#this is my favorite chapter :)

[saintrocklee]

*:･ﾟ✧ RESTRAINT ╰┈➤ part 03 of 05

masterlist | pairing: itachi x reader publish date: 04.11.24 warnings: itachi pines. reader is oblivious, until you're not. there's alcohol, it's a party!

You're in slight awe as you're whisked up the stairs and through the archway that led to an oversized ballroom. No expense had been spared in furnishing and decorating the space. The fast moving wait staff along with being face to face with more famous people than you can count has you feeling lightheaded. There are pops of light lining your vision from all of the cameras and you're grateful for the warm hand guiding you through the chaos. You're not sure when Itachi had familiarized himself with your bare back but you immediately miss the contact when he takes a step away, only to fight back a smile when he offers you his arm.

If you were being honest you were out of your depth. Judging by how stiff Itachi felt as you slid your hand through the crook in his arm, you assumed he felt the same and took a steadying breath as he led you around the edge of the ballroom. There was a live band playing a soft song amidst the chatter of the crowd and three different bars scattered throughout the room serving drinks. Guests were still arriving and you can't help but pick out the people you recognize from some of the movies you've seen along with those you actually knew from working with Itachi. Multiple standing tables were set up all around the room, leaving a curious space in the middle you assumed was for dancing. You both come to a stop at an unattended table and you place your purse down on the black cloth cover before letting out a shaky laugh.

"This is ..." You trail off, failing to find an appropriate word for what you're feeling. Itachi hums.

"Overwhelming?" He supplies and you suck in your bottom lip to keep from grinning, nodding to a couple as they walked past.

"Over the top?" You counter and you're rewarded with a derisive snort.

"Excessive."

"Excruciating."

Itachi pauses and shifts to face you fully.

"Excruciating." He repeats and you rest your elbow on the table.

"Absolutely agonizing." You tease and there's a flash of displeasure on your boss' face. You let your smile come through and impulsively reach forward to feign adjusting his jacket, far too caught up in the moment to fully register what you were doing. It brings you a step closer to him and you miss the way Itachi's hands clench.

"It's too noisy in here, my shoes are kind of tight, my so-called date has already threatened to fire me -"

"With good reason -"

"For no reason, mind you -"

A girlish squeal interrupts you both and you blink, recognizing the sound immediately. Your fingers fall from Itachi's suit jacket just in time for a beautifully manicured hand to appear in your line of vision, jingling excitedly, bracelets twinkling under the lights. You turn and are enveloped into a comfortable but heavily perfumed hug while being chastised thoroughly.

"I can't believe you're here and you didn't text me, I have been begging for you to come to one of these with me for years!"

You pull away and smile warmly at Ino, an old friend of yours that you met when you started working for Itachi. She held a position equivalent to yours at a law firm and was currently working on passing her bar exam. It had slipped your mind that she would show face at events like this in place of her boss, and you keep still as she doted on you.

"You look ravishing, this has to be new - and I love the color. And your shoes, I honestly don't think I've ever seen your toes."

You smile and swallow a laugh when you glance back at Itachi, who seemed just uncomfortable enough to be in pain. One of your favorite things about Ino was how much she irked your boss and his face went from slightly tense to exasperated as she turned her attention to him.

"Finally letting her out, huh?"

Itachi's lip curled response.

"Ino."

His greeting is flat and rewarded with a roll of baby blue eyes.

"You're no fun." A flip of blonde hair. "I came over here to steal you." A pout of red painted lips. "I haven't seen you since that conference in Sedona."

You nod with your consent, having just spotted a couple of men making their way to your table. Whatever bubble you and Itachi had been in earlier was now popped and soon you'd both be surrounded by people, men and women alike, desperate to talk to him. You shoot him an edged smile as you grab your purse and let yourself be whisked away by Ino, partially grateful for your friend's obnoxious arrival.

Itachi's gaze follows you as you left with the boisterous blonde, tracking you across the room to one of the open bars that were now serving wine. Two men he barely recognized came to a stop next to him and he found himself participating in a rather dull conversation about a recent stock increase on a company he knew little to nothing about. Their time with him was short lived and soon they were replaced by another potential client, and so on it went. Itachi lost track of you in the crowd but he trusted Ino enough to know that you were in capable hands. After his fifth introduction Itachi finds himself alone and is about to find you when a drink is placed in his hand.

"Fair warning, it's not great scotch, but it's not awful."

Kisame grins down at him with more teeth than normal and Itachi sighs before taking an experimental sip. His friend's assessment was correct, but he's sure it's better than the wine they're serving and hums his thanks.

"Figured I'd wait till the sharks left you alone." Itachi ignores the obvious joke and Kisame continues, lips curling knowingly. "Saw who you came in with though."

Shrugging noncommittally, Itachi neither confirms or denies what Kisame was alluding to, and is rewarded with a barked laugh.

"So, what? Testing her out to see how the public reacts? Dazzle her with all the lights and -"

"Kisame." Itachi warns, but there's no venom behind his tone, and the larger man snickers into his half empty glass.

"Dinner and a movie would probably be easier than all this." KIsame pauses and looks at Itachi with eyes wide. "Don't tell me you made her come with you for work."

The frosty look he receives from the Uchiha has him grinning again.

"Of course you did."

Itachi opens his mouth to say no he did not but is interrupted by yet another group of people. Introductions and conversation flow much easier with Kisame next to him and time passes before Itachi is left alone with his friend again. This time Kisame avoids bringing you up and entertains himself by showing off pictures of his brand new baby daughter.

Itachi finds himself minutely distracted from the barrage of pictures as he tries to find you. He's become proficient at keeping you in his peripheral over the years and locates you quickly, off to the side of the crowd with Ino. You're both standing close together, shoulders brushing as you no doubt gossip behind almost empty glasses of wine. There's an easy smile on your face and he can tell by your posture that you're relaxed. Unwinding. Maybe even having fun.

Itachi taps his finger against his own empty glass as he wrestles with the unsettling realization that he is, in fact, more than a little jealous of Ino. Your lips are practically against her ear as you pull your wine glass down, just shy of your mouth, and whisper something that has her throwing her head back with a laugh. Kisame pulls at his attention once again and Itachi finds himself inappropriately agitated at the lopsided grin he receives. Deathly Uchiha eyes narrow and Kisame chuckles, motioning for Itachi's empty glass.

"Looks like you're in need of a refill."

With Kisame gone, he plays with the idea of collecting you when the music suddenly stops. Someone makes an announcement inviting couples on to the dance floor and slower music begins to play. Itachi's eyes find you again, idly wondering if you'd dance with him, and arches an amused brow when he sees you coming toward him. You're struggling not to smile and there's an anticipatory tingle in his chest that's making him work to keep his hands still.

