#others writings for royal au

[aychama]

L: I told you to leave me alone

R: I know Sir, but I'm your advisor and I (unfortunately) have to supervise you too.

Raymond sighed as he read the papers in his hands while following Leshy.

L: Do you think I need your supervision? I was doing just fine before you arrived. I'll continue to do so. Leave

R: I can't. We still need to go over a lot of things, we're far behind schedule to discuss real matters which is urgent, I need you to sign the agreement of imported goods from Anchor Deep and the people in the neglected villages are revo-

L: Fine! How many!?

R: Pardon?

L: How many papers, Raymond?

Leshy turned to him with a momentarily anger. To him, Raymond was simply, yapping.

R: Uh, about... 1, 2, 3...

He began counting, sounds of the paper coming to Leshy's ear.

R: 86 papers, sir.

L: Well good luck to you with that. Just copy my signature.

R: Wait, me? Sir I can't just decide on the matters of the whole kingdom!

L: Aren't you my "advisor"? That's your thing, to decide.

R: Yes, I give advice! I don't rule over a kingdom!

L: Too bad so damn sad, I don't feel like listening you talk about dumb problems I won't be paying attention to anyway.

Leshy chuckled a bit and walked towards his work room. Raymond followed right behind, a bit panicked by the king's nonchalant decision. Leshy closed the door behind him, Raymond nearly making it inside.

R: You can't just ignore it! I promise it won't take long... Don't you care about your people? They are suffering! They are doing their best but barely surviving with what you let them have! Not only that, you've added taxes when I was gone!

L: My people are doing fine. You're worrying too much for something so lame, Ray. If I'm really that shitty of a king, go on. Fill my "so important" papers. And I thought you were smart enough to think that.

Raymond rubbed his temples after setting the papers aside. He took a deep breath. Leshy just sat one of the comfortable chairs and leaned back.

R: (God, I prefer hell over trying to convince this man child to do anything) It won't be long before everything breaks down to chaos if you continue to neglect your duties, sir.

L: ...

R: Maybe the other crowns were right about you after all...

Leshy immediately got up and turned towards Raymond.

L: What did those old bastards say about me?

R: Just the usual sir.

He smiled. Good thing Leshy was, well, blind.

R: That you were too young and naive to understand how a kingdom works. The red crown even said he was surprised that you haven't got hunted by your people.

L: That... Grim faced cat! You know what!? I rule my kingdom just fine! I'm the best king out there! They wish they were me! I can rule their kingdoms along with mine if I wanted!

R: Yes sir. You could...

L: Read me the damn papers Raymond! I'm gonna finish these papers faster than any of those living corpses!

R: (Works every time)

___________________________

It was night time when they were able to finish all those papers. Raymond had lit a candle long time ago to read better and Leshy seemed to listen.

R: This is the last paper... It's, it's over

L: Finally, for fuck's sake...

The worm yawned and leaned back. Raymond put the papers in order and set aside, before leaning back like his King.

R: Sir your profanity.

L: Ray I'm too tired to care.

R: You're right... I should be too tired to ask.

L: What's the time?

R: The moon is up by a hand. It's too late.

L: You don't say.

The advisor yawned and drank a glass of water. The King on the other hand rubbed where his eyes should be. It was rare but, sometimes, his eyes would bleed again, his wounds so easy to tear open. The cat panicked at the sight, immediately his tiredness vanishing by worry that overtook.

R: You're bleeding!

L: Don't-

Leshy hissed at him when Raymond tried to touch his face so he backed away. Raymond looked at the blood with sadness for his King.

R: Does it... Does it still hurt? Does it hurt bad?

He asked with a shakey voice as he reached for Leshy's face again. Surprisingly, the short tempered king didn't pull back the second time. He leaned to the touch, to the feeling. Raymond's palm got bloodied as he wiped it.

L:Not anymore. Not like the way it used to...

R: It's good... I think. Is it just pitch black..?

L: People assume so. But no. My vision is my thoughts. I can see just, not in the way you'd expect

R: How so? How can you just- See?

The King chuckled at the advisor's weirded out question.

L: I already know what something looks like. I know colors, I know shapes, I know sounds, the materials, the feelings. And, if you know it like I do, it feels like your whole imagination is your sight.

R: That's... Not as bad as I thought

L: You think about going blind?

R: No, heh, of course not... I think about, how hard it must be for you.

L: You think about me? Now that just makes me shy~

R: My King-

Raymond gave a tired and short giggle as he blushed. Even though he hated his job, he didn't hate the worm necessarily.

L: What? Can I not be curious about why you think about me Ray?

R: With all due respect, that's not the point, sir. I work for you, it's natural that I worry for the one I'm working so close with.

L: And somehow I'm someone you must worry for? The levels you bring me down to.

R: You make it sound like everything is just fine! Is there really nothing bad about being blind?

L: There are bad sides of it of course

R: Like what?

Leshy smiled, putting his hands on top of Raymond's.

L: Knowing I'll never actually see you

AU8WUW8UQOAPAAJUDJDAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HELLO???? THIS IS SO GOOD?!?!?!?!?! How dare you send me this awsome gift as an anon 😭😭😭 Thank you so much omg I didnt think such a simple drawing would inspire someone to write something like this!

