huge danger and playing with his life just to gain momentarily pleasure in pissing them off, or to provoke them into hurting him just to alleviate his soul crushing apathy and boredom in controlled bursts.

Like micro-dosing on a drug that is pain, or simply because he knows (or thinks) it is inevitable that they will hurt him today, so he will provoke them earlier and take away their satisfaction in hurting him by taking away their control and bruising their egos.

Let Chara think he loves them. Let Nightmare think he’s stupid and blindly loyal. Those are the things he knows to maintain control over them. On the flip side, a way to keep Killer under control (particularly Stage 2), is to let him think he has more control than he actually does.

Imagine how powerless Nightmare could make him feel if he were to say, find a way to destroy any pleasure and satisfaction Killer gets out of pain. If he takes away the framing of torture, punishment, and pain as “fun” and “playing” in Killer’s mind.

I wouldn’t be suprised if Killer finds a sense of pride in his ability to not only endure but enjoy vast amounts of suffering—especially if he ever got some form of validation or approval for it. He views it as him still having power and control even as he is being “dominated”—because he can say that he enjoys it and therefore it means nothing and has no genuine impact on him beyond the satisfaction and pleasure.

People being unnerved and annoyed when you laugh in their face after they’ve broken your bones just means that Killer still has control over their emotions.

Yet another way he is views himself as sort of, above others. Not in the self loving ego stroking way, but still in a superior, ‘I’m above you, so don’t try me’ way. He’d likely look down on anyone who runs from or hates pain— or anyone who obviously lets it show. Viewing them as inferior and weak.

If Nightmare can take that away, then pain is just pain. Potentially sending Stage 2 deeper into his apathetic, nihilistic, fatalistic worldview—“just get it over with if you aren’t going to make it fun.”

Which is probably the reason why physical punishment wouldn’t work on Stage 2 at all—not until you can take away his sense of control in these situations—psychological stuff like isolation and sensory deprivation certainly would.

I feel like another way would be to greyrock him whenever he tries to provoke someone into violence and hurting him—not giving him the reaction he expects and craves. Which would either make him quickly lose interest, or motivate him to keep escalating until he gets what he wants.

Killer has definitely greyrocked Chara and Nightmare before as well— refusing to give them any type of satisfaction or control over him by not giving any response or reaction they want from him. And sometimes giving the exact opposite of a reaction or response that they want.

All in all, I can definitely see Killer underplaying himself and his own abilities to satisfy others egos and play into expectations if it benefits him or avoids inconvenience. And he’d definitely use their egos to lure them into little mind games and traps—like the one you described.

{ @stellocchia }

[stevie-petey]

first of all: the new chapter was AMAZING as always!! i know you are probably so so so busy with move in and classes starting and writing come home already, but i had a blurb idea (and it will obviously ALWAYS be dustin and steve interaction) of steve hanging out with dustin alone sometime soon after you get together, and them talking about it for the first time? it doesn't have to be any particular way i'm just SO curious what dustin's reaction was beyond the knee-jerk "ew you kissed my sister but also thank god because it took you long enough you moron"

stebe n dust <333

enjoy !

“you sure youre okay with driving dustin to mikes?”

steve rolls his eyes fondly at you. “yes, angel. its not even a ten minute drive. i can handle the kid.”

“i know. its just,” you bite your lip, unsure of how to voice what youre thinking. your brows scrunch together and steve thinks youre painfully adorable when youre overthinking. “its too hot for him to bike there, but you and i just started dating and dustin is… well. hes dustin.”

“you worried he’ll lecture me or something?”

“more like ask really invasive questions.”

steve laughs and kisses your hand, body leaning over the counter at your work. hes spent the entire days at bookstrordinary just to talk to you since scoops burned down. when he isnt job searching with robin, hes here with you.

“have some faith in me, y/n. im a big boy, i can take care of myself.”

you blink at him. “you cried yesterday when a lizard ran across your leg.”

“okay, thats entirely different. that thing looked at me with its beady little eyes and dared me to fight him.” steve shudders. “that thing was sentient.”

“youre really not making me feel any better about this, honey.” you groan, already dreading whatever your brother will say to him. youre sure dustin will somehow give the most bizarre, overly obnoxious yet endearing lecture known to man.

steve rolls his eyes again and grabs his keys, reluctantly pulling away from you. “i bet the kid forgot we’re even together now. relax, i’ll be back in no time.”

you call one last good luck to him before hes hone, leaving you alone in the store as the late july heat simmers the air.

at first everything is great. dustin is waiting for steve in the driveway and hops inside the car without any complaints. he turns the radio one and even smiles at steve.

but then, as dustin always does, he opens his mouth.

“i better not catch you sucking face with my sister.”

“dustin!” steve blanches, utterly mortified by what the boy has said. he almost veers off the road with how violently he cringes.

“im just saying! you two are weirdly touchy, and now that youre together, which by the way took you way too long to even do,” dustin looks pointedly at steve, who sighs. “i dont want you getting any gross ideas.”

the older teen rubs his face tiredly. he lasted three minutes. three blissful, quiet minutes. “good to know youre happy for us, then.”

dustin thinks for a moment. “well, i guess y/n could do worse. better than jonathan, at least.”

“thanks, dustin.” steve deflates, not at all believing the kid.

dustin recognizes the apprehension and he uncomfortably shifts in his head. he doesnt necessarily want to be all touchy-feely with the guy, but he also recognizes how much you love him. how good you and steve are together.

coughing, dustin looks out the window. he knows this is what youd want. “im happy she found you, steve.”

by now the wheelers driveway can be seen, but because steve is so startled by what dustin has confessed, he almost misses the turn.

clearing his own throat awkwardly, steve parks the car and looks at dustin. “you, uh. really mean that?”

“please dont make this any more unbearable.” the kid quips, leaning as far away from him as possible.

“right,” steve clears his throat again and unlocks the passenger door. he tugs at his seatbelt, needing something to do with his hands. “off you go, then.”

dustin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and nearly falls out of the car in his hurry to leave. hes standing and about to walk away before he stops, turning around. leaving over the window, dustin lowers his voice. “hey, one last thing.”

steves voice catches in his throat, scared of where this is going. “yeah?”

ducking his head down, too shy to meet the other boys gaze, dustin finally says, “dont hurt y/n, alright? she-she really loves you. i know you love her, too. but shes… shes the best person in the world and im trusting you to be kind to her.”