"Long time no see." You breathe as you approach, standing closer than you were before. Itachi inhales a deep breath and hums, enjoying the soft scent of your perfume as you practically bounce in your heels. There's a twinkle in your eye that has Itachi weighing the consequences of running his thumb across your lip, just to see how you'd react, but he pockets the thought as Kisame rejoins the table.

Your face lights up when you see the older man, two glasses of scotch in his hands, and your smile turns devious.

"Good, you're both here."

Both men exchange a quick look as you shuffle in closer, leaning against the table and craning your neck forward. Kisame furrows his brow and hunches his shoulders down at your insistence.

"Okay, right behind me. You both see Hiruzen Sarutobi?"

Itachi could see him out of the corner of his eye and Kisame grunts in confirmation.

"Okay, okay. You see who he's here with?"

Kisame snorts into his drink.

"His wife?"

Your smile sharpens.

"Nope."

Kisame blinks.

"He's getting divorced. That is his daughter's babysitter."

The older man's mouth parts in surprise and Itachi snorts into his glass.

"They went public weeks ago."

Kisame and you both turn towards him in disbelief. He can see the betrayal in your eyes as you nudge him.

"And you didn't tell us? Rude."

Kisame nods in agreement and then jerks his head to the left.

"Notice Tsunade came alone?"

You and Itachi glance at the woman Kisame was referencing and you sigh, feigning boredom.

"Oh please, everyone knows she's sleeping with old man Jiraiya. I'll bet you fifty bucks they leave together."

Itachi hums a breathless laugh and Kisame groans, running a hand through his hair.

"She could do better. Did you hear about the Inuzuka family?"

"Yeah, there was something about the sister, right?"

"No, actually, her brother."

You cock your head in surprise as Kisame fills you in on the latest scandal and Itachi keeps himself entertained by watching the way your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise. He commits every detail to memory as he sips his drink, completely aware that he's fully enamored with you. Charming, he thinks to himself as you continue to relax and gossip with his friend. You were charming, eyes crinkling when you laughed, throat bobbing when you sipped your wine with a smile. He shifts, the back of his hand brushing against your side, and fights a smile when you lean into his touch. You're both shoulder to shoulder now, legs nearly touching, and Itachi slowly drags his knuckles up and around your waist to rest his hand on the bare skin of your back. Your glace at him as if confused and Itachi holds your gaze as Kisame pulls out his phone, excited for any excuse to talk about his daughter.

To his immense relief, you don't pull away as you turn your attention to awaiting baby pictures. That consuming and irritable tingling in his chest returns and to relieve some of the pressure, Itachi begins to stroke your skin with his thumb. You're soft and warm and he fights the urge to just grab you, call his driver, and leave. He'd take you back to his home where you both can finally be alone and confess everything against the unblemished skin just under your jaw. He'd watch the way your pupils would dilate as you finally understood the depth of his feelings, would weather whatever snark you'd throw at him, and maybe catch that stubborn bottom lip between his teeth. Itachi wants nothing more than to be gentle with you, to ease you into this and to take the time he knows you deserve, but you pulled at his patience like no other and he's prepared for the worst.

Itachi is pulled from this thoughts as Kisame is interrupted by a phone call from his wife. His friend excuses himself and before Itachi can say anything, you turn toward him, mouth set in a firm line. His hand moves from your back to your waist and he struggles with the urge to pull you even closer.

"I think I need some air." You tell him and Itachi nods once. Stepping out into the cooler air would help, he was getting too ahead of himself, too comfortable. He leads you towards a large door at the edge of the ballroom that is covered by a thick black curtain. The door knob clicks as it's opened and you sigh in relief when it leads to a balcony. It automatically swings shut behind you and Itachi lets you step away from him, eyes straying towards your chest as you inhale deeply. The area is empty, save for the two of you, and the light that peaks through the windows is faint.

"Thank you." You murmur as you turn back toward him. Itachi only hums in response and you roll your eyes fondly. His lip twitches in amusement and you let him see your smile. You're not sure if it was the wine, the fact that you were both alone, or the way your body was buzzing from the brief physical contact - but you felt a little giddy. Confident.

"And thank you for inviting me. This is actually kind of fun."

Your sincerity has Itachi's chest burning and he takes a step closer to you, unwillingly to be so far from you any longer.

"Of course." He murmurs, tone deepening as he lets himself feel. It's just the two of you, you're glittering and happy and responding positively to all of his advances, and that irritable tingling is back. He wants now, wants to tell you that you're beautiful, wants to drag his knuckles against your cheek and your jaw, wants to pull at your numerous hair pins and take in the scent of your perfume, he wants -

"I mean it. You could have brought anyone. So, thank you."

Your bright smile fades as you take in the way Itachi's mouth settles into a displeased line.

"I've already told you." He speaks and the finality in his tone is startling. "I prefer you."

You blink and what you say next slips out, pushed by the glasses of wine you've had and the sudden realization that you very much want him to mean what you think he means.

"Because we work together." You offer. A way out.

Dark eyes narrow.

"No."

The world must stop with how still you've become, with how silent everything else is. You're afraid to move, to breathe too harshly, afraid that you'll interrupt whatever spell you had been caught in. You're struggling to do anything but truly take in the man standing in front of you that just confessed he ...

Oh.

Oh.

Dizzy.

You feel dizzy.

Maybe lightheaded was the proper term. If not for your feet definitively touching the ground below you, you could argue that you were floating.

You can almost see it carved into the wood underneath you. The line you'd carefully avoided had materialized in front of you again and you're caught, caught in what feels like a trap but ...

But you're not trapped, you're with Itachi and your heart is stuttering in your chest and your throat is tight and you watch in anticipatory fascination as he steps over it like it was nothing. Crowds into your space like it was second nature and your pulse threatens to split the delicate skin right under your jaw. There's something so familiar about being here with him but the fear of not knowing what was coming next has you fighting the urge to run. To break the spell with an ill timed jab, to push it away yet again because -

"You're nervous."

It was like someone had snapped a rubber band against your skin.

"No." You immediately argue, going more off of habit than actually responding. The careful look Itachi had been giving you melts away into something soft and you can see the fond look in his eyes, in the way his face relaxes. A soothing warmth begins to take over the initial panic and you sigh, fighting back an embarrassed smile.

"Fine. Maybe a little."

Itachi exhales, mirth glittering in his eyes. They're lighter than you've ever seen them and the implication that it's because of you has your breathing catching.

"Why?"

You shrug and turn your head. If you were going to speak honestly you couldn't look at him. The sarcasm and bravado you've wielded as a shield for years were long gone and being vulnerable was challenging.

"I guess I don't," you pause and swallow, gathering courage "know why you're doing this."

He doesn't respond immediately and the wind tugs at you, causing you to reach up and brush stray hairs out of your face. You catch his eyes and blink at how open his expression was. He's searching your face and there's something raw about it. About him. You weren't standing in front of your employer anymore, you weren't standing in front of your friend; you were standing in front of man, a man that looked at you like he -

"I would think it was obvious."

