#the crow calls guilty

[kreachvera]

redraw of this panel of Faust House (READ FAUST HOUSE RAAAAHHHHH)

[wrylu]

sketch dump 💗

(my boobs are big cause i keep all my rage stored there)

wanted to practice drawing long hair but i ended up drawing price, whoops !! (who remembers those long-haired price drawings i made?)

unrefined random doodles

[robotsafari]

cooking up a new brand of toxic yuri

[crowshoots]

ended up going thru my followers and doing a softblock spree.... yall it was like 80% grishaverse blogs and it made me so sad

[l0vergirlwrites]

gulity as sin ; eddie munson

synopsis: since eddie joined your friend group, you’ve fallen for him. but sometimes the feelings you’ve harboured for him make you feel guilty—but he’s just too dreamy, so how could anyone blame you?

warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of weed & alcohol & partying, mentions of sexual thoughts, downbad!reader & eddie, love confession & makeout!!!!

note: inspired by taylor swift’s song “guilty as sin”

alsooo i just had to get this out of my system because ahhhh!!!

“just so you know, you’re staring at eddie like you wanna fuck him” robin whispered in your ear as she came to your side with extra vcr tapes to stack near the back of the store.

“jesus! am i really?” you asked in a hushed whisper, face crowing warm with embarrassment. you couldn’t help it when eddie just looked so good as he leaned on the front counter talking to steve.

while you mentally face palmed yourself, robin gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “just a little bit”

peeking back over her shoulder at eddie to make sure he wasn’t looking at you (because you’re anxious & paranoid), you let out a breath of relief. “you think he noticed?”

she laughed “i hope not”

letting out a quiet gasp, you shoved robin’s shoulder “thanks for the vote of confidence, rob” you said sarcastically.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!—but seriously…” she paused for moment to create dramatic effect. “when are you gonna fess up & tell him how you feel?”

the big question.

with a big sigh, you shook your head in retreat. “probably never. it’s just some stupid crush—& besides, we’re just friends. i don’t know if he’d like me like that, rob.” you said while getting back to work, trying to get the image of eddie’s ring clad hands out of your mind so you could focus.

“is that really how you feel? or is your fear of rejection speaking for you?”

narrowing your eyes at her, you rolled your eyes knowing she was kidding (but was she? were you really hiding behind a guise so you wouldn’t get hurt?).

“you know,” she paused to look at eddie. “if he doesn’t want to jump your bones, i’d be floored” she said cheekily, causing you to nudge her rib cage.

“he doesn’t” you stated, but in your mind you hated the thought of it.

“if that’s what’ll help you sleep at night” she chided before moving onto a different shelf, the open space letting your eyes drift back to eddie, only to find that he was looking right at you.

“you coming to the party by reefer rick’s place on the weekend? i convinced stevie boy here to tag along—“

“—& to be the DD. i don’t know how i got roped into this” steve cut eddie off with an exasperated expression.

with the spotlight (eddie’s eyes) on you, you couldn’t help but feel stuck in place & your mind was running a million miles a minute.

clearing your throat, you nodded. “yeah sure! i should be able to if keith doesn’t make me come in last minute”

the last sentence caused eddie to roll his eyes.

“who cares about what keith says—you’re coming & you’re gonna have fun! you’re deserving of blowing off some steam, right?” eddie said convincingly.

“he’s right! fuck keith & his stupid last minute shift calls“ robin agreed with steve soon following suit.

jokingly with your hands up in surrender, you finally agreed. “maybe you guys are right…”

“of course we are, babe!”

the pet name eddie called you made your stomach flip in six directions, your face growing warm until steve beat you to speak.

“when the hell did ‘babe’ get into your vocabulary, munson?” he asked eddie with a quizzical eye.

“oh calm your tits harrington—“

“hey man, i don’t have tits & i am calm so shut—“

“hey!” you yelled, shutting them both up. “no bickering on my watch, idiots” you pointed to them both, causing eddie to place his right hand in his heart in apology.

“what do you expect,” robin chimed in. “they’re five year olds”

you both laughed a bit at her comment while the guys just rolled their eyes.

“well, i’m gonna head out & prep for my next campaign. butttt, i’ll see you geeks saturday?” he asked while twirling his van keys around his index finger.

before steve could try to rebuttle against eddie about him calling you all “geeks”, you beat him to it.

“yes—we’ll be there! bye eds” you waved sweetly, your hand flattering when eddie shot you a wink before heading out the door.

as the glass door chimed & shut after his departure, you immediately turned to robin.

“he winked at me!” you mouthed to her with excitement.

“are you guys secretly talking without including me, again?”

turning to steve, you gave him an apologetic look. “she was just fawning over how eddie winked at her” robin said with a nonchalant smile, causing you to gasp.

“robin—“

“why do you care if he—wait… ohhh… that makes sense” he lit up like a light bulb, going back to checking through the return log on the computer.

you stood there stumped at his reaction.

“is me liking eddie predictable?” you asked aloud, causing steve & robin to share a glance.

“yes” they said collectively, leaving you to sigh & turn back to the shelf to finish stacking the pile of tapes.

**~*~**~*~*~**~*~~*~**~*~*~~***~*

it was now saturday, & you were on speaker phone with robin as you were getting ready for the party.

you had decided to wear a short flowy black skirt, fishnet tights, your favourite black boots, & a dark green babytee with your favourite band on it. it was simple, but cute (& you secretly hoped eddie would think the tights were a nice touch).

“do you think you’ll tell eddie how you feel once you get some liquid courage in you?” she asked genuinely.

with a thoughtful sigh, you stopped applying blush to your right cheek. “gosh, rob—i don’t know. i don’t think it’s a good idea”.

you could tell she was shaking her head from the other side of the phone.

“remember when i was too afraid to tell vicky i liked her?”

you knew what she was gonna say. “yes, i do”

“so, you remember how you told me i should just ‘go for it! do it before it’s too late—what’s the worst that could happen?’, right?”

you slumped in your desk chair, fidgeting with your makeup brush. “yes…”

“sooo, you gotta practice what you preach—tell him before you regret it!” she encouraged, but still, you were horrified to.

“what if—“

she shushed you. “no what ifs. don’t do that to yourself—just be honest when the right moment comes along”

staying silent for a moment, you thought it over in your head before coming to a conclusion.

“maybe you are right, robin”

“i’m always right—regardless of what steve says” her words made you laugh, relieving you of a little stress.

**~*~*~~~*~***~*~**~**~*~*~~*

it was now nine-thirty on the dot & you could hear steve’s beamer honking from your driveway, signalling that it’s time to go. as soon as you stepped onto your driveway, you were met with hollers & whistles from your friends in the car—including eddie.

as soon as you saw him with his head out the window, whistling & vocally saying “shit y/n, looking good!”, you could’ve sworn you were going to collapse then & there.

shushing them before their hyper annoyed your neighbours, you (coincidentally) got into the backseat with eddie.

“you have everything?” steve asked before reversing the car.

“yes, dad” you joked before a silver flask was shoved into your lap.

“got you your favourite” eddie told you with a smile, causing you to audibly “awe” & thank him before taking a swing from it.

despite steve having a fancy car, the backseat was surprisingly small, so you knew it was going to be a long night with how your thigh is already pressed into eddie’s & his fingers were tapping his jean clad thigh dangerously close to your exposed one.

you caught him every now & then staring at your tights too, which didn’t help the fantasies brewing in your mind of him taking them off you.

“you excited?” you asked him while steve & robin were caught in their own conversation.

swiping his tongue across his teeth, he looked at you with a gaze that made your stomach tighten. “as long as you stick close by, then yeah i’m excited” he nudged you gently, allowing you a moment to process what he just fucking said.

tucking your hair behind your ears (a sign that you were nervous & liked him & were going insane), you let the conversation drift into comfortable silence as steve turned the radio up.

thank god for that.

**~*~~**~**~***~**~*~~**~**~*

the party eddie brought you guys to was packed at some random house on lover’s lake.

& it reeked of pot & beer, which was normal & expected.

with the flask eddie gave you in your right hand & eddie’s hand in your other (because the front lawn was packed & he didn’t want to lose you), your group maneuvered your way inside to disco party lights, sweaty bodies, more pot & more beer.

your grip on eddie’s hand was taut as you continued sliding past more & more people while muttering “excuse me, sorry!” over & over until you guys arrived on the dance floor.

“do you want anything?” eddie leaned down & whispered into your ear so you could hear over the music.

you took a second to answer because of how warm his breath felt against your skin. “no i’m okay, i got this remember?” you said with a smile, holding up the flask he gave you.

returning you a smile, eddie let go of your hand because robin was pulling you to dance a little.

“be back in five!” eddie mouthed to you, holding up five fingers & looking at you until you waved in acknowledgment.

“okay there’s no way he doesn’t want you” robin yelled into your ear as the song changed & people roared happily.

laughing & shaking your head, you disagreed.

“cmon! let’s just dance, yeah? destress!” steve yelled to you both before bopping his head to the music, causing you & robin to look at each other before laughing & join in.

the more songs played & the more you swing back eddie’s flask, you could feel yourself letting loose a little—possibly even making you feel courageous.

so much so that when eddie returned with a red solo cup with some sort of drink, you slung your arm around his middle for a quick hug.

“missed me?” he yelled in your ear.

“just maybe” you replied, feeling his right hand rub your arm up & down before fetching a joint from his pocket.

“missed me more now?” he asked again, laughing when you nodded your head, eyes glassy from the smoke in the room that was building.

“outside?” he yelled again, & you were the only one that agreed.

*~*~*~~*~~*~*~~**~***~*

departing from steve & robin to go smoke, eddie grabbed your hand once again & kept you close as you both made your way to the back porch that outlooked onto the water.

the backyard was still filled with people, especially jocks who were doing dumb keg games, but you didn’t mind. with your back against the siding of the house & eddie in front of you, caging you in, all you saw was him.

& god he looked hot. his hair was a bit frizzy, but his leather jacket managed to showcase his muscular arms & his slightly cropped band tee allowed you to see the happy trail on his abdomen.

it took everything in your power not to fold then & there.

“you want the first hit?” eddie asked as passed you his drink & pulled his lighter out of his pocket.

with a simple nod, you placed the joint between your lipstick covered lips & leaned forward for eddie to light the end of it for you. the action felt extremely intimate & already hand your skin tingling.

with the joint slotted between your fingers, you took a few hits & relished in the buzzed feeling it already gave you. & knowing eddie & is interest in pot, you knew whatever was wrapped within the joint was the good shit.

while you were taking your hits, eddie was reminding himself to not get hard at the thought of your lipstick rubbing off onto the joint or how you looked pretty with smoke exhaling from your mouth—he could feel his pants start to feel the tiniest bit tight at his view of you.

when you handed the joint to him, eddie stood beside you on the wall & took his time (possibly so you could look at him a little longer?).

& you didn’t care because he just looked too perfect with his head tilted up, the veins in his neck showing in the porch light, the joint rested between his ring clad fingers—you could already imagine yourself getting off to this image of him later—but you reminded yourself to stay cool.

everything was fine! you guys were just friends!

“you feeling okay?” eddie asked, turning to you who was already giving him soft doe eyes.

“better than okay” you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder because you felt too warm under his gaze.

“wanna get off inside?” you heard him ask, causing you to cough & blink for a moment.

“shit—what did you say?” you looked at him, feeling his hand begin to interlock with yours again.

“i asked if you wanna go back inside—you sure you’re good?”

oh god, now you were hearing things.

“y-yeah, good idea” you mumbled as you followed his lead, holding on tight to avoid getting broken apart through the sea of teenagers & college students.

you only broke apart when robin pulled you in for a hug, hearing her say “it felt like you were gone for ages!”

for the rest do the night, you told yourself to he lost in the music rather than thoughts of eddie munson doing nasty things to you, which was going pretty successful until you felt his breath on your neck again.

“wanna dance?”

& how on earth could you say no?!?!

you let him pull you into his arms, his hands firm on your waist while yours were loose around his neck.

with the pot & other alcohol mixing in your system, you felt on top of the world. especially with eddie’s eyes on you. he’d twirl you around in circles & give you room to dance your heart out with him in your grasp & steve & robin would give each other knowing glances about whatever was brewing between you too.

you felt hot, sticky, & tingly all over your skin (not just because eddie was touching you) so you pulled his head down a bit to yell in his ear. “i’m gonna find a washroom!” & he was leading you around the house to find one without a question.

once you both found one of the third floor of this outrageous house, you pulled eddie in with you & turned on the light, thankful there was a dim setting.

“jesus, that was bright!” eddie shielded his eyes, causing you to laugh as you hopped up onto the counter.

exhaling a sigh of relief, you let your head lean back & rest against the mirror while eddie leaned against the closed door.

“do you need me to like, turn around or something…?” he asked, wondering what you were going to do.

“no—i just wanted to go somewhere quieter. less sweaty bodies”

he nodded understandingly before shamefully looking you up & down, telling himself to not get hard at the sight of you so pretty. you were already falling down a rabbit hole of all the things you want to do with him right now, each more dirty than the next—it would be just so easy for him to take off your skirt & unbuckle his pants—wouldn’t it?

but the guilt started to seep in & make you hide your face to groan in annoyance because why on earth were you spiralling like this?

“is something wrong?” he walked to you, holding your wrists & pulling them away to uncover you.

“just going insane is all” you replied, causing you both to laugh until he reached up to wipe off some of your smudged eyeliner from your under eye. he just needed to touch you somehow.

“guess what an old friend told me while i was getting a drink earlier”

you tilted your head in wonder, staring directly at eddie’s lips as he spoke.

“he saw us walk inside & told me that we looked like some couple from a movie—don’t remember which one though…” he ended with a murmur, too focussed on swiping his thumb on your cheek until you spoke up.

“is that a bad thing?” you asked, suddenly feeling small in this washroom with his hand directly on your skin.

eddie was closing in on you now, & you didn’t want it to stop.

you instantly felt sober now. especially with how each swipe on your skin felt like he was making you his—which was definitely an exaggeration but how could you need feel that way when he was holding you so delicately?

shaking his head ‘no’, eddie’s brows furrowed. “of course not—it’s not a bad thing. i-i just thought it was, i dunno, cute—“

“cute?” you questioned softer than him, a smile in the beginning stages of forming on your face.

was this your moment that robin was talking about? you sure hoped so.

“i-i think that’s the right word” he stumbled over his words, feeling your right hand brush some hair out of his face.

“i think so too”

& then there was comfortable silence.

you weren’t sure how to move forward from here. do you tell him all your feelings for him that you’ve keep hidden in a vault at the back of your mind? do you tell him that you’ve been fantasizing about him for weeks? that he’s the only one that makes you feel so many things?

you wish this part was easier.

“would it be, i dunno, uncalled for if i told you that you’ve been driving me crazy?” eddie asked, immediately unlocking said vault inside you.

“are you serious?” you asked, completely sober now as you pulled his hand away from your face & fixed your posture, eyes locked on his for the answer.

“as serious as the dead” his breath hitched, unsure if he made things worse or misread whatever signs you sent, but before he could apologize your hands were already on his face to pull his lips to yours.

it was a messy, top lip & hungry kiss that you’ve been dying to experience since you first laid eyes on him. & god did it felt right, with his tongue meshing with yours & his hands gripping your fishnet covered thighs as he pulled you closer to his body with aching need.

it was the kind of kiss that tried to convey just how you felt about him, the wanting & lusting from afar, the longing glances & lip bites when he made you feel a certain type of way.

it was catastrophic & heavy but sweet with laboured breaths of beer & smudged lipstick.

“holy shit” eddie breathed out against your lips, chasing him for another kiss because it was just that good but you were smiling & clashing your teeth against his & giggling from how silly it all felt.

“that is why i’ve been going insane” you panted against him, hands falling to grip the cotton of his shirt.

“i’m crazy about you eddie. & it’s not the drugs talking, i promise” you swore, scouts honour.

with his forehead pressing against yours & laugh escaping his lips that had little bits of your lipstick, he squeezed your thighs. “i would hope not, ‘cause i’m really crazy about you too”

you closed your eyes now, relishing in the weight lifting off your shoulders & how his touch felt electric. “eddie” you exhaled.

“yeah, sweetheart?” his fingers were pressing different patterns on your thighs to the point where you asked in yourself if he was writing ‘mine’ across the fishnet material.

“can we do this again tomorrow?” you asked, already longing for this feeling to last, praying this wouldn’t be just a one time thing at a party.

“i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, so yeah, i think we can make it happen” eddie smirked, kissing you quick before pulling back to see your swollen lips.

“wanna go back to the party & surprise the geeks?”

“i’d love to”

& with eddie whisking you from the counter, hand on your hip as he lead you back downstairs, you both immediately saw steve & robin jumping up & down happily when they witnessed you two looking like love sick idiots who finally fessed up.

young love, am i right?

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So the world is full of problems and being a naive 12 yo, Dani thinks she can fix those problems.

So she follows the best example.

Red hood

And she becomes a crime boss.

And she’s far better than anyone would think. Discreetly taking over various mafias around the world.

Eventually, the anti ecto acts are put in place worldwide.

So Dani (17) and Jazz (21)move to the only place that has citizens that would willingly lie to the government. Danny is in the ghost zone, attempting to evacuate all ghosts on earth dnd then get to work trying to dismantle the AEA. A process that could take over a year or so.

So Dani moves most of her forces to Gotham.

In my mind, Dani’s mobster name is Fantasma btw and her henchmen/loyal workers are called the Draugur.

But Gotham is cursed and over run with violent ghosts, and because Jazz has collage (transferred from Central Collage) and has to keep a job she can’t handle the ghosts.

So Dani is now moonlighting as the vigilante Wraith.

And Jazz is making her go to school during the day (Gotham academy)

While she’s in Gotham, Fantasma catches the attention of the bats because they’re not going to miss what is obviously a big player with a reputation coming into Gotham.

So they send a bat to go undercover

Damian

Damian is like 17 and has just transitioned out of Robin (you can decide whos Robin in his place) and is now (what we vigilante you what him to be, but I’m using Nocturne in this post)

For his first solo mission, he goes undercover as a henchman in the Draugurs. (He wears a mask so he doesn’t get discovered at a Wayne/bat). The only information the bats have is that Fantasma is around his age.

Unsurprisingly, he’s really good at undercover work.

He (undercover name is Crow) quickly makes his way up the ranks.

And he eventually meets the boss Fantasma and becomes her right hand.

And eventually begins to fall for her.

At the same time, he’s trying to catch the new antihero Wraith, who is a very flirty pain in the butt. He’s also been assigned to be the partner of a new student in his class, Danielle, who is incredibly ditzy and clumsy. But she’s not stupid, Damian knows better than to assume that. Especially when she scores highly than him on their geography test.

Basically an entire love hexagon AU including

- henchmen x boss

- vigilante x vigilante/antihero

- academic rivals AU

Relationship guide

Fantasma x Crow- boss that trust her second hand with her life despite not know in his real name. Henchman that is slowly catching feelings and becoming very guilty for lying to her

Nocturne x Wraith- vigilante is getting increasingly irritated by the new Antihero, who thinks the vigilante is hot and flirts with him the entire time they’re together

Dani x Damian- klutzy, clumsy, and popular student ends up having a rivalry with perfect, cold, and outcast over grades and tests. They hate each other.

I love this prompt, and there’s so much I could add to this.

Any thoughts? Would love to hear them!! :))

[starmocha]

Rock-a-Bye Sylus + Daughter | 1122 words | AO3 Sylus has a stubborn little birdie who won’t go to sleep. A/N: God, I was not prepared for this man to sing “Rock-a-Bye Baby.” My womb and I have not been the same since then.

Sylus sat behind his desk, going over some new intel he had received that night. The door to his office was opened ajar, the hallway dimmed light filtered in. As his eyes skimmed the documents, his deep voice rumbled softly, “Mephisto is in here with me, so who is that little birdie lurking outside my office?”

He smirked when he heard a tiny startled gasp. He looked up just in time to catch a small shadow quickly backing up against the wall to hide.

“Baby,” his voice called out, “come into Daddy’s office.”

He waited, seeing the hesitation from the person outside, and after nearly a minute, he watched his office door opened further, a little girl in a pink nightgown walked into his office looking guilty.

“It is eleven, why are you not in bed, baby?”

“How…did Daddy know it was me?”

