#still he tried even if he knew it was absolutely pointless and that perhaps it's exactly his efforts that doom the narrative

[neuromantis]

aw2 gave me perhaps, one of the most important realizations of my life. just now. "how do you run from an idea?"

the world i created when i started writing. i liked it. and i liked my characters. they were real to me. but. i could escape there. but i couldn't live there. with my family and friends and loved ones, the only ones i've had then.

i needed to stay outside and keep writing them. i could never join them. so i kept writing. every day i would write more of it, obsessively. and with that came a realization of the genre of the story it was shaping up to be.

i keep calling it "automatic writing", because i really never felt like i was in control of it. ideas just used me as a conduit. the story was telling itself. and it wasn't. a nice story. not one with hopes or happy endings.

i once told someone a long time ago that i couldn't stand writing anymore because i loved those people. loved their world. but if i made more of it. they'd have to suffer for it. so i quit. i kept meeting new ideas and characters and i only wrote down the barest of outlines. because the narrative would inevitably doom them, there had to be no narrative anymore.

i think what also made me stop it, was meeting Adam. a guy i knew like 10 years ago who suddenly messaged me. he re-sent me my own message to him from 2013. "well what about the fact that perhaps there IS a god, but he just specifically hates you?"

the last couple of years made me accept it. Adam is me. N(adam)ian. The one who made it all. The one who set up the rules. The one they'd be suffering for. And I don't want to be that. So I chose to leave them. They don't let me. But at least I can not write.

[reysdriver]

Stop The World | S.B.

Sirius proposes to take you away at your arranged engagement party to Lucius Malfoy — sirius x fem!pureblood!reader angst

warnings: cheating but the good kind lol, reader is in an unhappy/forced relationship

words: 0.8k

a/n: this is like loosely based on the song Stop The World I Wanna Get Off With You by Arctic Monkeys (go listen its amazing) and I may be doing a part 2 later

You were the only person wearing white in a sea of black or colours only a few shades away. That wasn't the only reason you were uncomfortable. You were surrounded by pureblood maniacs who only cared to be here so they could pester you with questions about having an heir immediately after graduating from Hogwarts.

Your family arranged a wedding between you and Lucius Malfoy, and you couldn't even voice your dismay for fear of being disowned and having nowhere to go. So, because you couldn't do anything else, you took a sip of your drink and tried to drown out the conversations around you. 

"Shall we dance?" Lucius asked you, void of emotion. 

You didn't give him a verbal reply. Instead, you just held out your hand for him to take and walked with him to the area where several other unhappy couples waltzed. 

His hands dropped down to your waist—too possessive for your liking—and you brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders. You danced, barely making eye contact or speaking or doing anything else couples do. 

Interrupting the tension of the dance, you saw Sirius Black walking closer to you and you held back a smile. Your eyes darted to the side so as to continue looking at him, and you concluded that he was, in fact, walking right over to you. 

"Malfoy." Sirius said, getting Lucius' attention. "Mind if I steal (y/n) for a dance?" 

He looked hesitant, but you knew the majority of that was just due to the rivalry between the two young men. 

You tried to get Lucius to leave, making a pointless excuse for him to go away. "Lucius, would you mind getting me another drink? And perhaps you could greet some of our guests on your way."

His mood remained largely unchanged, but he wanted to avoid making a scene over something so small at this party. He let go of you and walked away. You quickly resumed the dance with Sirius, only much more comfortable as you were in the arms of your secret boyfriend. 

"This isn't what you want. You know that." 

"And what is it that I want?" You asked with a cocky head tilt. 

"Me." The word caused you to roll your eyes, even though it was absolutely true. "But not just me. Anything but this, really."

You gazed into his silver eyes, imagining the happy life with him that he had insinuated with those few words. He was right, you wanted to get out of this life, but you felt trapped. It's not easy being a sixteen year-old with your life mapped out for you by wealthy relatives who couldn't care less about your happiness as long as the bloodline was continuing. 

"Well, it's a shame I'm already engaged." You said sadly, and he twirled you in sync with the music. 

He pulled you back into his arms, the two of you were perhaps even closer together than you had been a few moments ago. "But not married." He countered. "And even if you were, I wouldn't care. I would still offer to sweep you away and be with you."

You tried to keep your voice down. If other guests heard you having this conversation, you were sure it would not end well. "Well, my knight in shining armour, how do you plan to rescue me from this tower? I'm sure the dragons would not be pleased to hear I want out."

"You don't have to tell them. I plan on running away and living with the Potters, you should join me. I have my uncle's fortune, and I could buy us somewhere to live and keep us afloat after graduation." 

The proposal scared you more than anything, but it was everything you've ever wanted. You wanted to jump into his arms and have him carry you away that instant, but you saw Lucius coming back with a glass of champagne, and you knew you had to wrap up the conversation. 

"I'll be needing some air in ten minutes. I'll go out to the gardens, meet me there." You said quickly and quietly, then you unwrapped your arms from his shoulders and gave him a polite kiss on the cheek. 

Your betrothed—the official one—handed you the drink, and you took a sip with perfect etiquette. 

"Thank you for the dance, Sirius." You said, both of you holding back your joy from public eyes. 

"Thank you, my dear. This party is lovely, by the way." 

[cynical-kitten]

(Late) WIP Wednesday

I'm late to the party because I've lost all concept of time. I've been working on this doozy of a chapter, so have a snippet :)

(part 1 has already been posted, part 2 is still in the works)

Alastor couldn't quite recall the last time he indulged in the pleasures of sleep.

Had it been days? Weeks? He didn't know, for time had become blurred in a haze of static. What he did know was that this couldn't go on. Although he had conquered worse, these conditions were truly testing his limits. His power was wavering, the strength of it tied directly to his sleep— or lack of it, in this case. The magic that he had kept sharp and steady was dulled by his exhaustion. He was irritable and impatient, more so than usual. In the wake of his frustration, he had accumulated quite the number of souls to broadcast on his show.

The solution was simple: sleep! Yet something so natural, so easy, had become unattainable.

Something had to be done.

Alastor glanced down at the sleeping woman clinging to his lithe form, her arms wrapped around him in a death grip as if he was a safety floatation device in the middle of the ocean. For now, she was silent, aside from the soft snoring that slipped between her lips. From the deceptive expressionless look on her face, she appeared to be resting peacefully. However, if tonight played out like they had over the last several weeks, this would not last long. He knew better than to trust the fragility of this peace.

Ever since the extermination, Manon had been plagued with night terrors that left her sweating and trembling in his arms. She refused to leave Alastor's humble abode, claiming she slept better when he was by her side. What a joke! His poor wife hardly slept at all! Manon would go days without closing her eyes, dreading the moment she would drift off to dreamland. She would do whatever it took to remain awake, which in turn kept Alastor from sleeping since she somehow needed his presence at all hours of the day.

Oh, how he tried to reason with her! Perhaps he was too stern a time or two, but her sobbing pleas for help were proving to be difficult to ignore. Alastor would never admit it, but there was something within her desperation that awakened something foreign and unwelcome within him. Was it sympathy? Hardly, Alastor found it difficult to sympathize with anything. Perhaps it was fascination, a desire to see what would become of her should she be allowed to break completely. 

Or even worse, he just simply couldn't fathom the idea of sharing space with the hollow, unremarkable shell of the force this woman had once been. 

His lips quirked into a humorless grin. That had to be it. God forbid it actually be because he was a sentimental sap that missed his wife (newsflash: he was). He couldn't possibly mourn her for what had been… could he? No. He honestly found her more entertaining when she had fight in her. 

Reasoning with himself, to prove that he hadn't been reduced to such a sorry state, was pointless. Alastor had always been putty in her hands. He loved her, after all. 

Because of that pestering adoration he held for his wife, Alastor refused to stand idly by while she suffered. Going back to his roots, he had experiments with every remedy, ritual, and even the prayers his mother taught him as a child in order to give her as dreamless of a sleep as he could, but to no avail. He found himself in a relentless cycle of exhaustion: watching as Manon drew closer to the brink of succumbing to sleep, listening to her sob and beg for him to do something, trying yet another method of madness only for it to fail, and sitting vigil as she warred with her demons. 

What an absolute mess she had made of him.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Guess whooooo?

Glad to see you are doing good, may i ask if you can do some fluff with all for one, where his s/o attempts again and again to scare him and fail miserably, only to one day manage to scare him so bad he doesnt scream, he *screeches*? Like that annoying anime girl scream? I beg of you, i need to read that!

(I absolutely cannot see him doing this HOWEVER because this is fanfiction and because it would be funny as hell, I'm going to make this a reality right now. I'll tweak it a tiny bit if that's okay with you!)

~Boo!~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up|drabble

Twenty eight...twenty eight failed attempts to scare him in the past 2 weeks alone. You wanted to give up hope but the persistence within you would not subside just yet. To many this would be unimportant, but to you, admitting defeat (to no one in particular) was not an option. You were determined to scare him just once even if it were only by a small margin. So you sit waiting patiently on the cold bathroom floor, counting the tile and listening to the sounds around you. For a minute you think you hear something but as it turns out, on a small bird had unfortunately ran into the glass window. You shake your head and try to hold in your laughter, biting your tongue to remain silent. The poor thing would be okay so it was fine to give the situation a small chuckle.

You needed the entertainment anyway.

You'd been inside of the bathroom for hours now. Your dedication to the bit was phenomenal yet somehow crazy all at the same time. While you were waiting for the perfect time to ambush, he was just making his way back home from a meeting of sorts. Or really it could be classified as something else? He'd preferred to call it a meeting since that sounded the most civil way to explain things. He even stopped to wash the blood from his hands on the way home so that he wouldn't startle you. He was looking forward to seeing your face after today but you can imagine his slight surprise when you're not immediately waiting on him at the front door. It raised some eyebrows between him and the doctor who would be joining the two of you for dinner this evening again. Soon realization set in. All for one knew you were up to another one of your tricks when you didn't come still even after he called out to you. The man chuckled and turned toward the doctor, crossing his arms.

"I'd mind your back if I were you. Y/N has a bad habit lately of hiding and reappearing suddenly. I suppose it's a feeble attempt to scare me. Cute, but pointless nonetheless." He smiles and begins searching for you throughout the house. Your mind was still wandering when you suddenly heard the sound of doors opening and closing. You smirked and hunkered down in your small hiding spot. You could feel the energy building up within you, the excitement of finally being successful possibly. After all, this was the only place you haven't tried to get him within the entire mansion. It's bound to work right?! You question yourself mentally, shifting positions to hop out at any time. Your heart stops for just a minute when you hear the old gilded doorknob wiggling around/turning. The door opens and you hear a familiar voice.

"Nice try my dear but I know you're in here. It's the only place you haven't tried yes?" You silently cursed yourself at the thought. You hadn't expected him to also pay attention to that fact as well. This was supposed to be your advantage. "Y/N, make yourself known to me and perhaps I'll pity your pathetic failure with affection." Suddenly he reaches forward and snatches the shower curtain open to reveal...

nothing at all.

You smirk at the opportunity present and leap out of the linen closet inside the bathroom, ignoring the clean towels falling out onto the bathroom floor around you. It was almost the perfect moment had confusion not taken over your feeling of triumph.

"Did you...did you just squeal???"

[use-your-telescope]

E, your chapter titles for WEMTBB scare me. they look like you're going to break my heart.

We're No Saviors if We Can't Save Our Brothers

Who's Gonna Watch You Die?

🔫explain

You picked two absolute angst-loaded chapters, my friend - while this story does have a happy ending, it certainly hits some intense points before it gets there!