“i…” steve stares at dustin, surprised by the sincerity in his voice and yet incredibly touched that hes being so vulnerable with him. to have your brother trust steve enough to be with you, to trust he wont hurt someone as selfless and soft as you, it means more to steve than dustin will ever know.

after years of being cruel to his classmates and growing up believing he wasnt worthy of anything gentle, steve cant believe hes being entrusted with you in his life.

it doesnt feel real, sometimes. being able to love you.

“i promise i’ll be kind to y/n,” steve says softly, meeting dustins eyes. its weird, being so delicate with the kid, but hes shared a lot with him, so its only fair steve does the same. “its because of her that im kind.”

“me, too.” dustin whispers. his eyes gleam, his mischievous smile is back. “guess we learned from the best, huh?”

steve laughs. “yeah, i guess we did.”

[zarnzarn]

You made me obsessed with poly Odysseus Athena and Penelope I can't spend a minute without thinking about those three

Sometimes a relationship really is just a husband, a wife and a 7 ft tall goddess

HAHA IVE SUCCEEDED COME WALLOW HERE IN MY LITTLE CAVE POOL OF MADNESS HELP ME MAKE MORE!!

but fr I'm so glad you and so many people enjoyed!!!!!!!! they're constantly taking up space in my mind also, i just very much enjoy their craziness together!! here's some more ideas I had for my specific au:

-Olympus is Fucking Scared. imagine ur cold, unemotional stepsister suddenly going from :| and :/ to :) and :D because of three random guys. they're happy for her but ares also regularly begs them to consider the fact that Athena has been replaced by a robot

-Penelope is giddy because FINALLY she can let go of all her etiquette and court the hell out of the beautiful giant woman who's been a part of her life for so long. they have a bit of conflict at the start as Penelope goes full throttle on the romance and Athena is,, overwhelmed and uncomfortable because her feelings are really mixed on it.

but eventually they find a middle ground, where pen and athena have hairbraiding sessions together every morning and pen sends her off with flowers in her hair, maybe some jewelery they both compromise on; weave together flirtingly; Athena'll accept the occassional grand romantic gesture even if she's blushing and rolling her eyes the whole time. and yes she very much still seduces Athena into bed and drags her off into dark corners to make out- of which Athena complains often but never says no too. sometimes she doesn't want to participate, but she's always down to watch <3

-odysseus and Athena don't change much in dynamic post reunion; bffs usually found teasing each other or bickering, except this time they kind of see it when Penelope points out that there is a Lot of Tension, since they're also leaning into each other's space with smirks half the time. they can admit it to each other, but if anyone asks directly they actually are deeply mortified by the fact that they like each other, tsundre style <3 one conversation with hera had them both actually gagging lmao. if left alone together their first instinct is to nap on each other, and maybe their second or third would be to fool around. fourth, if there's a place to spar around; they're quite physically violent with each other and can't quite understand everyone else's mild horror at this- they've literally been fighting since they've met.

(pls imagine hera coming to ask questions of flower arrangements and walk into athena blocking a sword to the face and swinging a kick at odysseus' torso, both of them smiling wide as if they're not trying to kill each other. hera was Not Pleased.)

-telemachus is appearing soon so I won't talk abt him or the rest of the family but! they r also walking around like a bunch of ants to come meet Athena when they feel like it

-athena has a few strands of grey hair from after meeting them. she loves it.

-they try to ignore the rest of the pantheon, for obvious reasons. Athena and Zeus don't talk yet, even though the latter is almost daily trying to reach out to her and awkwardly try to discuss the wedding.

-both of them often come to sit on Athena's throne during Olympus gatherings. whisper and crack jokes to her, very relieved to not be the ones ruling. it takes a bit to get used to the sight of Athena smiling with her hair braided and flowered, leaning into her new spouses fondly, but everyone's very happy for her.

[honeydewandcake]

Inspiration from your yandere Glisten drawing. :D

---

I need to burn this later but I need to write my emotions somewhere.

-

They're near my love again. I can't describe my emotions, but everytime I'm near them, I want to hug them so much. I always thought love was sweet? Everything I heard it told me it was kind soft and sweet.

-

Why does my love feel so violent? Just the thought of seeing them makes me want my own bones to be crushed by their affection. I almost want to make them bleed with a kiss.

-

One thing I do know for sure. I hate them. The one near my love. The one that makes me want to do irrational things. I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop thinking. It feels like love, and love is always good. But this doesn't feel good. It doesn't feel innocent. But the thought of them being near the one I love. I can't handle it. It's not fair. I will do something about this. I need to. If I don't, I think I will do more than make one toon bleed.

OH MY GOSHH!!! THIS WRITING QWQ

I love this so much omg!! The thought that love is supposed to be sweet is true but for someone to feel violence instead. . . That’s exactly how I see it for the yandere toons

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

♡ Hiya Blusy! hope ur not too overwhelmed with requests, sendin' love, support and appreciation over from the great land of Chuck-E-Cheese. ♡

anyways, onto the request.

Prompt where Hyper-femme, Fem!Reader, (obviously) who is already in an established relationship with Donna, who always likes to dress cute, as to look vaguely like a porcelaine doll for Donna (and Angie, because, that doll just loves sneaking into Readers poofy petticoats and scaring the living shit out of Reader when they grab the petticoat out of the closet, for wearing), one day, decides to up her (Readers) game by going into town, or in this case, village, buying some cute, ruffly, pastel (pink, white, yellow, ya name it!) fabrics, with a variety of textures, and colours, and means of usage (such as, fabric for a bonnet, fabric for a dress, thin, stretchy material cloth for stockings), sewing (Reader knows how to sew) themselves a VERRRYYY doll looking outfit (poofy tea dress, bonnet, bright colours that clash yet dont clash, curled hair, to resemble those antique dolls with bottle-curled locks, -- Imagine Lolita-wear, basically),

Reader also gets prim-and-proper, by fluffing on those white powder, makeup thingies (the one lottie uses in princess and the frog?? Sorry, non-english speaker, dunno what that is) and whatnot, to REALLY drive into that doll-y aesthetic

Reader suprises Donna, who, at the time, was just innocently reading,

Donna looks at Reader and just starts like, violently sobbing, because of how, 'Reader did so much to look like the stuff she likes!! She doesnt deserve them!!' (If that makes you uncomftorable to write, replace it with something more mellow)

Reader comforts Donna, through giggles, because of how ridiculous she sounded, -- reassuring Donna that she wasnt laughing at her, but at how stupid her reasoning for crying was, because, ofcourse she would dress cute if Donna liked it?? Reader would wear a trash bag if Donna had asked them to, no questions asked! (Okay.. maybe a little bit dramatic, Reader is an eloquent, feminine, 'pink! Pink! Pink!' lady that wouldnt dare to approach black clothing to wear herself, but, you get the point)

Reader promises to Donna that it was no hassel to make herself so pretty, -- 'sewing is a breeze! I love makeup! I just really like those doll vibes..'