Sylus tilted his head in amusement at the little girl’s question, his eyes drifting over to the mechanical crow in his office. His daughter noticed and she instantly stomped her foot. The little girl gave a pout and then she turned and glared at the mechanical bird perched near her father’s desk.

“Mephie tattled on me!”

The mechanical crow looked startled before it lowered its head in shame, giving a sad coo.

Sylus had a hard time hiding his amusement, chuckling at his daughter’s angry pout. “Don’t be mad at Mephisto, baby,” he said calmly, “Look, his feelings are hurt.”

Instantly, the little girl looked guilty for her outburst. She walked over to near Sylus’ desk and reached up on her tippy toes to stroke the crow’s feathers. Her voice was very small and remorseful, “I’m sorry, Mephie…”

Mephisto gave a cheerful caw, earning not only a smile from the little toddler but also her father.

Sylus reached over and patted his daughter’s head gently, smoothing out her hair. “Now, baby, do you want to tell me why you are still awake at this hour? I thought Luke and Kieran had put you to bed.”

“They did…” she responded, looking down at the white kitty cat slippers she was wearing. She shuffled her feet guiltily, and then confessed, “I miss Mommy…”

Sylus’ expression softened, empathizing deeply with the little three-year-old girl. He leaned back in his chair and patted his lap, gesturing for his daughter to come closer. Delighted, the little girl immediately scampered over and raised her arms, waiting for her father to lift her up. Sylus easily picked her up, settling her comfortably on his lap. He smiled when she snuggled closer to him.

“I know you miss Mommy, baby,” he started gently, “but Mommy is away on a mission right now. Didn’t she video chat with you and said good night earlier?”

“It’s not the same,” his daughter replied with a pout, crossing her arms stubbornly. She looked up at her father with wide, pleading eyes, “I want to stay up with Daddy.”

Sylus sighed and shook his head. “Daddy has business to take care of tonight.”

“I can be as quiet as a mouse, Daddy!”

Sylus chuckled and stroked her cheek affectionately, pleased when he heard her sweet little giggles. “I know you can, my little birdie,” he said, but shook his head again, “But this type of business is for grownups only.”

“Okay…” The little girl looked down sadly, her legs idly kicking back and forth as she stared at her kitty slippers.

Sylus stroked her hair to comfort her. “Come on, baby,” he said, “it’s well past your bedtime.”

“What about Daddy’s bedtime?”

“Daddy’s bedtime is in the morning,” Sylus answered curtly, carefully lifting his daughter into his arms as he stood up. She clung to him as he carried her out of his office. Cheekily, she waved at Mephisto as she was taken away. The mechanical crow cooed softly.

“Daddy?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Can’t I stay up with you?”

Before Sylus could respond, he caught sight of Luke and Kieran searching from room to room down the hallways. He stopped, and cleared his throat, alerting the twins.

“Did you two lose a little birdie?” He paused, and added with an exasperated sigh, “Again?”

“Uh, listen, Boss,” Luke started, panicking, “It wasn’t our fault!”

Kieran instantly agreed, “Yeah, we tucked her in real good. We even stood outside the door for ten minutes to make sure she didn’t sneak out again!”

“And yet she escaped. Again.”

“Boss—”

The little girl giggled. “Sorry, Lukey, Kier-Kier…”

Kieran sighed and crossed his arms. “Little Miss, you are lucky you are so adorable.”

Luke interjected, “Don’t worry, Boss, we’ll make sure she’ll go to bed this time—”

“Forget it,” Sylus cut in, already walking past the two. “I’ll tuck her in myself.”

The twins sighed and waved weakly at the smiley, waving girl.

As Sylus approached his daughter’s bedroom, he felt her squirming in his arms. He paused and looked down. “Is this little birdie trying to fly away?”

“Maybe…”

Sylus shook his head and opened the bedroom door. Inside the large room, there were countless toys and books, much too excessive for a little three-year-old girl to have, but money meant absolutely nothing to Sylus when it came to his daughter’s happiness. Sylus walked to the middle of the room where there was a large canopy bed with sheer pink curtains and fairy lights strewn about waiting for its little owner to return. As Sylus tucked his daughter into her bed, he noticed her sulking again. “Baby, it’s almost midnight. You should have been asleep four hours ago.”

“Can I have a song, Daddy?”

“Trying to strike a deal, are you?”

The girl gave her best pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Deal accepted,” Sylus answered, sitting down on his daughter’s bed. He smiled as she snuggled up to him. “You might be the only person around this place who appreciate my singing.”

Sylus smiled when he saw his daughter yawning. Despite her stubbornness the whole night, it wouldn’t take much to finally lull her to sleep. His large hand gently held onto her little hand, stroking it tenderly as his deep voice sung softly, “Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop…”

He watched as sleepy little eyes drifted close as he sang her a lullaby. When he had finished, his daughter was already sound asleep, cuddled up close to him, breathing softly. Sylus took a glance at a clock in his daughter’s bedroom.

He was already running late to the meeting.

The meeting could wait, Sylus decided. After all, the people waiting for him to arrive needed him, not the other way around. He settled more comfortably in bed next to his sleeping daughter, his deep humming the only sound heard in the large bedroom.

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian Part2 NSFW

Please check out Part One

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario: Once you agree to Kyojuro's request, you gather with Kagaya and the other Hashira to share your decision to retire early. But as you spend time with Kyojuro, you start noticing some changes in his behavior. You can't help but wonder, did you make a big mistake? He's your husband, after all. Surely, he wouldn't try to control or manipulate you. Maybe he's just worried about your safety and wants the best for you, right?

- Two Endings

A month had passed since I laid down my sword for the last time. I've spent my time at the Rengoku Estate as I had anticipated, assisting Senjuro with chores and cooking, while striving to earn Shinjuro's favor.

However, it all felt sluggish my days stretched out, feeling so unproductive.

Kyojuro was called on a mission far away, and he's been gone for almost two weeks now. I find myself overcome with loneliness, feeling hollow inside.

When I wasn't busy helping Senjuro, I often took walks and started getting into reading, though lately, I've found myself drawn to books on swordsmanship and battle techniques. It might seem pointless now, but it's all I have to occupy my mind.

Many times, I caught myself pacing around the estate, practicing fighting stances or swinging an imaginary sword, earning some strange looks from anyone nearby.

But I couldn't bring myself to share any of this with Kyojuro. I wanted him to believe I had moved on from being a demon slayer. Instead, I painted a picture of focusing on myself and preparing for the prospect of starting a family.

I've been writing to him almost every day since he left, keeping him updated on what's been happening back home and just checking in on him.

He says his mission has been successful so far, and he should be home very soon, which is good news. It's difficult to fully embrace retirement when the person you did it for isn't even here to enjoy it with you.

.

.

Today has been particularly slow. All I've done is help water the plants outside and dive deeper into my books. Shinjuro has been in his room, drinking, while Senjuro has been practicing his writing inside. And here I am, sitting under this same tree, reading the same book on breathing techniques for the past three hours...

However, my entire mood shifted the moment I heard the cawing of a crow announcing Kyojuro's return from his mission. He was finally home.

I could feel the excitement as I watched him walk through the gates of the estate, his big, bright eyes and fiery hair a welcome sight.

It didn't take long for him to spot me, as he quickly ran up and grabbed me, spinning me around in his arms.

"I've missed you so much, my little flame!" His booming voice was a comforting sound to hear in this moment.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as he held me.

"I missed you so much, Kyo." It didn't take long for that hollow feeling I had earlier to finally disappear.

After he finally put me down, he pulled away to get a better look at me, scanning me up and down with his usual happy smile.

"You look so beautiful, my dear. Retirement seems to be treating you well already!"

"Oh, do you really think so?"

"Of course, sunflower. It's good to finally see you dressed casually and enjoying yourself at home. One of the main reasons my mission was such a success was because I wasn't worried about you. I knew you would be here waiting for me when I returned. I knew you would be safe."

I almost felt guilty. Since he left, I've been so bored out of my mind, stuck here at the estate, but if it’s really helping by keeping his mind at ease while he’s away I guess I don’t mind.

"How are you doing, my love? I know writing in letters can only reveal so much. Are you really okay?"

His voice softened, and his smile grew gentler. My heart raced at the sound. No matter how much time passed, I was still as in love and attracted to Kyojuro as I was the first time we met.

"Yes, I'm doing great. Senjuro and I have been quite productive lately. We even discussed setting up a small vegetable garden in the yard to reduce our trips to the village market." I forced a happy smile onto my face.

"That's wonderful news! I'm so happy you're finally making this old place your own." He then pulled me into another hug, burying me in his chest.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth—that I was bored and missed the core and all my comrades and friends. They had all become so busy with work that I went from seeing them every day to never at all, so quickly.

As I relaxed into his embrace, I felt his body tense slightly. He pulled away from me slowly, his expression puzzled.

"Sunflower... what is it you're reading?"

I glanced behind me to see my book still lying on the ground, its cover exposed. It was just a book, surely not that significant.

"Oh, that's just an old breathing technique book I found in the study room. I thought it looked the most interesting out of the available options."

He looked at me for a moment, then took my hands in his, holding them tightly.

"My love, if you had told me you wanted to read, I would have gladly bought you as many books as you wanted. You don't need to waste your time sitting and reading about attacks and breathing techniques anymore." His voice was filled with concern.

Little did he know, I chose this book specifically to occupy my mind. If I couldn't fight anymore, the least I could do was read about it.

"That's sweet of you, Kyo, but honestly, I don't mind."

His smile returned somewhat, and he moved his hands to hold my shoulders, gently leading me back to the main part of the estate.

"Let's get you inside, my love. I'll tell you all about my mission!"

I allowed him to guide me back, passing Senjuro on the way.

"Go ahead, little flame. I need to have a word with Senjuro."

I observe as he starts walking toward his younger brother; they engage in conversation, and I begin to make my way indoors.

Despite my initial intention to leave, a strange hesitation washes over me. I linger by the doorframe, eavesdropping on their discussion.

Senjuro's voice reaches me first. "Welcome home, brother. How was your mission?"

"It went smoothly. I'm relieved to be back," he responds, pausing briefly.

"Senjuro, how's Y/N? Have you noticed anything unusual about her lately?" My ears perk up at the mention of my name.

"Y/N? She seems fine, I suppose. She's been quite helpful with chores around here," Senjuro replies.

"I see. Have you noticed her reading more?" he probes further.

"I think so. Though I'm not sure what she's been reading," Senjuro admits.

"I see. Please, keep an eye on her for me, Senjuro. I'm concerned," Kyojuro says, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Concerned about her reading?" Senjuro's confusion is evident.

"No, just in general."

With that, I turned away from the door, deciding it was best to stop listening in.

Why would Kyojuro worry about me? I'm safe at home, just like he wanted. Wasn't that the whole point of being here? To ease his mind?

I can feel a mix of frustration brewing inside me, and I'm not sure if it's aimed at Kyojuro or myself. I've always prided myself on my swordsmanship, setting high goals and pushing myself hard to protect others and find purpose.

But now, I can't even enjoy reading a book about what I love without making my husband worry.

I step into the kitchen, ready to get a head start on preparing dinner. Gathering the cooking utensils and spices, I realize all that's left is to chop some of the vegetables.

As I rinse them off, I notice we're short on a few key ingredients.

My garden plans with Senjuro would have been perfect right now. Looks like I'll have to make another trip to the market.

Letting out a small sigh, I tidy up and head towards the door to slip on my shoes. Honestly, I could use some fresh air. I feel guilty leaving knowing Kyojuro just got here, but I think he’d much rather dinner be super good than complain about me stepping out.

I had a stranger Lingering feeling. There's something about his smile that feels off, like there's a hidden pressure behind it. Why?

As I'm slipping on my shoes, I sense someone standing over me.

"Where are you off to, sunflower?" Kyojuro inquires.

"Just getting a head start on dinner and realized we're missing a few things. I was about to run to the market," I reply.

"Hurry back to me, my love. You know I don't like it when you're away." His warm smile could melt anyone's heart.

He plants a kiss on my cheek before heading back into the other room.

As much as I adore him and miss him, I need just a moment alone to think right now.

As I make my way to the village, I pick up some vegetables, meat, and a few other things we need for the estate. On my way back, I spot Tengen and his wives. They seem to notice me too, especially Makio, who starts waving enthusiastically in my direction.

I walk over to them, feeling happy to finally see some familiar faces. It feels like it's been ages since we last caught up.

“Y/N, it's good to see you," Tengen greets warmly.

“How have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever!” Makio cries out excitedly.

"I've been well, how are all of you?"

"We've been doing just great," he responds.

"How's, uh, retirement?" Hina asks with a half smile.

"Oh, retirement has been... great," I reply, attempting to sound convincing, though I'm not entirely sure I believe it myself.

Tengen lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Sorry, but it's just so hard to believe. You had one of the flashiest breathing styles and trained almost every day, only to retire before becoming a Hashira. I just always thought you were too stubborn to quit so early.”

Hina shoots him a quick glare.

But it's all true; Tengen and his wives have been around since before the beginning of my and Kyojuro’s relationship, training with us, going on missions, and even just hanging out together casually.

They exchange silent glances for a moment and I notice Tengen’s expression change into a more serious one.

"Y/N, Kyojuro is one of my closest friends, and it's really not my place, but... do you think maybe you decided all that just a tad too quickly?" Tengen sounds more sincere this time.

"I mean, you were on your way to becoming a Hashira yourself," Suma adds.

Taking a deep breath, I realize they're right, but I already knew that. I wasn’t the one they should be lecturing in this scenario. I never wanted to retire; I just wanted to make Kyojuro happy.

"I promise. This is a decision I've made. I want to settle down and start a family with Kyo. I wouldn’t want to risk going out on a mission and dying before having that opportunity," I assert.

Though they still seem unconvinced, Tengen puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Kyojuro's a lucky man to have someone who cares about him so much. However, I think you should stay in tune with your training for now.”

“You are still so young, Y/N! It’s always possible that once you have children, you could potentially want to come out of retirement. Maybe be a trainer for young slayers!” Makio adds with a hopeful tone.

Suddenly, my spirits lift. They were right. Just because I retire now doesn’t mean I can’t come out of retirement in a few years. As long as I keep training at home, I should be fine!

“I suppose you are all right. I will definitely keep training. I’m sure Kyo will think that’s a great idea.”

“That’s the spirit. I’m glad we got to run into you,” Tengen says with his usual smile.

“I’m glad I got to see all of you. I promise I’ll try to make an effort to come around more.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hina exclaimed.

After we exchange our goodbyes, I watch them walk off together, smiling and talking.

A wave of realization and relief washes over me. Maybe retirement didn’t have to be as bad as I was making it out to be.

.

.

Upon finally arriving back at the estate, I walked up to the entrance with a smile on my face.

I recalled there was a book in the study that taught some solo hand-to-hand combat techniques, perfect for practicing alone. I made a mental note to pick it up once I returned and start reading it after dinner.

As I entered, Senjuro greeted me with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, Y/N. I’ll finish up dinner since you went out of your way to get everything,” he offered kindly.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that. I don’t mind,” I replied.

“I insist. You haven’t seen my brother for a while now, and I think he could use your company,” he chuckled nervously.

I hesitated for a second.

“Okay, only if you're sure,” I said, handing over the basket of food and supplies I had bought from the market.

He headed off to the kitchen, leaving me in the entryway, so I decided to make my way to our bedroom, shared by Kyojuro and me.

As I entered, I noticed he had changed out of his uniform into his more casual attire.

He looked at me with a kind smile on his face.

“I see you made it back safely,” he said, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

He buried his face into the side of my neck, kissing it softly.

I felt myself shiver at his touch. He seemed so gentle and loving right now. I had truly missed him so much these past few weeks.

I gently ran my fingers through his fiery hair as I spoke, "I ran into Tengen and his wives at the market."

He pulled away slightly to look at me, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

"Really? Were they happy to see you?" he asked with a big smile.

"Yes, they were. We hadn't realized it had been so long since we all saw each other."

Kyojuro appeared to be deep in thought. "I suppose you're right. It has been a while since all of us got together. I should arrange for us to have dinner sometime!" he exclaimed happily.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I think that would be lovely."

"What else did you all talk about? You were gone for quite some time," he inquired.

I debated telling him about their suggestion that I should consider keeping up with training and possibly coming out of retirement, but ultimately decided against it.

"Tengen was just telling me about a mission he had gone on recently. Nothing too crazy," I replied.

Kyojuro seemed satisfied with this answer. Why would I lie? I've never had any reason to lie to him before.

"That's great, sunflower. I'm happy you finally got to see some company. You seem so happy!" he remarked, his affection evident in his tone.

We lingered in each other's embrace for a few more moments until Senjuro's voice rang out, announcing that dinner was ready.

Hand in hand, we made our way to the table. Upon arrival, we found Senjuro had already set the table and prepared everything. Surprisingly, Shinjuro was already seated, wearing his usual drunken scowl, but he remained mostly silent.

As we ate, Kyojuro attempted to share details about his recent mission with his father, but received only silence and grunts in response. Despite years of trying, it seemed Kyojuro still sought his father's approval.

It felt kind of pointless to expect anything from Shinjuro. Even though I ended up spending more time with him than with Kyojuro lately, I just kept my distance. Honestly, I think he might even appreciate it.

After a few minutes of listening to Kyojuro, Shinjuro got up and was the first to leave the table, retreating to his room.

Though Kyojuro seemed disappointed, he maintained his neutral smile as he also began to wrap up his meal.

Once we had all finished eating, I stood up to collect the dishes for washing and putting away. However, Senjuro insisted on taking care of everything himself.

Feeling a bit defeated, I abandoned the task and decided to head to the study to grab that training book.

However, upon arrival, I was met with an unsettling sight. All the books were gone, every shelf completely empty...

As I made my way back to my room, confusion swirled within me like never before.

Upon entering, I found Kyojuro already preparing for sleep. His eyes brightened at the sight of me, and he gestured for me to join him under the covers of the futon.

Crawling in beside him, he enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close. With my head against his chest, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me.

"Kyojuro," I speak up.

"What is it, little flame?" He asks planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"What happened to all the books in the study?"

I sense a slight tension in his body at the question.

"I'm not sure, my love. Perhaps father had them moved. I'll make sure to get you some new books soon," he reassures me.

I stay silent, convinced by his explanation. What other reason could there be? Surely, Kyojuro doesn't attach much importance to old books collecting dust for years.

As I lay nestled in Kyo's arms, I feel the weight of exhaustion settling in. His breathing slows, It won't be long before sleep overtakes us both.

.

.

A week had passed, and the books still hadn't reappeared. I'd given up on getting a response out of Shinjuro. And it seemed that Senjuro wasn't even aware of their disappearance, which was even stranger.

So here I was again, under the same tree, rereading the same book for the third time.

Despite this, it was a beautiful day. The sky was bright and the air was refreshing. It would have been a shame not to enjoy it.

With Kyojuro gone early this morning for a hashira meeting, it's just me now, left to ponder my thoughts. I can't help but recall what Tengen and his wives said about keeping up with training.

Honestly, with my doting husband always around, their advice slipped my mind. But now, with some time to myself, I figure it's a good opportunity to get some practice in.

I don't have the exact combat training books I'd like, but I'll make do with what I remember from my days in the core.

Grabbing a wooden sword that Kyojuro and Senjuro sometimes use.

My target? A nearby tree. I start off slow, practicing basic strikes and focusing on my footwork. It's a few hours of intense concentration, but it feels amazing. I didn't realize how much I missed this, the feeling of swinging a sword, the rush of adrenaline with each move. It's like finding a piece of myself I forgot was missing.

My excitement fades as I notice a looming shadow, revealing Kyojuro standing there. Still in his uniform, he must have just returned from the meeting. His expression is stern, arms crossed in clear disapproval.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice is cold, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I was just... training a bit," I reply nervously.

"Training? Training for what?" He begins to approach me, his demeanor serious.

For some reason, I instinctively start to back up as he approaches me. Before I know it, my back is against the tree I was just practicing on.

He closes the distance between us, his face inches from mine. This side of Kyojuro is unfamiliar to me; he appears downright angry.

"Why are you doing this, sunflower? You're inactive in the core, retired. There's absolutely no reason for you to pick up a sword and train again," his voice is harsh.

"I just thought that maybe if I stayed in shape and continued training a bit, perhaps in the future I could come out of retirement. Maybe even help train new slayers coming out of final selection," I suggest.