(ETA: there’s a chapter in this mix that I am waiting to see who gets the reference to… it is a song we’ve discussed with @sarahscribbles before… *cue evil laughter*)

We’re No Saviors if We Can’t Save Our Brothers takes place after a terrorist attack on the United Nations. Here’s a snippet:

Just like the night of the massacre, all she could do was watch. Watch as her city, her home, her life, everything she knew disintegrated to ash before her, scattered in the wind as billowing smoke colored the sky blacker than the darkest night.

In her grief, she didn’t realize she had been discovered until a soldier threw her Pépère’s dead body at her feet.

The soldier snarled at her, spewing curses and vitriol that Theo could barely hear over the crashing of buildings collapsing in the fires and the screams of all the innocent people who met an unjust fate.

He snatched Theo by the throat, fingers digging into tender flesh as he cut off her air supply. She fought, despite the voice in her head telling her it was pointless; she would never win, she could never change what happened. No matter how hard she tried, her story was always destined to end in failure.

Laughter - bitter, angry, leering laughter, echoed through her ears, mixing with cries that started off as distant, but as Theo’s lungs burned and her vision grayed out, it grew louder and louder, until—

“—up!”

Theo bolted upright, gasping for air between sputtering coughs and choked out sobs.

Who’s Gonna Watch You Die takes place after the mysterious event alluded to in Chapter 1, but it’s still before Chapter 1. Enjoy an angsty snippet:

The time Loki sat on the roof, palms digging into his eyes as he failed to stem the flow of hot, stinging tears, seemed at once a minute and a lifetime. And yet, he would have been content to stay there, pretending his existence was not a waking nightmare, except the faint sound of rubber sneakers scraping along concrete warned him that someone saw fit to disturb him.

Swallowing the lump clawing at his throat, Loki wiped his eyes one final time before turning to face whoever approached. In different circumstances he might have considered casting a glamour, but whoever sought him out undoubtedly would understand if he was less than composed.

Maximoff, with bloodshot, swollen eyes and a crimson-tipped nose, stood before him. At some point, she swapped her battle attire for a threadbare sweatshirt and pajama pants, though nothing about the way she carried herself indicated she’d partaken in any rest or relaxation since their worlds were flipped upon their heads. If anything, she seemed to take the recent revelations even worse than Loki had.

“Loki…” She attempted a watery smile, but it did not hold; she sniffed, wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her sweater.

Loki’s stomach lurched - it was difficult to tell the reason for her appearance, and the inability to address him without additional tears seemed ominous.

“Is she–”

“Still alive, I think.” Maximoff sniffed, tugging one sleeve over her fist and using it to wipe her nose. “A nurse came out to let us know Cho’s going to give an update in a few minutes. We weren’t sure if you wanted to be there, but we at least thought you should know…”

Letting out a trembling breath, Loki closed his eyes and nodded. Despite the nagging thought that there was no reason to hear the update, that Theo always planned on leaving so it didn’t matter what happened to her and Loki shouldn’t bother - he rose to his feet anyways, silently gesturing for Maximoff to lead them inside.

Neither sorcerer spoke as they returned to the waiting room.

Perhaps it was foolish to torture himself with these updates; perhaps it was all for nought, and she was already gone. But desperation was a powerful motivator, and if nothing else he ought to know if his efforts were futile.

[a-simp-named-slickback]

Star-Crossed | Basim x OC | Part 4

As strange things happen at the House of Wisdom, Nashira begins to wonder what Basim has been up to the last four years…and what he’s up to now.

Nashira was never one to hold her tongue.

Perhaps being raised by her father had something to do with that.

Khalid ibn Mohammed was many things: a respected astronomer, a loving father, and above all else, a spirited debater. She’d seen him confidently share his theories and findings to rooms filled with the world's most celebrated scholars from Baghdad to Greece to Timbuktu. She’d also seen the many lengthy instances where he was asked to defend such findings, which he always did, with ample evidence to boot.

Anytime Nashira wanted something, she and her father had a little game where she’d have to defend her reasons as to why she should have it, while Khalid would argue against it. In fact, such a game is how she got Halah.

“A cat will keep the mice away,” A young Nashira stated.

“They are a big responsibility azizati” he’d say.

“I’m very responsible,” She persisted, “I study very hard, and I complete my chores without being asked.”

Khalid raised a brow, pointing to her study area, “Then why is your desk still a mess?”

“Because if it was clean, Baba, I wouldn't have any way to show you how responsible I am.”

Khalid let out a roar of a laugh. He could not argue with that logic. The next day he presented his daughter with a fluffy white cat.

She never held back in any conversation, especially an intellectual one. She’d learned the art of having tact, but that tact could only do so much in the face of outright foolishness. It was no surprise then when she openly criticized the House of Wisdom’s head scholar, Fazil Fahim.

The man was a charlatan, at least Nashira thought so. He spoke of people who came before, how they would come again one day, how his so-called “great work” proved as much.

Nashira read his research, she attended his lectures, and saw absolutely no basis for this claim. Fazil Fahim had no place as first scholar of the House of Wisdom if intended to spout the musings of a fool. Worse yet, he was spending an unthinkable amount of money on a pointless dig sight out in the wilderness. That part angered Nashira the most.

“To make such claims without any solid evidence is moronic!” Nashira exclaimed after one of his symposiums, “I expect better from a man as intelligent as Fazil Fahim, especially when he is the head scholar of the House of Wisdom. With the money he spends on that dig site, we could fund stipends for more scholars and pay school fees for students who cannot afford it otherwise. A terrible waste!”

What Nashira had not considered was that unlike her father, who was understanding and encouraged her to speak freely around him, other men did not take such talk as well from a woman.

Lately, she swore someone was following her. Around the House of Wisdom, around the markets, outside her home. She couldn’t explain it but she felt a presence near her at all times, starting around the time she made the comment about Fazil.

Perhaps it was him following her around? To confront her on what she said? If that were the case he knew where her observatory was. Nothing stopped him from simply strolling right in and giving her a piece of his mind.

Nashira sighed, drumming her fingers on the open book in front of her. After some contemplation, she let her thoughts drift to where she tried so hard no to let them go.

Could it be Basim?

Her mind filled with the image of his round eyes, his dark brows, his full bottom lip he bit when he was nervous….

She let out a frustrated huff, “Stop it Nashira….” She made herself clear the last time they spoke. That was all in the past. She was married to Omar and he was a good husband to her. This was just her wishful thinking again. The residuals of reckless teenaged passion.

She glanced at the open window. Why did she even bother keeping it open anymore when the only person who ever used it was him?

Nashira walked over to it, taking hold of the window panes and froze. Keeping it open just a little bit wouldn’t hurt? Right? It was quite hot today and the draft would be nice.

She dropped her arms by her side with a heavy sigh, resigning to her desk as she gazed at the window she was too cowardly to close.

Halah jumped into her lap, meowing at her.

She let out a laugh, “You’re right Halah, I need to forget about Basim,” She petted the cat, “Especially before Omar comes back…he’ll notice something is wrong with me and I wouldn’t have the heart to be honest as to why…”

The cat purred into her hand.

Suddenly, Basim leaped through the window. It wasn't in his usual way, he barreled his way in like he was in a rush, or rather a panic.

She gasped, “Basim?”

She paused upon seeing his expression. Basim looked distraught, “You need to get out of here. Now.” He walked over and grabbed her by the arm.

She resisted, “Excuse me? You can’t just barge in here and demand I go anywhere with you, not without an explanation!” She barked at him, and he backed a little in response.

Suddenly the doors of the observator burst open, revealing a group of heavily armed guards. Many of them holding weapons that seemed too coarse for a building full of scholars.

Nashira let out a scream, “What in the world?” She muttered under her breath. The guards drew their swords, filling the entrance. Basim stepped in front of her and Halah, a deadly look in eyes. It didn’t seem to match the face of the sweet boy she used to know, but she considered herself lucky to not be on the receiving end of it.

The biggest guard pointed his sword directly at Nashira, “There she is. Get her!” He ordered.

Basim drew his scimitar from his hilt, a deadly focus growing on his face, “Nashira, Halah, stay behind me.”

_______________________________________________

Basim panted, returning his scimitar to its hilt on his side. Around them lay the dead bodies of the assailants. Taking them out was light work, though he hated making a mess of the observatory.

Nashira stood in place clutching Halah, whose fur stood on ends. They both trembled after witnessing such carnage.

He walked over to her, “Are you alright?” He asked. His voice sounded gently and sweet, a total contrast to the ferocity he displayed in the earlier fight.

Nashira nodded slowly, eyes still focusing on the bodies in front of her. She had never seen so much blood before. She shivered thinking how It would have been her blood had Basim not arrived in time.

He sighed with relief, “Now you see why I need you to come with me?” He asked.

Nashira let out a shaky breath, “Why on earth would these men try to kill me?” She asked, clutching Halah tightly against her.

Basim stepped towards her, “Many people in The House of Wisdom have been going missing, some of them have even been killed. I decided to look into this and spoke with a man who said someone by the name of Al Rabisu was targeting scholars getting involved with a mysterious dig site out in the wilderness. Your name came up and I rushed over here.”

He let out a sigh, “I am just glad I wasn’t too late.” He said just above a whisper.

Nashira swallowed hard, “Me too.” She thought for a moment, “Who is this Al Rabisu?”

“That is what I am trying to find out,” Basim said, “Think, is there anyone you could have angered in the last few days? Anyone at all?”

Nashira thought for a moment, “Well…I may have said some critical things about Fazil Fazim?” She bit her lip nervously. Looking back on it, maybe openly criticizing the most powerful man in the House of Wisdom was a bad idea.

Basim’s eyes widened, “The head scholar?”

She nodded.

He exhaled, “Well I can’t say I’m surprised you'd do something like that.” He said, placing his hands on his hips. This pointed to motive for Fazim in regards to Nashira’s criticism, and further connected him to the order. Still, he needed to be absolutely sure before acting.

She frowned, “I know I said some harsh things, but what would killing me do? I don’t understand.” Nashira asked.

“I have my suspicions as to what Al Rabisu is up to, but first I need to get you somewhere safe.” Basim explained.

Nashira furrowed her brows as Basim guided her towards the window, “Basim what are you-” She was cut off by Basim blindfolding her.

She yelped when he picked her up. She tightened her hold on Halah as Basim carried them both out of the window. To where, she had no idea.

______________________________________________

Nashira sat in a strange room holding Halah in her arms, listening to the muffled voices below. Basim had been speaking with a hooded gray haired woman for some time now. Most of it sounded like her reprimanding him.

“What do you think you’re doing bringing an outsider here?” An older woman with a raspy voice asked angrily.

“I know, Master Roshan, but she was in danger. This was the only place I knew that would be safe.” He pleaded.

Roshan huffed, “You know the rules. No compromising the brotherhood.”

“She won’t,” He added, “I trust her with my life. We’ll keep her here as soon as I can figure out who’s behind the mask in the House of Wisdom.”

Nashira felt a sense of relief hearing him vouch for her to stay. She definitely didn’t feel safe enough to go home, especially with her husband gone.

Downstairs, Roshan didn’t budge, instead crossing her arms and hardening her stare.

Basim pressed his hands together, “Please master,” He lowered his voice, leaning in a bit, “This is important for the success of my mission.”

His mentor raised a brow, “Is all this important for your mission, or is she important to you?” she asked at full volume.

Basim opened his mouth to negate that, but couldn’t.