Of course he would. The genuine confusion in his tone has you fighting back an exasperated smile.

"Obviously not."

You're barely whispering now, the light breeze taking most of your bravery with it, leaving you feeling bare. Open. Exposed. Itachi makes another move toward you, more of a half step, and you glance down to see your feet almost touching. His black polished shoes were a mere centimeter away from your heels and you can't think of a time you two had been closer. The line was nonexistent now. He'd done more than step over it, he'd gotten rid of it entirely. You couldn't even visualize it anymore, had no idea where it was to begin with, and blink when you watch his fingers twitch before disappearing into his pocket.

"I find myself growing increasingly fond of you."

You freeze, unable to look away from where his hand had slid into his pants. There's something rushing through you, adrenaline maybe, and you find yourself unable to respond. Itachi continues, either completely unaware of the turmoil you were feeling or enjoying the way he managed to stun you into silence.

"My intention is not to force you into this. I understand the delicacies of our working relationship and I do not want to make you feel obligated. I cannot, however, hide my feelings from you any longer. You have become," he pauses and your head flies up to see him. Dark eyes find yours and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. The absurd urge to cry is from the glasses of wine you'd had, surely, and Itachi's gaze drops to your mouth. You find yourself nodding, blinking back the ridiculous tears that had started to gather, words thick with emotion.

"I feel the same -"

You're cut off by lightning fast hands on your jaw, by his thumb just under your lower lip. He grazes the soft skin there, eyes somehow going darker, and his next words come out strained and rushed.

"May I?"

You nod again, mouth opening to say yes but he's once again too quick and your eyes close just as his mouth presses against yours. It's you who makes the next move, parting your lips just enough to catch his bottom lip and pull. The hand on your jaw moves to your hair and tilts your head up, while his other hand finds the bare skin on your back and pulls you against him. Itachi takes the lead almost instantly, lips moving and pulling as he devours you. Your hands meet his chest and slide up to his neck, to his hair that you've longed to run your fingers through. It's soft and thick, free of tangles, and a noise catches in your throat when you feel the hand on your back tighten in time with your ministrations.

He likes it you think distantly and you wonder if you could get away with taking it down. Your train of thought is cut off when Itachi pulls away to kiss the edge of your mouth, the line of your jaw, and the noise in your throat turns into an audible gasp when his lips seal against your neck. Your body automatically arches into him and his grip on you turns to steel, his chest heaving in time with yours. He's working his way back up, lips continuing to dance along your skin, before claiming your mouth once again. He doesn't let you straighten and seems content to keep you pressed against him. You have to drop your hands from his hair and rest your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself upright and whimper when you feel his tongue dip into your mouth. Your knees began to shake, you were having trouble breathing, and the heat pooling in your abdomen was sure to catch and burn you from the inside out.

He pulls away only to change the angle of his head before catching your mouth with his again. Confident hands move, one trailing down the side of your body to clutch at your upper thigh, gathering you closer. There's no space left between you and your dress rises as Itachi brings your leg up against his hip. You're on one leg now, completely at his mercy, and the kisses you're sharing turn more fervent. A whine leaves you as he grips the muscle there, his other hand tightening in your hair, fingers no doubt making a mess of your hard work.

We should stop, you think, but the reasonable side if you is gone, no doubt having melted under Itachi's touch. Your head falls back as the man begins to explore the skin of your neck, letting the heat of the moment consume you. There would be time for rational thought later. In the meanwhile, you're content to let Itachi have his way with you as your nerves buzz pleasantly under your skin.

Wait.

You blink away the fog clouding your judgement and frown. Something was buzzing. It takes you a second longer before you realize the source is coming from the inside of your boss' suit.

His cellphone. His cellphone was buzzing. Someone was calling him.

"Ignore it." Itachu murmurs against your skin, teeth catching just above your collarbone. A very unladylike groan leaves you.

"Itachi." You breathe, hoping to sound chastising. There was an entire event happening inside and people would no doubt be expecting to mingle with him. Your efforts have the opposite effect and you shudder at the absolute sinful noise he makes.

"Say it again." He practically purrs and you shudder once more, mouth accepting another heated kiss. The buzzing stops and your focus returns to Itachi's tongue curling into your mouth. He doesn't seem to be pushing you any further than this and it's perfect. You're almost completely lost in him again when the buzzing picks back up.

You tilt your head away and Itachi heaves an agitated breath against your ear. Fighting a smile at the borderline tantrum your boss was throwing, you adjust your position to reach inside his jacket. His hands keep you where you're at which earns him a glare as you wobble awkwardly. Judging by the smirk curling at his mouth, you're intimidation tactic was not working.

"Annoying." You huff, finally pulling his cellphone out. Eyes twinkle at you mischievously as you check the caller ID.

Kakuzu.

Your jaw drops in surprise as you show Itachi who's calling.

"You have to take this."

Itachi doesn't move or let you go.

"I thought it was Saturday."

Your nose crinkles and you bringing the phone to your ear with a scowl.

"Itachi Uchiha's phone."

Your tone is clipped and professional and Itachi sighs irritability as he finally lets your leg go. You shuffle away from him as presumably Kakuzu's assistant asks if Itachi is free for a brief chat. You turn your back to the man in front of you who's impassive face promised punishment if you didn't hang up the phone and confirm that yes, Itachi was free, please hold on. You mute the call and turn back, arm extending out for him to take the phone.

"If he's calling you now, it means he's considering -"

"I'm busy."

You glare at him and jostle the phone. Itachi's lips thin and you can't decipher if he's hiding a smile or a frown.

"I just checked your schedule and you're free. How convenient."

A snort.

"Maybe I should fire you."

Your lips pull upward.

"If you do, I'll report you for sexual harassment."

Your quip earns you a chuckle that sends warmth through your chest. Itachi finally accepts the offered phone and puts it to his ear.

"I will find you later."

You nod, biting back a smile at the promise in his tone, and turn to go back into the ballroom. Shaking hands attempt to smooth the wrinkles in your dress and you delicately pass your fingers over your hair. Surprisingly, most of your up-do held and you decide heading straight to the bathroom was your next logical choice. If Ino got wind of what just happened, it'd be on the front page of every trashy tabloid by the next morning.

Your hand is on the door when quick footsteps stop you along with a hand on your elbow. You turn, ready to give Itachi a piece of your mind, when his lips crush into yours. It's bruising, hot, and quick. He pulls away, phone still next to ear and hums in agreement to whatever was said on the other side. You blink owlishly at him as his thumb wipes away any wetness left under your bottom lip. His eyes scan your face before turning away, tone clipped as he told Kakuzu that was not what they agreed upon. You're frozen in place for a breath and then another before you pull the door open, not wanting to get swept up again, and rejoin the event inside.