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[emry-stars-art]

i am FERAL for the royal au and i am curious, what is neil and andrew's first kiss like in this au? all the art you drew is giving me thinky thoughts

[The thinky thoughts art in question] and THANK YOU for this ask!! (sorry about making u feral pls take care 🙏)

I don’t even remember how the scene idea came to me but I do remember thinking that royal au andreil first kiss would in fact be pretty different than canon only because Andrew, knowing Abram’s had bad experiences with touch beyond violence (I believe unlike canon), would somehow be even more careful about how he approached it (coming from the one “I want to see you lose control” is directed at. Impressive)

And also we’re in the middle of these two’s fun game of “is he trying to court me or am I making inappropriate assumptions” so that’s super cool and fun TT

Anyway read it here and have a little taster (but first go look at @astridsbirdskulls drawing of their kiss bc it’s SO sweet omg)

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

[bigalockwood]

Sunday Snippet 👻

Simon was rooted to the spot, tendrils of ghost plasm reaching for him.  “I never felt safe.” The words, a whisper from the past, left in the world of the living, kept repeating themselves, steadily rising in volume. He was starting to feel sick, nausea crawling up the back of his throat. Furiously, he chewed on his chewing gum, but couldn’t find the strength to move.   “I NEVER FELT SAFE!”  The roar startled Simon out of his trance but by then, it was too late, the ghost already looming over him.  Stumbling back, Simon tried to put some distance between them, but the ghost descended upon him, its ghastly face close, close, closer to Simon, sunken eyes and fleshless fingers, rotten teeth and fraying lips — A rapier sliced through the air in front of Simon, drawing invisible but familiar patterns.  Gasping, Simon stayed where he was, heart beating wildly in his chest.  “Simon! You okay?”  Wille’s concerned face appeared in his field of vision, his hair annoyingly good-looking, even now, at just past midnight, after they’d been searching the dusty house for hours. He was always so…dapper. Stupid old money.  He hardly seemed ruffled by what had transpired and as soon as Simon nodded jerkily, the megawatt smile was back on Wille’s face, all worry gone. He appeared to be greatly entertained by all of this. Simon thought back to how Wille seemed to enjoy throwing himself in the path of danger, how little regard he had for his own safety. What did it say about Simon that he didn’t mind having an employer and colleague that seemed to be borderline suicidal? “Great,” Wille said, holding out his hand to haul Simon to his feet. It was warm around Simon’s chilled fingers. They had the same callouses from fighting, he noticed idly. “We’ve got so much more to do tonight. Now that we know who we’re dealing with — it’s time to hunt a ghost.”

[toffeelemon]

sapphic wilmon fics as sapphic songs🩷🧡🤍

this is a (play)list of some of my favourite genderbent au wilmon fics as sapphic songs to celebrate the wilmon tag on ao3 hitting 5k works!

I won't treat you like you're oh so typical by saynomore @saynomorefic [T, 9k, 1/2]

non-royal AU. rare butch wille/femme simon! delicious sexuality realisation friends to lovers

I'd be home with you by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 6k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe fluffy established relationship valentine's date.

Comes on the common tongue of your loving me by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. simon being a teasing lil shit

Santa Claus won't make me happy (but you will) by MarvellKya17 @i-love-semicolons [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. christmas themed, semi-public sex with toys

The altar is my hips by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. new year's eve themed and excellent lesbian sacrilege as usual

Bubblegum by stealthy_chameleon @stealthy-chameleon [E, 2k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon cute mutual pining to smut speed run

the taste of lace and you by willesworld @willesworld [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. wille in lingerie.

Look at me when you're alone by Gwendolyn @shouldntbearevolution [E, 3k, 1/1]

dom she/they simon giving wille a lap dance... yeah

Something Bittersweet by embracedthevoid @embracedthevoid [E, 9k, 2/2]

a series of 2 fics. non-royal AU. enemies to lovers. hate sex. still pretending to be enemies hehe. public sex.

good friends by phnelt @phneltwrites [E,4k, 1/1]

established wilmon and (straight friend) felice threesome. trust me sksk.

[flowerakatsuka]

denki!kuroba has plagued my mind for the past 24 hours so it's time to drop their design & lore. ( bonus + more lore under the cut! )

( ya'll knew i had to find a way to shoehorn kurokara into this au SOMEHOW. )

while they don't meet during the events of six idol statues of taboo, kuroha does eventually get to meet chorosuke's recently reunited brothers afterwards. strangely enough, it seems that karatsugu knows who they are. kuroha's life before the accident was much like the one kuroba lives ; having attended college for horticulture and working at their grandfather's floral shop. karatsugu and kuroha had known each other for a long time, having become friends in high school and staying quite close into adulthood. because of this, he was absolutely devastated when they suddenly disappeared a year and a half ago while on the way to visit family in yokohama. there were no reports of any crashes or deaths, no missing people found, nothing. it was as if they were spirited away, never to be heard of again. upon learning this, kuroha is rather distraught. even though his face is so familiar to them, the past he recounts to them refuses to come back to them. something they had been keeping a secret from the others at the midorito estate was that they had begun to recollect some things, but what they remembered seemed more like strange dreams than any memories they should have. memories of traveling with mononoke, fighting in gang wars, fending off youkai, a life much like what karatsugu described but not exactly the same... and in all of those memories, the six same faces, so eerily similar yet unsettling different. the most prominent of them all being the faces just like karatsugu's. they aren't sure why these strange memories are all they can recall, perhaps they're finally losing it, but with the brothers' help, kuroha might be able to figure out the true meaning behind them and even remember their life in this universe along the way.