Reader also promises Donna that, she'd love to doll (aha, get it?) herself up for Donna every once in awhile, because Reader just loves Donna, and how cute they feel in their respective style, so much, that they just HAVE to.

After Donna had calmed down from that whole 'you sewed yourself stuff for me??!!??! You put on makeup for me??!?@ you did your hair for me?!??!?@??@?!' crisis (again, if that makes you uncomftorable, mellow it down!! No worries!! 💞), and, plopped Reader onto her lap whilst she finished working on her dolls, taking pauses to kiss, and appreciate, and maybe shed some more self-concious, overly-thankful, singular tears, every once in a while --

The end result? A doll that, for some reason, really resembled how reader looked .. down to every scar, and fold, and pocket on Readers body, or bonnet, or dress.

Huh.. weird!

I ask of you to make this just mildly-sfw (meaning, kisses, carresses, etc are okay), -- not smutty or anything, if thats okay! Just cotton-candishly fluffy.

Hope my writing isnt too confusing? Dyslexic, non-english speaking, neurodivergant mess. Aha, please laugh! Anyways, write-ya later, alligator!

-- Chuck-E-Cheese employee, Anon 🐭

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your funny words :D and also for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Doll face

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff,

Word count: 7,440

Summary: She loved you, she loved her dolls... Maybe it was time to put those two things together...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Another day began and you walked slowly towards the living room. The sound of your heels bounced off the wood like an elegant music that accompanied each morning. Before getting close enough, you looked at yourself in the mirror to make sure everything was in its place. You couldn't help it, you were always like that.

Every morning was a confirmation for you that your life went on, that you could continue to light up that dark mansion with your joy. The bright colors of your dress always contrasted with the sadness of those dilapidated walls, with the darkness that you, every day, tried to eliminate.

Being born with the gift of joy and color could seem strange in a place like that. The village always played with the same color palette, everything was white, black, gray... There was nothing that could stand out, that could change the sinister atmosphere of the place where you were born.

You always went against those principles, against the gray, the black, the darkness. Your friends envied you and you knew it. It wasn't your beauty, your intelligence or your skills, no, they envied your colorful way of facing life.

Proud of your femininity, you always looked for a way to put on makeup, to dress in an elegant and striking way. It was your style, yes, but also a hobby. Playing with darkness, facing it became almost an addiction.

You spent your days sewing, putting on makeup, telling the world that if it wanted to be black it would have to walk all over you. Joy, elegance and the desire to feel different, that was your motivation when you got up every morning.

The masses, the Black Gods didn't seem bothered, quite the opposite. Everything in your life went well, or so you thought, since you always saw the good side of things. Being happy was quite an achievement in a place like that and appearance was the first step to prove it, to stand out in a world of shadows.

But that different attitude had consequences. You were not shunned by the village. They didn't look at you with dangerous eyes, quite the opposite. Wherever you went, you attracted attention, you caught the eyes of everyone who was present, villager or even...Lord.

Yes, you noticed how the gazes of the four of them were fixed on you. One of them seemed more interested, unable to take her gaze off you.

Like a ghost, like the complete opposite of you, that black figure always followed you with its gaze. You couldn't know how, you couldn't see her eyes. A woman in mourning, covered by a black veil, a sinister doll... The dollmaker, Donna Beneviento.

At first you thought it was just another look, that the always bright tones of your clothes blinded her vision, bothered her. It didn't take long for you to find out that it was precisely the opposite.

Your joy, your determination to look good, to stand out from the boring crowd was what really caught her attention, what made her approach you with curiosity. That was the first step towards a perfect future.

It might seem that you two were like water and oil, like light and darkness, but perhaps that was precisely what made you slowly become addicted to her. You had much more in common than it might seem at first.

 You both loved sewing, beauty... Well, really, when that black veil disappeared, when Lady Beneviento showed her deformed face to you, you began to know what beauty really was.

She was a beautiful woman, really beautiful, she just didn't know it. You did, and you wouldn't let a second go by without reminding her, always. That contrast of black and pink, of paleness and color was perfect, a perfect mix that ended up leading to a kiss, a kiss that said much more than any clumsy word.

And so, time went by and your relationship settled comfortably. You even left your old home for that sad and dull mansion, with the certain objective that your presence would bring the light that it needed, that joy that was missing in that place, in that woman.

Donna was a dark just like her clothes. Her problems and misfortunes turned her into a wandering spirit, into a lonely entity waiting for the days to end. Your arrival didn’t change that erratic attitude, nor her inevitable madness.

You weren’t going to lose her. You were not going to let the darkness invade you too. You would be like a lifeguard, like the light that illuminates a dark path, showing the way out of a labyrinth of sadness and bitterness.

Despite those problems, despite the constant mockery of the Angie doll, you were happy, you couldn’t help being happier than ever. You would do anything for Donna and she would do it for you. An unexpected love, but one you would never let go of, ever.

“Good morning,” you hummed as you approached the table, always sporting the same bright smile. A fake smile to look elegant or to pretend? No, not at all, it was a genuine smile, one that always achieved the desired effect, that the lady in black would return one of hers.

“Ciao, tesoro…” Donna replied, leaving her coffee cup to extend her hand towards you, one that you took and caressed, letting yourself be carried away by the subtle pull that took you to her lips, placing them on yours cautiously. “Good morning…”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, reluctantly abandoning those lips, going around the table and sitting in your chair.

Her gaze rose to yours, nodding as she poured you a cup of coffee.

“As always when I'm with you,” the lady said, with a slight blush on her cheeks, a reaction of her body that, despite all the time, she couldn't avoid.

“Mm, okay,” you said amused, causing a shy laugh from the woman in black. “Today is a splendid day.”

“Yes, it really is,” she murmured, nodding slowly.

“We could go for a walk,” you suggested, spreading jam on one of the toasts, a strawberry jam that, unintentionally, matched perfectly with your clothes, as always.

Maybe the color and you had a much more special relationship than you thought.

Donna shook her head, making that smile she always put on when she saw you, disappear.

“I have a lot of work, (Y/N), I don't think I can,” she commented with a serious tone.

You tilted your head, frowning.

“What a shame, because I have to go to the village and it would have been great if you came with me… So I could show off a little bit about you,” you said, pretending to pout as the lady laughed again.