- Ending One (Positive fluff)

He gazes at me, his expression filled with confusion. “Sunflower, why would you want that? I thought the whole point of you wanting to retire was to be at home with me, to start a family together.”

Taking a deep breath, I realize I need to be honest and ip front with him now. Kyojuro is my husband, and if he truly loves me, he'll understand.

Slowly, I reach out and take his hand, bringing it up to rest against my chest.

“Kyojuro, I love you more than anything, and I want to start a family and be with you more than anything. But I also have to pursue the things that make me happy. Fighting alongside you and our friends has always been one of those things,” I explain, hoping he'll see my perspective.

His eyes soften, and I can tell he feels guilty for not considering my happiness more deeply.

"I'm still scared, Y/N. I'm scared of losing the love of my life, my wife. If you continue being a demon slayer, there will be times when I won't be able to protect you. Times when you'll be in situations where you'll have to fight to the death to defend yourself," he admits, his voice filled with worry.

He's right. There will be moments when I'll have to risk my life for the sake of others. But that's exactly why I signed up for this. That's what I want to do, with him by my side.

Gently, I lift his hand to my lips and place a kiss on his knuckles, mirroring the affection he always shows me.

"I'll fight until my last breath for a life without demons, so that hopefully someday us and our children can live the life we deserve," I declare softly.

He removes his hand from mine placing is on my cheek. His gaze loving and caring now.

“You never cease to set my heart ablaze little flame. You always make me remember that powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for being so selfish.”

It makes me feel better that he also acknowledges how he’s been acting lately. It makes me feel more validated that I wasn’t completely going crazy. And still I forgive him.

I know Kyojuro’s heart, I know how pure and kind it is, and I know he would never do anything to harm me or keep me alway from something I’m so passionate about.

He pulls me into his embrace wrapping his arms protectively around me.

“I want you to be happy my love, it was wrong of me to try and control someone as amazing as you. I will do everything I can to support and protect you. Wether it’s here at home, or out on the battle field.”

His words melt my heart.

He removes his hand from mine, placing it gently on my cheek. His gaze softens, filled with love and care.

"You never fail to ignite my heart, little flame. You always remind me of the powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for being so selfish," he confesses.

His acknowledgment of his recent behavior brings me some comfort. It validates my feelings and assures me that I'm not imagining things. And yet, I find it in my heart to forgive him.

I know Kyojuro's heart, its purity and kindness. I trust that he would never intentionally harm me or stand in the way of my passions.

Pulling me into his embrace, he wraps his arms protectively around me.

"I want nothing more than your happiness, my love. It was wrong of me to try to control someone as incredible as you. I'll do everything in my power to support and protect you, whether it's here at home or out on the battlefield," he promises.

This was the man I fell in love with, the man I vowed to spend my dying days with. I’m certain that I made the right decision.

.

.

.

- Ending Two (Angsty Smut)

He shakes his head. "No. No way. If you're going to stay retired, then you need to stay retired. That was the deal. I won't risk losing you. You're far too precious to me." His tone is softer now, but still firm.

"But why can't I just practice for a bit?"

"Because this isn't what you want. You don't actually want this. It's not your passion. This is only because of your past life." He's more serious than ever.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to stay sharp?"

"You're supposed to be focusing on your future and your new life with me! And you can't do that if you keep holding onto your past. It's not a part of who you are anymore."

His words strike me. Was it so bad that I wanted to practice and maybe eventually come back?

"This is the last thing we're going to discuss. As a Hashira, I have the authority to confiscate your weapon, so hand it over. From this point forward, I will not tolerate you engaging in anything remotely related to demon slaying."

I reluctantly hand over my wooden sword. My heart drops, and tears begin to well up in my eyes.

"Y/N. I'm sorry, my love, but this is for the best. It's only because I love you." His voice softens, his expression more forgiving.

I'm filled with anger. Why is he acting like this? Why doesn't he want to fight alongside me anymore? Balancing our relationship and our profession is tough, but plenty of people make it work.

Why does he seem to think it's impossible for me to fight? I am strong. I've always been strong.

His thumb brushes away a tear from my eye as I lift my head to look at him.

This time, his expression changes.

He leans in close to my ear and whispers, "If you won't listen to me, I'll just have to give you a reason to stay off your feet."

A shiver runs down my spine as his lips meet mine, his hands holding my hips firmly in place.

Before I know it, he's lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me back into the estate.

“Kyo, put me down! Let's just talk!” I protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He takes me to our bedroom and pins me down on the futon.

“There’s nothing more to say, sunflower. If I can't keep you from fighting anymore, maybe having a child will,” he says, his voice tinged with desire.

I open my mouth to speak, but his lips on mine cut me off. His tongue pushes its way inside, making its way around my mouth.

I try to pull away, but his hands hold my head in place, and the taste of his mouth is overwhelming.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless.

He leans in, kissing and biting at my neck. His hands move down my body, grabbing and squeezing my breasts and my waist.

I let out a small whimper as he sucks and bites at my skin.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers brush against my entrance through my clothes.

He pulls away to look at me. "Already so wet for me, and we've barely done anything. Were you doing all of this to make me angry on purpose?”

My face burns with embarrassment, but I can't help but crave his touch.

He grabs my hands and pins them above my head, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile.

"You want this, don't you, sunflower?" He asks as his free hand caresses my face.

I nod desperately, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then beg for it," he commands, his loving voice contested his actions.

"Please, Kyo, please I need it. I need you."

He releases his grip on my wrists and moves to undo his pants.

"There’s my little flame."

He lines himself up with my entrance, slowly pushing himself inside.

I try not to tense, feeling my walls stretch to accommodate him.

He lets out a low groan, his warm breath tickling my ear.

He waits for a moment before beginning to thrust into me, each movement deeper than the last.

I gasp and moan beneath him, gripping his shoulders.

He lets out a groan as he bottoms out.

"Mine," he whispers before placing a kiss on my forehead.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He begins to move again, thrusting harder and faster. I'm filled with so much pleasure that I'm seeing stars.

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, but just before I can finish, he stops.

"Kyo, please, I need it." I whine.

"Not yet, my love.” he replies, his voice heavy with lust.

He pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied.

He flips me over and pushes my head into the pillow, my ass now in the air.

"Don't worry, little flame, I'm not finished with you just yet."

He enters me again, gripping my hips tightly as he pounds into me from behind.

"I can't wait to have you pregnant. You're going to look so beautiful."

He reaches a hand around to rub my clit, bringing me even closer to my peak.

I try to hold back my moans and he touches me. His words only make me feel hotter.

I can feel myself getting closer once again, and he seems to notice as well.

"Do you want to finish, my love?"

"Yes, yes please," I beg.

He increases the speed of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots inside of me.

I can feel myself approaching the edge again, and he continues to push me towards it.

"I'm going to fill you up, my love. Make you mine.”

His thrusts grow more erratic as he reaches his peak, releasing deep inside of me.

I collapse onto the futon , completely exhausted.

Kyojuro rolls off me and lays beside me, pulling me into his chest. I cuddled into him.

"We're going to be so happy, Y/N. Just you, me, and our child. Everything is going to be perfect," he reassures me, running his fingers through my hair.

I'm too tired to respond, so I just listen to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing.

"I love you, sunflower. No matter what, you're mine.”

Sorry this one took me so long to get out, I hope you all enjoyed it! I’d love to hear your feedback!

[heartilywrites]

i rlly like your gyomei fic! :3

can i request some tragic yet wholesome stuff w him?

the reader is a fragile health person, however she's very stubborn and often overwork to the point of fainting. that’s because they’re gyomei’s childhood friend (and fiancé maybe) and often times she feel guilty for not being strong enough to be a demon slayer. they probably work w lady amane.

،، 𝓒ommunication ; G. Himejima

request guide | masterlist

resume: where a visit to the butterfly estate made Gyomei realize something.

content warning: hurt to comfort ; Gyomei Himejima x fem!reader ; established relationship; r is not a slayer ; it totally comes with angst ; i feel like its a bit ooc for amane's dialogues,,, ill let you decide on that ; no use of y/n

wc: 1.7k

a/n: HI thank you i'm glad you liked the fic <33 i loved doing this one, i'm weak to write angst i love it. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING, LOVE, ENJOY:D banner does not represent r in any way, it's just a painting i liked <3

“ All your thoughts running through your head, the things you think better left unsaid.

Shinobu took a step out of the room when the sound of a crow squawking and heavy footsteps were suddenly heard, a stone hashira with concern painted all over his face was what her eyes met in a fraction of second.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Where is she? Is she okay? What happened?” the older one asked, desperate.

Kocho smiled softly and nodded. “She is okay, Himejima, she's sleeping right now, but you can stay and let her tell you what happened.”

Gyomei nodded back and took his step in the room where you were laying down, peacefully sleeping after such scary event. You, his beautiful fiancée, the love of his life, the person who had seen all his phases, looking so fragile before him. After sitting to your left, his big hands took your closest one with such caution and love, the warm feeling of your skin made him sigh in relief. Gyomei could hear your very slow and almost imperceptible breaths, he tried to replicate them to calm his nerves.

You knew you shouldn't be working more than you could handle, you knew how your health could change drastically in a blink of an eye, then why were you doing it anyway? Gyomei couldn’t get through his head how foolish you could be. He loved you, oh, you had no idea the amount of love the stone hashira felt for you ever since meeting you when you two were children and seeing you not taking care of yourself like you were supposed to be doing made him feel angry. Angry at Amane for not stopping you after you usually insisted that you could handle another heavy task, angry at you for not recognizing your own limits and more important: angry at himself for not being able to take care of you like he wanted to.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Gyomei?” the calling of his name in such a hoarsely manner made his face lit up a bit, your free hand made contact with his face to clean the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I'm sorry.”

��� ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I thought we had an agreement.” he whispered, his voice didn’t sound mad, but you either way made a small grimace. “You are supposed to take care of yourself instead of being out there working.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Gyomei, stop...” you shook your head, taking away the hand he was holding. “You don't understand–”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, no, I do understand.” he cut you off. “I understand that you don't care about your own well-being, you're the one who doesn't understand how if this does not stop soon, it will only get worse with time. Don't I provide enough for you to not worry? Why do you keep doing this?”

Your eyes blinked astonished to his words, that had to be the first time he talked to you like that. “This is not about you, Gyomei, it's about how this” your hands signaled the room and yourself. “Makes me weak, I'm not strong enough to be a demon slayer, I'm not good enough to help out there in such dangerous times we live, when help is much needed out there and you better than anyone else know this.”

Now the man was the one who was in a loss of words. He didn’t know you felt like that, he definitely was feeling bad to jump so quick to attack you like that.

Your relationship had been build up by communication and trust, and Gyomei felt like he maybe hadn't been asking the correct questions or worse, you just didn’t trust him with your feelings about your condition like he thought you did.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I want to be left alone, please.” you said when he tried to talk again, wanting to apologize. “We can talk later.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I... I have a mission.” he answered with a sigh leaving his mouth. “I'll be quick and we can talk about this when I get back.”

A small humming noise vibrated on your throat, agreeing. “Take care, honey, I love you.”

Gyomei adored the way you always said the sweetest of things when he needed to leave you for a couple of hours or days even if you two were having an argument just before leaving. His job had always put his life on the line and even if you were mad at him, you knew it was a thing of the moment, something temporary that you wouldn't risk for it to be permanent in his mind, if anything happened you wanted him to remember you loved him, you always had and always will.

The stone hashira left a small kiss on your forehead after a whispered 'I love you too' had sounded and a ephemeral smile was shown your way before leaving, you watched him leave while playing with your engagement ring. You weren't double thinking about marrying him at all, you were totally sure you wanted to be his wife, you had been dreaming for quite some time now about being his wife, but the previous talk made you nervous about what he would say when he came back.

Both of you had this heartache the days Gyomei was out on the mission. That time was well used by the hashira, his mind thought about your words, he acknowledged your feelings towards your situation and he realized just then why you were so eager to be always helping Amane, it was your way to feel useful under the corporation. His heart felt both warm and shattered to such realization.

His walk back took him longer than defeating the demon he was assigned to take out, the stone hashira was practicing what he could say to you, the things he wanted you to know. Before arriving to his estate, Gyomei had bought a bouquet of your favorite flowers; when he entered by the front door and at the moment he wasn't greeted by a crushing hug from you, his feet turned back around and started to walk to the Master's estate knowing fully well you'll be there.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Himejima!” Amane greeted happily when he was announced, the named one bowed to her. “I'm glad you came back safe. Your fiancée is just bringing some important documents we needed, she'll be back soon.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Thank you for taking care of her.” he said smiling softly to the pale woman, she shook her head a bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No need, I try to give her the easiest tasks to prevent any issues, but she's quite the stubborn girl, huh?” the hashira smiled bright at your description.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I know, I will talk to her about it, we don't want anything bad happening to her.” he finished just when the sound of your steps began to be louder.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Gyomei, you're back!” you exclaimed in such a sweet way he felt finally complete. “Here you go, Amane, may I leave now?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Sure, no problem!” the white haired woman smiled big to the two of you. “Enjoy your time, I'll see you tomorrow.”

You took your fiancé's arm to walk back to your shared estate.

Halfway through he remembered the bouquet and extended it to you, when you gasped happy he smiled, brighter at the thank you your mouth said. Once back to the estate, you were quick to put the flowers in a vase and sit beside your fiancé, Gyomei looked for your hand and left caresses on the back of it when he found it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I want to begin,” he said before you. “I would like to apologize to you, my love, I wasn't aware of how you felt and now that I know I get why you like to push yourself, but I really want you to take care of yourself.” your eyes were scanning your partner's face while he talked. “You are the most precious thing I have in my life, my rock where I can find rest, the first one to lend a helping hand when I need it.”

Your free hand went to place to the big one taking your other, the feeling of your touch made Gyomei feel an electric current travel his back.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Please, know that I just want to protect you from everything I can, if I need to fight Muzan with my bare hands just to assure you will be okay trust me that I will do it.” your face started to feel warmer to such comment. “I'm sorry that you feel like you're of no help, but you couldn’t be more wrong, you're such an important piece in this corporation just as any of us are. Not fighting demons doesn't make you any less important.”

His eyes started to tear, your own were glossy with tears as well at such beautiful words he was saying to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I will take better care of myself, love.” you answered after a couple of seconds of silence. “I promise, I won't overwork myself.”

Gyomei smiled a little bit. “You know? I always knew you would be such a strong and hardworking woman when we played together and you were the one putting all of us in order.”

You giggled, cleaning the couple of tears that had escape your eyes. “Well, it was always a mess to play something as a group, someone needed to guide that mess.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What if our kids happen to be a mess themselves? Like our old friends.” the question made your face grew hotter.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Gyomei Himejima, we haven't gotten married yet and you are already planning kids.” now it was your fiancé's turn to giggle.

The rest of the afternoon felt lighter, with everything sorted out you two could finally breath again. Not even after decades of knowing each other a fight took a bad turn, ever since you two were friends at childhood when one got angry to the other it was just a matter of talking it. Obviously it took a bit of try and error for your relationship to get to this exact point, but the path was definitely worth it to such beautiful relationship you two had built together.

[gayandfairycore]

The prince, the magician and the physician

Summary when the witchfinder accuses you of having magic you must convince Arthur that your feelings for the boy have never been disingenuous. And Merlin must race against the clock to save you but can you be saved? Can your relationship with Arthur? Can love truly conquer Arthur’s prejudice?

Italics mean flashbacks

Word count: about 8k

Warning: torture, mention of execution, feeling betrayed, readers anxious, reader accepts death, canon divergence (but same overarching plot), Arthur may be a bit ooc sorry!

A/n: who’s back with the bbc Merlin fics? Me!!!!!!! Two fics in *almost* the same month-WHO is she? But seriously I’ve been writing more and I’m so glad I have I really enjoy writing these fics for you guys and to everyone who has supported me thank you so much!! We hit 900 followers a few weeks ago and it was such a milestone thank you all for enjoying my fics enough to follow!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The witch finders arrival had you and Merlin in shambles he had already been pointing fingers and he had been in Camelot for nearly a day and already had been accusing people of having magic.

What was worse, he had witnesses. Three girls from the lower town who had been seeing traces of magic a man coughing up a frog from his throat, to a goblin dancing in the flames of a dying fire. To faces of the drowned in the well. with every confession you sent an angry glare to Merlin beside you, since he was the reason this witch finder had been called in the first place.

Fear bubbled in your throat when the witchfinder said he already had suspects. and who the witchfinder had accused happened to be yourself, Merlin, and the lady morgana.

It was day three when he found “proof” you were a witch. (Of course you were but the proof was bogus. It wasn’t yours.)

It wasn’t Merlin’s either, it was an amulet poorly hidden in a pot. Neither yourself nor Merlin were skilled with charming jewellery, and you couldnt wear bracelets whilst being the court physicians apprentice, besides when would you even have the time to charm jewellery? Between saving Arthur, being gauis’s apprentice, and watching over Merlin you never had a second to breathe.

But despite having never seen the amulet in your life you knew the witchfinder would see no sense. Men like that never would, and what was worse the witchfinder happened to be an old friend of gauis, with a reputation based on brutality and hatred. He despised magic with a passion if he suspected you, you were already as good as dead.

But you couldn’t let Merlin die by the hands of the witchfinder, Merlin had far too much life ahead of him.

He had to protect Arthur. He had to unite Albion. he had to live long enough to see Arthur’s rule And believe me There was nothing you wanted more than to see Arthur unite Albion and bring magic to the land But you weren’t the one destined to unite Albion, you were however destined to protect those you loved and some part of you was okay with dying for the cause of keeping your family safe.

and if you were asked if you regretted taking the fall for Merlin or gauis, of course you’d say no. He was your best friend and gauis was like a grandfather to you. You’d let them sentence you to death a thousand times over if it meant Merlin was safe. If gauis was safe.

“Search through that cupboard and under the bed!” The witch finders commanding voice called out to the guards as they tore apart gauis’s chambers you were aware by now that the moment he walked in he’d already deemed you guilty.

By the way His eyes narrowed like a predator to prey, the atmosphere was tense like he’d been preparing to go for the kill for awhile now. and disgust permeated from his figure in waves this man watched you like you were the dirt on his shoe, some small disgusting insect that deserved to die if he even thought you had magic.

Sharing a nervous glance at gauis your hands wringing nervously in your lap as you watched these knights destroy your home your gaze asked gauis the same question he’d been dreading, where was Merlin’s spell book?

If you were going to go down for magic paraphernalia you fully thought it would be because of Merlin’s spell book not some poorly disguised amulet that wasn’t yours in the first place.

Leon had been the one to find the amulet a haunted look in his eyes you could tell Leon did not want to do this, but honour bounded the knights more than kinship. More than years spent with each other from childhood sparring, to treating his wounds when Leon grew from a bashful baby faced boy into a lean young man practicing to become a knight.

He was honour bound to tell this monster what he found And you’d hate to see Leon burned beside you under the guise of solidarity. It was better for one to burn than two.

“An. enchanted. amulet.” The witchfinder spoke slowly as he inspected the Jewlery, every word sealing your fate “whose is this? Perhaps the boy Merlin Or the girls? Or even yours, old friend.” The witch finder sneered pointing his finger in your face as he circled gauis and yourself like you were prey

Your horror filled eyes flickered to gauis and you watched as his mouth opened and his eyes flashed with familiar selflessness it was clear, what the old man was going to do, he loved his little family as much as you did and you’d hate to see the old man take the blame for you or Merlin again.

living with gauis has already been enough of a burden you couldn’t let him die for something he had no part in (not that you did either but you were nothing if not loyal.) your heart constricted in your chest, your stomach dropping

One of you would surely be executed for this but you would not let it be Merlin, or gauis. It would be you before it ever was them.

Taking a shaky breath you stepped forward your hand out to block gauis front from stopping you “it’s mine.”

And the beat of your heart deafened you the room went deadly silent guards hands went to their swords ready for anything, in the corner of your eye gauis’s face went ghostly pale filled with horror as he watched his youngest apprentice, the girl he practically raised as if his own stare down this false god with cold eyes the sent fear shooting through gauis, you were capable you like Merlin had the ability to destroy your enemies without lifting a finger but gauis knew you better than for you to defend yourself. But you would be brave braver than anyone else.