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴��𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢��𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 6 (words: 1717)

In this episode of the Corpse Bride AU, featuring: Charles' uncanny ability to compartmentalize the horrors, Jenny being a single father

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Charles groaned, screwing his eyes shut tighter, trying to will the dizziness to die down. He felt a dull ache where he’d fallen onto the hard ground and moved his arms with difficulty, blindly grasping around him for something solid.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t anticipate such a harsh landing,” he heard a kind voice say, somewhere close to him.

When he cracked his eyes open, he saw a hand outstretched towards him. It had the most pristine white glove followed by a sleeve of a fancy pressed shirt and jacket. Charles’ muddy brain decided to zero in to the fact that the cufflink was missing, grabbing the hand without much thought.

He was pulled up and when he swayed, still wobbly on his feet, another hand came to support him on his upper arm. Charles felt something was weird and turned to stare.

The hand against his black coat was as stark white as the suit sleeve, bare tapered knuckles of a skeleton.

Charles snapped his head up. The corpse groom stood in front of him, peering at his face with a worried frown between his brows.

He yanked his hands back like he’d been burned when Charles flinched, staggering backwards. He saw hurt flash across that handsome face, but he was too disoriented to process it.

The ghoul bent down and picked up the fallen lantern with his skeleton hand.

“I’m-” he started, his voice strained.

“Edwiiiin-!” A sing-song squeal of delight interrupted him when a girl with long white hair jumped from behind a stone wall to skip towards them. Her bloodless skin matched her hair and kimono, giving her a ghostly appearance.

“We heard everything! Congrats, you two!” She beamed. The arms she threw around both of their necks were solid, pulling Charles from out of his head.

This was really happening.

From the vice-grip of her hug, Charles lifted his head to look around. They were on a cobblestone street, enclosed with walls, narrow alleys leading into dark shadows. He couldn’t see the moon above them, as if the sky was more like a low-hanging ceiling, trapping them underground.

“Come, come!” She hopped away like a bird, pulling at their sleeves. “Everyone wants to meet you!”

Charles let himself be pulled, but Edwin dragged his feet. Before they turned the corner, he turned to Charles, speaking fast in his polite manner.

“It must be quite sudden, I’m sorry. Everyone can be a bit… much, at first, but I assure you, they only have good intentions.”

Charles nodded his head slowly, still dazed. Music and lively sounds of a crowd could be heard from the other side of the wall. It had been a long time since he’d heard that electrifying buzz of a good party. Not once after leaving London.

Gazing down at Edwin’s skeleton hand holding the lantern and the ghost girl on his side, he came to a realization.

This was a dream. The most vivid and wonderful dream, the strangest dream he’d ever had. So whatever happened, he was going to have a good time, wasn’t he?

Charles grinned.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m aces.”

Edwin seemed reluctant still, so Charles grabbed his hand. Even through the silk glove he could tell how cold his fingers were. They rounded the corner led by the ghost girl and Charles saw what Edwin had meant by “everyone.”

All the people gathered -and there was quite a crowd- were dead. There were those with clammy, gray skin, and those with parts of their bodies decayed. Some of their clothes were torn rags, some wore old-fashioned wigs and funeral attire, and then there were those whose flesh has long since fallen off their bones, leaving them as living skeletons.

A roar of cheers welcomed Charles and Edwin, joyful hooting and hollering, waving hats and raised glasses.

“Toast to the newlyweds!”

The people rushed forward to shake Charles’ hand and pat his shoulder, many pointed digits poking at him.

“Edwin, dearie, you’ve brought a live one!” One grandma exclaimed when she squeezed Charles’ arm.

“Fresh meat!” Squealed a skeleton kid where he clung to Charles’ leg, getting hoisted up with him when dozens of hands grabbed him.

His hold from Edwin’s hand was broken but when Charles caught a glimpse of him between the crowd, he was smiling.

The band played a wacky jazz version of the wedding march when Charles was thrown in the air with enthusiastic huzzah’s.

“To the loverboy!”

The clinking glasses spilled bright green liquid on the floor and was poured through empty rib cages. Charles barely missed hitting a chandelier with live candles.

“What are we celebrating?” He asked, out of breath from the jostling.

“Your proposal of course, you silly!” Somebody answered from the crowd.

“To our corpse groom!”

Over in the air he saw that the cramped space was a pub, with wooden counters and well-worn seats, the corners rounded and smooth from years of serving patrons.

“I proposed?”

The room was spinning in Charles’ eyes, colors and movement blurring together. The chandelier above him had mounds of melted wax covering it and dripping down. Every flame burned a different hue, casting moving shadows on the walls.

“Yes! It was so romantic! I hope someone would propose to me like that!”

Charles was tossed in the air for the third time.

“To their love everlasting!”

The many skeleton hands and bones arranged themselves into descending stairs. When the crowd parted, he was presented with Edwin in a spotlight. One look at the shy smile playing on his broken lips got Charles’ heart doing cartwheels.

You BET I proposed!!

The band played a groovy fanfare and Charles didn’t think he’d ever grinned as hard as when he stepped down towards Edwin. He didn’t feel his feet touching the ground at all, walking on air with joy when his hands met Edwin’s and he pulled him into dance.

Charles caught him when he stumbled, stiff as a board, and twirled him around. He heard the ghost girl giggle behind them, a clear and delighted sound, and Edwin caught Charles’ forearms, stopping him to give him a reprimanding look.

Breathing was light and laughter was easy when joy bubbled up in Charles’ chest, endeared by that stern lift of one eyebrow. The skeleton band played their cooky tunes, infectious enough to have everyone dance, and soon Edwin was swept along by Charles, relaxing with their hands tightly entwined.

Charles confirmed that time didn’t exist in dreams, because that felt like hours and too little at the same time. After one more song after saying two times it was the last song he was going to dance to, Edwin finally pulled Charles out of the party to have a break.

They slumped on the barstools on the far end of the counter, Charles’ shoulders shaking when he buried his head into his arms on the table and giggled.

“You are killing me, Charles Rowland. And that would be an incredible feat, since I am evidently already dead,” Edwin groaned, making Charles laugh even harder.

He stole a glance at him over his arms; Edwin was fussing over his perfect hair and crooked bowtie, gathering his composure. Charles bit his lip to muffle another giggle bubbling up. He reached out his hand to try to sneakily mess his hair up, but Edwin snatched his fingers into his palm and put them back on the table.

“So, what can I get you boys?” The bartender asked sharply, making Charles jump up and fix his posture.

She had black hair in a well-kept updo, and her skin was so white and translucent the dark shadow of her skull could be seen underneath. The black ink on the tattoo around her throat absorbed light, making her look almost decapitated.

“Whatever he’s having,” Charles shrugged.

“Good. We only serve one thing,” the bartender said in a flat tone and looked him dead in the eye.

Charles flinched when she slammed down a big cleaver into the counter where it stayed up, quivering. With her now free hands she poured two glasses of the same lurid green liquid and pushed them over.