“In any case, tesoro, I would be the one to show off about you,” Donna murmured, looking at you with a mischievous smile behind her cup.

You bit your lip and sighed, blinking in a petulant and romantic way.

“You never get tired of being adorable, do you?” you said amused. “Anyway, I really have to go to the village.”

“Do you have to go? What do you need?” she asked curiously, continuing with her breakfast, repressing all those words and flattery that always interrupted any conversation.

“Look at this dress,” you said frowning and pointing at your clothes. “It's already pretty old.”

“Old?” the lady asked, looking at you confused. “I thought you got it last year.”

“Mm yeah, but… I don’t know, today I woke up really, really wanting to sew,” you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, remembering all the designs you had thought of while you were taking a shower.

“Oh,” she murmured, arching her eyebrow. “If you’re so willing to sew, you could help me with my dolls.”

“Really?” you asked surprised. It was the first time she asked you something like that. Her dolls were something almost sacred to her. She would never let a stranger intervene in their creations.

“You sew very well, I think you could be of help to me,” she commented passively, taking a toast, looking away in a subtle way. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Donna,” you said enthusiastically.

Actually, going down to that dark workshop was something you tried to avoid, but at first you had no choice. Your love for sewing forced you to hide your pride and spend hours with Donna in that sinister place.

Over time, the lady in black agreed to let you use the guest room for your sewing work, one blessed with sunlight, much better.

But that day you had no choice but to go down to that horrible basement.

“Are you comfortable, tesoro?” Donna asked, putting a chair next to hers and indicating you to sit down.

You nodded, earning a soft kiss on the lips, one that you deepened, making the lady in black give a shy laugh to your ears.

“Take these fabrics,” she indicated, sitting in front of the old sewing machine and giving you an assortment of dark fabric that you looked at with disdain.

It didn't matter how much you loved Donna. You liked how that black dress framed her figure but that color was still your worst enemy.

“Let's see…” you whispered, looking at each of the colors with reluctance. “Hey, Donna, are you going to use these colors?”

“Mm, I always use those colors,” she explained, looking for something in the notes of an old notebook and showing it to you. “Look, I'm sure that dress over there won't be a problem for you, do you understand what it says?”

You looked at the notes and with a small effort, you nodded pleased.

“Luckily Angie has taught me,” you commented amused, translating those elegant words written in Italian. Donna smiled pleased, getting a little closer to you.

“Always try to embroider it…Mm… This way,” she indicated, turning a few pages and showing you the designs.

“Okay…” you sighed in an exaggerated way, looking sideways at the black fabrics.

“Is something wrong, tesoro?” the lady asked, alerted by your sudden reluctance. “You, you don't have to help me… If, if you want to go to the village…”

“Oh no, it's not that, I'd love to help you Donna, but it's just…” you whispered, biting your lip and picking up one of the cloths. “Does it really have to be black?”

“Yes,” she said, with a concentrated expression, moving away a little and observing a porcelain head. “If you don't like it you can make it grey, I don't really care.”

“Grey…” you sighed with a tired look, glancing at a few dolls on a shelf, all of them sad, dark, depressing… “Have you never thought about giving them a bit of color?”

“Color?” she asked in a low voice, skillfully mixing paint and cleaning the imperfections of that lifeless head. “I don't understand you.”

“Always grey, black… Donna…” you sighed, drawing her attention. “What harm can it do to a doll to not look like it has in a funeral?”

“Explain yourself,” the lady murmured, painting the lips of that head, barely listening to you.

“You should use pink, or white for your dolls' dresses, they would surely look much better,” you said, nodding, touching the soft black fabric and hoping that the darkness wouldn't spread to your dress.

“Oh, I didn't know you made dolls,” Donna said with irony and a mocking smile.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Donna, color gives a lot of joy to everything,” you said, leaning on the table and guiding her head to look at you. She sighed annoyed, putting down the head and crossing her arms.

“If I want to see colors, I just need to look at you,” she joked, frowning, with an intriguing smile.

“Thanks,” you said amused, blinking flirtatiously.

Donna laughed too, but looked away.

“I like my dolls just the way they are,” she said quietly, going back to painting the head. “It’s my style.”

“Oh, okay…” you said with a mocking look, starting to draw patterns on the black fabric. “Well, your style is very bland, honey.”

“Bland… have you come to help or criticize me?” she asked, her tone a bit colder, but with her smile telling you she wasn’t upset.

“It’s constructive criticism,” you commented, getting up from your chair and walking over to one of the shelves, picking up a random doll. “Look at this one. Isn’t she supposed to be having tea?”

Donna turned to look at you and tilted her head with a sigh.

“It seems so,” she murmured.

“Well, she should have a white and red frilly dress with a matching pretty hat, not a boring dark grey dress,” you said, looking at the doll's fabric.

“Then she would look like you,” she said as you sat back down, shrugging.

“Oh, you don't like the way I dress?” you asked with a feigned look of shock and offense, cutting the black fabric to shape that boring dress.

“You're not a doll,” Donna whispered, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

A wide smile spread across your face and you leaned towards her ear.

“Oh, would you like it?” you whispered, kissing her ear softly before returning to your task.

The lady in black looked at you briefly, about to say something. She apparently changed her mind at the last moment and laughed softly, shaking her head.

“If you were my doll…” Donna murmured, after a moment of calm and silent work. It seemed that this innocent question was floating around in her head, something that caught your attention. “You would wear black clothes.”

“Mm, that's what you say now,” you said defiantly, sewing the sleeves of the black dress, afraid that this horrible color would cause an allergic reaction on your skin. “I'm convinced that once you try to leave the safety of these horrible colors you will no longer want to go back to black.”

“You are very sure of yourself,” she murmured amused, coming closer to kiss you slowly, something she always did when she couldn't prove you were wrong. “But I'm afraid you're not a doll.”

“Well, that can be possible,” you said to yourself. The lady blinked in confusion, but returned to her work.

The morning passed quietly. You sighed in relief when you finished that hideous black dress, one that Donna looked at closely.

“Do you like it?” you asked expectantly.

She nodded pleased.

“Good job, (Y/N)…” she sighed, placing the dress to give it some final touches.

“Brr…” you said, pretending to shiver. “I think I need a walk, that horrible color has stressed me out.”

“You're so exaggerated, tesoro,” Donna joked as you stood up, pretending disgust at that black fabric. “Are you going to the village?”

“Yes…” you sighed, stretching in an exaggerated way. “Do you want something?”