You steeled yourself infront of the witchfinder your eyes narrowed dangerously. You did not take kindly to those attempting to ruin your family.

“Guards.” With one word the witch finder sealed your fate, looking to gauis behind you, your eyes only let your guard slip for a moment and the old man saw the burning fear that filled your gaze. As Leon’s hands restrained you with hesitation.

“you can’t!” Gauis called pointedly to the witchfinder “it’s not hers! she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Gauis pleaded desperately after you seething from where he stood, he would not watch another child die.

you felt your heart break for the man who was like your father. “Leon, please.” You pleaded to Leon to release your hands for just a moment and the man you’ve known since childhood released his grip for only a second it was enough for you to break his hold and sprint to take gauis in a hug

Crashing into his arms you closed your eyes blinking away tears And you muttered the one phrase that could save you, that could reverse this fatal mistake, the one thing that stopped the panic in gauis for only a moment “It’s not mine.”

Before Leon’s hands had pulled you from gauis’s comforting arms, your tearful eyes met gauis and you expected to be met with fear but a newfound determination in gauis’s face calmed you, hope filled your heart Merlin would find a way to save you he always did.

Leon bent your hands behind your back and lead you down the halls of the castle

The witchfinder leading you through the halls, your Druid communication had been the most useful in situations like this, situations where Merlin was nowhere to be found

“Merlin, if you can hear this please find a way to get me out of this. The witchfinder has accused us of using magic be careful. Help me Merlin, Please find Arthur.” You didn’t get a response despite the fact You had never begged and you never had sounded quite as hopeless as you did then, even when you were behind enemy lines, in enemy dungeons it was different.

They weren’t your friends, weren’t your family sentencing you to die this was.

As you were dragged through the halls Camelot knights walked all around you, their billowing red capes with the golden dragon crest that once brought you so much comfort now brought only dread, the burning memory being wrapped up in Arthur’s cape on a hunting trip once dearly reminisced now just felt cruel.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The braying of horses and the taps of hooves on the ground as you, the knights, Arthur and Merlin set off on a hunt you found it silly to be hunting for game for fun but you couldn’t refuse the invite considering you were arthurs personal physician recommended by gauis (and Merlin babysitter) and atleast you were with your closest friends who are the loyalist of loyal.

As opposed to being stuck in gauis’s chambers mulling over books like you do almost daily you’d take any possible time with Arthur especially away from prying eyes.

The sun was starting to go down and you were too far away from Camelot to head home so Arthur called it and you’d be camping in the woods tonight, you didn’t mind. It was nice to camp under the stars with your friends away from all the expectations, The watchful eyes. Camelot was home but it was growing increasingly more dangerous.

Here, in the forest with Arthur and Merlin and the knights you were more than just a physician you were equal. You were more then just lower class, you were free and here under the constant cover of trees and the darkening blanket of the setting sun you could be more than some backup physician, you were just y/n. And Prince Arthur was just Arthur.

And if you could have just cupped this moment in your hands and held it tightly to your chest you would have.

Camped by a large oak tree in Arthur’s arms his red cape with the golden pendragon sigil covered your body from the elements keeping you safe and warm and in the light of the fire there was no fear, no worry about expectations. Or watching eyes all that mattered was being truly yourself with the man you love in his arms unashamed.

When sleep finally stole you away from Arthur Merlin couldn’t stop the question that was brewing for months “do you love her?” The young man asked scouring the ground with a stick his arms rested on his knees as he watched the couple together Merlin knew this would turn out badly his best friend, a physician with no title dating the crowned prince of Camelot? A recipe for disaster

He knew what his destiny foretold, he knew the perils and he knew that your role in destiny would surely not let this freedom, this unabashed love stay happy. There could be no room for happiness when you had magic.

“Of course I love her.” The prince found himself telling Merlin hesitation in his voice fear rolling from him in waves, by now it was the late hours of the night, the knights and yourself long since asleep and Merlin and Arthur the only ones still awake

“You know your father would never approve?” Merlin spoke assured that if uther found out you’d most likely be executed

“I know that Merlin, but one day it will be different my father will have no say and I will be king when I am king I want her- to be my queen.” Arthur’s fingers run through your hair softly a promise Arthur swore to himself he would keep his arms wrapping tightly around your waist the soft sound of your breathing calming Arthur’s pounding heart he knew this was reckless and senseless but this was love. And love has no logic.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now a bitter taste of betrayal sat heavily on your shoulders as you were flanked by those you call friends as they lead you to your death you couldn’t blame them it’s not their fault they have to follow uther but it leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

How things had changed.

It was sad to feel Leon’s grip firm but not brutish still trying not to hurt you as if he wasn’t leading you to what would be your death. You were aware from the moment Arthur managed to steal your heart you’d end up on the gallows or burnt at the stake or you’d face death in battle intentionally scheduled by uther. He hated anyone who was not of noble blood for Arthur.

And No good ever came from destiny, and if it was your destiny to die in place of your loved ones you’d die a valiant death. But it didn’t stop the shake in your hands.

You could mask your fear you would not give the witchfinder what he wants. He would not break you.

But leon could feel the shake in your hand and feel the erratic beat of your heart from the pulse point on your wrist and he wanted nothing more than to damn the consequences and save you but he couldn’t. you could only rely on Merlin to prove the witchfinder a fraud and you to be innocent you could only pray for Arthur’s forgiveness. After your innocence is proven.

But the horrible feeling of dread that was building in your stomach as they were leading you into the dungeons a cell- no doubt already made up- And down every step you felt like throwing up when you finally made it to the bottom of the stair case the scent of wet earth and straw filled your nose the bricks that lined the dungeon and its torches that burned steadily along the side of the stairs made you feel ill.

The witch finder swung open the first vacant cell and Leon was forced to keep you there walking you the the center of the room, the suns rays that slipped through the cracks of the small window warmed your face but it didn’t comfort you, soon the sun would be your clock, your tally mark for your final night alive if Merlin failed.

Leon’s hands left yours and still the ache in your shoulders stayed “I’m sorry” he spoke lowly in your ear before he stepped away you turned to finally face your friend

“Leon, let Arthur know I’m sorry” You called to the man who grew up beside you who had been growing up pledging to die for Camelot even if that meant dying young he never expected the young girl with so much light in her eyes, and gentleness that always managed to calm her patients, he never thought she’d be the one on deaths door before him.

Before the man could reply the witch finger slammed the cell door shut and sneered through the bars “not to worry he’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart constricted in your chest as you watched them all walk away the iron in the Camelot dungeons nullifying your powers and your connection with Merlin you couldn’t hear his reply to your plea you were well and truly alone you could of course break out from the cells the iron didn’t make you powerless only dulling your connection with the earth, the place your power comes from. But you couldn’t put your friends at risk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was hours later when guards came to haul you away to your sentencing, heavy iron handcuffs clicked into place over your hands large chains weighing you down & tight enough to make the skin on your wrists rub painfully.

As Guards lead you through the castle to the throne room, there you stood at the large mahogany double doors two guards on either side as they flung the doors open all your friends and family, all your previous patients were standing there watching as the witchfinder lead you in as the number one suspect, the guilty witch. two guards gripped your arms and threw you to the ground in front of the king, a man who you’ve spent countless hours mending, and stitching up alongside gauis.

Your hands shook as your knees took the brunt of the force, your chains rattling from where you were you couldn’t see Merlin, or gauis. But You could feel Merlin’s energy over the crowd

“I’m going to get you out of this y/n, I swear.” Merlin promises to you through your Druid telepathy and you bit back the tears as You scowled at the sight of the ground. you couldn’t bare look up at the sight of morgana in front of you, of Arthur infront of you fear that you’ll see nothing but disgust, embarrassment and regret on his face.

“Here is the first witch I’ve uncovered in my short time here in Camelot. The court physicians apprentice. The princes! Physician!” Every word the witch finder spoke booms over the crowd as he exclaims to the counsel shock no doubt painted their faces you’ve treated every single person in this room and you’ve used magic on quite a few to save them. Why was that a bad thing? If you have the power to save someone was that not the right thing to do? Magic is not bad but people are.

“WHO can imagine what she could have used on the prince unsupervised! What magic she could have used and at what cost to the prince!” By the gasps of those standing around the room the witchfinders words seemed to make them angry, seemed to make the king angry he loved Arthur in his own way so for the witchfinder to use Arthur to sentence you, god. You were surely going to die.

“No.” Arthur’s words were quiet this was the first time he had said anything “y/n a witch? I mean come on we’d know! She’s lived in Camelot since she was five. And she wouldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur called like it was laughable resting his hand on his hip like it was obvious but by the look in his eye the look of realisation but you couldn’t find disgust you didn’t have time to search for it.

But It made you turn your gaze to the floor Arthur knows. he knows. you have magic. You’ve healed him countless times. no stab wound, or arrow wound could be healed as quickly as his has or all the time he’s been injured in battle only moments before, before the searing pain has been replaced with a dull ache. Or the times as a child where any scrape or scuffed knee had been eased by a soft kiss over the wound. The look of betrayal passing over his face when you gained the courage to finally look at him made you shrink into yourself

“That’s exactly what someone under her spell would say. I fear, uther that the prince is too close to her to see clearly.” The witchfinder spoke with a voice like acid and you couldn’t stand making yourself small if he was going to do you for magic you would not be ashamed. You would not hide from his gaze.

Your chained hands pushed you from your slumped position on the ground your hair messily falling over your face you stood on shaky legs looking at the people in the throne room, all your friends watching you with pity filled faces you couldn’t stand it.

It made you feel sick, especially the fearful teary eyed look from morgana like she was seeing her future you hated this.

Uthers response felt like it took years, “y/n l/n I sentence you to death.” The room fell eerily silent before a scream filled your head, it was Merlin you whirled around to spot him in the crowd tears in his eyes and anger flashing across his face you wouldn’t be surprised if the next attempt on uthers life would be from Merlin.

“No! Father you can’t. What evidence do you have?!” Arthur pleaded with his father quietly by his throne anger glaring in arthurs eyes pointed not at you, it gave you hope that he didn’t hate you enough to want you dead.

“My word is final.” The king sneered and your hope filled heart broke. Swallowing hard your eyes searched for Merlin the fear in your eyes hit him hard as he watched

you be carted out of the court room your eyes locking with Merlin’s anger and tears filled his eyes before your eyes swept to Arthur’s & the sheen of betrayal sat heavy in his eyes and before you could stop yourself you called out for him one last time. As the guards dragged you to the doors.

“Arthur!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cells in camelots dungeons were always your most hated place to be from the horrid stench to the chill that cooled your bones to the straw that littered the floor In wet mangled clumps. To the extent it weakened your connection to your magic. Your magic was your strength the very essence of you to have it be weakened by the iron felt wrong.

The dungeons were perhaps the scariest place in Camelot there you’d sit, forced to rot as they’re building a funeral pyre for you and your execution is due in a day.

But you’d been there for now two days, and Day by day you were becoming more and more sure that this was the one situation Merlin could not save you from.

by the betrayed look on Arthur’s face when you were lead through the large doors infront of the entire court for your sentencing and the cold look in uthers eyes you were a dead woman walking.

And maybe you deserved it by the look on Arthur’s face as the pieces fell into place and he realised all the times his wounds eased that were not with the help of adrenaline, but magic. it made you wonder did he believe you had enchanted him? Bewitched him to love you? It pained you greatly to even think that Arthur may be in his chambers rethinking every kiss you’ve shared with one another. Would your love ever truly be enough for him to forgive you for magic? Of course he didn’t like magic that was to be expected but he liked you. At least you thought he liked you…

And He liked Merlin, he’d shown countless times indifference to magic, magic that had saved his life countless times, and still the look of betrayal in his eyes made you wonder Were all your secret picnics and stolen kisses in corridors just something to occupy him?

Were you nothing more than Arthur’s dirty little secret, a silly little romance that would have only ended in tragedy?

was it all for nothing?

Were you nothing to him?

No you were not nothing. You were everything you were his in private. the only place he didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to agree with his father’s actions he could just be Arthur pendragon not the prince.

besides It’s better to have loved Arthur and to die for it than to have never had him at all. You may never be his queen but you were for a fleeting moment, for a fleeting moment you were his and he was yours.

And now you would burn because you loved your family too much to watch them die, you half wondered as you sat in that cell if uther knew.

If he had known you and Arthur were courting in secret and if he called the witchfinder to get rid of more than one the little scandal waiting to happen and you wouldn’t put it past uther to condemn you to death so long as Arthur is still under his control.

The longer you sat in your cell the more you stewed, a slue of emotions crashing over you, from sadness to anger, to acceptance.

You would accept the fate of burning for your loved ones but you would not accept the fate of losing Arthur. Not like this.

You would not be separated by death, if Arthur didn’t want you after knowing the truth you would live with it, but you would not live with not knowing.

Your love for the boy had been too strong you were going to marry Arthur in the future, it wasn’t to far away having a family with the prince, having a life.

That could have been your future. If you were not awaiting execution.

You sat there in drenching sadness that crashed like waves, what was worse was the sound of key’s jiggling. Did you misjudge the days? Was this going to be the end? already?

“You and me are going to have a little talk.” The witch finder sneered unlocking your cell and looking down at you with hatred still you didn’t gaze in his eyes. You watched the floor with intensity as he hauled you off to a different cell leading you through the halls past the staircase you caught sight of a shaky morgana your eyes found hers and suddenly you felt a lot more scared than before.

In the cell there was a chair and a table and a small cart of various medical and surgical weapons ‘oh shit’ your mind screamed as the witch finder forced you to the chair “So we can do this two ways. It’s up to you confess why you’re in Camelot and who else has magic. and maybe I’ll let you live. Don’t tell me and I’ll find out myself.” The cruelty in his tone made you rear back subconsciously eyes narrowing at the witchfinders gaze

“Then” you sighed shakily looking at him through your lashes coldly“you’re going to have to find out yourself.” You summoned every inch of anger and willed it in your tone. Trying to be brave despite the frantic beats of your heart.

But It was hours spent in that damp Camelot cell hidden from the other prisoners clamped to a chair and the witch finder inches from your face and array of striking weapons on a small cart made your breathing hitch.

But you’ve had worse, you’ve had to fight wilderin in hengists kingdom for sport. Both yourself and Gwen had been kidnapped under the guise of being morgana and her physician and so yourself and Gwen were forced to masquerade as morgana and yourself and you were stuck in different cells both damp and smelling of blood and wet earth.

And then there was Lancelot who happened to be hengists champion, and a champion who only days later you’d be thrown into the pit with a wilderin with no weapons with a tied up Gwen and Lancelot. Both yourself and Lancelot had stayed behind to give Gwen time to escape and ultimately were the first to be thrown in the cage again you didn’t mind as long as Gwen escaped you’d be fine.

But Truth be told the odds were very against you, but magic was always going to save you, but using it would doom you especially in front of everyone in hengists court. With the use of magic and a bloodied broken bone from the wilderins last meal made for a convenient way to murder the beast. Until another one came and Merlin and Arthur had saved you just in time From its hideous rat jaws the huge bleeding scar of its teeth in your arm made you detest the stench of blood and earth.

That was probably the worst experience of your life until now. And the scar from the wilderins teeth was still healing but the physical scars meant nothing the torture of being in a cell that smells the same as this dungeon was the worst that and the feeling of knowing your life is going to end were probably the most humbling experiences.

But, the only saving grace was that night in camp where Arthur had taken it upon himself to patch up your wilderin wound (poorly might you add as a physician it was odd to let the only man with very little experience patching someone up, patch you up.)

But you let him anyway and Arthur’s hands held your arm with feather light touches the needle threaded through your flesh with clumsy fingers the stiching off centre and rough around the edges but it was Arthur’s way of telling you he cared, the silk thread slid easily through your flesh but it pained you every stitch Arthur was no physician but he was trying.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And Gwen told me when they questioned you about any secrets of Camelot you never cracked.”

“never Camelot is my home.” You smiled at the prince but your attempt at reassurance failed miserably and he ducked his head

“I wish you, cracked. Then they wouldn’t have given you that.” Arthur pointed to the growing black eye rapidly swelling over your left eye a bruise you got for refusing to rat out any information on when guards were on duty, the way to the Camelot armory or anything you overheard as a physician from any loose lipped clients.

“I am not weak Arthur. I can deal with a black eye and brutish men. I’ve been sparring with you and the knights for years” Your eyes pointed angrily at the boy crossing your arms over your chest despite the half finished stitching feeling the half sewn wound twist painful as you did so but you hid the pain to appear strong something you’ve done since you were young

“I never said that! But you- you aren’t weak. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” Arthur’s blue eyes bore into yours with such an intensity his eyes flashing from your lips to your eyes his hand cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips softly against yours shock prevented you from kissing back as the blonde went to pull away you chased his lips kissing him back with feverish passion.

“I love you Arthur.” You rested your head against his the exhaustion of the day catching up to you he didn’t say it back but you didn’t care he just had to know.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The memory of Arthur made you feel loved it kept you strong, hit after hit, once against your ribs twice against your face, four times against your legs and once more against your face with enough force to split your lip licking the blood that dripped from your lip your bruised body heaved in pain and still you never cracked.

“Come on miss l/n, just tell me two little names and all this can stop”

“You’re deluded.” You sneered before spitting a wad of blood into the witchfinders face smiling gleefully when your blood tinged spit stained his face but the glee was short lived when the man had sent a quick hit to your chest stealing the air from your lungs.

Before he grabbed a tool with a screw and roughly pulled your thumb into it “you will tell me miss y/n what your intentions are with the prince and with Camelot or I will force it out of you.”

The witchfinder shredded his coat as he leaned over you tightening the screw into your thumb the pressure of the screw against your finger had you squirming in your seat as he tightened the contraption more and more

“All you need to do is confess your accomplices. And this will stop.” His voice echoed the room but the feeling of a sharp screw drilling into your finger tighter and tighter puncturing the nail and skin the pain otherworldly and unbearable you tried to hold your scream back but when the man still did not relent and instead tightened the thumb screw you let out your blood curdling scream.

“WHO! Are! Your! Accomplices!” His voice yelled now as he tightened more and more gut wrenching screams ripped from your throat you would let yourself scream, let yourself cry but you would not tell him a thing.

The crushing feeling of your thumb bones breaking made your heart beat incredibly fast your other ironed hand gripped the table with force your nails digging into the wood

He still tightened the screw and by the loud haunting screams that ripped from you and the smile on the witchfinders face he enjoyed your pain you couldn’t help the salty tears and horrible screams the pain unbearable and overcoming your sense but still your mouth locked on any information like a vault.

“Come on!” His voice boomed as his hands squeezed your bicep his eyes crazed as he watched you

“Fuck you!” You screamed eyes red with tears and fighting the approaching darkness in the corner of your vision

“Aredian, sir. The king has called a meeting and requires your presence.” The servant at the cell door had spoken quietly to the witchfinder nervous in his presence

The witchfinder sighed straightening his posture rolled his eyes and moved close to your ear “no matter, miss l/n. The lady morgana, and Merlin will burn with you soon”

Your heart dropped and you struggled against the restraints the excruciating pain from your finger and the rest of your beaten body the pain in your ribs alluded you to the potential broken bones it caused your panicked shouts to echoed through the dungeon and the witchfinders laugh filled the room

“No! Aredian stop.” You cried to his retreating figure “I’ll confess to the use of sorcery if. And only if, you spare Merlin and morgana.” Your eyes close in defeat

“Good choice, miss y/n. take her to her cell.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

And there you were again cut off from anyone and anything unsure if Merlin would be able to prove you innocent, or if he’d burn with you, or if Arthur still even cared the woman he was courting was about to be executed and had just withstood torture. Hengist was bad but he never had broken your bones or tortured you only tried to feed you to wilderin.

The pain in your thumb had dulled but the bleeding hole had still gushed the measly bandage that consider of your dress did barely anything to stop the bleeding and the iron cells mixed with the torture made your magic virtually ineffective making you unable to fully heal your wounds only dulling the pain of your thumb.

your time was running out and you were truly alone in the cells your connection to Merlin via your druid telepathy was proving useless he wouldn’t respond you couldn’t warn him of the witch finder and by the shine of the moon in your cell you only had hours left.

There is already a funeral pyre with your name on it in the court yard. You couldn’t help the tears that slipped down your cheeks you didn’t want to die not like this and a prison break wasn’t even on your mind they’d just kill Merlin and gaius in your absence there was no way out. and the crushing guilt of something you cannot change began to pound against your skull. Were you born wrong?