Nashira listened intently to the conversation, feeling her face growing red at what Roshan insinuated. She quickly shook the feeling away.

“That’s in the past.” she insisted to herself. She kept listening.

Roshan let out a deep sigh, “Alright. But make haste on finding out the truth behind Al Rabisu and this dig site. We do not have time to waste.”

Nashira let out a sigh of relief and heard footsteps walking up the stairs. She quickly busied herself, making it seem like she hadn’t been listening to that conversation.

Basim entered the space looking indignant after the harsh talking-to he just received, but quickly fixed his face once he saw Nashira.

“You can stay here as long as you need.” He said, “It is safe here.”

She sighed in relief, “Thank you, Basim…I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

He gave her a soft smile, “Of course, ya sayidati.”

She let Halah jump down from her arms, smiling when she saw her snuggle up against Basim’s boot, “If I might ask, where exactly am I?”

Basim let out a deep sigh, “I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

Nashira raised a brow at him, but continued with her questions, “Then, can I ask what you are going to do now?” She hesitated, “Do you intend to…fix this issue the way you did in my observatory?”

Basim crossed his arms, “I will do what needs to be done to ensure your safety.”

She made an irritable noise at that, and Basim tried not to laugh. She hated not knowing things.

“What is with all these secrets? He’s never been this secretive…” she thought to herself, no doubt her face showing how irritated she was.

Basim gently patted her shoulder, “Try to relax while I’m gone.”

She rolled her eyes, “Easier said than done. You’re not the one with a target on their back.”

“True.” He shrugged, “At least not today.”

Basim turned around before he could see the look of wide eyed shock on Nashira’s face. Just what on earth does he do for a living?!

The steely look in his face returned as he glanced behind him, “I must go now. If you need anything, Master Roshan and Tabid will help you. I’ll be back soon.” He turned to leave the room, headed for the House of Wisdom to continue his investigation.

Just as Basim was about to turn the corner, he heard her voice behind him.

“Be careful.”

She said it softly, nearly a whisper. He smiled to himself, then turned just enough to nod at her, and left.

When he disappeared from her sight, Nashira let out a long breath, trying to shake off the feeling in her chest. She thought back to the fight that broke out in her observatory. As scary as the situation was, Basim skillfully subdued her attackers with ease.

If she hadn’t already known him, she’d swear he was a hero from an epic tale that leaped off the page and into real life. He could protect anyone from anything, no longer the defenseless boy from the streets she once knew. This Basim was a different beast entirely.

She shook her head when she realized she was thinking about him for too long, “Stop it Nashira!” she said to herself.

Her eyes drifted to Halah, who sat on the floor and looked up at her, tilting her head.

Nashira shrugged, “What?”

Halah simply meowed, walking toward one of the cushions on the floor to take a nap.

______________________________________________

Nashira knew she was supposed to stay in the room and out of the way of everyone else in the bureau, but her curiosity couldn’t stay away. It had been at least a day since Basim brought her here, and the only fresh air she got in that time was from the small enclosed courtyard just outside the bureau. She crept out of the room Basim left her in and made her way down the hall.

There weren’t many people at all in the bureau. The few people there were too occupied with their own studies to notice her. Or rather, she suspected, they did notice her and decided she was such a non threat they didn’t have to acknowledge her presence. She figured that was for the best all things considered.

She made her way down the stairs, taking note of her surroundings: there was a desk, a bookshelf filled with reference books and maps of the city hanging on the walls. Near the door was a board with several papers pinned to it.

Nashira got close to the desk in an attempt to read the papers on it, having to strain her eyes just to make out a few letters at a time.

“What are you doing?”

She whipped her head around at the sound of the raspy voice from earlier. There stood the woman in similar robes to Basim, only she had a red sash instead of the blue one he wore. Her hood was up, unlike the other hidden ones in the bureau, and Nashira could only make out the bottom half of her face. She must have been the woman Basim was speaking with earlier, Master Roshan.

“Nothing,” she sputtered, “I was just-“

“You were just looking at confidential documents?” Roshon finished for her as she stalked up to Nashira, towering over the younger woman.

“My apologies, I didn’t know they were confidential, they were out in the open,” Nashira clarified, “I don’t even have my magnifying glass on me so I could hardly read any of it.”

“A likely story,” said Roshan, “Or a clever lie.”

Nashira frowned, “I am no liar. And unlike you and Basim I do not keep secrets either.” She crossed her arms.

Roshan hummed, “Then perhaps you’re not so clever after all.”

Nahsira scoffed in response.

Roshan examined the woman in front of her. She didn’t peg this woman as a member of the order, but she could never be too careful. By the looks of her, she had zero fighting prowess about her. She was young, about twenty if she had to guess, olive skinned, shaped like a pear with a soft tummy, and lacking in muscle. Nashira didn’t possess any weapons on her person and definitely dressed like a woman could afford to hire people to fight for her judging by her elegant robes and jewlery.

It was clear she wasn’t a threat, at least not physically.

No doubt she was beautiful enough to compel the hearts of men and women around her. Men like Basim, who despite having grown from the scared boy he was when Roshan first met him, was still a man. A young one at that, making him an easy target for seduction.

She decided she wouldn’t let up until she had a better understanding of who this young woman was and what she was doing with her student.

Roshon narrowed her eyes, “Who are you?”

“Nashira bint Khalid ibn Mohammed.” She answered quickly, “I’m an astronomer at the House of Wisdom.”

“A woman astronomer,” Roshan thought, not hiding her intrigue in her face, “Being a woman in your position must make you quite vulnerable. Especially to men with fragile egos in the House of Wisdom I imagine.” She said aloud.

Nashira sighed, “Perhaps…I’ve been made quite aware of that recently…”

Roshan tilted her head. Clearly she was intelligent considering she was a scholar. Though intelligence does little to help naïveté it seems. Any woman in a lower class knew a man’s ego was a threat, as Roshan herself was well aware. However women of higher class lived in a world sheltered by the men around them. Those women had the protection of their well to do male relatives and whoever served them. Perhaps the events leading to Nashira staying here were a rude awakening on that fact.

Roshan continued, “How do you know Basim?”

Nashira rubbed her hand up and down her arm, “We were…friends.” She said, trying to keep her gaze locked on Roshan but couldn’t help but to shift her eyes to the ground.

“Friends?” Roshan raised a brow, sensing she was withholding information. Still, her hesitation to answer her questions regarding Basim did not seem to come from a place of deception, at least not with the goal of deceiving Roshan in this very moment.

Nashira shifted her eyes from the floor to Roshan’s, “Perhaps more than that.”

Now it was coming together for Roshan. Like his friend Nehal, she was just another piece of the past Basim had to reckon with, “I see…And are you still more than that?”

“No.” Nashira answered quickly.

“Why not?”

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, “He disappeared,” she looked Roshon up and down, “I suspect you know the rest.”

“The rest?”

Nashira rolled her eyes, “The parts I don’t know…or aren’t allowed to know it seems.”

Roshan clasped her hands behind her back, “Basim took an oath, to leave his past behind him and walk our path. To walk the shadows and serve the light.” She held Nashia’s gaze, “He has no room for anything else. I’m sure you understand Nashira.”

Nashira nodded. So then this was the reason he stayed away so long. This oath of his to leave his past behind, her included. After all the time they spent together, had he really intended to forget about her just like that? It took her years to make peace with his sudden disappearance. Was it really so easy for him? If he wasn’t required to come back to Baghdad, would he have even bothered seeking her out at all?

She swallowed hard. Why did the thought of that upset her so much?

Her somber expression didn’t go unnoticed by Roshan, “I do not say this to be cruel. I just do not want you to get you to get your hopes up.”

She met Roshan’s gaze with her own, “That will not be a problem. What we had is in the past.”

“Is it?” The hidden one tilted her head.

“It is.” Nashira answered sternly, “And once this is all over and I can go back to my observatory and we can forget all about this.”

Roshon paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. This woman was smart, but a terrible liar.

“Very well.” She said, turning on her heel toward the door, “I enjoyed our chat, Nashira bint Khalid.” She put her hand on the doorknob, “there are some books on the shelf behind you. I suggest you read those to keep your boredom at bay.”

Without another word she walked out the bureau, leaving a stunned Nashira behind.

Nashira held her gaze on the door, letting her feelings sink into her. Despite the presence of others in the office, she suddenly felt more confused and alone than ever.

What path did Basim walk that led him so far from her?

_______________________________________________

Hours later, Basim walked into the upstairs room, startling both Nashira and Halah out of their sleep.

Sleeping on the floor was not her preferred method, but at least the Hidden One’s hideout was mostly quiet, save for the sound of footsteps. She stretched her sore muscles and Halah followed suit.

Nashira noticed Basim seemed…off? Like he had grown weary since she last saw him hours ago. She wondered what made him so.

Given what happened at the observatory, perhaps it was best if she didn’t know any details.

“It’s done,” He said, “Come morning you’ll be able to return to the House of Wisdom with no danger.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “That is good to hear,” She relaxed her shoulders, “So, was it Fazil Fahim then?”

Basim figured she’d find out he was dead anyway once she returned to the House of Wisdom. so he nodded.

She raised a brow, “Are you going to tell me what was going on with all those disappearances?” She asked.

He sighed, “I cannot reveal-”

“Right, more secrets.” She rolled her eyes, getting a bit fed up with all this secrecy.

“Trust me Nashira,” Basim put a hand over his heart, “If I could tell you, you’d be the first to know.”

Her eyes soften, remembering her conversation with Roshan earlier about Basim’s oath, “It’s fine. Thank you ya sadiqi.” She smiled warmly at him, showing her sincere thanks.

Basim felt a warmth spread in his chest seeing her smile at him, “I can escort you home if you’d like? So you do not have to stay in…here.” He gestured around the room, beautiful but quite small and simple compared to the observatory.

She grinned, “I’d love that.”

_______________________________________________

Basim marveled at the estate in front of him.

Nashira’s home was beautifully decorated with sun, moon and star designs etching the walls and arches. The private courtyard he stepped into was filled with a lush garden and a fountain where the moon’s reflection shone in the water.

“This house is beautiful.” Basim touched the etchings in the archways. His own father would be speechless if he saw this place.

Nashira smiled, “Thank you.” She took a seat on the edge of the fountain, “Omar is always away with the merchant caravans so he figured he’d have the house built to suit my tastes.”

Basim clasped his hands behind his back, “That is good. You deserve a gorgeous home.” His eyes softened at her.

She smiled back, and then looked up at the sky. A skwak rang out, catching her attention. Moments later an eagle flew down onto Basim’s outstretched arm.

“You’ve been flying all day,” he fed the bird a snack, “Do you ever tire?”

Nashira tilted her head as Basim brought the creature closer to her, “This is Enkidu, my animal companion.”

The bird was beautiful, and quite alert, seeming to take notice of the woman in front of him. She carefully reached out a hand to pet the top of Enkidu’s head.

The bird clicked with delight at the action.

“It’s very nice to meet you Enkidu.” Nashira smiled at the creature.

Basim let out a chuckle, “I can tell he likes you.”

Nashira blew the bird a few kisses, not noticing her cat stalking up the winged creature. With one swipe of the paw, Halah hissed at the bird, causing it to fly back in the sky with a loud screech.

“Bad Halah!” Nashira picked up the cat, placing it in her lap, “you mustn’t hiss at our friend Enkidu.” She sent an apologetic glance at Basim.

He chuckled again, “Enkidu is a lot tougher than he seems.”

Nashira let Halah jump out of her lap. She patted a spot next to her on the fountain, “Please, sit with me.”