“No,” she said with a dry tone, looking away.

“Are you sure you don't want some colored fabrics?” you asked, leaning over one of her shoulders, opening your eyes like a puppy.

She smiled, pinching your cheek and kissing you before shaking her head.

“Whatever, don’t complain if people stop buying your dolls,” you said in an ironic tone, slowly moving away, stopped by a hand in yours, which kept you in place.

“All my dolls are sold, (Y/N),” she told you, in a somber tone, indicating that you had managed to offend her. Luckily, you were used to playing with the doll maker.

“Right, maybe it's because you're the only doll maker in the village and also a Lord. You could put a ball of wool on a stick, call it a doll, and the village children would buy it,” you joked, blinking cockily.

Donna growled, letting your hand go abruptly.

“Why don't you just leave now?” she asked in a dark tone, turning away so as not to make eye contact with you.

“Oh, are you kicking me out?” you said defiantly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Don't tell me how to do my job.”

“I'm just advising you... If you make all your dolls the same, where's the originality?” you asked, insisting without fear. Donna would never blow up over something like that, and you knew it.

“(Y/N)…” the lady hissed.

“Okay, okay, I'm leaving,” you said amused, approaching again, surrounding her by the shoulders in an annoying hug and repeatedly kissing her cheek, causing her to laugh as she tried to escape from your kissing attack.

“Hey, lasciami…” she protested while laughing.

You obeyed, but when you moved away you felt a strong tug on your wrist that brought you back to the lady, kissing you in a deeper way.

“Actually, I would like you to be a doll…”

“Oh, would you?” you asked amused, playing with her hands. She nodded with a dark look, pulling you closer to her ear.

“Mm, if you were a doll you surely wouldn't say nonsense,” she joked with a sensual tone.

You responded by giving her shoulder a protest hit while she laughed amused.

“Oh, okay, okay,” you sighed, crossing your arms and walking towards the doors. “But you know what? I would be the prettiest doll, and the most colorful…”

Donna shook her head, sighing, giving you a tender smile, a completely in love look.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” she said without looking at you.

“Oh, Donna…” you murmured, with all your cheesy side forcing you to get closer again, giving one last kiss to the brunette. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Go away,” she said amused, struggling again with your excessive affection.

You nodded and obeyed, walking happily towards the bedroom. Of course, you couldn't leave the mansion without putting on makeup and spending excessive time to find something that matched your clothes.

You sighed as you carelessly opened the closet. You'll be wondering ‘Why careless?’ simple, because there was someone else in that house, someone who liked to scare you.

“Are you looking for something?” a sinister voice came out of the closet, hidden among your clothes. “Because if you were looking for me, you've found me, you fool!”

“Ah, Angie!” you said with a hand on your chest, startled by the sudden appearance of Donna's doll, peeking out from your clothes like every morning.

You didn't know if Angie scared you because she hated you, or because it was her way of having fun. You really doubted that doll had anything against you, after all, you came into Donna's life to make her happy and that is something that, discreetly, Angie would always thank you for.

“Scare, scare...” the doll mocked, humming triumphantly.

You smiled, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

“You're going to wrinkle my clothes,” you said amused, gesturing to the doll to get out of there.

“What are you looking for, silly? An accessory?” Angie asked, shuffling through your colorful dresses.

“A coat that matches this,” you said with disinterest while the doll continued to shuffle through the clothes. “Oh, wait, that one,” you interrupted, taking the garment that the doll held expectantly.

“Another day in which Great Angie helps you with your clothes,” the doll said laughing and getting off the furniture with a comical jump. “You're welcome, loser.”

“Thanks…” you said with a falsely elegant tone, putting that pink coat on the bed.

Then you walked to the old dresser, thus beginning another of your makeup sessions.

“Can I help you, silly?” Angie asked, sitting at the small table and taking your utensils.

“Okay,” you said smiling, gathering your hair. “Bring me that powder over there.”

The doll obeyed and silence reigned again in the mansion.

“Hey, Angie,” you said, glancing at the doll, at her white dress. “I think you're the only doll that doesn't wear black. It doesn't seem that Donna made you.”

“Donna didn't make me, you fool!” the puppet protested, startling you, making you growl. That was the moment when you were putting on eye makeup, it was dangerous.

“No? I thought so,” you commented, getting a little closer to the mirror.

“No, silly, silly, her father made me,” Angie commented, watching you from very close, watching you put on makeup.

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you commented, preparing the blush. “But I shouldn't be surprised. She would never make a doll in a color different than black or gray.”

“Do you have a problem with the way my Donna works? Because if so, get ready for a fight,” she said, moving her fists comically.

“No, no,” you said amused, moving your hands away from the doll as you put the blush on your cheeks. “I just can't explain her aversion to color.”

“Donna doesn't have an aversion to color,” Angie said, leaving you some room.

“Mm, well, it seems like it... Has she never made a doll in a different color...? A more cheerful one?” you asked curiously, distracting you too much from your makeup session.

“No,” the doll said shrugging. “But why would she want to do that? She already has you.”

“I'm not a doll,” you said amused, shaking your head, looking at yourself in the mirror, puzzled.

“Are you sure? Because you look like one…” Angie said amused, pointing at the mirror.

“What's wrong?” you asked, frowning. “Oh, too much lipstick…”

“Too much blush…” the doll added, making you sigh and take a piece of cotton to fix that mess.

“Yes…”

“Now you are a doll,” she said amused, making you look at her confused. “I'm sure Donna will go crazy if she sees you like this.”

“Oh, you think so?” you asked, looking at yourself carefully and correcting some imperfections in your makeup. “She already has hundreds of dolls. She doesn't need another one… right?”

“What nonsense, if Donna is obsessed with those dolls it's because she loves them,” Angie commented. “I don't understand why, I'm infinitely better than them, in every way.”

You laughed amused, with an absurd idea going through your head. If Donna liked dolls that much… How would she react if you really looked like one of them? Curiosity was much stronger than rational thought and it was never a bad chance to make the lady in black smile.

“So…” you murmured, putting away your makeup. “Do you think Donna will love seeing me like this?”

“Oh, sure,” the doll nodded, crossing your arms. “But, but, wait, I didn't say anything. Don't tell her…” she said hastily. “Donna hates when I read her mind.”

“Mm…” you murmured thoughtfully, excited by the idea of ​​testing that statement. If you were successful… Well, your mind was already taking care of the rest.

After putting on your bright and elegant coat, you went up the elevator, finding Donna by surprise. She seemed to be reading something at her desk.