ALSO, a quick explanation of denki!kuroba's name!

( fair warning : my understanding of japanese is very rudimentary so i may have made some mistakes in my translation or how names are written. please let me know if that's the case and i'll correct anything i've gotten wrong! )

kuroba / クロバ -> kuroha / 黒葉 ( くろは )

kuroba's name is written in katakana while kuroha's is written in kanji ( with furigana written in hiragana. )

kuroba's first name comes from クローバー ( kurōbā ) meaning clover. when the dakuten from バ ( ba ) is removed, it becomes ハ ( ha. ) the equivalent of ハ in hiragana is は, which is used in the furigana for kuroha's name. the kanji used for kuroha is 黒 ( kuro ) meaning black and 葉 ( ha ) meaning leaf.

yotsubana / 四つ花 ( ヨツバナ ) -> shinigusa / 死に草 ( しにグサ )

yotsubana comes from 四つ葉 ( yotsuba ) meaning four-leaved, notably used in the japanese for four-leaved clover / 四つ葉のクローバー ( yotsuba no kurōbā. ) the kanji for ba in youtsuba is swapped for 花 ( hana, ) which can be read has bana like in the surname tachibana. as a result, their surname can be read as " four flowers. "

the 四 ( yo ) from yotsubana, which can also be read as shi, becomes 死 ( shi, ) meaning death. the adverbializer に ( ni ) replaces つ ( tsu. ) the kanji for hana is replaced with 花 ( kusa, ) which is lifted from a synonym for clover, 詰草 ( tsumekusa. ) kusa becomes gusa as an instance of rendaku. their surname can be roughly read as " dead(ly) grass. "

[hergrandplan]

AU where Simon and Wille both have a book coming out (not sure if they're both authors or that one of them has a biography and the other a novel) and are accidentally double booked at a bookstore for signing. One of them has an incredibly large following, the other significantly less so and things are awkward until they realize they reall hit it off. Like, really.

[cricketnationrise]

some sentence sunday 24.5

thanks to @kiwiana-writes, @cha-melodius, @indestructibleheart, @firenati0n, @three-drink-amy

@14carrotghoul, @thesleepyskipper, and @myheartalivewrites for tagging me today! i finished my @aroyallybigbangrwrb draft today so please enjoy some junora feelings realization feat a surprising amount of john denver

Nora’s just sitting next to June, basking in the atmosphere, innocent to the seismic shift about to occur, when several things happen at once: the moon comes out from behind a cloud, a light breeze sweeps through, and June starts humming along to the song she’s playing. Any one of these things alone would be fine, but together they are completely devastating. Nora didn’t recognize the song before, but with June’s low, melodic humming, she can identify Annie’s Song—one of Mama’s favorites to play for Mom. The lyrics swirl around Nora’s brain—you fill up my senses, like a night in the forest—providing an inadvertent soundtrack to her suddenly racing heart. The breeze is just strong enough to make the wisps of June’s hair dance and play in its wake, just strong enough that June giggles—let me drown in your laughter—and scrunches her nose up all cutely when they tickle, and tucks the escaped strands behind her ear. The newly-returned moonlight edges June in delicate silver and Nora’s breath catches in her chest.  Oh shit.

tags under the cut!

@leaves-of-laurelin @happiness-of-the-pursuit @anchoredarchangel @orchidscript @celeritas2997

@rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @smc-27 @missanniewhimsy

@the-lincyclopedia @montrealmadison @thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks

@cactusdragon517 @inexplicablymine @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @wordsofhoneydew

plus the customary open tag 💜🦗

[somebluemelodies]

in honor of my one year ✨blogiversary✨ if you will, as well as, consequently, one year of my beloved lil royals au, here's a little (read: accidentally a smidge long) something something with our favorite prince and guard :> feel free to read the rest of the royals au here <3

Roier doesn't understand the idea of traditions.

Well, he does, to an extent, but the fact of the matter is that he, truthfully, doesn't care about traditions.

He doesn't care for anything about the life of royalty, really, and would much rather run away with his beloved to live in a cozy cabin outside of the kingdom, getting eloped to an audience of no one but themselves and whoever's ordained to marry them, but alas, he can't get everything he wants.

No, he'll just break the rules set tradition instead.

Tradition says Roier isn't supposed to see Cellbit the night before their wedding, and his parents stationed two guards outside his room to make sure he doesn't leave.

Roier laughs at the fact they forget he always escapes through his window, anyway, and the fact they thought he could be left devoid of quality time with his beloved.

Besides, tradition says he's supposed to marry another member of the actual royal class, and, well, he let that concept go months ago.