Without hesitation, Basim did as she asked. Stars filled the night above them, twinkling up above Nashira’s courtyard garden.

He sighed, “This reminds me of those times we’d sit on the roofs in Anbar.” He said, gazing above them.

Nashira smiled fondly, “Yeah, it does.”

A silence hung over them for some time.

She looked at Basim, taking in his new choice of dress. He wore a hood now, though it was down at the moment. His clothing was simple and plain, like a peasant or monk’s clothing. The only thing that stood out was the bright sash, and if you looked closely, you could see an array of thinly veiled weapons all over his person.

She gave him a long look, raising an eyebrow at him. Slowly the corner her mouth raised up in a smirk.

He noticed her gaze, “What?”

Nashira let out a small laugh, “I couldn’t help but notice how you choose the dress lately : hoods, concealed weapons…or should I say hidden? Much like those elusive hooded liberators you used to talk about all the time. What were they called?” She tapped her cheek with her finger as she circled around him, “The Hidden-”

Basim covered her mouth to stop her from talking.

His face turned serious, “Do not mention them, ever, understood?” He said in a hushed tone.

She nodded.

He took his hand away and she smacked him hard on the shoulder, “And stop shushing me!”

Basim grunted out a laugh at the smack and rubbed his shoulder, feigning pain. Nashira nearly hit him again but he caught her hand before she could.

“Nice try.” He smirked. He and Nashira laughed for a moment before realizing how close to each other they were, and that Basim currently held her hand in his. They both thought back to the times they used to play these kinds of games together in the observatory.

They were so close to each other. Close enough to feel each other's breaths on their noses.

He let go, clearing his throat and she tucked some hair back into her head scarf.

Nashira let out a little laugh, “To be honest I wouldn’t have figured it out had I not spoken to Master Roshan.” She mentioned.

Basim’s eyes widened, “You spoke with Roshan?”

She nodded, “She may have caught me looking at some confidential documents while you were away.”

Basim blinked, “I am surprised you lived to tell the tale.”

“As am I.” Nashira thought for a moment and then laughed, “I am surprised you took out those mercenaries so easily. I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

Basim raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“Well thieves aren’t exactly known for fighting.” She shrugged, “You were more so the ‘avoid a fight and run away as fast as you can’ type.”

“Hey now, I used to put up a good fight back then!” He protested.

She chuckled, “You certainly gave them what for…from the ground.” She winked.

Basim huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes as she laughed thinking about all the times she saw Basim scrambling from the guards in the House of Wisdom.

She fidgeted with her hands in her lap, “I know I was a bit…harsh the night you returned to Baghdad,” She almost whispered, “I still stand by what I said, but, It is good to have you back. I missed having a friend to talk to.”

Basim smiled softly at the word friend. They had started out as friends, and he cherished that friendship just as much, if not more, than their romance for he would have never known he loved her without it. The love he had for Nashira never left, but perhaps it could change.

“I am glad to be back too. Even more so knowing we can still be friends.”

After a moment, she cleared her throat, “Roshan mentioned the reason you hadn’t come back to Baghdad was because of your Hidden One’s training.”

Basim nodded, “That is true. I needed to train hard and remain focused to reach my goal,” he explained, “and in order to do that I needed to take an oath to leave my old life behind.”

It grew quiet between them. He realized what he implied when he saw Nashira frown. Her face remained still, thought he swore he could see the slightest bend in her eye brow like something bothered her.

“Hold on, I didn’t mean- “

“No, do not apologize, I understand.” She assured him, “I’m happy for you. Becoming a Hidden One has always been your dream. Don’t apologize for following that path.” She gave him a small smile.

“You were my dream too.” He wanted to tell her, but remembered how she shut him down when they first reconnected.

Nashira couldn’t help but notice how tired Basim’s eyes looked. The dark circles pooled under them, growing darker since the last time.

“You are happy right? You look so weary,” She said.

Basim didn’t look at her, “I’m fine,” he lied. After killing Fazil Fahim, he saw another vision of the jinni. What used to only haunt him in his sleep now tormented him in his wake as well. He lacked the answers as to why, but it always happened when he slayed one of his targets.

Nashira placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you sure?” Her eyes grew more concerned as she tried to get him to look at her but he wouldn't. He couldn’t.

Instead he asked her, “Are you happy Nashira?”

Nashira removed her hand from his shoulder. She looked far ahead of her, gazing at the beautiful archway of her home, built for her by a devoted husband who loved her.

“I should be…” She muttered out loud.

Basim looked her way, seeing the forlorn look in her eyes as she stared ahead of her. What did she mean? She had to be happy, right? She had her observatory, this house, a kind and wealthy husband, everything she’d need to live a secure and comfortable life. What was missing from it?

He brought his gaze back up towards the stars. If this was how things were meant to be, how could she be unhappy? How could he be expected to let what they had go if he knew she was unhappy with this life?

He shook his head. No, no, he couldn’t think like that. He was harping on feelings from the past, not focusing on the reality of the present.

He stood up, “I have to go. Master Roshan is expecting me.”

He needed to go. He couldn’t stay a moment longer or he’d say something he’d regret and ruin any chance of them being friends.

Nashira opened her mouth to say something, to tell him to come back, tell him to stay with her, even for just a moment longer.

Instead, all she said was “Goodnight, Basim.”

Basim swallowed hard, “Goodnight, Nashira.” He disappeared into the night.

_____________________________________________

The sun was shining high over Baghdad as Basim leaped across the rooftops to get to the House of Wisdom. Weeks had passed since he assassinated Fazil Fahim and by the looks of things, the House of Wisdom was bouncing back from corruption.

No signs of burning books, people freely walking about, freely discussing their findings and philosophies amongst themselves and their students.

He smiled to himself. It was nice to see the results of his work for once.

He made it to the ledge just above the window into Nashira’s observatory. He grabbed a hold of it and swung himself into the building, landing effortlessly on the floor.

As he stood, he dusted himself off, “Nashira, I have some work for you from Master Rosha-“

He stopped talking when he saw not only Nashira’s wide eyes staring back at him, but about 10 other pairs of eyes as well. All them were young girls, anywhere from thirteen to sixteen years old. They sat together at their desks as Nashira stood in the front with a board showing complicated math equations.

She cleared her throat, “Basim, this is my class.” She turned to her class, “Class, this is my old friend Basim. What do we say to our guests?”

“Assalamu alaikum.” They said in unison.

Basim put a hand to his heart, bowing his head, “Walaikum Assalam. My apologies for interrupting your class, children.” He said, “Perhaps I should come back later.”

One of the younger girls perked up, “Ustadah, why does he dress like a peasant?” She asked

“Fatima!” Nashira used a warning tone in her voice, the kind Basim recognized as the one her father used to let her know she was crossing a boundary.

Basim shook his head, “It is fine ya sayidati,” Basim looked at Fatima, “That is a fine question, young lady. When I was not much older than you, I grew up in Anbar, one of the poorer districts in Baghdad. Because of this, I saw many people and children like yourself go without the things they need and treated poorly by others, myself included,” he explained, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke, “My clothes are a reminder of the oath I made to help those less fortunate.”

Most of that was true, though the simple answer was that the clothes concealed his identity. These girls didn’t need to know for what reason though.

He continued, “Like all of you, I spent a lot of time in this very room learning as much as I could, thanks to your teacher.” He said, looking over at Nashira.

Nashira smiled softly at him and he returned the gesture. This action did not go unnoticed by her students, who unfortunately for her were growing more and more observant everyday.

One of the girls raised her hand and Nashira called on her, “Yes, Reem?”

Reem smirked, “Is he the reason you tell us not to talk to boys from Anbar?” She teased.

Nashira clapped her hands, “Class dismissed!” She said, completely side tracking that question.

Immediately the girls scurried from their desks and out the doors to the rest of the House of Wisdom, carrying their books with them, breaking off into smaller groups to chat and giggle amongst themselves, stealing glances at their teacher and this mysterious bearded man from Anbar.

When all the students were out of the room, Nashira slowly turned around to face Basim, cringing when she saw his hands on his hips and a cheeky expression on his face.

“And what’s wrong with boys from Anbar?” He asked with a playful tone.

“Nothing! Nothing,” Nashira giggled, “I just wanted to make sure my girls know to look out for their-”

“Sticky fingers?” Basim answered, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers.

“No,” Nashira pointed to her mouth, “Their slick tongues.” She said before they both burst out into a laugh.

Basim chuckled, “Do your students know what a bad influence you were on me?” He asked.

In their youth, Nashira often dragged him along to parts of the library they weren’t allowed in, or would convince him to use his “sticky fingers” to swipe books about topics her father wouldn’t allow her to read. If they ever got caught, Nashira would distract the guards and stewards so Basim could sneak away with their bounty.

Nashira smirked, “You were a worst one.”

At some point in the middle of their banter they had migrated very close to each other, leaving only a few inches of space between them. They cleared their throats and put more space between them.

“So, what did you come by for?” Nashira asked.

He grinned, “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come to see my good friend.”

Nashira cracked a smile, only to scoff when he crouched down to pick up the fluffy white cat.

“Halah!” He said in a joyous tone, holding up the chubby cat who purred from the attention.

Nashira thumped his forehead with her finger, “You interrupted my class for that?”

Basim shook his head with a laugh, letting Halah jump out of his arms, “Master Roshan needs to know which stars to follow to get to these locations.” He handed her a parchment with Roshan’s request on it.

Nashira read the parchment. Many of the locations extended out of Baghdad, into areas like Greece, Constantinople, even the Norse lands, “Why does she need to go here?” She asked.

Basim shrugged his shoulders, “I can not tell you what I don't know.”

Nashira tilted her head, “You mean you didn’t ask?” That was so unlike the Basim she knew, who like her, was always nosy to fault. Though it seemed this Basim didn’t question his master on anything.

Basim shook his head.

She rolled her eyes, “More secrets.” She placed the parchment on the table, “Very well, I’ll figure it out in a few hours. Right now I need to go.”

Basim looked confused, “Go where?”

“To Anbar,” She explained, filling a bag with books, “One of my students, Maha, hasn’t been coming to class lately because her mother is sick and she has to watch her younger siblings. So I’m going over there to teach her in her home.”

“Really,” Basim hummed thoughtfully, “I never thought someone from Anbar could afford such a class.”

“Of course she can’t afford it. That’s why I don’t charge her, or any of my students for that matter.” Nashira clarified as she continued packing, “Maha is too bright for me to let her fall through the cracks.”

Basim wasn’t sure what he felt just then, but he found himself smiling at her while she wasn’t looking. He suddenly remembered how she said teaching was how she wanted to better the world around her. It was nice to see her following that call to purpose.

“It is a good thing you are doing, ya sayidati,” he said, “Though I wish we had more time to share a snack of dates and tea.”

Nashira smirked, “Consider yourself lucky. Since you are so eager to spend time with Halah, you can cat sit while I’m gone.” She winked at him, before heading out of the observatory.

[delanceyposting]

Incredibly long post but i wanted to post oscar Alcoholism era on here. Also posted on ao3

1000~ words, cws for alcoholism, violence, and referenced child ab*se. Please ignore things that dont make sense This is the longest Thing that ive written and actually finished in forever

It was inevitable, bound to happen at some point. Maybe it was the cards he had been dealt, or perhaps it was simply a matter of genetics, but one thing was clear and undoubtable; the amount that Oscar drank definitely was not normal.