“Honey,” you said with a wide smile, walking slowly towards her and leaning over the furniture. “Weren't you with your dolls?”

“No, obviously I’m not anymore,” she said, with a cold tone, reluctantly letting you kiss her cheek softly, accidentally marking it with your lipstick.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you said amused, running a hand over her painted cheek. “What are you reading?”

“Niente,” the lady said, nervously covering a strange catalogue, something that made you suspicious.

“That seems like a lie to me, dolcezza…” you joked. “Let me see, please, please…” you said insistently with a high-pitched, pleading tone.

Your extremely cheesy and affectionate gestures had an effect on the brunette, forcing her to give in with an annoyed grunt.

“Wow…” you whispered, looking at that old catalogue of dolls, some very different from Donna's. “I see that my words have had an effect.”

“Sometimes I think you're a witch,” the lady commented while you looked at one of those dolls, one with a white dress, with ruffles, terribly adorable. Your mind was already working on ideas, but you still didn't know exactly which ones.

“A witch?” you asked amused, bringing the catalogue closer to your eyes, memorizing every detail of that pompous doll. “I'm just saying what I think.”

“Mm, yes, and you make me think,” Donna whispered, looking up and opening her eye wide when it made contact with yours. “(Y/N), tesoro…” she sighed, mouth agape.

“What's wrong, darling?” you asked passively, leaving the magazine on the desk again, meeting the doll maker's dazed gaze.

“You look… beautiful…” she said in a surprised voice, looking at each and every detail of your exaggerated makeup. “You look beautiful, today, tesoro…”

“Do you really think so?” you asked, surprised by that unexpected reaction. Donna nodded softly, with a tender look.

“Yes, you are, I don't know, different,” ​​the lady commented, taking your hands and swinging them with hers. “I, I like the way you've put on your makeup.”

“Oh…” you sighed, blushing at the compliment and at the reaction that your doll look had the desired effect, even better. “Well, I thought it was too much blush…”

“No, you look, you look gorgeous…” Donna said, pulling your body so she could kiss you softly.

“Donna, the lipstick…” you joked, moving away from that tender kiss.

“I'm sorry, I got carried away,” the lady in black apologized. “Your beauty never ceases to amaze me.”

“Mm, could it be that I remind you of a doll?” you asked amused, tilting your head with your hands on your waist.

“Maybe,” she murmured, distracted again by that catalogue, confirming your suspicions. “La mia bellisima bambola”

Well, now you could put into practice those ideas that were traveling alone through your mind.

 “Okay, Don, I could spend the rest of the day letting you tell me such nice things but… I'm afraid I have to go to the village.”

“Don't call me Don, I hate it,” she protested, receiving in response a wink and an elegant turn that made your dress dance in a hypnotic way.

“Okay, you grumpy spaghetti…” you sighed amused, looking at Angie. “Are you coming with me, Angie?”

“Bah, I don't think so, the Duke has the wool balls counted …” the doll said, sitting on the lap of her owner, who looked attentively at that catalogue, with a sweet smile.

Humming, you walked through the forest. The bright colors of your clothes illuminated you among the dull and pale white of the snow. You almost thought you were shining.

Your head worked remembering the colors, the shapes of that porcelain doll you saw in that old photograph. But what you really couldn't forget was Donna's face when she saw you made up like that, noticing your obvious resemblance to a doll.

Seeing that poor tormented woman happy was much more to your liking than sewing, much more than putting on makeup or matching clothes. Donna was your favorite hobby since you met her and besides, each of her smiles was a reward for you. The joy and tenderness of her gaze hid the pain, the suffering, everything she went through before becoming a Lord.

You were definitely completely determined to make her forget, to make every day with you special. It already was but... Maybe that makeup mistake could be useful in the near future.

“Oh, elegance itself approaching my humble carriage...” the Duke murmured when you walked towards him.

You nodded at him kindly, with your hands on your hips.

“Don't flatter me, Duke, I'm not going to pay you more for that,” you said amused. “Fabrics, I need fabrics.”

“Well…” he sighed, laughing satisfied. “Are they for you or for Lady Beneviento?” he asked, taking out a few rolls of fabrics of many colors.

“For me,” you said, coming closer to look for something similar to the doll in that catalog. “Do you have something with ruffles?” you asked curiously, running your hand over a fabric of a color very similar to the one you were looking for.

“Ruffles? Sure…” the merchant said, laughing pleased and showing you what you were looking for. “It doesn't seem like the typical fabric order you usually make me, Miss (Y/N).”

“No, it's for a personal project,” you commented, searching among those fabrics for something that could help you make a matching hat.

“Sounds interesting,” the man commented, with a gloomy look.

“No matter how much discount you give me, I'm not going to tell you anything,” you said amused, knowing the thirst for information that the greedy merchant always had. “Mm... Do you have this fabric in pastel pink?”

“Of course...” the man murmured, taking out the required roll. “By the way, let me tell you that you look beautiful this morning.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, smiling pleased by the compliment, checking the quality of an elastic fabric that you would use for stockings.

“There's no doubt why Lady Beneviento is completely crazy about you. I always thought that you looked like... Well, don't be offended, one of her dolls,” the Duke commented, laughing amused.

You smiled and raised your eyebrows.

“Mm, do you think that Donna loves me just because I look like one of her dolls?” you joked, crossing your arms.

“I didn't say that, Miss,” he said, making a gesture with his hand. “But it's clear that you know how to please her.”

“Of course,” you said satisfied, picking up a much thicker cloth, perfect for a matching bonnet. “But… I'm not going to tell you anything. I doubt you are interested in my way of pleasing Lady Beneviento.”

“I'm interested in everything, dear,” he joked, to which you gave him a dark but amused look. “Oh, I'm sure these bows are perfect for what you're looking for.”

“Mm, let me see…” you sighed, picking up those showy bows.

Of course that man couldn't even guess what you had in mind, but you shouldn't underestimate him. He wasn't exactly a naive fool.

Satisfied with your purchases, you returned to the mansion, ready to start your little game, one that sounded better and better in your head and that you were eager to put into practice.

Naturally, poor Donna didn't suspect anything. She always tried with all her might not to get involved in your affairs. She rarely succeeded, but that time, luckily, was one of them.

Little by little, taking advantage of a carelessness of the lady in black, you managed to get that old doll catalogue, carefully observing each of the details of that doll chosen for your plans.

An elegant hat surrounded by a yellow bow, white stockings matching patent leather shoes... Definitely a classic doll, but with touches of your own style, replacing that boring white of the original design with a deep pastel pink color.