(Apparently, guards don't count. Apparently, Cellbit especially doesn't count. Oh, well.)

(If his parents could marry who they loved, so can he.)

He knows where he's going. They set a meeting spot hours ago. Their spot. He'll miss being able to do this so much when he's king - when they're kings - but at least he won't have to go sneaking out to spend time with his husband.

(Husband. Husband.)

(His heart races at the prospect, warmth igniting his veins. Husband.)

So, this is what it feels like to be lucky.

...

Cellbit has heard the townspeople talk.

He's overheard it from the townspeople, hell, he's even overheard it from some of the guards themselves.

He's not supposed to be on the throne. He's supposed to be beside it. Guards aren't supposed to become proper royalty, let alone a king. That isn't tradition. Guards aren't supposed to marry their princes. That isn't tradition.

The personal guard has heard the words tradition and unusual and improper so many times that they're starting to not sound like real words anymore.

And it makes him worry a little, admittedly.

(Not for himself. Never for himself.)

(It's Roier he's worried about.)

Cellbit knows he got lucky becoming a guard in this kingdom, let alone Roier's personal guard. It certainly wasn't his unknown background that got him these positions, it was purely dependent on skill.

(If they knew who he truly was, he'd have been marched to the guillotine months ago. He wouldn't be here.)

Cellbit knows traditions. And he's fairly certain he doesn't fit a single one of them. By marrying Roier, marrying into a family that's always been so keen at upholding traditions, he knows the prince's image is at stake.

(Roier might not care about it, but Cellbit does.)

(He might not be a guard for much longer, but he always will be at heart. He swore to protect the prince with his life, and he will fulfill that to his last breath.)

He wonders if Roier made the right decision, abandoning his arranged marriage and choosing him, instead. Emotionally-speaking, certainly, but logistically...

Tradition getting thrown to the wayside typically doesn't bode well. The embodiment of everything tradition isn't taking its place? Well...

Cellbit holds onto the fact that Roier chose him anyway, throwing care to the wind and rekindling the dying embers because he loves just that intensely, and trusts that everything will be okay.

They will be okay.

(Even if the townspeople don't like him after this marriage, it doesn't matter. Roier likes him. Roier loves him, enough to drop it all in a heartbeat just for him. Just so they can be together. How?)

(He has the whole world right beside him; he doesn't need anything else. How can someone love so much?)

The storm of thoughts assailing his mind are brought to a grinding halt by a hand grasping his arm. Startled, he turns, but the surprise melts into a fluttery excitement when the moonlight illuminates his prince's presence, and he can't control the way his heart starts to hammer against his chest.

(Beautiful. Ethereal.)

(He wonders how he used to be so stoic around Roier, used to go to sleep without seeing soft brown eyes and a saccharine smile and--)

You're staring, gatinho.

Roier's laugh draws heat up the back of his neck, and he fumbles for a response that won't make him look stupid. Is staring at beautiful art suddenly a crime, guapito?

The prince shakes his head fondly, reorientating himself so he can cradle Cellbit's face in both of his hands. Ya, mi amor. Come here.

He pulls his face closer, pressing their lips together, and he feels gloved hands on his waist close any remaining space between their bodies by pulling him flush against the guard's chest.

(It's almost disorientating, feeling like they could burst. Feeling like the flames could burn them from the inside out.)

(It's addictive. It's love. How could they have come so close to giving this up?)

They only pull apart when oxygen demands it, and even then, Roier chases him for another brief kiss before taking a real moment to breathe.

Their foreheads press together, breathing in each other, the serenity that comes with their nights under the moon. And then, the prince is smiling again, a knowing curve of his lips. Mañana, eh?

It's Cellbit's turn to smile, holding him a little tighter at the words. Amanhã, meu príncipe.

(Everything changes tomorrow.)

(Tradition is useless, anyway.)

[rainycat2]

dare not say that a man forgets sooner; i have loved none but you

The Dead on Main fanfic I promised. AO3 link here! First chapter is short.

(Edit 3/6/23 for clarity)

Chapter One: The Invite

Constantine knew that, on occasion, he had the seemingly-supernatural ability to get himself into some really, truly, utterly bonkers situations. Being a magician in the first place would be a good starting place, much less having effectively escaped death itself by selling his soul sixty ways to Sunday. 

But this?

This was the shit frosting on the particularly radioactive, glowing-green shit cake.

Really, his day had been going pretty well before all of this happened. Comparatively. There hadn’t been any major crises or bullshit that he’d been dragged into, or forced to consult on. The only thing on his docket was the meeting at the Watchtower he was being “asked” to “advise” on, regarding a JLD matter that had the potential to need the daylight League. See, he knew it wasn’t necessary, but the damn Bat was so paranoid he’d jump at a shadow if it so much as flickered the wrong way, so. 

Watchtower it was.

The meeting had progressed relatively normally, to his relief, but close to the end, right when he’d started considering actually lighting the cigarette that dangled between his teeth, right when he’d started properly zoning out… power zipped down his spine, shocking him into sitting straight up. Cold shot down his arms, gooseflesh rising at the sensation as he blinked, then cursed. Captain Marvel shot up as well, looking around like he’d been hit over the head with a pan.