“Are you a butcher or a bartender..?” Charles asked, accepting the glass. Her white button up and black apron didn’t clue him in either way.

“Newsflash, fresh meat. We’re dead. We can be whatever we fucking want. Ain’t no rules like upstairs, down here. Is that clear?” She cocked her head and gave him a mocking smile.

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, Jenny,” Edwin cut in. “Jenny, this is Charles. Charles, Jenny.”

Charles didn’t dare stick out his hand for a shake when that cleaver was still too close. He opted for one of his winning smiles.

“Happy to meet you-,” he began, when Jenny grabbed the handle of the knife.

“Listen here, kid. I’m gonna say this exactly once. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But if you do anything to make Edwin sad, then you and I are gonna have a problem.”

Jenny squinted her eyes coldly towards Charles. In full view of him, she yanked the cleaver from the wood and moved her finger across the sharp edge, the shiny metal glinting in the lights menacingly.

“If you plan on hurting him, you should get the fuck out before I can hurt you.”

“Jenny, I can assure you that is completely unnecessary,” Edwin sighed. “Firstly, I’m not a kid. And secondly, I know Charles.”

Charles caught the look in his eyes when he glanced at him, and it set out a warm wave flushing him from head to toes. Edwin looked at him with such unbearable fondness it was impossible to receive or comprehend. Charles felt like there was a puzzle piece missing, something that would make him understand. How could Edwin hold such open adoration for him, when he knew nothing about Edwin?

Well, that should’ve hit him a lot earlier. Charles spun around to stare at Edwin again, to study him with new intensity. The fancy white suit. The blood that covered half of it.

“What happened to you?” He blurted out.

Edwin’s eyes darkened and he turned his head away. It seemed like he’d anticipated the question for some time now.

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (15/21)

Word Count = 2,666 Words

Rating = Mature (SMUT + Violence)

Chapter 15: The Shadow

When it happened; Alastor howled in such agony and anguish – he thought he might actually and truly lose all sense of sanity.

They didn’t leave right away, spending some time exploring the collection and to comment on the portraits that they liked. Others around them still looked and stared at Adeline every now and then; but no one approached either of them for the rest of the evening.

It was everything Alastor could do to not: throw a portal up, pick Adeline up into his arms and leave with her; right there in the middle of the studio in front of everyone. He was fuming. He hated the idea of her besting him here at his own game. The heat of his anger was only fueling another; he was incredibly aroused. This only added fuel to his fire; knowing that he had meant to take efforts this morning specifically to preventing this exact problem…another battle lost.

Meanwhile; Adeline was completely ignorant to his dark mood. She was enjoying the art gallery thoroughly, herself. None of the fears she had had; none of the looming possibilities of how Alastor might respond to her discovery ended up playing out how she had dreaded imagined. In fact; things had gone…very well. Feeling like she could now fully enjoy having found her new…potential; she finally relaxed and allowed herself to feel nothing but positive and happy for herself and in all her fulfillments.

Alastor felt this from her and things for him were only growing worse.

When they had seen the last of the artwork on display; Alastor took her hand. Looking at her; she saw his dark and hungry expression. It sent a hot coil into her belly; tightening and sending heat through her; and her need for him quickly simmered across each-and-every part of her.

He was pulling her with him; through a door that exited from the building and out into a dark and empty alley. Once the door had closed behind them; and finding themselves alone – Alastor pulled her into him and rather roughly, began kissing her.

His fervor surprised her; but she responded in kind. Her hands found and wrapped into his hair; clenching into fists; her body pressing against him and arching so that every piece of her was pressed against him. She gasped for air; his tongue slipping from her lips. She brought her face back to his and bit down on his lower lip; sharply – painfully – deliciously.

Alastor groaned. He was on fire. He remembered this feeling…his control sliding, slipping away. This felt just like their first night…together…one year ago.

He held her tightly in his arms; in the middle of the alley, well away from the wall. He had his own experiences with post-traumatic distress disorder and was careful not to trigger any awful memories for Adeline here.

Pressing her tightly into him with one arm; still kissing her, he reached behind her and with a twist of his wrist, he had a glowing-green portal form against the alley’s wall just behind her. Pulling her with him; he spun so that it was his back to the alley wall; his tongue entangled with hers, he leant back, holding her to him - and they fell together through the portal.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeline barely could process that he had landed them skillfully in bed; they were in the dark of the cabin and he had somehow shifted smoothly into his radio demon form while they were falling. The portal above them closed in a whisp of green smoke and she realized that not only had he changed form; but that he was completely naked. 

He held her to him; still kissing her with a desperate abandon that she felt slowly and surely consuming her. Moving, he lifted himself on his knees and pulled her to him. He slid her dress so that he was shifting her legs; encouraging her to wrap them around his waist. He meant for her to sit straddled there, in his lap but they were finding resistance in her attire.

Exasperated, he growled. Sliding his hands behind her back, he gripped at the fabric and tore the seams; giving them more to work with.

She gasped with surprising delight; heat flooding her face.

Then, using the sharpened edge of one claw; he slid it down – from the nape just at the back of her neck down clear to her tail bone, cutting a ragged slit into the garment. In a rush, he pushed the fabric aside from her shoulders, pulling down. He was debating on whether he should tear her bra into pieces as well when he realized…she hadn’t been wearing one. The dress had formed so well to her body; that Adeline had felt comfortable going without one. Heat rushed across Alastor’s skin at the thought; his erection giving more than enough indication that the idea of it had pleased him.

Still working to get her fully undressed; Alastor slashed and cut at the remainder of the hanging tatters. Adeline had herself pressed tightly against him now; kissing him feverishly all across his face, jaw, neck and shoulders; blissfully hindering his efforts. When his job was done; he found yet a new sensuous discovery. She had gone the entirety of their evening in the dress…and nothing but.

Groaning; he hiked her hips so that she was finally wrapped around him – his standing member pressed between them. He shifted and angled their positions so that his tight shaft could rub against her seeping sex as he moved himself to grind against her. Gasping again; Adeline wrapped her arms around him and bowed herself against him; their bodies pressing into each other like the perfect pieces to a puzzle.

Alastor’s head bent; his antlers had become heavy, the bases widening, the points lengthening at a rapid pace. Adeline shuddered against him and he grunted, groaning into her mouth now. She was so wet for him that she was dripping; strings of it touching his legs and coating his penis.

They both were panting now, Adeline had began moaning; her body growing limp in his arms as she succumbed to her overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Alastor’s eyes were glowing vibrantly green in the dark of the cabin; casting eerie glows and shadows across Adeline’s sweating, heated skin and all throughout the room. His fire was only consuming him more.

He moved them so that she was pressed beneath him into the bed. He briefly had a feeling of déjà vu…a memory…remembering then of his earliest fantasy; wanting nothing more than to shift into something terrible; something long and creeping…not just to have Adeline but to take her… He fought to dismiss the thought. He knew he didn’t actually want that…but then again, he did. He did very, very much.