“Mm…” you hummed as you sewed, with the atypical blessing of sunlight streaming through your makeshift workshop. That guest never-used room that was something like your secret lair. “Let's see…” you murmured, checking the size of the hat, checking that it fit your features perfectly. “Yes, perfect.”

Satisfied, you put that pompous bonnet away in a place where Donna couldn't look and continued with the dress, the part that would take you much longer.

“(Y/N), tesoro,” a voice interrupted your sewing along with some soft knocks on the door. “Amore mio, are you there?”

“Oh, Donna, yes, w-wait a minute,” you said, hastily putting away all your work and opening the door, trying to put your hair up first.

What you were doing didn't matter, you always had to be perfect for her, and you loved being that way.

“Ciao…” she said with a sweet voice when you opened the door, looking at you with that bright eye.

Of course, your makeup didn't change since that day. You always tried to perfect the doll look that provoked those tender sighs, those caresses...

“Hola,” you said amused, enjoying how her gaze ran satisfied over your features. “Do you want something, my love?”

“Oh, well, I wanted to see you but...” she whispered, grabbing you by the waist, lightly pressing your body against hers. “I actually wanted to ask if you were hungry.”

“Hungry? Oh, well, now that you mention it...” you said with a tender smile, biting your lip at the gentle rocking of your bodies. “I’m a bit hungry.”

“You're distracted lately,” the lady commented, placing a lock of hair behind your ear. “What are you up to?”

“Me? Nothing,” you whispered innocently.

Donna smiled mockingly, arching her eyebrow and leaning in to kiss you slowly again.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered playfully, releasing you from her romantic hold. “You spend a lot of time locked up in here, tesoro…”

“Well, spring is coming and I have to hurry if I want to be up to date,” you said in a calm voice, closing the door when the lady in black peeked in to see what was inside.

“Don’t give it so much importance. You look beautiful in anything you wear, cara mia…” Donna whispered romantically, stealing another kiss from you again.

“Hey, I can make something for you if you want… How old is that dress?” you asked playfully, subtly changing the subject and playing with the black fabric. “Don’t you want me to make you a…? I don’t know, a red, or an orange one, or…”

“No, tesoro,” she said, laughing playfully, like every time you hinted at her taking off her horrible mourning dress. “I like this dress.”

“Okay, okay…” you sighed, hanging onto his neck. “But some embroidered flowers…” you murmured, running a hand over her chest.

“I'm not going to put flowers on my dress,” she said, with a more serious look, crossing her arms.

“As you wish, grumpy…” you whispered jokingly, getting her to grab you by the waist again while you resisted, laughing shyly.

“Maybe you don't want me to cook for you,” she mocked, pretending to pout.

“Oh, no, no, um… let's go to the kitchen and I'll help you, okay?” you said, apologizing in a soft tone, earning a kiss on your made-up cheek.

“It'll be a pleasure, doll face…” she whispered, immediately paralyzing and putting on a nervous look. Surely she didn't want to say that, but she said it, to your ears’ delight.

“Mm, what did you call me?” you said, biting your lip and approaching her seductively.

“I'm, I'm sorry,” she apologized nervously. “I didn't mean…”

“You didn't mean to? Well, I liked it, Donna,” you said, turning around, making your dress dance like you knew she liked and walking towards the stairs.

That was one of the many proofs that your doll makeup was working perfectly. Donna looked like she had just met you, she was more in love than ever, watching you whenever she could, telling you those things that made you melt and replacing little by little her usual ‘tesoro’ or ‘dolcezza’ with ‘doll face’, something that wasn’t unpleasant for you at all.

The days went by and your project was almost finished. A last embroidery on your dress was the last piece for your plan.

“Okay… what do you think?” you asked the doll that sat on the small bed, watching your work.

Angie never said anything to her owner under the threat of revealing that, indeed, reading the lady's thoughts was one of her favorite hobbies, as well as scaring you.

“A cheesy, cheesy, cheesy thing,” she said amused. “Aren't there too many ruffles?”

“No… Look, it's almost identical to the model,” you commented, running your hands over the newly finished fabric, playing with those ruffles, caressing them while you turned the magazine so Angie could take a look.

“Hey, but that dress is white!” the puppet protested. “Why did you turn it pink?”

“Look here, it has white fabric underneath, do you see?” you explained, showing the parts inside of the dress, which matched perfectly with the stockings. “Besides, I wanted to give it my own style.”

“Yes, your silly, cheesy, cheesy style,” Angie mocked, moving your new dress curiously.

“Donna likes me being cheesy,” you said, moving the doll away from your new creation and hanging it on under the bonnet, observing the outfit from afar.

“Donna likes anything that has to do with you or her dolls,” Angie corrected, observing the outfit, imitating your posture in a comical way.

“So if we put the two things together…” you said with an expectant voice, satisfied with the final result.

“She's going to have a heart attack, for sure… Uh… That's not your intention, is it?” Angie commented, pointing at you accusingly, to which you simply rolled your eyes, taking the hanger and walking towards the exit.

“Do me a favor and distract Donna, she's reading downstairs, right?” you asked, opening the door cautiously.

“Yes, she is, silly,” the doll said, crossing her arms. “Relax, I'll take care of the silly Donna…”

As expected, Angie kept her word, forcing the lady to chase her after stealing her book. You took advantage of that distraction to go down to the basement and get dressed and well… put the finishing touches on your plan.

“Okay…” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror while putting on your makeup. At first your resemblance to a doll was more or less subtle, but that occasion required a little more powder on your face and blush, more striking lips and of course, a beautiful curly hairstyle.

You already had the golden hair color naturally, but it used to fall down, so curling it was perhaps the most complicated part, but nothing that was out of your reach.

“Perfect, it's wrong for me to say it but... I'm a genius,” you said, adjusting your hat, looking at yourself dressed completely as a doll. “Now let's see what you say, dolcezza...”

The sound of your handmade shoes was pleasant. The clothes were really comfortable, even forgetting about the whole doll thing, it was a beautiful dress that would undoubtedly accompany you from time to time, well, if Donna liked it, of course.

“Honey...” you hummed as you went up the elevator, walking slowly to where the lady in black was, reading innocently.

“Ciao,” she sighed, turning a page, without looking at you. “I thought you were upstairs.”

You laughed shyly, holding the sides of your dress so they moved elegantly as you approached the couch, slowly lowering the brunette's book.

Donna glanced at you briefly and then went back to her book, but that only lasted a second, the second it took her brain to process your change.