Was it wrong to have this magic? This power that has saved those you’ve loved for years why was it seen as inherently evil? Why were you seen as inherently evil? All you wanted was your friends to be safe.

And between the pain that debilitated you from the physical blows to the broken bones in your thumb and the emotional pain of Arthur most likely hating you made you want to just give up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried the stupid scent of blood, earth, and straw polluted your nose. And you found yourself thinking about how lucky Gwen had been to have Lancelot visit her cell in hengists kingdom determined to break her and by extension yourself out.

You had Merlin in your court but you still wished you had someone to hold your hand through the vent even if it was the last thing you’d ever do you didn’t want to die alone.

“Y/n” you heard whispered from the doors of your cell “Arthur?” You called confusion lacing your voice as your red rimmed eyes met Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but run to the cell door resting your head on the bars sobbing in relief at the sight of him the pain from your body put on the back burner for a moment.

“What happened?” Guilt filled Arthur’s heart at the sight of you, your eye healing from your previous beating and now the sight of your bloodied broken thumb and bruised body Arthur saw red.

He felt betrayed at the revelation of your magic of course but he understood why you had kept it a secret and if Arthur had been paying more attention he would have seen it plain as day when you were kids.

Your magic was obvious since childhood Arthur was too blind to see it.

“I know” was all he said eyes stoney and voice unwavering “I know you have magic the witch finder is right.”

Any hope that bubbles in your chest died with his words “Arthur I- i can explain” You tried shaking your head lacing your uninjured hand in his through the cell pleased when he didn’t pull away

“Shhh Merlin told me everything, everything you’ve ever done to save me. Save everyone. I understand why you did what you did.” Arthur spoke lowly his eyes staring into yours trying to convey his apology

“Merlin has come up with a plan to save you, he’s doing it right now but I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret. I can’t stay for long but- but y/n I love you.” Arthur spoke with all the love he could muster placing a chaste kiss on your lips through the cell

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I was afraid of my father I am supposed to be king one day to marry someone of noble blood, but I don’t want that. I want you.” Arthur’s voice is quiet as he confesses he wants to spend the rest of your lives together

“I want nothing more.” You felt like crying he still wanted you, magic and all.

“Arthur, I was so scared.” You felt so exhausted from the torture to the ticking clock you couldn’t help but cry

“Shh” Arthur’s fingers ghosted over the skin of your cheeks wiping your tears. “We will prove your innocence, I’ll keep your secret. I promise you.”

Arthur placed a kiss on your lips once more pressing a necklace with his ring into your hand before promising Merlin has everything under control.

With your heart a bit lighter you finally sat down on the hard cell bed clutching Arthur’s ring in your hand you let sleep overtake your body trusting that Merlin will save you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When the bright light of the sun shines through your cell window today is the day you are supposed to die, and part of your questioned if you dreamt Arthur’s presence to save your sanity but by the slight pressure of his ring on a chain in your hand reassured your beating heart.

You were not dreaming, Arthur loves you and Merlin just spent last night trying to save you but there’s still a ticking time bomb of the noon execution and by the switch shift of the guards it was almost 12

Time was ticking and still there was no sign of Merlin you felt sick like your heart was going to fall out of your stomach

You prayed to whatever god or deity was out there that you would not burn today but by the size of the growing crowd outside the cell window your prayers would go unanswered there was nothing you could do but just sit there in anxiety

The rattling of keys and heavy sound of chainmail made you accept the fact that Merlin would be too late to save you and Arthur would watch you burn

When the knight reached your cell his keys turned the lock and he walked towards you slowly your eyes met the floor the pain in your thumb still debilitating but you held Arthur’s ring in your hands tightly if you were to burn your burn knowing you were loved.

To your surprise when the knight takes you by the wrist silver key in hand as he unlocks your handcuffs

Confusion takes over your face as you watch the knight with intensity “what?” You can’t help but ask rubbing your now freed wrist nervous when he takes your injured hand but this knight grips your hand with gentleness that’s beyond you

“You’re free to go miss” the knight smiles he looked to be a newer knight of Camelot one you didn’t grow up with but he is kind

“Thank you” you nod to the knight as you stumble from your cell gauis is standing at the end of the hallway white as a ghost but pleased to see you freed from your cell

“Y/n!” Gauis smiles opening his arms and you can’t help but fall into them holding onto gauis tightly your sobs wet his shirt shoulder

“Gauis how did you do it? How did you prove me to be innocent?” You cry your hands shaking and body weak from days spent eating little food and dealing with aredians torture.

“It was all Merlin and Arthur.” The old man smiles his arms supporting you as you walk up the stairs from the dungeons to your chambers

“Tell me everything.”you smile at the old man walking side by side down the corridor gauis’s laugh fills the empty hallway

“Not here, let’s get your wounds treated.” His eyes glance at the bruises littering your body, and the bloodied thumb

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had never been so happy to see your chambers in your life, the comforting smell of herbs and bread the familiar scent of old books and the sound of your boots against the stone floor sounded like music to your ears

There’s no scent of wet earth, or blood aside from the metallic smell emanating from your finger you could almost forget the pain of the cells now that you’re back.

But there’s still very obviously signs of damage done by the witch finders raid broken pots, damaged shelves potions and poisons leaving residue on the floor

But still it is your home. gauis filled a pitcher of water and fills a cup for you and once the water passes your lips you come to realise just how parched you were gulping down glass after glass

gauis busied himself with fixing his work station pulling ointment after ointment and an array of bandages from his kit.

“Sit please” gauis pointed to the table and you sat yourself on the wooden bench gauis had begun to take your makeshift bandage from your wound the gaping hole in your thumb and the blood that spurted from your wound made gauis’s breathing hitch

As he gentle distributed ointment over the wound to fight off growing infections and bandaging up the wound with a fresh bandage Merlin would work on reconstructing your thumb when he gets back

Gauis had felt over your ribs and when he had found another break Merlin would be healing that too for now gauis would sit beside you on the dining room table fresh food would be laid out gauis knew what it was like in the Camelot dungeons and the lack of food

So he didn’t comment on how much you ate when approaching footsteps made your heart beat faster and your eyes flicker to gauis his hand rested on top of yours to reassure you, gauis and Merlin would always reassure you you were safe here you weren’t trapped in the cells of your own home.

When Merlin’s figure found himself in the doorway you could see the relief on his face that you were okay aside from the bruises and bandaged thumb you were alive.

“Oh y/n” Merlin’s soft voice cried and before you knew it you were pushing up off of the table and running into Merlin’s arms

“Hi Merlin” you held him tightly you owed Merlin your life and so being in his hold meant being safe, he would never hurt you.

“God I’m so glad you’re back” his hold tightened and he could feel your magic strong and your connection to eachother he wasn’t cut off from you anymore

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.” Merlin’s guilt ate him alive as he pulled away the black eye and split lip made him see red if he didn’t already kill aredian by accident he would have and he would have made him go through what you did.

Merlin’s eyes flashed yellow and the unbearable ache in your thumb and pulsing pain all over ebbed into nothingness.

You could feel your bones reassembling in your thumb and your broken rib fuse back together the pain and bruises once a bright purple colour would dissipate into a light blue and then would turn into the colour of your skin again.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You squeezed his hand tightly he nodded his head and held you tightly in his arms

Before a smile broke out on his face “do you want to hear how I proved aredian to be a fraud?” Merlin helped you sit beside him and poured another glass of water for you

“Of course!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After Merlin had recounted the entire night from convincing Arthur of everything, that despite your magic you loved him with no enchantment and even if you had enchanted him Merlin asked Arthur point blank if what he told him that day you were cuddled in Arthur’s arms if it was still true, if he still loved you.

Arthur told Merlin he would always love you but he couldn’t trust you now with magic Merlin felt like slapping the prince.

How could you trust Arthur? He’s the prince of Camelot. A kingdom that tried to burn a woman at the stake the first day he arrived and you had grown up here watching that and still you treated its citizens and royalty with no malice?

Merlin understood why you couldn’t trust Arthur he can’t. Not because Arthur was a bad friend but he’s the prince.

No one can help how they are born, but you can put yourself in their shoes and Merlin spent hours convincing Arthur and then more hours enchanting aredian.

From the tincture of belladonna, to the bracelet, to even the frog from aredians throat! Merlin would not fail.

You loved Merlin a lot no one would go as far as he did to save you and you only knew him for a year and a half.

When three knocks sounded on the door Merlin had tried to hide his smile as gauis opened the door to Arthur, in a white shirt freshly showered hair and a Bouquet of wildflowers you felt your heart melt at his kindness

His blue eyes were filled with worry and fear his gaze flicking to gauis and Merlin before he lowered his voice “how are you?”

“Much better now I’m out of that god forsaken cell.” You felt your throat close up at the mention of the cell you spent so long in

Arthur felt guilty about his actions about not saving you or stopping his father. He tried but he could have tried harder

You could see Arthur was drowning in his guilt placing your hand on his shoulder you lead him past gauis and Merlin to your room and sat on your small bed

“You tried your hardest Arthur, it’s not your fault I was thrown in the dungeons.”

“I should have stopped them y/n. I should have broken you out I should have done anything!” Arthur blinked through tears

His hand holding yours in your lap, “Arthur I love you with my whole heart I do not blame you, so please do not blame yourself.”

“I love you and I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.” Arthur confessed his eyes full of sincere love

You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him your lips meshing against one another’s felt like home, it felt like love and warmth and like an apology all in one.

It wasn’t until your lungs burnt for air did you pull back. “I should go I don’t want anyone to become suspicious, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked tentatively a part of him afraid of rejection.

“Of course” you placed another kiss on his lip before pulling open your chamber door to reveal Merlin and gauis on the other side ears pressed against the wood looking guilty.

“Merlin…gauis what do you think you’re doing?” You chastise at the pair you expected this of Merlin but of gauis? That was surprising

“Gauis i expected better of you” Arthur laughed from where he stood wrapping an arm around your shoulder

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Yo! Hello there blusy :3 (is that what i call you? .. sorry .. bad at context)

would u mind writing a tiny lil blurb/oneshot about Reader being like, a saleperson that walked up to Donnas estate, trying to get her to buy fabric or whatever, being totally clueless to who Donna is? Not being from the village/country and all, assuming Donna was just a very tall goth gal?

(Donna just standing there confused like.. what? Huh? Angie, if i remember the dolls name correctly, is just laughing her ass off)

Make it wholesome or i'll eat you. /hj (lighthearted!! Dont take this as a genuine threat .. aha ..)

also ignore the fact i might be writing this in like a really weird way .. this is the first time ive requested something .. so .. i hope i asked this okay?? 😵‍💫

thank you, thank you, much love, from useless internet loser named Jooseboxxe 🧃

Yesss!!!! Was it your first request?? Welcome then!!! Thank you for your love, your support, and your request!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A clueless outsider

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 8,005

Summary: What's going on here...?

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

On your trips through Europe you had visited many places, you had even gotten lost in many of them, but there was nothing that could compare to that journey through the villages of Romania, to the radical change of what you had around: a poorly paved road, sinister trees that seemed to chase you, crows...

You were a merchant, a kind of nomad who traveled through old Europe trying to make it on your own. Without family and friends, traveling, selling and repeating was your routine. Visiting new places, meeting people of all kinds was always the only thing that kept you with a slight sanity. Loneliness was never your enemy, but it wasn't your ally either.

Your old GPS had stopped working a long time ago, but you, who always looked on the bright side of things, didn't give it any importance. You assumed that the thick forest was the guilty.

“What!?” you screamed when your tedious driving made a sharp turn to avoid a strange shadow in the middle of the neglected road. “Damn!” you screamed again, trying to keep control of the vehicle that, due to your sharp turn, went down a slope until it crashed spectacularly into a tree.

Luckily it was nothing serious.

“Oh…” you lamented, trying to stay calm, thinking about what you had seen. It seemed as if someone, or something, was in the middle of the road. You couldn't see it well. It looked like a vermin, perhaps, or some absent-minded peasant.

Of course, what had caused the accident wasn’t the biggest of your worries. The sound of the vehicle's engine dying over and over again was an unpleasant mockery, as was the smoke coming out of the hood.

“No, no, no,” you protested, hitting the steering wheel and giving up, getting out of the vehicle. “That's all I needed…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes and taking out your phone, looking around.

“112,” you repeated while dialing the numbers, hoping that mistake wouldn't lead to a fine, since you had spent a lot of money on the way and you didn't have any cash. “What? It must be a joke…” you sighed when no one answered on the other end of the phone.

There was no signal, not even for emergencies. You had to have an accident in the most isolated place in Romania.

Looking at the vehicle and then around you, you sighed, shaking your head. You took several steps forward to try to make out something among the trees. A small wisp of black smoke rose before you. There seemed to be a village very close, and that, at least, was hopeful.

Taking what you needed, you walked towards that village, looking up when you were close enough, admiring an imposing castle that seemed to watch over the town, a beautiful construction that you hadn't seen in any of your travel guides.

At least in that place, someone could help you, or so you thought.

Snow, old houses... A graveyard in the middle of the square... It was a picturesque place, no doubt, although sightseeing wasn't your main idea. It didn't seem abandoned, but you didn't see anyone in the tiny streets either, maybe in the castle?

“Can I help you with something, miss?” a deep voice made you jump.

You were sure there was no one around you.

From an old carriage, whose doors suddenly opened, a strange, exaggeratedly fat man appeared with a sinister smile. The fright made your mind ignore those disturbing details, and you saw that man as a possible savior.

“Um... Hello,” you said with a more timid smile than usual, trying to bring out a bit of your business friendliness, downplaying that sudden appearance, that disconcerting appearance. “The, the truth is that I do need help.”

“What can I do for you, outsider?” that man asked, looking at you cautiously, without removing from his face a smile that seemed familiar to you. “To see tourists around here isn’t very common.”

“Tourist? Oh, no, no, I...” you said, recognizing the smug air of his words, the blood of a merchant running through his veins. “I, I had an accident with my car and... My phone doesn't work.”

“I see,” the man said, shaking his head. “What a bad luck.”

“Yes…” you sighed, with a more confident smile. “Uh… I need to call a tow truck, or someone who can repair my vehicle. It's nothing serious, or so I think,” you explained with a formal tone.

“It's normal in these cases,” he said, amused, with a tone that made you a bit suspicious.

“Is there a mechanic in this village?” you asked, looking around.

“A mechanic? Well, I think there's someone who's… How to put it… Expert in manipulating vehicles,” the man explained, arching his eyebrows.

You nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Great, could you call him?” you asked in a friendly tone.

“Oh, but I'm afraid his services have a price, outsider,” the man in the carriage commented. “As well as mine.”

“Oh, sure, sure… I have, I have money,” you said, rummaging through your bag and taking out your credit card. “Well, if it's not too expensive…”

“That won't do anything here, miss, keep that piece of plastic,” he said, making an unpleasant gesture with his hand.

“What? But…” you said nervously, shaking your head.

“I've never believed in money as an intangible thing. If I can't touch it, it doesn't exist, understand?” he said.

“Yeah, but… I don't have any lei right now, I…” you whispered, looking for some change, one you couldn't find. “I only have euros in cash.”

“Euros? Oh, please…” the fat man laughed, moving the carriage at the same time. “Your euros are of no use here.”

“But, but I need help, at least let me call emergency services,” you said with a more serious tone, crossing your arms. “Are you going to charge me for that too?”

“If it's something you need… Of course I’m,” he said amused

“It's clear that you're a merchant,” you commented with a furious gasp. “An unscrupulous one…”

“Yes, you've guessed right,” he laughed again. “Is there even one with principles?”

“Me, for example, I’m also a merchant,” you hissed, looking at a dark flock of crows that shrank your spirit. It was a terrifying place.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” the man said, leaning towards you.

“Yes, fabulous,” you said ironically, looking away. “Tell me at least where I am. Is there any other town nearby?”

“I'm afraid there isn’t,” he replied. “It seems that you have run out of options... Or maybe you haven’t.”

“Explain yourself,” you said with a frown, seeing in his smile, an imminent proposal.

“Sometimes something as simple as a bag of coins can be enough to close a deal but... There are days when it’s not enough... I don't know if you get it...” the strange man explained.

“No,” you said, wanting to leave that place.

“I propose something to you, miss… Maybe you don't have money to offer me, but I think that, being a merchant, you could pay me in another way,” he said with a gloomy voice, without removing that smile from his face.

“It's true… I have, I have some products in the car, maybe if I give them to you, you can…” you said, thinking about your possibilities.

“Actually, as tempting as your offer may be, I'm afraid I don't need anything you have to offer me, however…”

“However…” you repeated through clenched teeth.

“Today I woke up a bit lazy, perhaps you would like to do me the favor of saving me the trouble of having to wander around the village doing my job,” the man commented, looking at his nails with disinterest.

“What? Do you want me to work for you?” you asked annoyed, refusing instantly. “Listen, I have to get out of this place and…”

“You want your car repaired, I want this list of orders to disappear. It's a good deal,” he said, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to you. Several names of products followed by each other were written on it.

“If I take this to those people, will someone fix my car?” you asked curiously. “Come on, it's too easy.”

“Trading seems very easy for you,” the man commented. “But if you do me this favor... Well, you'll be closer to being able to get out of here.”

“Okay, fine,” you said defeated, not finding another immediate way out of that situation. “I'll work for you. I hope you keep your word.”

“It's business, I never play with business,” he whispered. “By the way, I'm the Duke...”

“Duke? I can't say I'm glad to meet you,” you said with a mocking smile. “I'm... (Y/N),” you said, shaking the big hand of that man with a strange name.

After telling him where your wrecked car was, you accompanied the man to a warehouse of sorts, where you collected all the things on the list. It looked like an old village, with old customs. There was nothing remotely similar to the 21st century, but you didn't give it much thought. You were born with the ability to overlook things. Perhaps that's why you were that good at business.

The people of the village seemed surprised, even frightened by your presence, but your talents and your sales skills helped you with the task. They were strange people, but kind in their own way, fearful, but... somehow, easy to fool.

In a few hours, you were almost finished with that list and returned to the Duke's warehouse for your last order.

“Is that an empty cart?” the merchant asked, looking at the cart you were dragging. “Have you sold everything?”

“Yes,” you said satisfied, letting yourself fall into a chair. “I have sold the family, I think it was… Djovic, the baby clothes.”

“The clothes? Oh, that's good,” the man said, counting the coins you gave him, satisfied with your services. “Good job.”

“I suppose this won't help to fix my car,” you said distrustful of the look of the Duke, who obviously laughed amused, shaking his head.

“Mm, no, miss, but you’re on the right track,” he commented, gesturing for you to come closer, pointing to a package with what looked like fabrics. “There is one last order for you…”

“Fabrics?” you asked curiously, loading those rolls into the cart. “Okay…”

“You have to sell those fabrics to Lady Beneviento,” the man explained, with a slightly darker voice, narrowing his eyes.

You shrugged, examining the merchandise.

“Lady Beneviento…” you repeated, scratching the back of your neck. “She seems like someone important, is she from the castle?”

“Oh, no, no…” he whispered. “She lives in a house near the village.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “Beneviento… Okay, where does that woman live?”

“Mm,” the Duke murmured, with a strange smile. “Go towards that square over there,” he said, leaning out of the carriage and pointing to a path. “There you will see a wooden door decorated with a moon and a sun. Go through the door and follow the path, cross the bridge and it won't take long to you to reach the estate.”

“Okay, great,” you sighed, looking at the road in the distance. “Is she a seamstress or something?”

“Not exactly… She's a complicated woman, but seeing how you dealt with the villagers, I think you won't have any problems,” the man explained, with a slightly disturbing tone you didn't pay attention to.

“Wait, didn't she ask for these fabrics?” you asked curiously, looking at the small cart full again.

“The best merchant is the one who sees the need before it exists, don't you think?” the man asked.

You frowned and shook your head.

“A door with a sun and a moon, a bridge… Fine, I'll do it,” you said murmuring, grabbing the handle of the cart and leaving through the door.

“Oh, Miss (Y/N),” the Duke interrupted, with a voice that was too kind. “It was a pleasure to meet you…”

You opened your eyes at that mysterious phrase, but you didn't give it any importance, you kept walking ignoring that comment from the merchant. It was certainly a strange place, probably the strangest you had ever visited. On top of that, you were trapped there, but you couldn't complain either, at least you could do your job.