Death magic.

“Get back from the table, you bloody-!” Before he could even finish the curse, a glowing green hole in goddamned reality ripped open in front of his eyes, hovering above the table. It hurt to look at, frankly, the sickly neon green turning to black to green to purple to white to green-- 

Augh, Jesus. He tore his eyes away before the not-fully-in-reality hole could melt his brain. “Don’t look at the damn thing,” he barked, shielding his eyes slightly with a hand.

“What is it,” Bats growled, every line in his posture screaming defense, tenseness, ready to fight.

“It’s-”

A sharp, comical, almost cartoonish pop hit their ears, once again cutting the Brit off as two envelopes fluttered to the meeting room table, the hole in reality just. Disappearing. There one second, gone the next before he could even process. 

Constantine sighed heavily, taking a long, long swig from the flask tucked into his coat pocket before he examined the letter, noting the swirling black script addressed to him. Well, nothing really to lose, he noted, picking it up and breaking the seal quickly.

To John Constantine, Tenant of the House of Mystery, Master of the Arcane Arts, Deceiver of Death, and all other titles that he Lay Claim to;

His High Majesty of the Infinite Realms, of Purgatory, of the Underworld and all other names through History and Time, High King Daniel Phantom, Balance of Life and Death, Champion of All, Ancient of Space, requests your presence at the upcoming Samhain Ball. 

Attire is black-tie, masks are optional, and weapons are restricted. All souls upon acceptance of this invitation shall be bound to an oath of peace for the duration of the Ball, which shall last one Earth day, twenty-four hours, or one rotation of the Planet Earth orbiting Sol in the Milky Way Galaxy.

Accommodations for all who request it shall be made in the King’s Keep in the Infinite Realms, with travel, food, and all other necessary needs provided. 

The Samhain Ball is dated to October 31st, 20XX to the early morning of November 1st, 20XX. 

Please either accept or decline this invitation by October 5th, 20XX so the appropriate accommodations can be arranged.

-Their Excellency, Ancient of Time, Former Consort of King Pariah Dark, Advisor to the King, Lord Clockwork of the Infinite Realms

“...shit."

[cultofsappho]

ok I don't normally post this kind of thing about my own writing, but I'm so emotional rn about how much attention The Domestication Of Household Spiders is getting lately

idk what happened but like a week ago there was a huge surge of popularity over Spider-man!Alex AUs and people have been recommending my fic. In the last week-ish, it's gotten more kudos and comments than the last two or three months combined. it just hit 400 public bookmarks and 150 comments, I've never got this much on any fic before and I'm speechless

This couldn't have come at a better time, and all these comments are finally making me smile. I've been sick with covid, then recovering and going back to a nightmare at work, and a bunch of other messes in my personal life at the same time. And then, all this love starts pouring in from the internet when I really needed it ❤️

I desperately want to write more in this AU, but I just don't know if finishing anything is in the cards right now, with everything else going on :(

Thank you so much if you read my fic, or left a kudos or comment, and thank you so much if you recommended it recently. seriously, this helped me so much and I'm so grateful for the love ❤️ I swear I'll reply to comments soon lol ❤️

[jfpstarchaser]

"Regulus," James calls him, he sounds so sweet. Regulus can feel a shiver go down his spine at his tone, so adoring. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up, he looks at James, then. And he's so pretty.

James looks so pretty like that, sprawled on Regulus' silk sheets, looking up to him with those doe hazel eyes, his shirtless torso showing Regulus every bit of that beautiful brown skin that there is to see, his muscles flexing when he supports himself on his elbows to come up again, trying to get closer.

Regulus cannot control himself around him.

He wants to devour James, strip him of his desires to satisfy his own needs, put his hand through his solar plexus and look for his heart to tear it away from his chest, to hold it close to himself, never to return it. Perhaps, then, James will realise Regulus is just no good for him. Perhaps, James will realise how much of a mistake he is making in choosing Regulus, then. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Those are hypotheticals, though. So here is a matter-of-fact statement: Regulus will never let him go.

James can walk through those doors anytime, he truly can, but he will never leave whole, because Regulus will hold a part of him for himself, forever. It's his. And for as long as James doesn't walk away through that door, James, too, is Regulus'.

James belongs to him, just like Regulus has given himself to him.

"You forget yourself," Regulus says, still standing at the foot of the bed. James really is a sight to behold. His messy coffee-coloured hair falling just above his bright, bright eyes, his lips red from kissing, his golden glasses sliding down his freckled nose, his cheeks rosy with excitement, his chest heaving, taking in quick breaths every time Regulus gets closer to him.

Regulus cannot wait to have his body pressed against his; to feel his strong and gentle hands, his warm, warm skin, his plump lips against his, to put their foreheads together, to circle his waist with his thighs, then to caress his mess of curly hair, to breathe together with him, to lay his head on his chest, their joint legs a mess on its own. To wake up with him, after.

Regulus loves him so much.

Regulus loves him so much, he's risking it all for him. Ready to give everything he owns away, to never leave the safe space James made out of this damned room, he's ready to do it all for him. For those hazel eyes, for that bright smile with dimples, for those loving hands, for that contagious laugh, everything. Everything, James.