He snootily claimed that he could stop any time he wanted, but the truth is, he completely lost control the moment he had a beer in his hands. One was never enough to distract him from the vile being he had made out of himself. In fact, one beer could hardly even get him buzzed after his constant series of binge drinking.

Oscar was constantly coming home late at night, then being incredibly hungover in the morning, slumped over a bucket and puking his brains out. But alas, that couldn’t even stop him from going out and doing it again in the same day.

He absolutely despised the lack of control that he had over himself. Sure, he hated not having power over the other things in his life, but not having power over himself was an entirely different story. You can be above everything your life and do just fine, but are you ever truly fine if you aren’t above yourself?

This constant carousal became so prominent that Morris, and even Otto, had to step in. A make-shift intervention, if you will. Oscar was furious over it, screaming that they had no business dictating what he could do to his own body, and that he was going to continue purely out of spite for them.

“Mo, I tried to tell’ya that this whole fuckin’ thing was pointless,” Otto scoffed, arms folded across his chest as he sat sprawled out next to Morris on the tattered couch, “he ain’t even worth it.”

Otto knew how to push his buttons, and unfortunately for him, Oscar wasn’t gonna take it. Already slightly inebriated, and now blinded by rage, he landed a forceful blow to Otto’s jaw before he could even recognize what he was doing. The initial hit had already knocked him out cold, but Oscar just kept brutally socking him with absolutely no mercy. It was like something horrible had possessed him and was taking complete control of his body. In that moment, any and all dominance he had over himself vanished faster than he could count out 20 papes.

It took both the forces of Morris and Wiesel to pry Oscar away from his unconscious, bleeding cousin. When he finally snapped back into reality, he was met with a thoroughly battered and bruised Otto, bright red liquid dripping down from the shallow gashes scattered across his freckled face. His jaw was already swelling from brute force of the first swing. His nose was bent out of shape and very obviously broken.

Funny enough, Oscar couldn’t even recall slipping his brass knuckles on.

Seeing the damage he had done to Otto reminded him of something terrible— something he had suppressed deep inside his memory and vowed to never remember:

The image of 6 year old Morris, contused beyond recognition, bawling his eyes out after Pa had beaten him, all because he tried to hide his beer. He innocently thought that maybe if he couldn’t find where it was, then he would have no choice but to choose Oscar and him over it.

Blood poured from the wounds on his face, mixing with tears and snot as it dripped down and pooled on the floor below. It was pretty normal for their dad to smack them around, but the extent of this beating could never even compare to what they had experienced in the past. It was unlike anything he had ever done to them before.

Still being held back by Morris and Wiesel, he suddenly burst out into tears, inconsolably sobbing just like Morris did way back when. “What is it, Os? Why is you cryin’ now?” His brother spun him around to face him, eyebrows furrowed in both concern and confusion. Wiesel rushed to Otto’s side, taking a good look at his wounds. Oscar didn’t answer, still distraughtly wailing with his shirt balled tightly in his fists. “Os? Ossie?”, he called out, desperately trying to snap him out of this crying spell that he was under. Now genuinely worried by his sudden breakdown, he grabbed his chin and forced Oscar to look him in the eyes. “What is this about, Oscar?” Still very weepy, he managed to spit out the word ‘Pa’. Morris’ face went blank, like a deer in headlights.

Apart from Oscars blubbering, the room went quiet. The tension was so thick that you could cut through it with a knife. Out of the blue, Morris spoke. “You fuckin’ see?” His solemn expression twisted into anger as he grit his teeth. Oscar squinted at him through teary eyes, waiting for him to elaborate. Morris rolled his eyes at his brother’s incompetence. “You fuckin’ see why I ain’t want you drinkin’ like he did?”, he spat, eyes now carrying a fire that wasn’t there before. Oscar just stared back blankly, breathing shakily. His question had snapped him back into reality for a moment.

“You claim t’fuckin’ hate his guts, but you ain’t even takin’ the time t’realize that—“, he pauses, taking a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “—you is him, Os.”

Oscar felt sick, like he could throw up at any moment, and he was sweating like the Dickens, which could’ve very well been from the alcohol resting in his stomach, but who’s to say?

“I’s can do better, Mo,” he grabbed at his brother’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Please, Mo, I ain’t wanna be like ‘im—I’ll do anything, just please help me be better—“ His throat was scratchy and his face ached like he was about to break down crying again. “You better fuckin’ promise me, Os.” Morris grabbed his chin once again, this time much more aggressively. His gaze was intense. Oscar could’ve sworn that it pierced a hole straight through his soul. “I— I promise, Mo— I’on wanna be like ‘im, Mo—“ Before he knew it, he was crying again. Morris just shushed him, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. “Y’ain’t gotta start ya’ cryin’, Os. Just go get Wiesel the first aid kit, eh?” Oscar nodded in response before walking off to fetch it from the cabinet.

Even though he promised Morris that he wouldn’t, even though he swore that he hated the person he was becoming, and that he didn’t want to turn into his father, Oscar returned to the bar that very night.

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

02. Exhausted

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Platonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

Lately I’ve been,

I’ve been losing sleep

Dreaming about the things that we could be

You didn’t want to get up and leaving the comfort of your bed nor the warmth it held. A warmth which was futile, since it couldn't stop the coldness you felt—a coldness which makes the body tremble and teeth clatter. Sometimes during the day it would hit you like a wave and bring you into an uncontrollable tremor.

Puffing out a sigh you turned to your side, snuggling deeper into the heavy blankets. Taking a glance at your frog-shaped clock, you closed your eyes for a few minutes. 

You knew sleeping would be impossible, still you tried for a nap every day after school. If it were up to you, you would lay in bed the whole day. You hadn’t felt this tired, no, exhausted since elementary school and all the way till middle school. 

Even when you so desperately wanted to sleep, you couldn’t and besides the 15 minutes of dozing, you didn’t know how much you could take of these sleepless nights anymore.

Stretching your body and throwing the blankets off, you got up. Time to get ready, you had promised Ran to come today and take the school worksheets and assessments, she had saved for Shinichi, with you. 

Oh, this reminded you to check your phone, again. 

Messages unable to send,

Number does not exist.

Resend?

Yes.

No.

About three months has passed since Shinichi has disappeared and still no sign of him. Neither call or message, not even a Mail. Absolut nothing. At first you thought, believed and hoped, after the first 3 Weeks of him gone—that he was simply solving a case somewhere out of Tokyo. 

But even when he would have a case, doesn’t matter where, he would have given you a call, Shinichi knew how worried and anxious you could get. You had sent messages without getting any sort of reply.

When you started to call him, one day, and got the Automatic voice of; This number does not exist, the realization had finally sunk in.

A realization that Shinichi wouldn’t come back anytime soon. And a tiny voice, far in the back, was telling nonstop, that Shinichi has died. Was dead and being buried nameless six feet under ground or just decaying away all lonesome by himself—because he hasn’t been found.

And yet you still daily checked your phone for a message from him or resending that one SMS over and over again. Even though you knew very well how useless and pointless it was.

Shinichi's disappearance was the restart point of your exhaust.

»Ah, Conan,«

When Conan turned around to give you a short greeting, the words died on his tongue. Sachiko hasn’t exaggerated with her worry of you.

It was last week, when Ran was meeting up with Sonoko and Sachiko for some Coffee and Cake. Sachiko had told them how much ~his~ Shinichi's disappearance has taken a toll on you. How you lack sleep and the focus for any- and everything. 

Sachiko feared that your state of mental health has been affected greatly by it. Sending you back into an endless spiral of harmful ways, bringing the depression—you had so desperately fought to overcome in middle school—back and shattering your, still in process, recovery completely and perhaps for finale.

Besides your worn-out look, you had managed to give Conan one of your genuine smiles with that certain gleam in your eyes. Taking Conan's school bag and shouldering it, you picked him up. Hugging him and smoothering Conans cheeks with kisses.

»Ne, [Name] don’t, I have a cold.« Conan tried to stop the affection you were giving him, as your older Brother it feels a tiny bit embarrassed. Huh? Wait, right. He wasn’t your older brother anymore, nor was he as of current Shinichi Kudo. Because Shinichi was now Conan Edogawa. You hummed with glee, tapping his mask-covered nose.

»And? Doesn’t gonna stop me, now let's get inside. I’m sure Ran has cooked some delicious food for you.«

You knocked shortly on the door of the Detective Agency, before opening it and stepping inside. Still carrying Conan in your arms.

»Hey Ran, I think the kiddo needs some cold medicine and some good food.« You said, not really taking notice of the other person in the room, as you sat Conan down on the couch and putting his bag on the floor. 

»Here, the kid shoulda drink this and his cold will be gone,« absentmindedly you’ve taken the cup, which had been pushed into your view. Mumbling a thanks to whoever it was, you gave it Conan. Now that you think about it, the voice sounded familiar. You turned around in confusion and came face to face with Heiji.

»Heiji? What are you doing here in Tokyo? You could have called me,«

»Sorry, I wanted to but I totally forget about it once I came here.« Heiji rubbed his neck sheeplish,

Ran cleared her throat, feeling a just a tiny bit awkward. Standing here and listen to your friendly chatter you were having with Hattori. A question for you formed itself on her tongue,

»You know each other?«

»Yeah we’re boyfriends,« you both answer at the same time. In such a causal tone, sounding as if it was already known.

And while Ran hummed, nodding her head, not really listening to what you both just said, Conan coughed violently at this and almost fall off the couch. 

So he is your Boyfriend? The mysterious person for your happiness.

Conan might be a bit, prejudicial, critical about this, but in his opinion Heiji wasn't the right person for you. You deserve only the best and surely there was someone out there, who was a far better match for you. 

»What do you mean, Shinichi has called Ran?« you asked, wanting to be sure you heard right. 

Before Heiji could answer you, Ran was quick to change the topic. She didn't want to upset you, not any further. You already looked worse and when you knew that Shinichi was only calling her and not once you, she didn't know how you take it and if your mental health would reach its final breaking point with it.

The upcoming disaster were already to start though. Your crestfallen expression has said it all. Ruffling Conans hair one last time, you stood up and taking the Folder from Ran. 

»Does Curry for tonight sounds good? Call me when your done with whatever Case,« you asked Heiji and without waiting for any answer you walked out of the office, giving a short wave of goodbye.

I won't sleep,

I can't breath,

Until you're resting here with me

[awanderingdeal]

Just had to write something based on that last Finn artwork.

Both the artwork and the characters and the universe are credited to @lumosinlove

Finn tried to look casual as he leaned against the balcony. It was a beautiful out, the sky a burnt orange where the sun offered its final rays of the day. He was thankful the temperature had yet to drop too much, his chest bare but for the leather knife holster. At least six of his frat brothers had questioned who he was supposed to be and Finn still didn't have answer that wasn't 'generically attractive assassin'. Taking another drag on the cigerette, he wrinkled his nose and tried not to gag this time.

"What are you doing?"

Finn jumped at the familiar lilt, spraying droplets everywhere as he spluttered out, "fuck, Lo! You scared the crap out of me."

"You don't smoke," Logan said.

Hacking his way through another round of coughs, Finn decided it was pointless to even try to argue any experience. When, finally, the tickle at the back of his throat abated, he shrugged. "Thought it'd impress you."

A flash of emotions spread across Logan's features, settling on what Finn knew to be confusion. "Why?"

"Because when we were watching -"

Logan groaned, stepping into Finn's space. He was so close that one small step would have his curls brushing against Finn's cheek. "Please don't tell me you're about to equate yourself with Marlon Brando."