His mouth began watering…drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. Adeline twisted and moaned beneath him. She opened her legs; and he slid himself inside – not fully processing that he even had. He was lost in a haze; his hips moving, thrusting into her. She bent beneath him, crying out in her immense pleasure. He growled; his ears flattening against his head as he fought to regain himself…feeling himself slipping away.

A familiar coldness touched him; freezing droplets of sweat to his skin. Shadows creeping, crawling toward them.

No.

Alastor’s hips jerked, penetrating Adeline even deeper. Crying out beneath him again; it was almost a scream and he very nearly lost himself completely.

The shadows pressed in closer, reaching….seeking…

A menacing growl was building in Alastor’s chest, he was baring his teeth. He mistakenly bit his lip; blood seeping from the cut but the sharp point of brief pain brought him a pinpoint of clarity.

The approaching shadows paused; hovering threateningly.

Don’t you fucking dare.

Slowly, they slithered closer.

Something in him was building…consuming. Something that was starving and meant to feed.

Adeline was writhing beneath Alastor now; her screams filling the cabin as he thrust himself into her again and again…he was so precariously wavering on the edge of something; about to tip over that he had no way of telling if her shrieks were still of pleasure or of pain and fear…and it frightened him.

He could feel her climaxing; feeling her falling – breaking apart beneath him. The tentacles of darkness reaching to her; seeking just for her. Alastor fought to push them away; to send them anywhere else like he had before but they resisted him.

Don’t do this… He was pleading. Please.

The shadows were at the bed now; crawling across the covers.

Just…wait. Not now. Not yet.

The shadows kept coming. They had reached Adeline now. A small tendril twisted for her; about to t-

Alastor’s teeth clenched; realizing he could not stop this. He was falling apart at the seams himself now; and once that last shred of control slipped – it would be done. His lip split sharply as he strained; blood dripping from his lip. He was mentally present there still just enough to see the tendril flinch back, slightly.

Snarling, Alastor didn’t hesitate. Yanking an arm from around Adeline; he pulled it to his face and sunk his teeth into his own flesh. The incredible pain of it cleared his haze and the tendrils of shadow swiftly pulled themselves away, retreating to the edge of the bed and pausing just there. Gasping and screaming into his arm; his teeth still firmly planted; he dragged a clawed hand across his chest; cutting himself deeply and splashing blood across the bed.

The tendrils of shadow retreated swiftly and completely into the dark.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor wasted no time. He didn’t even take the chance of checking in on Adeline before making sure Niffty could send word to Rosie that he was coming and that he desperately needed her help. Now.

When he arrived to her Emporium, Rosie knew something had gone terribly wrong for Alastor.

She immediately helped him into the studio; and took him directly into the pentagram she had ready and set for him. He was covered in a great deal of blood and she solemnly mourned the tragedy that was his situation when she noted Niffty’s obvious and sudden distress…Alastor was covered in his own blood. Not someone else’s…

“Alastor, what the Hell has happened-?” Rosie started to ask.

“I need an exorcism, Rosie and I need it now.” He snarled; blood seeping from underneath his suit jacket and leaving a trail of droplets across the floor. “I recall that you have some experience in that sort of thing…”

“Of, course I do.” Rosie told him. One of her past husbands had a thing for creating shadow demons. Rosie had perfected a skillset in shadow work with her aiding him in his…hobbies. “But, Alastor isn’t that…drastic?”

“Heh,” He laughed, shakily. “Drastic times…”

“You know what will happen…when it’s done?” She asked him. “You’ll be left incredibly vulnerable…your power – it will be greatly limited. Is this something that is absolutely necessary?”

 “Yes, Rosie. It is.” Alastor groaned, he was becoming physically ill now. Something within him resisted this plan; was fighting against it – trying to force Alastor into submission.

That’s why we’re here you fucker… You did this.

“And, you know that once it’s done…there’s no going back.” Rosie needed to convey to Alastor. “Your shadow…he will no longer be fully apart of you. He will be his own complete and separate entity. He will be much harder to manage and there’s no guarantee that he will accept you again after this is all finished.”

“I know.” Alastor told her softly. “And, I know that he will need to be contained. You’re the only one I can trust to do this for me, Rosie. You have the power and I know that you’ll…you’ll keep him safe.”

“Alastor…” Rosie was moved; her heart went out to him knowing that he would only ever ask her of this; only ever really tell her this if he felt like he was left with no other choice.

Niffty was clamped to Alastor’s leg; her one eye-wide and starring at him; completely focused on him in her intense concern for him.

“It has to be now, though.” Alastor growled; shuddering against the internal war raging inside him. “I don’t have much time. I have to get back…”

As a participant in the reaping, Alastor had been granted free passage back and forth to earth. Part of this included some leniency in the time shifts between departures but these were still limited. If he missed the next time shift; it could be hours, days…months even before his return to Adeline. He couldn’t take that risk. He still didn’t know if she was even alive… He couldn’t feel her through their connection. This could mean that she was asleep, dead, or…

“Let’s do it then.” Rosie said, resigning herself to Alastor’s choice.

Alastor doubled-over. It felt like his shadow was throwing itself against him; fighting and tearing itself apart inside to prevent what was coming. The pentagram Alastor stood within prevented it from escaping or being able to take over completely, but it could give Alastor as bad of a time as it could to try.

“Come along, Niffty.” Rosie pulled her away from Alastor; the little thing clutching to him, refusing to let go. “It’s best you’re not here when this happens. It-it won’t be pleasant.” She looked at Alastor as they stepped out from the pentagram; confirming with him one last time that he accepted what may come. Gripping his chest now and sliding to his knees; Alastor met her gaze; and he nodded.

He didn’t feel Rosie dragging him; feel her pull him out from the confines of the pentagram when it was done. Rosie sat with him just outside it’s barrier; holding him while Niffty carefully worked to clean whatever hellish excrement she could from him.

When it happened; Alastor howled in such agony and anguish – he thought he might actually and truly lose all sense of sanity. He felt just like one of the wretched souls he had torn apart; felt like his terrible screams were so loud that he could actually be broadcasting them himself for all of Hell to hear. Rosie spoke truly; this was not pleasant. Alastor felt himself being torn; absolutely ripped apart. His body contorting and twisting in an awful fashion; vomit and spittle spewing from him throughout the process. His radio voice keened and it shrieked until his filter cut out completely; and he was left lying against the cold, wood floor broken and bleeding.

When Alastor finally came to – it was to the horrific screeching and keening of his shadow. Effectively contained within the pentagram; it threw itself again and again against the unholy barrier. Frenzied; it clawed, bit and spit; trying everything within its power to get back to Alastor.

Alastor starred up at the great and terrible thing; swallowing.