Following the Duke's instructions, you entered an even darker forest, on a path that seemed devoured by the passage of time. It didn't take long for you to see the dangerous wooden bridge and, despite your vertigo, you managed to cross it.

Everything around you seemed to be in ruins. You imagined what that place would have been like a few years ago as you walked between two abandoned cabins towards a small clearing, one with a grave in the middle, a grave that you didn't approach out of respect.

“Wow… Whoever lives here must have a lot of money,” you commented, approaching a red door, pulling the cart behind you. “Surely that Beneviento is the typical old lady who can't go to the village. I'm not surprised. It seems as if she doesn't want anyone to come near this place.”

An old elevator was waiting for you to go up. Your danger instincts were deactivated. On your travels you had met very peculiar people. Neither that extravagant merchant, nor that mysterious house seemed anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe that was it, or maybe you were just a girl of simple convictions. You always had a logical explanation for everything.

“Whoa… Incredible,” you said leaving the elevator, walking along a small path towards an old mansion, a spectacular construction next to a waterfall. “This is really curious,” you commented, admiring the subtle and dull beauty of that place, a strange, uncomfortable beauty, but a beauty nonetheless.

“Ahem,” you said, clearing your throat as you crossed the gates of the mansion, which seemed surrounded by strange plants, like an unkempt garden. “If everything goes well, I can leave soon…” you whispered as you climbed the steps and fixed your hair.

It didn't look like the place of residence of any ordinary villager. You would have to use your best skills. Carefully, you knocked softly on the door, looking curiously at your surroundings.

“Hello?” you asked when you didn't get an answer. “Is anyone home?”

“It's an outsider, Donna…” A murmur behind the door made you stand up elegantly. It seemed like a high-pitched voice, as if it were a little girl. “What do we do?”

“H-Hello?” you asked again, sure you had heard that voice. “Sorry, but, but, I came to…”

“No? Why? Oh, yes, it's true, we haven't played for a long time…” the girl's voice said again, approaching the door. “She looks like a silly girl…”

“Hey,” you protested silently, shaking your head. “What manners that girl has…”

The door opened with a creak and before you appeared a strange sight: a woman dressed completely in black, with her face covered by a veil, holding a strange doll in her arms. Her pose was straight, elegant, and her voice seemed not to want to leave her lips.

“Uh… Hello,” you said nervous at that curious sight, at that strange woman in mourning. “Sorry for the inconvenience but… Oh, well, first of all, I give you my deepest condolences.”

You lowered your head slowly and respectfully, looking curiously at the hands of that lady, hands that erased the image you had of an older woman. She looked like a young one.

“What are you talking about?” the same shrill voice from before spoke while the mouth of that doll moved, leaving you pinned to the ground, stunned.

“Oh… what?” you asked confused, frowning and looking closely at the doll. “Oh, it's a ventriloquist doll, how curious,” you said naturally, looking up at the lady's covered face.

You didn't want to ask the reason why that woman spoke through the doll. What you thought was that maybe she was dedicated to giving shows in the town, nothing out of the ordinary for someone as open-minded as you.

“Who are you calling a doll, stupid outsider?” the doll protested in an amused tone, making you laugh curiously.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you joked, playing along with that doll. “Um... Um... Well, I'm very sorry for your loss, Lady... Beneviento?”

“What loss?” the doll asked, making your gaze separate from the lady's.

“W-Well, you're dressed in mourning and... Well, it's not very common to do it anymore but... Um, I...” you stammered.

“Do my Donna’s clothes annoy you?” the doll asked again, making you blink in confusion.

“Donna? Is that your name?” you asked curiously. “It's, it's a beautiful name...”

“Who are you?” the puppet asked again, pointing at you with its finger.

You focused your eyes well to see the strings that surely guided the doll to move. The woman in black seemed not to move, something even more mind-blowing to you.

“I'm (Y/N), I'm, I'm here for... Well, the truth is that I had an accident and... Well, I don't want to bore you with the details, but the Duke asked me to help him and...”

“The fat guy?” the doll asked, tilting her head comically.

Your eyes returned to the lady, who stood firm, with that black veil hiding her face. You nodded slowly, forcing your face into a typical merchant smile.

“Y-Yes, I… I have come to bring you these fabulous fabrics,” you said, pointing to the cart. “The Duke told me you might need them.”

“Let me get this straight…” the doll commented, with a slightly stranger voice. “You say that the Duke has sent you to sell us fabrics? You?”

“Well, yes,” you said, nodding more confidently, taking one of the small black rolls and holding it out to the woman. “Surely this shade of black will suit you.”

“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the doll joked, laughing softly. “Don't you know who you're talking to, stupid?”

“What? Oh, well, to Lady Beneviento, right?” you said absentmindedly, keeping your smile. “Donna?”

“She is Donna,” the doll said, pointing at the woman, who looked at it briefly, sighing, apparently.

“Oh, okay…” you said a bit confused, frowning. “You are Donna, right? Donna Beneviento?” you asked again.

“Are you stupid? I told you that she is Donna,” the doll insisted. “I’m Angie, Miss Angie to you, outsider.”

“Angie,” you repeated even more confused.

You had seen enough ventriloquist so that this kind of personality dissociation didn’t seem strange to you. Who knows, maybe she was giving you a free show.

“Miss Angie!” the puppet squealed, moving nervously in the arms of its owner, who whispered something you couldn't interpret. “Donna, get this over with, she makes me nervous.”

“Yes, it's true, it will be better if we talk business…” you said, interrupting that strange conversation between woman and puppet, making both of them look at you suddenly. “If you don't like this black fabric… Well, I also have…” you said, rummaging through the cart. “Oh, this grey fabric is also quite fancy.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Angie doll interrupted, making an impossible gesture with her hands. “Are you serious? Do you intend to sell us fabrics?”

“Of course, I, I'm a merchant, it's, it's what merchants do,” you said in an informal tone, assuming that this woman spoke only through the doll, something that didn't seem strange to you.

On your travels you had met people of all kinds, she was no exception.

Lady and doll looked at each other again, shrugging comically at the same time. You laughed too, thinking, of course, that it was funny.

“It's incredible, I once saw a show of a man who had a similar puppet,” you explained, rummaging through the fabrics. “I think its name was... Billy the Rebel or something like that. The man barely moved his lips, it almost seemed like the puppet was alive.”

“Ohh...” the doll murmured in a sinister tone, with the same high-pitched voice as a child.

“Although well, wearing a veil makes things much easier, doesn't it? It's almost like cheating,” you commented amused, pointing at the lady, who fidgeted nervously, tilting her head. “Oh, I don't mean to say that you're a cheater or anything like that, it's just a comment.”

“Cheating? I can't believe it...” the doll said, shaking its head and resting a wooden hand on its forehead. “Donna, this girl is an idiot.”

“Idiot? Oh, yes, idiot for having such low prices especially for you,” you said, taking the insult easily. All those dolls always had a similar personality. “Like this ruffled fabric. I'm sure it will serve to make a beautiful dress.”

“A dress?” Angie asked, apparently holding back its laughter. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I'm not saying that your dress is ugly,” you said apologetically, not paying attention to the lady or the doll, focusing on your work. “I also had my gothic phase,” you commented amused, comparing the black fabrics with the lady's dress, getting so close that she took a step back, nervous.

“Gothic? Like a cathedral?” the doll asked, amused.

If it weren't for the fact that that woman was a ventriloquist, you would be thinking that she was starting to make fun of you.

“No,” you said laughing. “W-Well, I used to always wear black, like, like you, wear black lipstick… Everything black, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t understand a word, silly,” Angie said, shaking its head, with a sinister laugh. “Besides, my dress is white.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about… Your dress,” you said amused but with a kinder tone. “I meant, Donna, right?”

“You have some guts to call my Donna by her name,” the doll commented, drawing your attention again. “Do you really not know who you’re talking to?”

“N-No…” you sighed, trying not to let your smile fade. “Oh, wait…” you whispered, blinking, letting curious thoughts wander freely through your mind. “Ah, okay, I get it now…”

“Do you understand your situation now, stupid?” Angie mocked, laughing again. “Then you can start running and…”

“How did I not notice before?” you murmured, interrupting that strange phrase from the doll. “Forgive me.”

“It's late to apologize, outsider,” Angie growled, while the lady slightly raised her hand towards you, a gesture you overlooked.

“The clothes are not for you, but for Angie, right?” you asked, taking out a piece of cloth similar to the doll's. “Of course, how stupid I am…”

“W-What?” the puppet asked, confused.

The lady in black lowered the hand she had raised and you ignored a shiver that ran down your back, you even thought you heard voices. It had been a hard day, you weren’t surprised by the sudden tiredness your body felt.

“Forgive me, Donna, I already said that I'm not from here and... Well, luckily for you, and for me, the fabrics can be used in the way you prefer, besides, I'm convinced that a gray dress is perfect for Angie,” you said confidently, taking out a gray plaid fabric. “The wedding dress is fine, but you're probably thinking of something simpler, maybe with this Angie can look like a very formal lady.”

“What? What?” the doll repeated. “Hey, but...”

“Well, or you could also buy this black fabric and make her a dress just like yours. Wouldn't that be cool? Black is an interesting color like any other.”

A loud laugh echoed off the rocks of that place, off the walls of that old mansion. The Angie doll laughed non-stop, leaving you confused at first, making you react the same way, laughing softly.

“Don't go on, don't go on, I'm dying,” the doll said, being lowered to the floor by its owner.

You stopped laughing when you saw how that puppet remained standing, how it even seemed to throw itself on the ground to writhe with laughter.

“Wow...” you said, bending down to observe the doll, not finding anything strange in those movements, in the lack of strings or mechanisms. “Wow, I thought this village was a bit old-fashioned, but that robot is really impressive...” you murmured, getting a little closer to the doll.

“Mm?” a confused sound came from the black veil, a tone very different from that of the doll.

The lady looked at the puppet, who continued to laugh tirelessly until the laughter disappeared for a moment.

“A robot...” the doll commented. “A robot!”  Angie shrieked, laughing again in a scandalous way. “This girl is great, Donna.”

“Do you make them? You must have a lot of clients,” you said curiously, looking at the woman in black, who seemed confused, looking at you and the doll repeatedly.

“I make porcelain dolls,” a hoarse voice came out from behind the black veil, a melodic voice, soft but damaged, as if she hadn't used it for a while.

“Oh, wow, it's comforting to talk to you, that doll is quite a naughty girl, isn't she?” you said amused, causing more laughter from the puppet. “Wow, that's also very, interesting... It's not very common.”

“I suppose is not,” she commented, relaxing her shoulders and gesturing towards the doll, who stopped laughing immediately, standing up again. “It's not common to see a stranger around here either.”

“How curious, everyone in this village has said the same thing,” you commented, scratching the back of your neck, no longer feeling that strange heaviness in your head. “I'm surprised it's not a tourist spot, the castle is amazing.”

“The castle? Donna, the castle!” Angie squealed, laughing again. “She likes the castle…”

“Of course, it's wonderful, what century is it from?” you asked curiously. “I'd like to visit it.”

“Oh, yes, I'm sure Alcina would like you to visit it too…” the doll commented, approaching its owner with a walk that was too soft for a robot.

“It's from the 17th century,” the woman said, with a serious, cold tone. “You said you had an accident.”

“Oh, yes, well,” you said nervously. “My car crashed into a tree and… I ran into the Duke and what a surprise, he doesn't accept that I pay a mechanic with my credit card so he offered me to work for him.”

“Credit card?” the lady asked, tilting her head curiously. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, um…” you said, rummaging through your bag in confusion and pulling out your wallet. “My, my credit card… You know,” you said, taking out the card and making a gesture as if you were going to pay with it. “No?”

“No,” she said, with a strange sigh. “Can I take a look?” she asked, extending her pale hand towards you.

You, trusting, handed her the card. It seemed incredible to you, but this woman had no idea what you were talking about.

“Is that money? It's just a piece of plastic,” the doll said, letting Donna show it to the puppet as well, giving it back to you shortly after.

“Um, yeah, well…” you stammered, putting away your wallet. “But let's stop talking about me… So… Do you want some fabric for your dolls?”

“Give me all of them,” she said in a whisper, making the doll gasp in surprise. “I'll go get your money.”

You nodded in relief and looked curiously at the animatronic doll, who was impatiently tugging at her owner's dress.

“But Donna, are you going to let her go? She's an outsider… Hey, Donna, silly Donna, listen to me…”

Luckily, the payment was large and after a friendly farewell you were able to return to the village. Your little encounter with Donna Beneviento wasn’t what you expected, but that woman with an Italian accent seemed curious to you, enough so that you couldn't stop thinking about her during your return. She was a strange woman, but relatively normal.

Despite that black veil, you didn't see anything that made you think you were in danger, nothing at all. In fact, you could say that the doll technology was amazing. Maybe that strange woman was like that because she was some kind of genius.

“Ugh, it’s an useless piece of junk…” a male voice said as you approached the warehouse. “But I guess I’ll find a place for it at the factory…”

“I think so, Lord Heisenberg.” The Duke’s voice made you walk faster, finding yourself in the warehouse with a curious sight: your car was there, without any kind of vehicle that had brought it.

Next to it was the Duke, in his carriage, and next to him was a man with a hat. He seemed like a bit of a strange man, but after meeting the doll lady it wasn’t something too out of place.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get the attention of the men, who turned sharply, staring at you, as if they were surprised.

“Miss, (Y/N), you’re back,” the Duke said with a fake smile, unable to hide his surprise. “I’m impressed.”

“Hey, didn't you say that the girl had gone to Beneviento's estate?” the other man asked, with an equally surprised smile.

“Yes, that's right, Lord Heisenberg,” the merchant said, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I've already sold the fabrics, Donna seems like an interesting woman,” you commented without giving importance to those disturbing comments, leaving the empty cart in a corner.

“Interesting?” they both said at the same time, looking at each other with a strange expression.

“Mm,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “Oh, you must be the mechanic, I'm (Y/N), surely the Duke must have told you about me,” you said with a rehearsed smile, extending your hand towards the man, who shook it with a soft laugh.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Karl Heisenberg,” he introduced himself, bringing your hand to his lips in a gentlemanly manner. “It's a pleasure…”

“Yes, whatever,” you said, removing your hand with an informal gesture and approaching your car. “It would be a pleasure if you told me how much is going to cost that. You can fix it, right?”

“Fix it?” Karl asked, looking at you over his glasses, with an evil smile, one which at least looked evil.

“Ahem, Lord Heisenberg…” the Duke interrupted, with a fake smile. “Miss (Y/N) and I made a deal. She worked for me and you would be so kind as to repair her vehicle.”

“Oh, I see…” the supposed mechanic sighed, frowning. “It seems that you are losing faculties, Duke.”

“It seems that way…” the merchant whispered, making you blink in confusion. “Lady Beneviento has not been a problem for her…”

“Yes, it’s unusual,” the shorter man commented, shaking his head.

“Oh, well,” you interrupted innocently. “She is a strange woman, but the truth is that she seemed kind.”

“Kind…” both men sighed at the same time.

“Yes, and that robot of hers, the Angie doll, is impressive, it almost seems that it’s alive,” you said approaching your car, without giving importance to your words.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other intensely and bursting into a loud laugh.

“I don't see what the joke is,” you said, annoyed by that mocking laugh. “Come on. Tell me how many days of work it's going to cost me.”

“I don't know, Miss…” the Duke said, wiping away the tears that caused his loud laughter, with the other man looking at you with a sardonic smile. “Wait a… “

The phone in the warehouse rang, interrupting.

“Allow me, just in case you get some exercise,” the Heisenberg guy joked, picking up the phone himself. “Hallo? Oh, ciao, dear…” he said in an amused but kind tone. “No, no, Angie… Ugh, stop… Shut the hell up!” he shrieked furiously.

Angie?

“Yes, that's better… I love the sound of your voice, little sister,” Karl said, leaning on the small table. “Yes, the fat guy is here… And his new assistant too, I think you’ve met her… Oh, yes… I don’t think Miranda would be happy with that… Oh, okay, okay… Paint? Well, that’s not my area of ​​expertise but… Oh, yes, well, I know, I’ll tell him… ciao, ciao…”

You barely listened to the conversation. You just stared at the wreckage of your car.

“Donna,” the man said, sighing and approaching the Duke, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “She wants some paint.”

“Paint? I sent her a few cans last week,” the merchant commented.

Heisenberg shrugged.

“Looks like you have more work to do, girl…” the man murmured, walking past you and out the door. “Duke, do me a favor and keep me informed, this is going to be interesting…”

“Of course, Lord Heisenberg,” the Duke said, looking at you moments later. “Well, (Y/N), you can sleep here for a while, until you pay off your debt.”

“Great…” you sighed, shaking your head.

“But now you have to go back to the Beneviento estate, apparently she needs paint…”

Without asking many more questions, you complied with his order, returning shortly after, chatting again with that curious, strange woman but… Whose presence seemed comforting to you.

Your car wasn’t going to be fixed overnight, and you began to accept that job as a new routine. Every day you walked around the village doing that man's job. None of the villagers seemed to want to answer your questions, none seemed… None seemed to believe that you were still there.

Confident and without any fear in the face of all those signs of danger, you continued working, and most importantly, you continued walking towards that dark mansion, having longer and longer conversations with that lady in black. Time passed so quickly that you barely noticed.

One of those days, mysteriously, the lady in black invited you to enter that mansion, you could see the portrait of a beautiful woman on the stairs, her portrait, or so you thought. Questions were constantly stalking your head, but your ignorance was your best protection.

Surely that lonely woman had suffered terribly, channeling part of her personality into that strange robot. Something disturbing, but also mind-blowing.

“So is he your brother?” you asked, sitting on an old sofa, with a cup of hot tea in your hands easing the cold.

“Something like that,” the veiled lady whispered, doing the same in front of you, with that robot roaming freely around the house.

“Oh, well, he seems like a strange man,” you said with a smile. “Do you think he can fix my car?”

“I don't know, I guess he can,” she said, with a somber tone, putting her cup elegantly on the table. “Tell me something about you.”

“About me?” you asked, with your cheeks blushing, something that sweet voice caused on your face. “There's not much to tell. I prefer, I prefer you talk to me about yourself.”

“No,” she said dryly, shaking her head. “I asked first, you're not interested in my life.”

“No? So, why are you interested in mine?” you asked amused with your merchant attitude speaking for you. “I'd like to know something about Angie.”

“What do you want to know?” the lady asked, scratching her knee through her dress, as if she were nervous. “I'm not sure I can answer your questions correctly.”

“Mm, well, to begin with... Is the voice yours or it has some kind of voice box?” you asked, pointing at the puppet, who approached curiously.

“Are you blind, silly? It's incredible that you haven't noticed yet,” the doll said, laughing amused again, like every time you made a comment about her. “Why are you wasting your time with that stupid girl? Miranda is going to get angry...”

“Miranda?” you asked curiously. It wasn't the first time you heard that name in the village, it seemed like someone dangerous... “Hey, come here,” you said, taking the doll by surprise. “Do you run on batteries? Where do you have them?”

“Batteries? Let me go, silly!” the doll protested while you searched for the electrical part of that robot, one that, of course, you didn't find, turning pale and lowering the doll to the floor with trembling hands.

“Um...” you murmured a bit dizzy. There was no mechanism that made the doll move. “My God... It can't be. It's, it's impossible...”

“Mm, it probably is for someone like you,” Donna commented, without making the slightest effort to explain herself, to make you understand why that doll was alive. “Are you starting to understand your situation?”

“N-No, not really,” you said, with a cold sweat running down your neck. “I don't know what kind of joke this is but... I'm, I'm starting to get scared.”

“Okay, be scared then,” the woman said with an amused laugh, standing up. “Angie, call Mother Miranda”

“Right away,” the doll said, running towards a small table with a telephone. “What do I tell her?”

“Tell her that the outsider won't be a problem anymore,” she murmured, walking towards you. “I'm sorry, (Y/N). I've really enjoyed your company, but you being here can cause me problems.”

“What? D-Donna, what are you talking about?” you asked nervously, moving restlessly on the couch, swallowing as the lady approached.