"Your Highness," James sighs, tilting his head left, just a little. His eyebrows drawing together slightly, correcting himself, he bites his lip and looks up to Regulus' eyes again, his words a bitter reminder of who they are. "Come back to me, please," He pleads, looking expectantly at Regulus.

Regulus does.

He is all too eager to return to him, so he does. Regulus breathes in because just like James, every movement from the other has him drawing quick breaths, excitement pouring out of him in waves, then joins him on the bed, a mess of silk sheets.

He doesn't care for his title any more than he does for his council, he hears it daily, everywhere, all the time. Hates it, sometimes. But James, even if bitter on occasion, makes it sound so much better than it really is, this title.

Your Highness, James says, and Regulus wants to kiss it off his mouth. He wants to swallow that sweet and adoring tone down his own throat. Maybe then, the stolen title won't taste like chalk.

Your majesty, James jokes sometimes, and Regulus wants to lick it true out of his mouth. He wants to make an Emperor out of himself, so James will call him that again. Your majesty, Regulus wants him to whisper in his ear, then kiss the rest of his words down his skin.

Regulus, James calls him, and Regulus hears it, the gold liquid worship dripping from his tone, the way his mouth breathes out Regulus' name, and it makes Regulus want to steal his breath away to his own selfish lungs.

My love, James murmurs sometimes, when he thinks Regulus isn't paying attention, he kisses it on his pale skin, love pouring out of his mouth, indeed. Regulus has the impertinence to desire to make himself pliant beneath him, so maybe then, James won't murmur, but call him my love to his mouth, not his hip, eyes on him while Regulus overwhelms himself swallowing that down, too.

Regulus wants to consume him whole, truly. Bones and all. But since he cannot, he does the next best thing and tentatively sits in James' lap, his eyes glued to James', aware of every part of him, then he brings his hands up to his face, the cold silver of his rings against James' warm cheek.

Regulus watches it in delight, the breath James sharply takes in, exhaling through his open lips, then.

He can feel his own breath stutter, his heart picking up, the warmth that covers James' face coming to Regulus', too. Regulus loves it, this with James. Whatever, with James. Oh, as long as it's James, he loves it.

Then, Regulus can see James' smile and barely has time to breathe himself to properness again when James' hand touches his waist beneath his shirt, he holds it for a second, a mischievous little twinkle in his mahogany eyes, then slides it all the all up to his spine, feeling against his palm Regulus' shiver. Regulus has his breath stuttering again, then.

James' hands are surely one of Regulus' weaknesses, coming behind James himself, no doubt. Regulus cannot figure out how he does it, but James' hands are something else entirely; they touch so softly, love marking the way they passed, but they can also touch roughly, strength bruising the way, then. And he can touch roughly with worship in his hands, still. Every bit James has touched feels marked by him.

Regulus has James' concealed handprints all over his body, marked by him everywhere, touched by him down to his bones, Regulus is convinced James has his initials branded by his suave fingertips into Regulus' soul.

Exactly when it happened, Regulus cannot tell, but it's been quite some time. There was a Regulus before James and there's him now, James'.

Regulus won't ever forget it, this man. This man and his love-worshipping hands, his hazel gaze that feels like a warm lighthouse countering Regulus' storming grey-blue waves, his low laughter that feels like a breath of fresh air caressing Regulus' cheeks.

Regulus adores him.

Regulus couldn't care less about his infamous name, James Potter is nothing if someone worthy of everything. Regulus wants to give him everything, shower him with the best he can buy with all that useless gold he has because James has given him everything already, and has already showered him with the best gold cannot buy: his love.

Regulus sighs, then, dipping down to close the distance between them and kissing James' grin out of his mouth, biting his low laughter away with his teeth on his bottom lip.

Regulus loves this, too.

He loves the way James kisses the pleased sounds of his own throat into Regulus' tongue, the way his hands give away trying to support himself to just— hold Regulus instead.

James falls on his back on the bed and Regulus follows him, unwilling to part with him now that he has tasted it again, tasted him. James' hands hold him again, softly, the one on his back coming back down his waist, while his other holds his jaw, his thumb caressing Regulus' skin. James brings them closer, their bodies flushed together and Regulus' the one kissing a groan into James' tongue, then.

Regulus knows, logically, that this is fated to fall apart eventually. He knows. They are fated to fall apart, and yet to know this doesn't matter, all it does is make Regulus more and more hungry for him.

Regulus is a starving man, ready to devour every moment they get before their inevitable fall.

Every second he gets with James is a second closer to the day they will fall apart, and he doesn't care. He will take everything in the meantime. Regulus will take, take, take and then drown himself in everything that James has to give. And he will do it happily.

He will do it happily, so when the day for James to leave him comes, he will let him go, holding onto nothing but everything he already took. Regulus will satisfy himself with the pieces and not the whole man because he knows James deserves better than him.

However, until then, he's more than willing to just let the thought sit in the back of his mind like it doesn't matter, as if it won't hurt.