The cigerette continued to burn, but still Finn was sure his cheeks were a greater source of warmth in that moment. "You said it was hot," he insisted.

"For someone so intelligent, you are very dumb sometimes," Logan said with a laugh. The breath whispered across Finn's chest drawing a shiver. "First, that film is from about 200 years ago,"

"I think it was the 50's..."

"The point stands, it gets a lot less attractive when you take modern science into account," Logan continued. "Which leads me onto number 2. Coach is going to kill you."

Finn couldn't argue with that one, so he just stubbed out the cigerette. It had been getting precariously close to his fingers. He ran his tongue over his gums, sure that the smoke had created a film over his mucous membranes leaving a bitter powdery taste he couldn't escape.

"Third, and perhaps most importantly," Logan said, pluking at one of the holster straps. The corners of his mouth curled into a devious little grin. "You absolutely hate the taste, don't you?"

"It's fucking disgusting!" Finn whined.

"Go and brush your teeth," Logan said. He gave an exasperated little sigh which left Finn very much wanting to stay and defend himself. Another sweep of his gums was enough to have him turning back towards the house though. "You know, the costume would have been enough."

Finn spun around on his heel. "What?"

"The costume. Very...attractive," Logan said. Finn didn't know how Logan managed to drip his accent into individual words like that, but he did know Logan knew what he was doing. "Go and clean your mouth and -"

Finn was already pushing back into the chaos of the party before Logan had finished his sentence, fighting his way through a crowd gathered around a keg. "Mouthwash! I need mouthwash!"

[armatization-a]

@fatesblade — from here

It's been years since the war ended. Years since Ryoma learned that Kagetsu left. The years haven't lessened the ache, and haven't eased his guilt. Ryoma wishes, even now, that he hadn't pushed Kagetsu as he did. He wished he understood that Kagetsu simply would never be king. He should have known. He should have understood his son better.

It's no wonder that Ryoma never told Shiro that he was a Hoshidan prince, nor had he told Asahi that she was the princess. Never again would he hurt his children. It would be their choice to do as they please when the time came.

The time has long been and gone. They have both made their choices, and he's proud of what they have become, but he has always wondered about Kagetsu. He has searched, he has been searching for years, but he has long accepted that Kagetsu will never come home.

Ryoma cannot blame him. All he can do is wish him well.

He was in the middle of sorting out some paperwork when someone announces that he has a visitor who wishes to see the king - alone. The room is immediately cleared. He can only guess; perhaps it's Xander. He's never been fond of the Hoshidans glaring at his every movement.

But it's not Xander. Ryoma's hands tighten in his lap as he looks at the man entering. He doesn't know how to react. He has his grandfather's dark hair, with the tinge of purple from his mother. How long has it been? Ryoma doesn't know if he wants to run to him or yell, but neither option will help. They will both worsen things. He forces his hands to relax, though they clamp shut again almost immediately.

"Kagetsu," he says by way of greeting. His son is all grown up now; no more is he the boy with the world on his shoulders. His heart aches at the memory, at those wasted years. There's no use dwelling now.

He listens to Kagetsu without another word, and remains quiet for a moment longer. No, he was never the High Prince. It's not because he's incapable, and it's not because Ryoma would never allow it.

It's because Kagetsu is Kagetsu. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"I know." Finally, his hands relax, curled loosely around his knees. "The moment I heard you had gone, I knew you would never return." Even now, he can hardly believe Kagetsu is right in front of him. The urge to wrap him into a hug is stronger now. His wonderful son, who absolutely loathes Ryoma. He would, too.

"After that, I resolved to never force either of your siblings into the role, nor you, even if you returned." But Shiro is learning; after his travels, he insisted on taking the throne. Ryoma had never been more shocked - and more proud.

Until now, at least, when the prodigal son returns. Though this time, it's the shock that wins out.

Ryoma rises. His legs cry out in pain as he's freed from his kneeling position, but he doesn't care. He takes slow, deliberate steps towards Kagetsu, afraid that he'll run away if he rush. He still might. Ryoma hopes he won't. The only sound that fills the room is the slow tap tap of his feet on the floor. He stops just a couple of metres away. He wants to close the distance, but he knows better.

Ryoma doesn't want to speak as the king and his disappointment of a prince. He wants to speak as Ryoma, a man who is seeing his beloved son for the first time in a very long time.

"I was disappointed, at first." Ryoma can't lie, even to spare Kagetsu's feelings. It's pointless anyway. "But I realised my disappointment was misplaced, and I was disappointed at myself instead. I am ashamed of the way I treated you." He fights back the wobble in his voice. He must be strong for both of them. That's what a father is supposed to be.

"I have spent many years reflecting on this. You were never going to be the High Prince, because you didn't want it. You always wanted to be free. Instead of letting you, I crushed you and tried to force you." He hates himself. That old anger rises back to the surface - how could he do that? How could he hurt his son so terribly? If his father were alive, he too would be disappointed. He still feels a twitch of scorn when Ryoma visits the ancestral burial grounds.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have grown up so much since I saw you last." He wants to reach over so desperately, but he mustn't. Kagetsu is not Shiro: he won't take the sudden affection well. "You're a man now, and you've made your own path in life. No matter where you go now, know that I'm proud of you. I have always been proud of you. I should never have pushed you to be someone you aren't."

He inhales deeply. "Kagetsu, I am sorry. I'm sorry for all that I've said, all that I've done, and all that I have even implied. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you." His voice breaks. He must regain himself. He can't. He swallows, and that seems to help. "I can't take back those years, but I can apologise now. You have always been worthy - I was the problem. It was never you."

He can't take it back, but he can make a better future, even if Kagetsu never returns after this. Ryoma won't tell him that it was a learning experience, because Kagetsu is worth more than that. If anything, perhaps seeing his siblings might make him understand how truly sorry Ryoma is, and how he has learned. He didn't hurt them like he hurt his eldest, though Kagetsu shouldn't have been hurt, either. They can't live in the past.

"I understand that you can't stay, but you're always welcome to stay here. I know that Shiro and Asahi would love to see you."

And I would be happy, too. There's no point in saying it.

[promiscxous]

♡ — THE SCENE THAT HAD UNFOLDED WAS HELLISH. Fitting for a warzone. It was something that he felt was far too familiar deep down within himself, but he couldn't quite say why that was no matter how much he thought about it. He just knew it was familiar. Perhaps it had something to do with his past? A past that he couldn't remember... no matter how desperately he tried. A terrifying notion indeed.

♡ — "How can you say something like that, especially after everything we've all been through?" It was a genuine question that he had to ask the female of sakura colored hair. AFTER ALL, he had also been one of those various people she had spent time with during their time (along with one of those that she possibly deemed a mere number) within the Officer's Academy. He knew that asking such a thing was probably pointless, but despite that, he bothered to ask anyway. The blonde had to know if everything the two of them had shared together meant nothing, if it was all just a mere game for her to play until she grew bored of everything... bored of him, and his company. What he truly wished to know was if all of the sweet nothings they ushered to one another was just a ploy. A joke. A lie. A sham. Were the two of them destined to be nothing more than enemies within Edelgard's grand scheme for absolute control over Fodlan? "What about us? I thought that we shared something special? Was I nothing more than a tool to you?" Part of him is afraid to hear the answer to his questions. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to lose his happiness. It had been so very long since he had felt the way that he does, not ever since he and his siblings had to flee their homeland, but Crystal had been the one to change all of that. But whether or not he wanted them... he needed answers. It was the only way he'd be able to move forward, or else he'll falter.

♡ — REGARDLESS OF HER ANSWERS, Koui couldn't bring himself to leave her. He loved her so much. More than he's ever loved anyone before. So surely there was something he could do? Something that he could say to her? Perhaps he could convince her to at least bring him with her, that way they wouldn't have to be enemies? The two of them would be able to stay together through the war that Edelgard was starting, and while he would eventually have to bring himself to fight the remaining people that he called his friends, at least he would still have the woman that he loved so dearly at his side to help him get through any feelings of guilt that would manifest until he would grow numb to the feeling. Maybe he could even bring his siblings along, and surely the other Ashen Wolves would join as well, so long as Edelgard could make a place for them, they would always stick with one another?

♡ — "We don't need to say goodbye to one another! Why don't you just take me with you? I can help you achieve whatever it is that you want!" Words spoken loudly, TRYING HIS BEST TO GET HIS POINT ACROSS TO THE OTHER. Beads of sweat continue to roll down his chin, mixing together with the fresh blood that had spilled from the insides of his mouth. "I can be of use. So can my siblings." He knows that his siblings would follow him anywhere without hesitation. They had made a promise to stay together, and nothing was going to pull the six of them apart no matter what. Fragile body finally rises from it's place crouched upon the ground, grabbing onto the other's wrist with his free hand to keep her from leaving. He would continue to speak his mind until he was satisfied, even if that meant he had to be more assertive to do so. It was time that he stopped trying to live by the laws of a peaceful life. "I can convince Yuri and the other to help too, Crystal. I'm sure edelgard would be glad to have more help, especially if she's going to be starting a war across Fodlan." Breathing is unstable. Surely due to overexerting himself in the moment. Yet, that didn't matter to him. "I will do anything necessary to stay by your side, even if I have to kill the people I once called my comrades."

♡ — HIS FATHER HAD ONCE BEEN A BRUTAL WARRIOR WITHIN THE ADRESTIAN EMPIRE BEFORE MARRYING HIS MOTHER IN THE PAST, something that he could recall so clearly despite his amnesia. Recalling such a memory brought him more pain than he could stand, but that memory would serve it's purpose in teaching him how to be ruthless. Surely he and his siblings could become just as heartless as their father had been all those years ago. After all... they were their father's children. "Please, let me show my worth. I'll do anything that I can. If I have to become someone the other won't recognize to do so, then so be it."

And she accepted a hand that was offered. A hell of a team. Following what Edelgard showed them between blurred lines was enough for her; all she had to do was to kept in line. All she had to obtain revenge. All means necessary to achieve a goal. All in order for… for… Stop. It’s not the time to be thinking about it.

❛❛ I can say it again, if you didn’t heard me. ❜❜ An exhaled sigh coming from the deepests abyss of her marble cage of bones. Just then, her head is able to process the last words coming from him and slightly lilac shades are wide open. In them the grand scenery is reflected, a pure, cruel cristaline reality. It felt like a hit in the monotony of all the reverberating sounds on the air; from the countless screams of the outside to the muffled world around in that place in which the two of them were… alone, completely alone. When was the last time the endless sounds of the world around her seemed to be silenced ? A while. A while. A while. The accompaniment of the candle lights that evade the darkness for taking over and making it’s reign result comfortably for a mere moment. ❛❛ Friends… Casualties… They are just numbers. ❜❜ It’s said with a devoid of feelings. All emptiness. Agony. The sound of a single bittersweet laugh comes forth with her visage being hold by pale hands, answering plea after plea; a countless of implorations that fall on deaf ears one by one. She does not want to listen to any farce anymore. It’s not what she deserves, isn’t it ?

It isn’t about the others, it isn’t about him. It’s all about her. What will all of this do ? More than they actually did for her. The church speaks nothing but lies, sees nothing but more lies. Dainty fingers carefully rearrange the strands of hair in a graceful waltz, the same ones he has surely seen across the time together and she, a petite young woman that seems to carry spring within moonlight bones is now nothing more than an unwelcoming wintertide landscape. All she observes is the flinch of the boy, getting away and still drowning the ambient in words that, for her, don’t hold meaning.