“Sorry, old friend…” He told it. “But, it had to be done…”

The shadow stopped its crazed struggling. Lowering, itself so that it was eye level to Alastor; the shadow focused on him – it hissed, low and trembling. Then, surprising Rosie; it gave a soft and pitiful whine, shrinking and slinking back slowly away into the confines of its new cell.

Gasping, Alastor moved so that his hand was pressed against the barrier; watching the shadow retreat and curl tightly within itself, remaining resignedly still now.

“Take care of it, Rosie.” Alastor breathed. “It will require…feeding, I’m afraid.”

“I am well aware.” Rosie told him; her and Niffty still sitting behind him. “And, I have the means – of course.”

 “I have to go.” Alastor groaned, struggling to get up.

“Alastor, you should rest, you-“

“I can’t.” He hissed at his pain; at the dizzying loss of strength. “I have to get back, I have to know if she’s…if I …“

He turned; standing shakily in front of them. His face – the expression on it – being of one of someone who was in complete and utter distress.

Niffty cried out – Rosie gasping - as both saw and realized that…Alastor was no longer smiling.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 16

[skyward-floored]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44393485/chapters/112102204#main

Chapter four!

in which everything goes wrong

[bunneechan]

there is something so damn satisfying about the face physics when Gojo and Yuta are swapped.

like you know very well Gojo is currently occupying Yuta's body because he gives some sort of edge to his facial expressions. meanwhile Yuta softens Gojo's facial expressions.

not to mention those edits of Sukuna without his face markings. you'd think he'd just be Yuji under that but it's a whole different character; a whole different aura.

i just really love it.

[heptagadu]

Rabbit panic!

[onthecrescentofthehill]

the paintings in this ep :^(

[bundeadly]

smile at hope in the name of despair

[hwashitape]

lungs, kidney, heart

[bookish-bogwitch]

BPD Chapter 5: I'd Be Your Little Spoon

Chapter 5 is live!

Chapter 5 is live.

A school dance. Some stolen snuggles. How did it end up like this?

Basil Pitch's Diary

T, 19k, 5/13.

Baz is determined that 2015 will be his year. His year to break free from his vampirism, his father's expectations, and most of all, his feelings for Simon Snow.

There's only one problem...

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Next update March 9

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[stupidgoober]

i’m sure many people more eloquent than i can and already have commented on this but vivian being trans in paper mario finally being canon makes me so happy because of how much thematic weight it gives to the story.

mario loses his name, his body, his whole identity to doopliss, and the only person who will believe and help him is a trans woman. because who better understands what it’s like to want others to know your name, and recognizes the importance of being in the body you belong in?

[friesucker]

This chapter broke me. The fact that the wife turned out to be a good person, the fact that after loosing everything in the war, Martha has managed to continue with her life has resound in me. It wasn't easy of course, maybe it was the hardest thing she had to overcome in her life (and this woman has been in two wars), but we are discovering this through her flashbacks, she is telling this as a storytime to Becky at teatime. So what does that mean? She already got over it, she survived. And you may think 'well of course, its been years' but i wouldn't judge her, i would even consider other reactions normal, like staying stuck in the past, because loosing the things and people you loved most to an absurd war simply is not fair.

Martha, you're so strong, i love you so much. I chose the picture of her breaking down after her performance because I understand how her dancing, having the chance to have a little of what she really deserved to live, could have reminded her of what it felt like to be alive.

[dreamlandcreations]

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: As the days go by, you and Aleksander grow closer, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by your fellow Grisha.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

“Hello, my darling girl,” Aleksander coos with a fond smile as your face peeks out of the long grass. “What have you got there?” 

His voice is always soft and doting when you’re in fox form, as if you’re something small to be handled with care. He knows that your heightened senses mean your thoughts are more instinctual in this form.

If foxes could blush you’re certain his words would have your fur turning pink with flustered pleasure, instead of the small shiver that runs down your spine in response. 

Shyly, you drop the bundle of flowers you’ve collected onto his lap before you move over to the space beside him on the blanket and shift back into your human form. The prickling sensation and slight ache in your muscles is almost familiar to you now.

He raises a brow questioningly at you, to which you duck your head and explain quietly. 

“Vladim wanted some lavender for one of the tonic’s he’s been working on.” 

Somewhere close by, the grass rustles and your head perks up at the sight of pointed ears poking out from the greenery surrounding you. Tension fills your body as the fox watches through your eyes, and the urge to pounce on the unsuspecting creature itches over your skin. 

Aleksander says your name sternly and your head turns quickly to look at him with wide, fearful eyes as you fight with the instincts now buried into your body.

He curls his fingers around yours, placing your hand on his lap. His power links with yours as the amplification in his bones reaches for you, pulling you back to yourself. 

“Leave the rabbit be.” 

At Aleksander’s casual command, the fox goes still in your mind now that the prospect of chasing down the rabbit no longer appeals to him as much as looking at Aleksander does. Breathing out a shaky breath, you nod and blink rapidly in an attempt to suppress the tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper quietly. He nods in acknowledgement. 

When Aleksander releases his hold on your hand, the fox’s attention snaps to him, watching as he shifts away from you and stands with a small noise of exertion. He then extends a hand towards you. 

“Shall we begin to head back?” 

With a nod, you take his hand. 

The fresh air seems to have done him some good, there’s a lightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, though at times the walking has been a little too much for his lungs. Neither one of you mention it when he needs to sit for a moment to take a few deep breaths. 

It concerns you that his condition might be worsening at a rate you cannot hope to keep up with. The research you’ve been conducting has been positive, but so far everything has been theoretical. To test it you would need the sun summoner, or more knowledge of Morozova’s work. 

Over the past few days, Aleksander has been helping you become more comfortable with changing your form. Now, you can trot happily by his side in fox form as you walk through the woods near the Sanctuary. He seems more relaxed when it is just the two of you together.

Aleksander doesn’t like you running through overgrown fields in fox form, concerned that you might unknowingly end up in a trap. 

Whenever you do find a hunters trap out in the fields, you use your power to trigger the mechanism inside it, causing the harsh metal to snap shut. Doing so prevents yourself or any other creature from being caught in it without a confrontation with the local hunters.  

Aleksander rolls up the blanket you had been sitting on, tucking it beneath his arm before the two of you begin to move in the direction of the path which will lead you back to the Sanctuary.  

“The connection between myself and Alina,” he says slowly, looking down at the grass beneath his feet. “Could it create a link similar to what you experience with the fox?” 

A frown creases at your brows. 

“You can hear Alina in your mind?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Last night, I used the tether to visit her. I remained in my room but, simultaneously, I was there at her bedside while she slept.” 

This new information has your mind running wild with possibilities. The connection between the two of them is what you intend to use to heal the damage done to Aleksander by merzost. 

“Could you interact with anything physically?” He ponders your question for a brief moment before he turns to you. 

“I extinguished a candle.” 

“The bond must be strong,” you muse quietly. 

Aleksander hums, though there’s an edge to his tone as if he dislikes the strength of their connection. It must hurt, to find your equal only to land on opposite sides of a war, pitted against one another. 