“I'm afraid you've chosen the worst place to have an accident, ragazza…” she whispered, bringing one of her hands to the black cloth that covered her face, removing it with a sigh, revealing you her true appearance, one that you couldn't even imagine.

You blinked several times, with the portrait of the stairs in your head, admiring the beauty of that woman, a special one, a beauty that a hideous scar on her right side tried to hide, but was unsuccessful.

“I hope you can forgive me,” the lady said, with a sad look, with her only eye shining due to a tear that left it as she moved her hand towards you.

“Forgive you, why?” you asked stuttering, shaking your head to get out of the daydream that beautiful woman caused you. “Oh, you have nothing to apologize for… We all, we all have flaws, you know? Besides, you are, you are a beautiful woman… I don’t think covering your face is rude.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, squeezing the veil in her hands. “Doesn’t my appearance scare you?”

“Well… It doesn’t…” you whispered, your mind sending you a thousand danger signals. “You were worried about that, weren’t you? You thought it was rude not to show your face but you were afraid to do so, right, Donna?”

“Cosa? But, but, (Y/N),” she said nervously, frowning, breathing heavily.

“You are beautiful, really,” you said with a sincere smile, getting up and putting yourself at her height, running a hand over her wounded cheek, one that she removed with a slap. “I’m sorry… What happened to you?”

“Um... I...” the lady stammered, turning her face away from your curious hand, running one of hers through her black hair, as if she were going to have an anxiety attack.

“Mother Miranda, I'm Angie, your faithful friend...” the doll's shrill voice interrupted an intense look, a look between you two that awakened something inside you, something that went beyond your intention to trade or seem friendly.

You really wanted to be, you wanted... To be closer to her.

“Cazzo...” the brunette hissed, walking quickly towards the doll and abruptly hanging up the phone, resting her hands on the table.

“Hey! I was talking to...!” the doll protested, jumping on the floor.

“No one has ever told me that I am beautiful,” the lady whispered, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, I say what I think,” you sighed with a tender smile, one that she returned to you as she turned slowly. “By the way, who is Mother Miranda?”

“She is nobody, it doesn't matter,” the woman said, walking slowly towards you, playing with her hands. “Have you… have you finished your work?”

“Yes, I always come here last, so I can stay a bit longer. It's very nice to talk to you.”

“That's what Josef said…” the doll commented, amused, walking away when she received a deadly look from her owner.

“(Y/N), I… I, I would like… Well… That you would stay for dinner with me,” Donna said, with an innocent and nervous look. “I'm convinced that the Duke doesn't feed you properly.”

“You got it right,” you said amused. “I'm sick of that damn soup,” you joked again, pretending a grimace of disgust.

“Good, because… Because I would like… Maybe you want…”

“It will be a pleasure, Donna,” you said nodding, making her smile widen.

That dinner marked a different stage in your ostentatious stay in the village. Her gaze was tender, it was almost as if she was looking at you for the first time. As best she could, she explained some details of her life, her childhood, her loneliness…

You knew there was something she wasn't telling you, something she was hiding, but you didn't insist. That comforting feeling next to her grew, turning dinners into a pleasant routine. You couldn't find out anything else about the village, you weren't even interested in the living doll anymore. Donna seemed to be the only thing you had to pay attention to.

As time went by, that closeness went beyond the limits of a pure friendship. Tension began to be present in your encounters. You never believed in love at first sight, but you didn't believe in living dolls either, so... It was never too late to discover something new.

“It was delicious... That tidamisu was the best thing I've ever tasted in my life,” you said, wiping yourself with a napkin.

“Tiramisu,” the lady corrected you, with a pleased smile at your praise. “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Yes, you should sell them, I can help you,” you said amused, pointing at yourself, earning a tender laugh from the lady in black, who shook her head.

That phrase seemed innocent, but, certainly, a strange feeling accompanied the tension of your dinners with Donna. The feeling that maybe you weren't uncomfortable in that place, the feeling of leaving your travels and staying there permanently. You had work, food... A friend, or at least that's what you thought... You couldn't be happier.

“I have enough with the dolls,” Donna commented, smiling.

But there was something else that night, something that made you sad, something you had to tell her.

“The Duke told me this morning that the car is ready,” you said in a whisper, making the lady look at you briefly and then go back to finishing her dessert. “I can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, well… It's, it's good news,” she said in a strange tone, like sad or disappointed.

“But I don't know, maybe, maybe I'll stay here a little longer. I'm very comfortable in this village,” you said sighing, rocking in the chair.

You almost fell when the lady in black suddenly slammed her fist on the table.

“No,” she said with a dangerous hiss, shaking her head. “You have to go.”

“But, but…” you stammered confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to stay here, with you…”

“No! You can't stay! You can't!” she shouted, furiously throwing the plates off the table, breaking them into a thousand pieces.

“Donna, Donna!” the doll shrieked, trying to calm her owner's fury.

“Donna, hey, calm down…”you said, getting up to put your hands on her shoulders. She seemed out of it, terribly nervous. “I, I've been thinking about it and… Well, maybe, maybe it's okay here…”

“No, no, no… You have to leave this place, it's, it's dangerous,” she murmured, letting you take her sweaty hand. “Please, go, I’m begging you.”

“Dangerous?” you asked curiously, frowning. “Donna, what's going on in this place?”

“You don't want to know and, and it's better this way, okay? You have to go as soon as possible, you have to go before… Cazzo… Please…” she whispered, now squeezing your hands with a pleading look. “I don't expect you to understand but… You have to get out of here. (Y/N)…”

“Okay, I…” you said, feeling the lady's fear, one that seemed impossible for someone like her. Maybe she was serious. “Then, then come with me. Let's go on a trip through Europe, the two of us…”

“I can't…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can't get out of here…”

“Donna,” you sighed sad, disappointed. The story ended before it started.

“You're the only person I've really talked to in many years… I… I'll always remember you…” she sighed again, searching for something among the broken plates, taking out a kind of medallion hanging from a golden chain. “I wanted to give you this so, so you wouldn't forget me…”

“I could never forget you, Donna,” you whispered, getting a little closer, putting one hand on her cheek while the other played with the medallion. “But, but I don't have anything to give you.”

She laughed, letting a tear slide down her cheek, caressing you with her soft hand.

“But I have something in mind…” you sighed, closing your eyes, slowly approaching her lips, kissing them softly.

It was a short kiss, but one that confirmed the rumors you heard in your heart. Goodbyes were always the worst part of your trips, and even more so, having to leave such a wonderful woman.

“Don't forget about me, okay?” the lady sobbed, kissing you again and resting her forehead on yours. “I will never do, (Y/N)…”

You nodded, deciding it was the best time to leave, to let her hands go and get away from the warmth of her gaze.

The cold of the night cut your skin, tears froze on your cheeks. Why did you have to leave? It seemed like an absurd question because, even though you wanted to stay, you obeyed that woman in black, the woman you were terribly in love with.

The Duke and the Heisenberg guy kept their word and your car was waiting for you. Sobbing, finding a growing danger in that place, you put the key in the ignition, taking a last look at the village.

“Danger... what danger? Damn it...” you protested, hitting the steering wheel.

It was time to go back, to go back to your old life. You had no family, no friends, no one waiting for you, no promising future. All you had was Donna, and you were going to leave her behind because of an absurd fear that you didn't understand.

You put your hand on the keys, but you didn't turn them.

“What am I doing? Fuck it, throw me all the living dolls you want, I'm staying with you…” you hissed, leaving the vehicle with a bang and throwing the keys into the darkness, returning to the warm lights of the village.

It didn't take long for you to arrive back at the estate to hear some pitiful sobs coming from inside the house.

“You're stupid, Donna, why did you let her go?” the doll's shrill voice asked, which seemed to comfort a broken lady, who was crying uncontrollably.

“It's the best, Angie, if Miranda finds her…” she murmured.

“You're stupid, aren't you a Lord? Miranda won't do anything to her, she's always let you do whatever you want,” Angie said.

 You listened carefully behind the door.

“But, but she is an outsider, and she doesn't like outsiders... She will kill her...”

“No, she won't, besides, the girl is stupid, she doesn't even know what's going on here,” the doll whispered.

“Gods… Angie, you're right… Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!” Donna shouted, seeming to be running. “I have to stop her from leaving! Angie, the veil, quick! Angie!”

The door suddenly opened, making the lady freeze when she saw you.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured nervously. “You haven't left…”

“No, I haven’t” you said amused, moving the veil away from her face and kissing her slowly. “I don't know what's going on here but… I don't care, Donna, I want, I want to stay with you…”

[maleyanderecafe]

The Kid at the Back (Visual Novel)

Created by:𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖆 | TealCat

Genre: Thriller/Romance

The Kid at the Back is very cool looking and technically well done. I love all the character designs made in this one and Sol himself is pretty interesting at least that's what it sets itself up to be. All routes lead to the same ending though which is r18 considering that we basically see him jacking off to the main character's voice.

The story starts out with Darling Quinn finishing class. One of their classmates, Brittney tries to get them to join them for lunch together while the class representative, Crowe Ichabod comes in to defend Darling from her. Darling can then choose to go with Brittney to the cafeteria, go to the library or go to the rooftop.

Choosing to go to the cafeteria with Britney will lead to meeting a couple of other characters: Jess, a shy girl who follows Britney around, Deryl the friendly jock and Geo, the quiet cool kid. If the player has their own lunch, they will sit down and talk to Geo and Deryl for a bit as they have their playful banter while going with Britney will have a conversation with Crowe. In the end though, Britney's outfit is ruined by another girl who seems to have beef with her, before the entire cafeteria gets thrown into a food fight. In the end, Darling gets hit in the head with one of the trays causing them to pass out and end up in the infirmary. Crowe stays for a bit after Darling wakes up but ultimately leaves for classes. Darling ends up seeing another student who seemingly has had his hand cut and he gets bandaged up before Darling ultimately goes back to art class.

Choosing to go to the roof will lead to Darling going to the roof to eat lunch, only to end up accidentally eavesdropping on someone during a call. The boy, Hyugo, asks Darling for a favor to take his place as he needs to ditch his partner, Sol, in his next class to do something.

Choosing to go to the library will lead to them going there to read, only to find someone in their seat. There are a couple of ways this can go depending on choice. The one with the least interaction is sitting next to him then going to class afterwards to see him in the back. Sitting in another seat will lead to Darling seeing a commotion in the back where the guy is getting beat up. Here, they can either step in or chicken out. Chickening out will lead them feeling guilty when the two meet up in class, but helping them out will prevent him from getting bandaged later. Talking to him directly leads to the most interaction with him, with Sol getting more snarky with the player, and asking what they will give him in return. The best response is to just demand him to give them their seat back, to which he refuses and Darling ends up sitting on them, causing them to blush and start talking about the book he's reading, Edgar Allan Poe and well as what books that Darling has been reading before the two head to class. Choosing to do something intimate will lead to Darling asking if he wants a hug to which he makes a confused response and Darling will end up sitting next to him after a bit of awkwardness. They can also offer to buy him a drink where they can choose (the latte will have the best response out of him) before they head to class.

Darling will end up spotting Sol in the back seat (as the name implies) though will have different reactions depending on their interaction with Sol, to feeling embarrassed that they left him to get bullied, to surprised if the two met in the library etc. The professor will ask everyone to pair up and Darling is left to partner up with Sol. The two will introduce themselves to each other, before deciding who will be drawn first. Sol will have different interactions based off whether Darling declares they're good at drawing to bad at drawing as well as which route they took (and how much affection he has towards them.) So this can vary from him getting embarrassed that Darling is trying to draw him from a 3/4ths angle to, to him brushing hair away from Darling's face that gets them flustered, to talking about Hyugo and others. It all really depends on previous interactions. At the end, while Darling is leaving, Sol will ask for their number as a way to keep in touch with them for the project. Upon leaving, they'll also see a poster for the Hallow's Ball. Upon returning to the dorm and eating, Darling will talk to their other friends, Geo, Deryl, Brittney, Jess and Krowe about the ball. They will then text Sol about the ball, who seems hesitant, but ultimately agrees to go knowing Darling is going. The last scene is Sol masturbating to Darling's messages, implying he's done it before and that he's happy that they finally were able to talk.

So first thing I have to say off the bat is I really like the designs of all the characters. They all have their own charm and are unique, which I can always appreciate. I also like that Brittney isn't really like the mean girl she's depicted as she is considering she pretty much just asks Darling to come eat with them and basically only really fights when she gets attacked first. Kind of a minor thing, but I do like it. Small animation in the main menu is nice as well. One of the things I think is cool is that there are slightly different reactions to how you meet Sol when the two of you draw each other, which can lead to different CGs and dialogue, which is a subtle but nice way to give bits of information about them and more interaction with him without having to write out a bunch of scenes.

Sol as a yandere, well there's currently not a ton considering it's a demo, however, we still do get a semi good idea on what he does know. For one, we know that Sol has been stalking Darling for a while, given his comments at the end, and that he has been listening to their voice for a bit. I do like seeing his more flustered reactions in some cases, like when Darling sits on his lap or when they're drawing him, because flustered yanderes are the best. It's likely that he probably got a favor for Hyugo on his route, considering it's very coincidental, and it would make sense that he would manipulate the situation so that he would end up hanging out with Darling. Sol it seems has been dealt a hard hand in life, considering he always gets bullied or otherwise hurt by others. Still, this could also in itself be a manipulation tactic in terms of getting Darling to care about him, which would make him technically a Damsel yandere, something I would be very happy to see, since that's something that I would love to see more in yandere content in general. But yeah, other than that he seems like emo (gothic? punk? I don't know styles), and a bit awkward.

Overall, he seems very cute and the game itself is very well made. I hope we get to see more of it in the future because it does seem like something that does have a lot of potential in what kind of yandere can come later on.

[t3a-tan]

Tea's Writing Masterpost!

A lot of people have asked if I have a masterpost, and I did not, so I decided to finally make one before things got even more out of hand lol

An introduction to me and my blog!

Link to the order these stories are set in!

Orna's Song!

---

Multi-part stories:

The Party Was Crazy Last Night - 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 - (Sammy is a borrower, which sucks because she's pretty sure she's falling in love with a human; the very beings responsible for the suffering of so many of her kind…Oscar is a human, which is a little difficult to deal with when you're in love with a girl the size of your thumb.)

New Perspectives - 1 / 2 / 3 / (what if?) - (Borrower Oliver and James switch sizes)

James Finds a Child - 1 / 2 - (James finds a borrower child and Oliver isn't there to help)

Failed Meeting - 1 / 2 - (James meets borrower Sammy for the first time)

Fetch - 1 / 2 - (Borrower Tanner is found by James whilst the human is walking a dog)

Romantic and Hopeless - 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 - (Oscar and borrower Sammy are soulmates. A story based on @tinyundercover's soulmate mechanics from their story 'Pepper and Felix' (except it's 18, not 21))

Pursuit of Gnosis - 1 / 2 - (A renowned magic researcher called Ryker leaves the city of Nirgend, discovers a forest spirit the size of a mouse, and he wants to know more.)

---

One-part stories:

Friends in High Places - (James and borrower Oliver meet for the first time)

Stay a Little Longer - (Semi-continuation of 'Friends in High Places'. James and borrower Oliver bond more)

Doesn't Change a Thing - (Size-shifter James is assured by Oliver that this doesn't change their friendship)

Soggy Cereal - (Oliver meets borrower James when he falls into his bowl of cereal)

Crow Army - (Borrower Oliver shows James his army of crows)

Injured - (James has to help an injured borrower Oliver)

Disaster Strikes - (Freddie meets his best friend's crush for the first time! Wait why is she so small?)

First Time - (James lets borrower Oliver drink some alcohol, not realising the borrower has never drank before)

Something's Off - (Oliver is reunited with Tanner! But this version of his cousin is a borrower..?)

Oliver Finds a Child - (Oliver finds a borrower child whilst working and helps them get home safe and sound)

Accidents Made in Anger - (James is angry and borrower Oliver tries to comfort him, but gets hurt by James in the process)

A Whole New World (literally) - (Borrower Sammy and Oliver find themselves magically transported into the forest of a ferocious dryad named Jamai...but perhaps he's more gentle than he appears?)

Jarred - (Oliver gets frustrated over borrower James's stunts and decides to put him in a jar)

Spiralling - (Borrower Tanner is left in James's care whilst Oliver is away, and they both bite off more than they can chew)

Herbicide - (Ren is injured by an angel and Jamai takes care of her)

Movie Night - (Borrower James accidentally drops in on Oliver whilst the human is watching TV)

Ryker's Guilt - (A story from Ryker's perspective)

Newborn Spirit - (How little Ren was born and how Koten got his name)

Pixie In Need - (Jamai finding an injured pixie)

Cody Adopts Cynbel - (How Cynbel came into Cody's (and later Jael's) life)

Jael Meets Cynbel - (Jael meets Cynbel, and the meeting isn't as smooth as planned)

Panic At The Masquerade Ball - (wlw where Orna is invited to and crashes a royal masquerade ball)

A Helping Hand - (Cody, literally larger than life, checks on Earth and the humans living there)

Under His Eye - (Ryker after having just kidnapped Sammy and Tanner is suddenly greeted by a giant eye in the sky)

Under His Eye (what if?) - (An alternate ending to Under His Eye in which Ryker is recognised by Cody)

Have Faith - (Sammy is having a crisis but luckily Jael is there to help)

Meeting Bishop - (Cody is curious about other universes and ends up meeting Bishop; another version of himself.)

Firing Squad - (After Jael's friend and follow squad member is found guilty of rebelling, he is put in charge of their execution to prove his loyalty)

Different Doesn't Mean Bad - (Cody reassures his daughter Charlie that her lack of magic isn't a flaw)

She's Still There On Your Coat - (Sammy accidentally gains the wrath of angels, but luckily one fallen angel is here to help her out)

Silent But Friendly - (Kid Oliver finds kid borrower James in a tub of oats and tries to befriend him)

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hey, can i ask Hotch with a lawyer!male!reader ? Maybe when they meet during a case, the Reader having to ask questions about the case and all during the court/tribunal.

Ignore it if you don't want to write it !

-Crow anon

Hiya! I hope you like it! :)

((not sure how I feel about what I've written lol but hopefully you'll like it lol))

Warnings: mentions of taxidermy, mentions of murder and keeping eyes as trophies (season 5 episode 6)

Any case involving the BAU, or more specifically Agent Hotchner, was always a pleasure to work on. Granted, it usually meant that the material was extremely disturbing, but at least the company was decent - all things considered. And being one of the best prosecutors (not including Agent Hotchner when he was a prosecutor), more often then not you were placed on the BAU’s cases. 

The current case was one you were going to remember for a little while. This particular unsub, a taxidermist named Earl Bulford, was hunting individuals and using their eyes in his taxidermy. 

During the defense’s opening speech, Agent Hotchner leant close to you, “How do you predict this case is going to go?” He whispered.

“I think it’s going to be straight forward,” You mumbled back as Judge Matthews shot you a glare from her seat - but saying nothing. 

Eventually, you called Agent Hotchner to the stand. 

“And can you state to the court, Agent Hotchner, what was found upon closer inspection of his property?” You asked.

“That the unsub had been using the eyes of the victims in his taxidermy.” 

“No further questions your honour.” You said, returning to your seat. 

Agent Hotchner, as expected, answered the questions from the defense with ease and accuracy.

The trial lasted another two days before the jury found Earl guilty.

At the end of the trial, Judge Matthews approached you. 

“(L/N), ask Agent Hotchner for his number.” Judge Matthews sighed. “I’m not sure I ever felt such romantic tension in a courtroom.”

“Judge Matthews-”

“(L/N), grow a pair and ask the man for his number.” With that, she grins and walks away.

You had a terrible feeling that someone watching you, you turned. Your cheeks immediately flushed seeing Agent Hotchner.

“Agent Hotchner,” You said, “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it.”

“All of it… Right…” You nodded slightly, “Okay, and your stance on the phone number?”

“No objections here.”

[gayofthefae]

Mike Wheeler - I Don't Like My Mind by Mitski

Also I just wanna call out I am a big believer in the idea that Mike did the guilty cheating boyfriend thing where he had a moment with Will then called El like "heyyyyy i miss youuuu"

@imatotallynormalteengirlok @throne-of-crows @your-local-bi-guy (i think this is your new url?)

Edit: and @best-thing-at-this-party sorry I just saw your comment to add you to the list!