❛❛ Who’s to say I’ll die ? You are giving others too much credit. I won’t die that easily. ❜❜ Throat that clears, apologies nowhere to be seen. First things first, dressed in the most uncommon grimace the curvature that shows up on the ghostly countourn. ❛❛ I’ve made myself clear. Did I ? ❜❜ She’s nothing more than a carcass of nightmares overcoming the idyllic daydreams of the past. Another step comes by, heel echo in the wood beneath and her back is shown to her friend till that point. Denticles sink in brim and another eternal tick of the clock passes by, metallic odor resurfacing. Without looking behind, lips depart in lower tones almost single-sided. The beginning of a demise that descends from daybreak to the dusk. ❛❛ Why worry about others, Koui ? Worry about yourself, look at the poor state you are in. ❜❜ A pause. Tilting of her head to the right side. Ah, he probably is thinking far away. ❛❛ If you still have more energy, why don’t you waste it in taking care of your fallen comrades ? ❜❜

He’s too naive for the painful reality which he dwells entering in; it’s pitiful. Recognition of this fact makes her insides ache, a single maneuver of her hand towards her cheek in order to calm herself down. Still too lighthearted to mark a denouement to welcome a new stage play. She’s still faltering about it. ❛❛ Now, don’t you see ? I already did. This is enough for a goodbye between two good friends, don’t you think ? ❜❜

[naomithenomes]

|| What if Y/N passed out? || Fem!Reader x Bakugou Katsuki || (I also posted this on Wattpad, my user is @nomesthenoms)

Your POV:

You had just gotten off of training with one of the Pros.

You were so tired, you felt like shit, and everything was going to absolute crap. You had barely been progressing with your quirk, even though you skipped a few meals just so you could get to training on time. You felt insecure about your body, too, so you felt that this was perhaps a good opportunity to fast.

Your friends noticed that you were skipping meals, of course, and asked what was wrong. You told them you just weren't hungry, and that you would eat a lot before meals. Or, you would tell them half the truth and say that it was to get to training on time. Your forced, strained smile actually convinced everyone you were telling the truth.

Of course, everyone except Katsuki.

Practically everyone knew Katsuki had a crush on you- except you, yourself. And vice versa. He paid close attention to you, noticed every single detail, and always knew what you were feeling. Same with you.

So when he noticed the change of your pattern in behavior, your fake smiles, the way you would barely eat except the occasional treat- he knew something was wrong. And he would not rest until he knew you were okay. So, he decided to come to your dorm room before class started to confront you about it.

"Hey, Y/N. Are you still sleeping, you lazy ass?"

You awoke to what could only be Katsuki's voice, and responded with your best I'm-totally-awake-I-didn't-just-wake-up-a-second-ago voice. But, because of your drowsiness and loss of nourishment, it would be hard not to know that you just woke up.

"E-eek! Katsuki-kun, is that you? What happened? Why are you at my door?"

"To check on you, you damn idiot. Let me in after you're done changing."

You froze.

"Why would you check up on me? I'm perfectly fine-"

"Just do it. Don't ask fucking pointless questions."

Katsuki could be SUCH a lost case sometimes.

As you got dressed, you panicked internally. "Does he know? Does he know about me fasting? But... but I thought I was convincing! I mean, the others definitely bought it..."

You hesitated for a moment before turning the door handle.

Welp, no turning back now.

Katsuki immediately dragged you to your bed, plopping down on it as the ancient bed frame creaked.

"Why have you been forcing that shitty smile of yours?"

Your E/C eyes widened.

"W-what do you mean, Katsuki-kun? I-I haven't been-"

"You haven't been fucking eating, either. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Seriously? You're so damn bad at acting that it should be obvious."

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. Like, extremely dizzy.

"Y/N, answer me, you damn bitch! Why the fuck haven't you been eating? You're going to get sick if this goes on!"

When you didn't respond, he shook your shoulders and looked you in the eyes with his beautiful, scarlet-red ones.

"Y/N!! You look pale as shit! ANSWER ME, DAMN IT! WHAT'S GOING ON WITH YOU?!"

You wanted to answer, you truly did. But the room was spinning so fast that you fell onto his chest and leaned against it. Your eyes closed, and soon, your consciousness drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

Katsuki's POV:

As Y/N fell against me, I tensed.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

She didn't answer. Her tired eyes were closed shut.

"Y/N?!!"

I started to panic as I shook her shoulders. They were cold and limp.

"Y/N!! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!"

"Bakubro, what-?"

Ah, Shitty Hair.

He gasped. "W-what happened to Y/N-chan?! Did something happen? What-?"

"SHE PASSED OUT!! SHIT, DON'T JUST STAND THERE AND DO NOTHING WEIRD HAIR, GET A FUCKING TEACHER!!"

"R-right!!"

As he ran off, all I could feel was anger. Why was Y/N such a fucking IDIOT?! She starved herself so badly that she ended up passing out!! She...

Even though he tried to convince himself that he wasn't worried, that he was just mad at her for fasting, he couldn't. He was worried. But, of course, he wouldn't show it.

10 minutes later, you were tucked into a bed in the infirmary .

"Ah, so the poor thing starved herself?"

"Fucking obviously!"

Stupid Recovery Hag.

"Just wanted to make sure, dear."

"Tch."

Obviously, I gave her the details. NOT because I was worried about Y/N- Just because the hag was too stupid to figure it out herself. OBVIOUSLY.

"Poor darling. I'm going to talk to her parents and the teachers about this, so they can keep an eye on her. You, too. Make sure she eats, dear."

"Obviously. Do you think I'm that much of an idiot that I'll continue to let her starve, you stupid hag?!"

"No, dear, I was just reminding you. Now, please don't call me such rude names."

"Tch." "Well, I'm going to leave you two alone now. I'll be right in the other room, so call me- nicely- if you need anything."

"Whatever, woman. Anyways, t-thanks for checking up on her, even if you didn't do anything."

"You're welcome, dear. I'm happy to help."

As the hag wandered off to the other room, I subconsciously started to stare at Y/N's face. I even cupped her cheek with my hand, and fuck- even though she was so malnourished, she was so damn pretty.

Fuck.

"I love you, Y/N."

BY THE WAY, I'M STARTING A SERIES ABOUT THIS ON WATTPAD! MY USER IS @nomesthenoms. PLEASE FOLLOW ME LOL

[cat3ch1sm]

🍀|HEY GUYS

💚|y'all were really open to the hxh thing and im thrilledd! so i bring y'all a hisoka x reader NSFW- it's kinda unfinished so it doesn't get super smutty, though it's heavily implied. it's kinda like a sneak peek of something except im not actually publishing anything else to do with this particular piece. however i did come up with another idea~

🐢| enjoy, ily!

Hisoka x Reader NSFW short

"I'm sorry I had to put you in such a... compromising position. It was the only way you'd keep still, you see."

"You'll find it rather pointless to try and break away- the bonds I have used are a quite durable material, and with a tad bit of my Bungee Gum infused into them as well, they are nearly invincible."

"Oh, and your Nen- it will be of no use to you. With my Elastic Love, I have also rendered you into a state of Zetsu- one that cannot be exited until you are free from the bonds."

You were spread out across a rather large bed- legs and arms apart, sprawling out on your back. There were several rubber band looking items tying your wrists and ankles to the bed, seemingly easy to snap- but several minutes of struggling had proved otherwise. The room you were in was your hotel room- completely dark except for the indigo of the night sky outside of your open balcony sliding windows, the curtains flapping in the gentle breeze- Hisoka hadn't bothered to shut them after breaking into your room; he was far too cocky- he knew he could clear every last trace of himself in here when he needed to.

Because of the sock-tasting gag in your mouth, you could do nothing more but thrash in vain against the bonds as the tall magician watched, a half-smile on his lips, leaning against the wall beside the bed with one leg propped up on it.

You made a strangled sound through the gag, and Hisoka's sharp golden eyes darted towards you, briefly meeting your furious ones before chuckling quietly.

"Unrelenting." he noted, a pleased expression on his painted face. Slowly, he pushed his body off of the wall and sat down casually beside you, arms folded across his chest as he titled his head down to observe your heavily breathing and sweating figure.

"Hm... I was hoping you'd look like this a little later rather than now; I haven't even begun yet." His signature taunting purr echoed through the empty room, silent except for your muffled, gasping breaths.

"Well, better late than never, I suppose," Hisoka mused, lowering a long finger to your face and gently tracing shapes on your skin with his sharp nail. Then, he reached into your mouth and plucked out the gag- but immediately clapped his hand over your lips roughly the second he did.

"Scream, and I will kill you," he warned, voice smooth and hissing. "I removed this for one purpose- so I can hear your pretty screams and whines when I begin to break you."

Your face began to burn- but from what emotion, you weren't sure. You were incensed, but you weren't dumb- Hisoka would certainly kill you if it came down to it. You weren't weak either, but with your Nen disabled, your limbs bound, and your weapons elsewhere, you were worthless if you tried to fight against the eccentric clown. So, all you could do was nod.

You had a pretty good idea of what Hisoka wanted to do to you anyway- so if you simply did not indulge in it whatsoever, not giving him what he wanted, perhaps he would lose interest and leave. It was your only hope for now.

Hisoka smiled seductively and removed his hand, the taste of his hot palm bitter on your unwilling lips. "Very good, darling. Now, shall we begin our fun?"

You didn't respond, sticking to your earlier strategy and keeping your eyes averted. Hisoka, however, paid no mind to your feigned disinterest and leaned down carefully, almost delicately to meet your lips, a quiet and low moan emitting from his throat. The thought of seeing your perfect, usually idle face flushed, sweating, drooling, crying out for him was absolutely divine- and the longing, the animalistic lust he had been harboring for you ever since first laying eyes on you at the Hunter Exam could no longer be satiated. Hisoka was going to have you; you were going to belong to him no matter what.

Your parted lips tasted of saccharine candy; and Hisoka deepened the kiss, taking your chin in his index finger and thumb to force your mouth into his. His own lips were unexpectedly soft, and your eyes widened as the honeyed taste flooded your mouth. Hisoka, sensing your small gasp on his lips, licked your bottom lip and gently bit it, gaining entrance into your mouth. The bite sent a strangely pleasurable jolt of pain along your lips, and you let out a tiny involuntary whine. Hisoka smirked against your mouth as his long and hot tongue slid past your lips and met your tongue, instantly dominating it, and you found you were losing your breath.

Before long, Hisoka pulled away, leaving you gasping softly as you tried to regain your composure. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy- and almost frightening lust was dripping through his tone. "Y/N, you taste absolutely intoxicating."

You didn't say anything- but the act was already getting difficult to stick with. If Hisoka could make you feel like this with just a kiss...

"Still being stubborn, are we? Oh, what a bother." Hisoka stuck out his bottom lip in a childlike fashion, pretending to be annoyed- but without warning, he dove for your neck and began to kiss you there, intent on eliciting those pretty sounds from you.

Hisoka's lips trailed down your neck, sucking and licking- and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any noise. All you could see was his wild hair as his lips massaged your skin. The pleasure was beginning to get to you- clearly, Hisoka was experienced at this. His wet tongue slid over your sensitive neck skin, and you felt his teeth lightly nibble on your ear- he was definitely trying to get a reaction from you. Your legs writhed in their bonds as the feeling began to arouse your lower region- your body was very rapidly betraying you.

"Mm..." you couldn't contain it any longer, and a moan escaped you involuntarily.

Hisoka sat up abruptly, pleased that he'd finally drawn a sound out of you. "Ah, yes- that's more like it. Unfortunately, that's hardly enough to satiate my desire- so I'll need you to make many, many more of those pretty noises for me, alright?"