(It will. Regulus knows letting go of James, losing him to someone else, will tear his insides apart. Or worse, losing him to a world so much more fulfilling than this unnamed relationship of theirs, to an adventure Regulus can only dream of following him into, to a place where he wouldn't have to sneak around, where he doesn't have to hold himself back, where he can be as free as he should be.

Regulus begrudgingly admits that the Sea has so much more to offer James than him and he cannot, even with every selfish cell in his body screaming against it, deny James of it.

He would never deny James of anything if he could.

He can already feel the taste of the salty tears he will shed, fitting for they will remind him even more of who James left him for, the Sea. He can feel the frustrated scratches his nails will leave on the skin of his arms, feel the ever-there throbbing behind his eyeballs, the rough pain in his throat.

And knows, he won't regret it. As long as it makes James happy. Free, as he deserves to be. Free, as Regulus cannot make him, cannot be with him.

The Sea will care more for him than Regulus ever could, and the Sea will have James, but for now, he is Regulus' and Regulus will take everything that James offers to him.)

Regulus lets go of it and puts himself in the present again. He buries his fingers in James' curls, scratching slowly along his scalp, pressing back to the hungry mouth kissing his own.

James laughs against his mouth, then kisses his face. His lips pass everywhere, leaving invisible marks behind, he kisses his way through Regulus' eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his neck, his chest.

He feels him everywhere.

Regulus thinks there isn't a better way to self-destruct than this. He would do it again, a million times, just to feel the touch of this sun-kissed man, to feel his warm, warm love.

[aychama]

G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER

The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.

G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!

L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!

G: Bullshit. They promised-

L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!

Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.

L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?

G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!

Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.

G: Gah-!

L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!

The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.

L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.

G: Fuck you.

Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally

G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?

L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.

G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.

L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.

G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.

L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.

G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?

Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.

G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?

L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!

The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.

G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!

Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.

G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!

Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.

G: What did I ever do to you!?

The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go

G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?

L: ...

They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.

L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.

G: ...

L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.

G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-

L: I did... I tried to help you out.

Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.

L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...

Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...

G: (You crybaby)

The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.

G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.

L: You...

G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.

They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.

G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me

L: Fuck you... Heh...

G: Same to you. So-!

The goat pulled the lamb to their feet

G: When are we killing this giant spider?

Awwww this is adorable!

Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf

And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch

I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!

Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[lohstandfound]

I want to write something but I can't quite decide on any good ideas for the things I want to right. So here's some things from the squip horror au

Jake Jason has been having weird dreams and memories that are surely not his own... right? Ever since meeting the blonde guy at a party...

#1

I met this guy. Briefly, might I add. He’s close with one of the cast members. Christine’s friend, I believe. Dirty blonde hair that gets in the way of his eyes. I couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were. Maybe brown? It was dark. It was a party with the cast and friends. I managed to slip away from my management team for a while and that’s when I met him. He had purple in his hair. There was just something about him. Like I’ve seen him before? I haven’t. I didn’t even catch his name. I would like to see him again.

#4

I’m having nightmares. Every night seems to be a loop or continuation. A fire. And I’m always running through the fire and it’s like I can feel the flames. And I’m always looking for a blonde boy with red in his hair. He’s holding the matches. Sometimes I reach him, sometimes I don’t. It feels all too real.

#9

I don’t know why I keep track of these. These dreams just seem too real. And Rich is in all of them.

#10

Since when did I know his name is Rich?

#19

Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is this?

#20

I don’t remember that last note. I don’t think I remember anything from last night.

[happyk44]

"I'm not leaving you behind! It is my duty," he hissed. "I swore myself-"

"Your swore yourself because you had no choice, Percy." Her eyes were endless dark, devoid of feeling, of life. "You had a price to pay for your mother's life and this was your only offer." Her thin fingers cup his face through the bars. "You didn't choose to be my protector." She gave a weak laugh that made his stomach plummet to the floor. "You're not even my guard yet, not really."

Like a phantom, her touch slid down his cheek. He caught her wrist before her fingertip stopped gracing his skin. He could feel the rounded edge of her fingernail poke against him. Silence held fraught between them.

"Bianca-"

"Percy," she cut in, voice so sharp it cut him to the core. "I want you to survive. You're free. Take advantage of that, and go. Now."

"I can't go back without you," he said, quickly. She didn't fight his hold, but still his grip tightened. As though the harder he held her, the more she would stop protesting her escape. "You are-"

"Dead." Her lips thinned. "I'm dead, Percy. I was dead the moment they got their hands on me and I will be dead before either one of us even makes it beyond these walls, but you-" Her voice cracked, eyes watering.

He shook his head. Blood pounded in his ears. He didn't want to hear what she was going to say, wanted her to stop, wanted it all to stop. Just for a moment.

But it didn't, and neither did she. With a deep breath, she carried on, "You can make it. You can live. But only if you leave without me, so go."

His lungs burned. She inhaled so deeply, spoke so forcefully, and it made him hold the air in his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't breathe, maybe she would. But his chest ached. Self-loathing wedged itself like a rock in his throat as he let go. The sound of his own breath was like nail on chalkboard.

"Percy," she whispered. He shook his head and leaned in closer. Although tears hadn't yet fallen, her eyes were still wet. They glistened like the night sky. Her forehead pressed against the bars.