[ms-hells-bells]

Because senator Kamala Harris is a prosecutor and I am a felon, I have been following her political rise, with the same focus that my younger son tracks Steph Curry threes. Before it was in vogue to criticize prosecutors, my friends and I were exchanging tales of being railroaded by them. Shackled in oversized green jail scrubs, I listened to a prosecutor in a Fairfax County, Va., courtroom tell a judge that in one night I’d single-handedly changed suburban shopping forever. Everything the prosecutor said I did was true — I carried a pistol, carjacked a man, tried to rob two women. “He needs a long penitentiary sentence,” the prosecutor told the judge. I faced life in prison for carjacking the man. I pleaded guilty to that, to having a gun, to an attempted robbery. I was 16 years old. The old heads in prison would call me lucky for walking away with only a nine-year sentence.

I’d been locked up for about 15 months when I entered Virginia’s Southampton Correctional Center in 1998, the year I should have graduated from high school. In that prison, there were probably about a dozen other teenagers. Most of us had lengthy sentences — 30, 40, 50 years — all for violent felonies. Public talk of mass incarceration has centered on the war on drugs, wrongful convictions and Kafkaesque sentences for nonviolent charges, while circumventing the robberies, home invasions, murders and rape cases that brought us to prison.

The most difficult discussion to have about criminal-justice reform has always been about violence and accountability. You could release everyone from prison who currently has a drug offense and the United States would still outpace nearly every other country when it comes to incarceration. According to the Prison Policy Institute, of the nearly 1.3 million people incarcerated in state prisons, 183,000 are incarcerated for murder; 17,000 for manslaughter; 165,000 for sexual assault; 169,000 for robbery; and 136,000 for assault. That’s more than half of the state prison population.

When Harris decided to run for president, I thought the country might take the opportunity to grapple with the injustice of mass incarceration in a way that didn’t lose sight of what violence, and the sorrow it creates, does to families and communities. Instead, many progressives tried to turn the basic fact of Harris’s profession into an indictment against her. Shorthand for her career became: “She’s a cop,” meaning, her allegiance was with a system that conspires, through prison and policing, to harm Black people in America.

In the past decade or so, we have certainly seen ample evidence of how corrupt the system can be: Michelle Alexander’s best-selling book, “The New Jim Crow,” which argues that the war on drugs marked the return of America’s racist system of segregation and legal discrimination; Ava DuVernay’s “When They See Us,” a series about the wrongful convictions of the Central Park Five, and her documentary “13th,” which delves into mass incarceration more broadly; and “Just Mercy,” a book by Bryan Stevenson, a public interest lawyer, that has also been made into a film, chronicling his pursuit of justice for a man on death row, who is eventually exonerated. All of these describe the destructive force of prosecutors, giving a lot of run to the belief that anyone who works within a system responsible for such carnage warrants public shame.

My mother had an experience that gave her a different perspective on prosecutors — though I didn’t know about it until I came home from prison on March 4, 2005, when I was 24. That day, she sat me down and said, “I need to tell you something.” We were in her bedroom in the townhouse in Suitland, Md., that had been my childhood home, where as a kid she’d call me to bring her a glass of water. I expected her to tell me that despite my years in prison, everything was good now. But instead she told me about something that happened nearly a decade earlier, just weeks after my arrest. She left for work before the sun rose, as she always did, heading to the federal agency that had employed her my entire life. She stood at a bus stop 100 feet from my high school, awaiting the bus that would take her to the train that would take her to a stop near her job in the nation’s capital. But on that morning, a man yanked her into a secluded space, placed a gun to her head and raped her. When she could escape, she ran wildly into the 6 a.m. traffic.

My mother’s words turned me into a mumbling and incoherent mess, unable to grasp how this could have happened to her. I knew she kept this secret to protect me. I turned to Google and searched the word “rape” along with my hometown and was wrecked by the violence against women that I found. My mother told me her rapist was a Black man. And I thought he should spend the rest of his years staring at the pockmarked walls of prison cells that I knew so well.

The prosecutor’s job, unlike the defense attorney’s or judge’s, is to do justice. What does that mean when you are asked by some to dole out retribution measured in years served, but blamed by others for the damage incarceration can do? The outrage at this country’s criminal-justice system is loud today, but it hasn’t led us to develop better ways of confronting my mother’s world from nearly a quarter-century ago: weekends visiting her son in a prison in Virginia; weekdays attending the trial of the man who sexually assaulted her.

We said goodbye to my grandmother in the same Baptist church that, in June 2019, Senator Kamala Harris, still pursuing the Democratic nomination for president, went to give a major speech about why she became a prosecutor. I hadn’t been inside Brookland Baptist Church for a decade, and returning reminded me of Grandma Mary and the eight years of letters she mailed to me in prison. The occasion for Harris’s speech was the annual Freedom Fund dinner of the South Carolina State Conference of the N.A.A.C.P. The evening began with the Black national anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” and at the opening chord nearly everyone in the room stood. There to write about the senator, I had been standing already and mouthed the words of the first verse before realizing I’d never sung any further.

Each table in the banquet hall was filled with folks dressed in their Sunday best. Servers brought plates of food and pitchers of iced tea to the tables. Nearly everyone was Black. The room was too loud for me to do more than crouch beside guests at their tables and scribble notes about why they attended. Speakers talked about the chapter’s long history in the civil rights movement. One called for the current generation of young rappers to tell a different story about sacrifice. The youngest speaker of the night said he just wanted to be safe. I didn’t hear anyone mention mass incarceration. And I knew in a different decade, my grandmother might have been in that audience, taking in the same arguments about personal agency and responsibility, all the while wondering why her grandbaby was still locked away. If Harris couldn’t persuade that audience that her experiences as a Black woman in America justified her decision to become a prosecutor, I knew there were few people in this country who could be moved.

Describing her upbringing in a family of civil rights activists, Harris argued that the ongoing struggle for equality needed to include both prosecuting criminal defendants who had victimized Black people and protecting the rights of Black criminal defendants. “I was cleareyed that prosecutors were largely not people who looked like me,” she said. This mattered for Harris because of the “prosecutors that refused to seat Black jurors, refused to prosecute lynchings, disproportionately condemned young Black men to death row and looked the other way in the face of police brutality.” When she became a prosecutor in 1990, she was one of only a handful of Black people in her office. When she was elected district attorney of San Francisco in 2003, she recalled, she was one of just three Black D.A.s nationwide. And when she was elected California attorney general in 2010, there were no other Black attorneys general in the country. At these words, the crowd around me clapped. “I knew the unilateral power that prosecutors had with the stroke of a pen to make a decision about someone else’s life or death,” she said.

Harris offered a pair of stories as evidence of the importance of a Black woman’s doing this work. Once, ear hustling, she listened to colleagues discussing ways to prove criminal defendants were gang-affiliated. If a racial-profiling manual existed, their signals would certainly be included: baggy pants, the place of arrest and the rap music blaring from vehicles. She said that she’d told her colleagues: “So, you know that neighborhood you were talking about? Well, I got family members and friends who live in that neighborhood. You know the way you were talking about how folks were dressed? Well, that’s actually stylish in my community.” She continued: “You know that music you were talking about? Well, I got a tape of that music in my car right now.”

The second example was about the mothers of murdered children. She told the audience about the women who had come to her office when she was San Francisco’s D.A. — women who wanted to speak with her, and her alone, about their sons. “The mothers came, I believe, because they knew I would see them,” Harris said. “And I mean literally see them. See their grief. See their anguish.” They complained to Harris that the police were not investigating. “My son is being treated like a statistic,” they would say. Everyone in that Southern Baptist church knew that the mothers and their dead sons were Black. Harris outlined the classic dilemma of Black people in this country: being simultaneously overpoliced and underprotected. Harris told the audience that all communities deserved to be safe.

Among the guests in the room that night whom I talked to, no one had an issue with her work as a prosecutor. A lot of them seemed to believe that only people doing dirt had issues with prosecutors. I thought of myself and my friends who have served long terms, knowing that in a way, Harris was talking about Black people’s needing protection from us — from the violence we perpetrated to earn those years in a series of cells.

Harris came up as a prosecutor in the 1990s, when both the political culture and popular culture were developing a story about crime and violence that made incarceration feel like a moral response. Back then, films by Black directors — “New Jack City,” “Menace II Society,” “Boyz n the Hood” — turned Black violence into a genre where murder and crack-dealing were as ever-present as Black fathers were absent. Those were the years when Representative Charlie Rangel, a Democrat, argued that “we should not allow people to distribute this poison without fear that they might be arrested” and “go to jail for the rest of their natural life.” Those were the years when President Clinton signed legislation that ended federal parole for people with three violent crime convictions and encouraged states to essentially eliminate parole; made it more difficult for defendants to challenge their convictions in court; and made it nearly impossible to challenge prison conditions.

Back then, it felt like I was just one of an entire generation of young Black men learning the logic of count time and lockdown. With me were Anthony Winn and Terell Kelly and a dozen others, all lost to prison during those years. Terell was sentenced to 33 years for murdering a man when he was 17 — a neighborhood beef turned deadly. Home from college for two weeks, a 19-year-old Anthony robbed four convenience stores — he’d been carrying a pistol during three. After he was sentenced by four judges, he had a total of 36 years.

Most of us came into those cells with trauma, having witnessed or experienced brutality before committing our own. Prison, a factory of violence and despair, introduced us to more of the same. And though there were organizations working to get rid of the death penalty, end mandatory minimums, bring back parole and even abolish prisons, there were few ways for us to know that they existed. We suffered. And we felt alone. Because of this, sometimes I reduce my friends’ stories to the cruelty of doing time. I forget that Terell and I walked prison yards as teenagers, discussing Malcolm X and searching for mentors in the men around us. I forget that Anthony and I talked about the poetry of Sonia Sanchez the way others praised DMX. He taught me the meaning of the word “patina” and introduced me to the music of Bill Withers. There were Luke and Fats; and Juvie, who could give you the sharpest edge-up in America with just a razor and comb.

When I left prison in 2005, they all had decades left. Then I went to law school and believed I owed it to them to work on their cases and help them get out. I’ve persuaded lawyers to represent friends pro bono. Put together parole packets — basically job applications for freedom: letters of recommendation and support from family and friends; copies of certificates attesting to vocational training; the record of college credits. We always return to the crimes to provide explanation and context. We argue that today each one little resembles the teenager who pulled a gun. And I write a letter — which is less from a lawyer and more from a man remembering what it means to want to go home to his mother. I write, struggling to condense decades of life in prison into a 10-page case for freedom. Then I find my way to the parole board’s office in Richmond, Va., and try to persuade the members to let my friends see a sunrise for the first time.

Juvie and Luke have made parole; Fats, represented by the Innocence Project at the University of Virginia School of Law, was granted a conditional pardon by Virginia’s governor, Ralph Northam. All three are home now, released just as a pandemic would come to threaten the lives of so many others still inside. Now free, they’ve sent me text messages with videos of themselves hugging their mothers for the first time in decades, casting fishing lines from boats drifting along rivers they didn’t expect to see again, enjoying a cold beer that isn’t contraband.

In February, after 25 years, Virginia passed a bill making people incarcerated for at least 20 years for crimes they committed before their 18th birthdays eligible for parole. Men who imagined they would die in prison now may see daylight. Terell will be eligible. These years later, he’s the mentor we searched for, helping to organize, from the inside, community events for children, and he’s spoken publicly about learning to view his crimes through the eyes of his victim’s family. My man Anthony was 19 when he committed his crime. In the last few years, he’s organized poetry readings, book clubs and fatherhood classes. When Gregory Fairchild, a professor at the Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia, began an entrepreneurship program at Dillwyn Correctional Center, Anthony was among the graduates, earning all three of the certificates that it offered. He worked to have me invited as the commencement speaker, and what I remember most is watching him share a meal with his parents for the first time since his arrest. But he must pray that the governor grants him a conditional pardon, as he did for Fats.

I tell myself that my friends are unique, that I wouldn’t fight so hard for just anybody. But maybe there is little particularly distinct about any of us — beyond that we’d served enough time in prison. There was a skinny light-skinned 15-year-old kid who came into prison during the years that we were there. The rumor was that he’d broken into the house of an older woman and sexually assaulted her. We all knew he had three life sentences. Someone stole his shoes. People threatened him. He’d had to break a man’s jaw with a lock in a sock to prove he’d fight if pushed. As a teenager, he was experiencing the worst of prison. And I know that had he been my cellmate, had I known him the way I know my friends, if he reached out to me today, I’d probably be arguing that he should be free.

But I know that on the other end of our prison sentences was always someone weeping. During the middle of Harris’s presidential campaign, a friend referred me to a woman with a story about Senator Harris that she felt I needed to hear. Years ago, this woman’s sister had been missing for days, and the police had done little. Happenstance gave this woman an audience with then-Attorney General Harris. A coordinated multicity search followed. The sister had been murdered; her body was found in a ravine. The woman told me that “Kamala understands the politics of victimization as well as anyone who has been in the system, which is that this kind of case — a 50-year-old Black woman gone missing or found dead — ordinarily does not get any resources put toward it.” They caught the man who murdered her sister, and he was sentenced to 131 years. I think about the man who assaulted my mother, a serial rapist, because his case makes me struggle with questions of violence and vengeance and justice. And I stop thinking about it. I am inconsistent. I want my friends out, but I know there is no one who can convince me that this man shouldn’t spend the rest of his life in prison.

My mother purchased her first single-family home just before I was released from prison. One version of this story is that she purchased the house so that I wouldn’t spend a single night more than necessary in the childhood home I walked away from in handcuffs. A truer account is that by leaving Suitland, my mother meant to burn the place from memory.

I imagined that I had singularly introduced my mother to the pain of the courts. I was wrong. The first time she missed work to attend court proceedings was to witness the prosecution of a kid the same age as I was when I robbed a man. He was probably from Suitland, and he’d attempted to rob my mother at gunpoint. The second time, my mother attended a series of court dates involving me, dressed in her best work clothes to remind the prosecutor and judge and those in the courtroom that the child facing a life sentence had a mother who loved him. The third time, my mother took off days from work to go to court alone and witness the trial of the man who raped her and two other women. A prosecutor’s subpoena forced her to testify, and her solace came from knowing that prison would prevent him from attacking others.

After my mother told me what had happened to her, we didn’t mention it to each other again for more than a decade. But then in 2018, she and I were interviewed on the podcast “Death, Sex & Money.” The host asked my mother about going to court for her son’s trial when he was facing life. “I was raped by gunpoint,” my mother said. “It happened just before he was sentenced. So when I was going to court for Dwayne, I was also going for a court trial for myself.” I hadn’t forgotten what happened, but having my mother say it aloud to a stranger made it far more devastating.

On the last day of the trial of the man who raped her, my mother told me, the judge accepted his guilty plea. She remembers only that he didn’t get enough time. She says her nose began to bleed. When I asked her what she would have wanted to happen to her attacker, she replied, “That I’d taken the deputy’s gun and shot him.”

Harris has studied crime-scene and autopsy photos of the dead. She has confronted men in court who have sexually assaulted their children, sexually assaulted the elderly, scalped their lovers. In her 2009 book, “Smart on Crime,” Harris praised the work of Sunny Schwartz — creator of the Resolve to Stop the Violence Project, the first restorative-justice program in the country to offer services to offenders and victims, which began at a jail in San Francisco. It aims to help inmates who have committed violent crimes by giving them tools to de-escalate confrontations. Harris wrote a bill with a state senator to ensure that children who witness violence can receive mental health treatment. And she argued that safety is a civil right, and that a 60-year sentence for a series of restaurant armed robberies, where some victims were bound or locked in freezers, “should tell anyone considering viciously preying on citizens and businesses that they will be caught, convicted and sent to prison — for a very long time.”

Politicians and the public acknowledge mass incarceration is a problem, but the lengthy prison sentences of men and women incarcerated during the 1990s have largely not been revisited. While the evidence of any prosecutor doing work on this front is slim, as a politician arguing for basic systemic reforms, Harris has noted the need to “unravel the decades-long effort to make sentencing guidelines excessively harsh, to the point of being inhumane”; criticized the bail system; and called for an end to private prisons and criticized the companies that charge absurd rates for phone calls and electronic-monitoring services.

In June, months into the Covid-19 pandemic, and before she was tapped as the vice-presidential nominee, I had the opportunity to interview Harris by phone. A police officer’s knee on the neck of George Floyd, choking the life out of him as he called for help, had been captured on video. Each night, thousands around the world protested. During our conversation, Harris told me that as the only Black woman in the United States Senate “in the midst of the killing of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery,” countless people had asked for stories about her experiences with racism. Harris said that she was not about to start telling them “about my world for a number of reasons, including you should know about the issue that affects this country as part of the greatest stain on this country.” Exhausted, she no longer answered the questions. I imagined she believes, as Toni Morrison once said, that “the very serious function of racism” is “distraction. It keeps you from doing your work.”

But these days, even in the conversations that I hear my children having, race suffuses so much. I tell Harris that my 12-year-old son, Micah, told his classmates and teachers: “As you all know, my dad went to jail. Shouldn’t the police who killed Floyd go to jail?” My son wanted to know why prison seemed to be reserved for Black people and wondered whose violence demanded a prison cell.

“In the criminal-justice system,” Harris replied, “the irony, and, frankly, the hypocrisy is that whenever we use the words ‘accountability’ and ‘consequence,’ it’s always about the individual who was arrested.” Again, she began to make a case that would be familiar to any progressive about the need to make the system accountable. And while I found myself agreeing, I began to fear that the point was just to find ways to treat officers in the same brutal way that we treat everyone else. I thought about the men I’d represented in parole hearings — and the friends I’d be representing soon. And wondered out loud to Harris: How do we get to their freedom?

“We need to reimagine what public safety looks like,” the senator told me, noting that she would talk about a public health model. “Are we looking at the fact that if you focus on issues like education and preventive things, then you don’t have a system that’s reactive?” The list of those things becomes long: affordable housing, job-skills development, education funding, homeownership. She remembered how during the early 2000s, when she was the San Francisco district attorney and started Back on Track (a re-entry program that sought to reduce future incarceration by building the skills of the men facing drug charges), many people were critical. “ ‘You’re a D.A. You’re supposed to be putting people in jail, not letting them out,’” she said people told her.

It always returns to this for me — who should be in prison, and for how long? I know that American prisons do little to address violence. If anything, they exacerbate it. If my friends walk out of prison changed from the boys who walked in, it will be because they’ve fought with the system — with themselves and sometimes with the men around them — to be different. Most violent crimes go unsolved, and the pain they cause is nearly always unresolved. And those who are convicted — many, maybe all — do far too much time in prison.

And yet, I imagine what I would do if the Maryland Parole Commission contacted my mother, informing her that the man who assaulted her is eligible for parole. I’m certain I’d write a letter explaining how one morning my mother didn’t go to work because she was in a hospital; tell the board that the memory of a gun pointed at her head has never left; explain how when I came home, my mother told me the story. Some violence changes everything.

The thing that makes you suited for a conversation in America might be the very thing that precludes you from having it. Terell, Anthony, Fats, Luke and Juvie have taught me that the best indicator of whether I believe they should be free is our friendship. Learning that a Black man in the city I called home raped my mother taught me that the pain and anger for a family member can be unfathomable. It makes me wonder if parole agencies should contact me at all — if they should ever contact victims and their families.

Perhaps if Harris becomes the vice president we can have a national conversation about our contradictory impulses around crime and punishment. For three decades, as a line prosecutor, a district attorney, an attorney general and now a senator, her work has allowed her to witness many of them. Prosecutors make a convenient target. But if the system is broken, it is because our flaws more than our virtues animate it. Confronting why so many of us believe prisons must exist may force us to admit that we have no adequate response to some violence. Still, I hope that Harris reminds the country that simply acknowledging the problem of mass incarceration does not address it — any more than keeping my friends in prison is a solution to the violence and trauma that landed them there.

In light of Harris being endorsed by Biden and highly likely to be the Democratic Party candidate, I thought I would share this balanced, understanding of both sides, article in regard to Harris and her career as a prosecutor, as I know that will be something dragged out by bad actors and useful idiots (you have a bunch of people stating 'Kamala is a cop', which is completely false, and also factless and misleading statements about 'mass incarceration' under her). I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to be criticised or that there is nothing about her career that can be criticised, but it should at least be representative of the truth and understanding of the complexities of the legal system.