🍡 | UH THATS PRETTY MUCH IT- SORRY ITS SO SHORT BUT I LOST MOTIVATION SO

🌵| at least it's something right ;D

🐸| anyways keep an eye out for more hxh smut as well as death note! ilysm, bye!! remember, requests r always open <3

[cinnbar-bun]

Diluc Finding Out S/O Had Their Vision Taken

A/n: spoilers for Genshin Act 2, I just my fave cuz.,,, big love for him. Also angst. Reader is not the traveler!!

He is not one to harp on you or tell you where you need to go or what you should do. He trusts you fully. You are his lover, and as such, he puts his complete faith in you. You are strong, brave, and kind. Surely nothing too grave could happen?

As much as he tries to delude himself with detached statements of how you’ll be fine, he does worry. Sometimes he worries about what would happen if he couldn’t help you.

Work and business keeps you both preoccupied, and many times you both would be estranged for many days- perhaps even months- at a time.

But he tries to assure himself. You were his most trusted spy and intelligence agent, and you are his lover now. You are more than capable of handling anything.

You informed him you would be joining the Traveler on their journey to Inazuma. You had become attached to the poor thing after helping them a few times, and you felt it invaluable to learn about the situation in the closed off Land of Eternity.

He knew of the dangers. You knew of the risks. He wanted so bad to tell you to forget that place. To tell you it was pointless, unnecessary, absolutely worthless compared to the utter horror you would have to face.

But he held his tongue. He was a man of few words, instead pressing a kiss against your forehead and hanging his ring around your neck on a chain. You did the same back. A reminder you both were connected, no matter how far.

He expected rough travels and perhaps a few scars coming back. He expected new information, your smiling face and tired yawn over how exhausting the trip was.

What he didn’t expect was to see Paimon and the traveler return to Mondstadt with anxious expressions on their face.

“Traveler. Paimon. Is something the matter? Where is (Y/n)?” He asks. His heart beats quicker. God. Please. Don’t let his nightmares be true.

“Well… you see…” the traveler begins. They can’t face him.

“Hehe… it’s um, a super funny story. Haha, you’d never believe it. Almost as much as believing that (Y/n) got their vision stolen!” Paimon awkwardly added.

“Paimon-!” The traveler hissed, frowning at them and Paimon covered her mouth.

“I mean! Um! It’s not that bad!! At least they’re alive… right?” Paimon tried to fix her slip up but Diluc couldn’t hear a thing.

“They… what?” He can’t believe it.

“It’s best you see for yourself.” The traveler took Diluc to the bar where you were sitting, a drink in hand as Kaeya and Venti were trying to tell a terrible joke.

Your eyes were faded. Dead. You looked like a zombie, a hollow shell of the person he loved. You did not smile, you did not even look at the two trying to get any sort of emotion out of you. Just as Paimon said, your vision was gone.

“Do you mind…? Please leave me. I have a terrible headache.” You murmured.

Diluc walked towards you, and Kaeya and Venti knew better and stood aside.

“(Y/n)?” He asked, unsure if this was truly you. He swallowed his pride. “My love?”

It was the first time he had ever publicly said something like that. Your relationship was shrouded in mystery and kept quiet beyond a few people.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked.

His heart shattered. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even form a sentence to respond to what you asked. Please be a cruel, sick joke. Please tell him this was a lie and that-

“I don’t remember ever meeting you. Actually, I don’t really remember anything. This young adventurer over there and their floating partner has taken me here, saying I was from here but… truly I can’t recall a thing. It’s all a haze.”

“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” Diluc said. He stared down before he quickly walked out of the tavern, slamming the door behind him.

How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to act with you knowing you remember nothing about him? Nothing about the two of you and all you’ve done?

He cursed the gods and everything around him. If this was their idea of a joke, he did not find it funny. Time after time, everything he loved was taken from him. Was he ever allowed to be happy and love, knowing he was cursed?

“How could he say that?! What a jerk! Who does that to someone they love?” Paimon angrily huffed.

The traveler nearly followed him out the bar before Kaeya placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Be gentle with him. He’s hurting incredibly bad. I know him very well, and he may not admit it but he’s truly heartbroken. I don’t want to hurt him more so… take care of him for all of us, okay?”

They nodded before catching up with the young lord.

“Diluc! Please! Wait-!”

“Leave me alone, traveler. I have work to complete.”

“Please-“

“This has been a complete waste of my time. I will not ask again for you to leave me alone. I do not wish-“

“I’m sorry!” They shouted, tears streaming down their face as they sobbed loudly. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He stopped walking. He stood still for a few moments as the traveler cried and begged for forgiveness.

“You’re sorry? Sorry for what has happened to them? Truly?”

“Huh?” The traveler looked up to see Diluc clench his fists tightly.

“You think sorry will fix this? You think sorry will give back their vision, their memories, their ambitions? You think sorry can help them remember what had happened to them?”

“I-“

“You’re wasting your breath. Save it. I do not wish to hear anymore. It’s not me you should be apologizing to. You took their life. Not mine.” He glared coldly. He walked away, leaving the traveler alone as his figure slowly grew smaller.

He goes home and immediately reads the letters you sent him. Whether they were business or personal, he kept them all.

Diluc came across one letter. One that changed your relationship forever.

“I love you, Diluc. Nothing will ever stop me from coming back to you and being by your side.”

He couldn’t control himself now. His eyes watered as all his feelings burst like a dam.

God, he should be grateful you were alive. Why couldn’t he be content knowing you were back here?

The tears fell onto the letter, dampening and smudging the ink on the old paper.

Why did this hurt worse than anything ever before?

In an instant, he grabbed a match and lit it up, placing it near the letters and setting some of them aflame. Watching the letters burn sent him spiraling.

‘My lord’ ‘I love you’ ‘great news’ ‘I have been thinking of you’

The words flashed in his head before he threw them to the ground and stomped out the flame. Many were charred and burned, and he crumbled to the ground.

God. Why? Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to happen? Why did you go? Why didn’t he just say anything to keep you here?

[merakiui]

I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?

This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!

AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!

(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)

What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.

So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.

Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?

And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.

Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.

Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.

Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.

He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.

As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.

When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.

Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.

But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.

Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?

Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.

Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.

Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.

He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.

Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?

Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.

They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.

Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.

However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.

But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.

However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Butler x Princess!reader

tw: female reader, obsessive/possessive behaviour, provocative behaviour (reader), implied non - con, silght self - hate (situational)

 Maybe you weren't the most mature among your siblings - you weren't the smartest one, the strongest one or even the most elegant one and on top of that you were the youngest child. The princess in the shadows, the cliche old as time of the heir last to the throne, forgotten and neglected by everyone. Except for him.

 Perhaps you had done something wrong this time - everyone called you spoilt, ungrateful, out of line before, but now they wouldn't even come to visit you, leaving you all alone with your thoughts. You soon came to the conclusion that no matter how annoying you had been in the past weeks, you didn't deserve this sort of punishment. You hadn't seen your family for a long time now and you were starting to miss them. Your butler had almost taken the role of a caregiver, bringing you food, lecturing you and informing you of everything happening outside of your small pink room. It was frustrating, infuriating - you weren't a child anymore yet you were treated like one. You were sure it was one of your father's doings, no one else would be cruel enough to put you under home arrest - you were royalty after all.

 "Is it because of what I said to the Nordan prince on the Royal supper last month?" You asked Leo while he was folding your white shirts for the third time today. You briefly recalled telling the foreigner to fuck off when he tried to kiss your hand, absolutely creeped out by his flirty behavior. But the butler simply shook his head without lifting his gaze off the clothes and kept working.

 "Is it because I tried to bring my baby tiger to the spring ball?" You tried to guess again, looking through your memories for all the little tricks you had pulled these months. You never thought of yourself as a troublemaker but your parents usually pointed otherwise. The butler parted his lips in a slight smile and looked straight at you with his deep piercing eyes, unnaturally warm despite their cold gray colour.

 "I can't share this sort of information with you, My lady." He replied softly and discreetly fixed his glove - but you noticed anyways. The man never hesitated to notify you of the latest trends and gossip from the High Court, but became so secretive when it came to your family and their decisions. You didn't want to take it personally as you knew well that a part of his job was to be cautious and careful with sensitive information - but this involved you directly and you desperately needed to know why you were forbidden from leaving your room.

 After a few long minutes the boredom took over and you signed dramatically, laying down on the soft puffy white sheets, embroidered with golden and red string.

 "I want to do it." You admitted loudly, stretching your arms to the side. No one of importance could hear so you didn't care about manners or decency. "Find me a lover." You ordered firmly, staring at the silent man across the bed. Some twisted part of you wished to see him flustered, red-faced at your provocative request, but surprisingly, this wasn't the case.

 Leo's expression remained strict and professional, his demeanor - perfectly elegant. The only hint that he had heard your command was him slowly approaching you, eyes set on your frame.

 "You have never asked for such a thing before, My lady." He pronounced clearly, now standing right in front of you. The man was so close you could make out the golden buttons on his black classic coat and the bitter disappointment in his pupils. "Please, remember your position." He continued, his voice breaking out of its learned monotone robotic tone for a single moment, but the words were still painfully similar to the ones you used to hear by your father back in the day when he scolded for doing what all the normal peasant kids were doing.

 "I don't care." You spat out with poison you weren't aware of - maybe the royal life wasn't for you after all. Not that you had a choice in the matter. "I want to be held and pleasured until down by someone skilled. Make sure to find a pretty one." You added lastly, giving the butler a sly smile and running your tongue along your lips for a better image of what was to come despite all the warnings he could give you. You were tired of being denied the simple joys life could offer just because of your status. And at the end of the day the man was nothing more than a mouthy subordinate with too much arrogance and free time on his hands. He couldn't stop you, not really.

 "I am afraid I cannot do that, princess." Leo stated in a stern voice, his gloved hand touching your face gently, in a barely noticeable way. "I can't let ordinary people taint your beautiful soft skin with their filthiness. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if someone else ruined your purity, My lady." The butler whispered, his finger moving along your cheekbones down to your hot neck. His words were so bold and daring, but there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you determined to put him in his place - even if his warm touch made you sick to your core. You couldn't raise the white flag just yet.

 "Then would you corrupt me?" You snapped back at him, ready to perform your best role. You fluttered your eyelashes, rocked your hips towards the man and wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his strong, muscular body, hidden underneath the expensive fabric. "You seem worried about other men using me so maybe you are the one deserving..." You paused to lower your voice seductively while you watched his handsome face wrinkle in sadness and heartache. "Of this body." You finished the sentence by smirking victoriously. You knew that it was wrong to take it so far and mess with Leo's feelings but this little stunt made you feel better about how little in control you actually were most of the time.

 "It would be an honour, My lady." The butler responded unexpectedly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, while he reached to brush off a lock of hair, covering your eye. He caressed your face lovingly. This wasn't right. He should have been disgusted by you, threatening to tell your father or even worse - but instead the man was placing small kisses along your jawline.

 Maybe you should have told him it was a joke. Maybe you should have tried to fight or scream or call for help. But what difference would it make - no one cared enough about the youngest child. Even if you died, there were many other options to choose from.

 You can't help but wish that Leo too would realise it was pointless to adore someone like you. If only for him to stop touching you so tenderly it makes you cry. It's the first time that someone shows you genuine affection. It hurts and it makes you sick, but it's better than being forgotten. Or so you tell yourself again and again in the darkness of the night. You can't fall asleep.