“Mamma mia… (Y/N)…” she sighed with her eye wide open, her jaw dropping slightly. Just for that face, it was worth all the work.

“Do you like my new outfit?” you asked amused, turning around to move your dress, to further hypnotize the paralyzed lady in black. “I've given it a little more personal touch…”

“But, but, but…” Donna stammered, slowly getting up. “(Y/N)… Sei come una bambola…”

“Yeah, well, it's just that I used a doll for the design, I don't know why, I thought you would like it, what do you think, honey?” you said passively, not giving importance to Donna's apparent nervousness.

“It's, it's incredible…” she stammered, grabbing your hand and giving you an elegant spin, touching, brushing the fabric, caressing your curls. “D-Did you make it?”

“Of course,” you said smiling, enjoying her exploratory caresses. “I know how much you like your dolls, so I thought that maybe seeing me almost turned into one of them would make you happy,” you explained, putting a hand on her cheek so she would look into your eyes. “Do you like it, my love?”

“W-Wait,” she said, blinking confusedly, moving away. “Do you mean that you…? That you… You did it this for me?” she asked, increasingly nervous, a reaction that you didn’t expect.

“Of course, darling… I like to make you happy. I'm not going to say that it has not taken me a lot of work but, well, you already know how easy it is for me to sew and… Donna?”

You stopped talking when you heard a sob, when you saw the sadness in the brunette's eye, an inexplicable one. You got a little closer to her. Poor Donna seemed unable to stop crying.

“My love, what's wrong?” you asked with a sweet voice, worried about her reaction. “Don't cry, Donna…”

“Y-You have, have, have you done that…? For me?” the lady in black repeated, with a voice broken by that irrational crying. “Just for me? But, but… You, you've been sewing for weeks and… You've put on makeup like that and… And… Just for me?”

When you realized what the reason for her crying was, you sighed in relief, lifting her chin and laughing amused.

“Donna… Of course I did it for you…” you said between soft laughs, wiping away her tears.

“But, but, tesoro… You didn't have to… You didn't have to try that hard… For, for me…” she stammered again, shaking her head.

You laughed a bit louder, causing the lady in black to protest by kicking the floor.

“Don't laugh at me,” she hissed, wiping her tears herself, looking at you in annoyance.

“I'm not laughing at you, darling,” you said, cupping her face in your hands. “I laugh at how absurd those tears are,” you whispered in a soft voice, coming closer to lightly place your lips on hers, in an almost imperceptible kiss.

“How do you want me not to cry? You, you know how much I like dolls and, and, you, you sewed that for me, you put on that outfit for me… Just to make me happy… I, I don't deserve you, (Y/N), I don't deserve you!”

“Shhh, don't yell, my precious Donna…” you said, calming that incipient crisis with more kisses, with more caresses. “When will you learn that I would do anything for you? Anything…  I don't know, if you asked me to wear a trash bag instead of clothes, I would do it without thinking, or even worse, I would be able to wear something black for you, my love…”

Donna smiled, calming her crying and shaking her head, taking a moment to contemplate you before hugging you lovingly, with all the love she dared to express.

“You are perfect, (Y/N)… Perfect…” she whispered lovingly in your ear, playing with your curls, calming the sobs that still came out of her lips.

“Just because I'm with you,” you said, smiling adorably, perfectly matching your doll look.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo…” the lady repeated, showering you with kisses, caresses… Smiling after that little moment of crisis.

“Hey, the makeup, Donna,” you joked, gently pushing her away. “I love you too, so much…”

The lady looked you up and down again and suddenly frowned.

“I have, I have an idea…” she murmured, taking your hand and starting to walk. “Come with me.”

The two of you went down to the basement and entered the workshop. Donna didn’t say anything, but she seemed nervous, rummaging through her stuff for something you didn’t know about. When she apparently found it, she sat down on her chair, pulling your hand.

“Will you sit with me, doll face?” she asked you kindly, guiding you to sit on her lap, which you did happily.

Without saying anything to you, she began to work on a porcelain body. She seemed focused, but she was easily distracted by your kisses, the ones she gave you from time to time, with a tear running down her cheek.

“Mm,” you murmured, dying of love for those displays of affection, for those tender kisses that soothed your skin.

“(Y/N), do you have any fabric left in that color?” Donna asked pointing to your dress, after shaping the curly mane of an upcoming doll.

You brought her everything she asked for and as the hours passed, which seemed too short for you, you began to sense what she was doing. Your same hairstyle, your same dress, the stockings, the hat… Everything was reflected in miniature in that doll.

“Is it me?” you asked in a sweet voice, placing yourself well on her lap. She looked at you and nodded pleased, handing you the doll. “Donna, it's incredible… She has the same spot as me,” you said amazed by her mastery, by having replicated you in such a perfect way.

“You were right, (Y/N), the color suits the dolls well,” she said, kissing you sweetly on the lips. “It's a gift for you, amore mio…”

“Wow… It's amazing, Donna, I don't know what to say…”

“Just say that you will continue being the way you are… That you will be my favorite doll forever…”

[emotsper]

i need them GONEEEE

[lovesickeros]

popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.

specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.

which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.

and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.

basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.

g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind

just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.

[bonebabbles]

I remember when I was reading DOTC when I was around 10, and ever since Misty died I had been waiting for the moment where Birch and Alder learned about her murder, how everyone in their lives has kept it a secret. And then it just didn't happen.

I also remember obsessively re-reading the part where Quiet Rain blows up at Clear Sky.

Birch and Alder are two characters that are just so...

I WANT to say they were forgotten about, but that word doesn't feel right for how they're constantly showing up on the screen. Clear Sky occasionally feels guilty about how he murdered their mother, but for the vast majority of the time, that's described in passive voice. So you're not reminded of just HOW cruel he was, and still very much is.

It's like they're not allowed to be characters.

Like, how does Alder feel about Clear Sky, who seemed to be acting as an adoptive father until he beat her as a child? How did Birch respond later, when Clear Sky was so busy thrashing his sister that he was threatened by a dog? How do they feel about the man who took their mother away from them?

They keep getting cited as "Good Examples Of Non-Campborn Cats," dodging around the fact they were stolen and raised by Petal. Like a lot of the other "adoptions" in the series, she quietly stops mattering to them. But even this fact... like, they're being OTHERED when they were functionally raised SkyClan.

How do they feel about THAT? That their earliest memory is SkyClan, and yet, they'll never be considered truly, fully "clanborn."

Their whole life taken from them, by Clear Sky's cruelty, their formative years spent in his violent shadow, and the narrative is just not interested in that.