He looked away. The brick wall to his left was growing a fair bit of moss in the corner. "What's our star again?"

She laughed. It was a watery thing that choked him where he stood. Memories of standing the long grass, moonlight shining off the river, while she read her books beside him. Every so often, she'd look up at the night sky and search for the brightest star that month. She'd tell the stories behind the constellations. Or at least the stories from her kingdom. Any time she told a story, a fantastical myth, she'd follow up that her brother knew more - Nico, the quiet prince with a voracious appetite for legends and monsters.

Then, if she could spot the brightest star that month and if she recalled, she'd tell him what it meant for the people born that month. At least, in their hemisphere anyway. The stars were different elsewhere. Sometimes she'd crack open the newspaper, the stark image of her father, and read aloud the horoscopes.

He still remembered the incredulous sound she made when he told her they shared the same birthday. She'd dragged him to the library to refresh her memory on their star. Then argued furiously that he did not share the same traits as her.

It was a silly thing. She didn't believe it. He didn't either. But it was the first time they hadn't played the stiff act of royal princess and her knight-in-training. Not Percy holding his tongue and following strictly one step behind. Not Bianca doing her best to pretend he wasn't her shadow.

Awkward civility and stiffness carried thick between them from the moment Percy had been casted into his role. But that night, with the sound of yelling and laughter still echoing in their ears, they made an agreement. They didn't have to be the best of friends, but they sure could be casual with each other. After all, they were going to be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives.

At least... they were supposed to be.

Slowly each finger detached one by one until all that was left was his palm pressed against her wrist. Then that fell away too. Still he couldn't bare to turn his head and face her.

"Leo," she said. "The lion. Strength, pride, loyalty, confidence."

A stabbed orange toy on new year's day passed through his mind. "Sacrifice."

It was quiet for a beat. Then, "Yes." His heart hammered so fast he could feel it in his throat. "The lion represents sacrifice."

What was he supposed to say? He wanted to run, to turn the lock with the key he stole, take her and run. Run far and fast. But deep inside, he knew she was right. He could get by undetected. No one cared about a child knight, not even yet passed his training. He could blend in and slip out. Even if he got caught, they wouldn't nearly put in as much effort to get him back as they would if she were with him.

She was right.

She was already dead.

He swallowed thickly and met her eyes again. The night sky glistened back at him and he thought of constellations and warm handshakes and kind agreements and silly arguments. Breath caught in his throat. "I'll miss you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her lips twitched. "I'll miss you too." She blinked, and one tear slid down her cheek. He tracked the wet trace it left behind until it welled up at the bottom of her chin and dripped to the floor. "Will you do me a favour?"

"You're my princess," he said. "I would do anything for you."

It was a weak smile she gave before she spoke. The sight of it crushed him. "Tell my family I love them." Her breath escaped from her shakily. She pushed back her hair. A classic move to hide the nerves that drove her hands to tremble ever so slightly. "And take care of Nico. Please."

"I will," he promised.

Her smile strengthened ever so slightly. But the tears fell fast now, one right after the other. Her face tilted away at the first streak. He immediately turned his line of sight back to the brick wall. Weakness, sadness, grief - she hated being seen with any of them. He always respected it. Look away until she was done. Don't speak, don't ask her anything, don't help her. Just look away and stay silent unless she calls out.

So, even as his mind's eye was trapped in the wet track of tears on her skin, the hitched sound of her breath holding in a cry, he turned and headed back for the dungeon's door. The doorknob twisted in his hand. The door cracked open.

"Percy."

He held stiff. "Yes?"

"Don't forget the bracelet."

Heat burned at the back of his head. In his pocket, the bracelet felt heavier than the weight of the world. When he had first arrived, she gave it to him. When he refused to take it, insistent that she could deliver it to Nico herself, she shoved it into his pocket herself. Like a ghostly stain, his thigh still tingled with the forceful and firm press of her hand. He was sure it always would.

"I won't."

"Stay safe," she said, a princess in a dungeon ready and waiting to die.

His heart shattered. Still, he kept his head held high. "I will."

Then, without another word, he left the girl he had spent the last three years training to protect. He was meant to die for her. It was the role he had accepted the night he and his friends had stormed the castle and pleaded for help with his dying mother. He didn't argue. He didn't plead. Without hesitation, he swore his life away for hers. Without hesitation, he swore his last breath would be hers.

Yet she was the one embracing the eternal coldness to come. She was the one breathing weakly so he could breathe strong. She was trading away her life for his. She was the lion, giving a mighty roar before the dawn of a new year. She was the sacrifice, held down by chains with a glistening sharp blade raised above her head.

But he wasn't the one lowering it upon her neck. No, he was the cold breath of winter. The first drop of snow. The wilting grass. He was the barren wasteland that drove her out into the open. He was the starving masses desperate to live. He didn't have to drop the blade. He didn't have to use his own hands to spill her blood across the ground. His survival was her end. And that made him her killer anyway.

[wackpedion]

STOOPPPP 😭😭ouh.. that one enemies to allies to friends to lovers (to exes) furroughs fic that only lives in my mind....... i need adhd meds bro