At the sight of you shivering in the breeze, Aleksander seems eager to change the subject, moving the focus back to you as he asks,

“Are you cold?”

Shaking your head, you tuck your arms protectively around your body before you admit honestly,

“It’s just a little chilly without the fur.”

In fox form you don’t need to worry about the weather, it’s only once you shift back into your human form that you realise how much warmth the fur grants you.

The kefta you are wearing is an old one, you haven’t had time work on a new one yet. Corecloth is in short supply at the moment, and you prefer to give it to someone who has no kefta when they arrive at the Sanctuary – like how Genya or Fedoyr had.  

Aleksander unclasps his cloak, dark fabric flowing smoothly as he sweeps it from his shoulders and drapes it over your smaller frame.  

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you tuck his cloak around your shoulders, slotting the clasp into place.

The scar on Aleksander’s hand looks particularly dark today, the dried blood stained with merzost where the remains of Morozova’s stag are still embedded in his skin. Genya had attempted to heal it, you know, but she had been unsuccessful.

“What are you thinking about?” Aleksander asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Amplifiers.”

Absentmindedly, your thumb runs over the edge of the fox’s claw embedded in your own hand. Where Aleksander’s amplifier has healed gnarly and black, yours appears natural as if it has always been a part of you.

“I think the stag antler is rejecting you because you are an amplifier yourself.”

Aleksander straightens slightly as he walks, keeping his eyes lowered as he considers your words. Then he says,

“Alina seemed to believe that she could claim the stag’s power because he chose her.”

“Perhaps,” you muse. “There’s no way of knowing, really, because I can say with absolute certainty that the fox chose me.”

Aleksander nods slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“At the Little Palace, I would usually attempt to locate an amplifier that shares similar traits to the Grisha I had in mind for it.”

“You said the fox would be well suited to me.” 

He nods again.

“Why did you think that?” you ask quietly. He had been right, after all.

Aleksander halts his steps, stopping to look at your face as you stand in front of him. His head tilts to one side as his dark eyes study your expression, his gaze lowering momentarily to glance at your lips.

“Because you’re clever and resourceful.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the intensity of his gaze which then softens when a loose hair of yours sways in the breeze.

“There’s a wildness to you that refuses to be tamed by hardship; a fight that will not give in.” Aleksander brushes the strand aside delicately, his knuckles tracing over your cheek. “Because you’re something remarkable.” 

»»---------------------►

As you reach for the handle of the door which leads to your room at the Sanctuary, the fox bristles slightly in your mind, alerting you to the presence of someone in your room. Slowly, you open the door.

At the sight of a familiar head of red hair, accompanied by a red kefta, you breathe a small sigh of relief and step smoothly into your room.

“Genya. Is something the matter?”

She looks down at her hands, adjusting the hem of her sleeves and brushing some invisible dirt from the fabric. After a small pause, she appears to gather her words together.

“You and the General seem close.”

Her eyes are wide as she watches your expression. Her observation makes you ponder over your relationship with Aleksander.

He knows you better than anyone else here at the Sanctuary does. He is the only person who knows about your bond with the fox, or your ability to change forms. But despite his compliments, and affection towards the fox, he has never indicated that he wants anything else.

“I suppose we spend a lot of time together,” you admit with a small shrug.

She turns her head, looking down at the sheets draped over your bed. Smoothing out some of the creases in the fabric, she hesitates before she speaks her next words.

“I want you to be careful.”

You frown.

“What do you mean?”

“I like to think that I know him well enough to trust his intentions with you, but after everything that happened in the Fold… it changed him. For better or worse I can’t say, but I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

Grisha have always been fond of gossiping and being based at the Little Palace had meant you heard the majority of it over the years. The whispers about Genya and the king turn your stomach even now. Her fears for your safety are well-founded, grounded in experience of men with power.

Moving towards her, you sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Thank you for looking out for me. But in all honesty, I’m not sure if he even sees me in that way.”

She smiles softly, the tension leaving her shoulders as she sits down beside you.

“I’ve been observing members of the court since I was eleven. He practically lights up when you enter the room.”

That surprises you.

“He does?” The frown on your face deepens as you consider the time you spend with Aleksander. “Even when he’s kind, I feel like he’s holding me at a distance.”

Genya considers your words for a moment before she admits,

“I think he fell rather hard for Alina.”

At that, you think of the scar on his hand, where Alina had driven a knife into him. Sometimes you notice him staring at it with an unreadable expression. The wound itself is filled with a painful level of merzost, but you can only imagine how much it hurts for him to be reminded of what he had lost with Alina.  

“There’s talk of her being back in East Ravka – that she’s gone into hiding with the royal family,” Genya remarks lightly.

Alina’s time at the Little Palace seems like an eternity ago, but you still remember how much time Genya had spent with her, you remember seeing the two of them walk arm in arm with wide smiles on their faces.

The two of them had been friends, and the thought of Alina using her power as the sun summoner to stand beside the monarchy has you watching Genya’s expression intently as she stares down at the frayed rug on the floor.

“Well, it’s her loss,” you say.

The words you’ve chosen might be slightly humorous, but you believe in them fully – Genya is loyal, and her friendship is something you would struggle to throw away once it’s been earned.

Genya straightens, holding her chin high with a small smirk.

“Obviously.”

The two of you share a look before you laugh.

»»---------------------►

The sound of heavy footsteps halts at the doorway of the workshop and you look up from the bundle of pages in your lap.

Aleksander raises a brow at you as he steps forwards into the room, observing the spread of paper that covers the floor surrounding where you’re perched cross-legged on the wooden flooring in front of David’s desk.

He moves cautiously, taking care not to tread on the pages as he glances between you, Genya, David, and the abundance of papers.

“May I ask what exactly is happening here?”

“I think Morozova had a number of journals,” you explain, standing carefully and making your way towards him on tiptoe. “Genya is good with identifying different inks while David and I can work out the age of the papers.”  

Coming to a stop at Aleksander’s side, you look over the collection of papers that the three of you have already sorted through.

“I think the journal you have…” At that, you gesture to the leather cover that had contained the pages of the journal. “…is a condensed version of Morozova’s work – a travel journal of sorts – containing small extracts of the other journals.”

“Do you think the rest of his journals might still exist?”

“Potentially.” As you lean towards him, you lower your voice to add, “I can tell when I’m right because Baghra becomes rather vocal with her disapproval.”

“Stupid girl,” Baghra grumbles scornfully from her seat behind bars, crossing her arms as she turns towards the window, and you roll your eyes at her.  

Aleksander tilts his head as he observes your reaction.

“She doesn’t bother you?” he asks quietly.

His question makes you pause, looking up at him as his dark eyes stare down at you, which makes you wonder how many friendships Aleksander might have lost over the years due to his mother.

Holding his gaze, you shake your head slightly.

“No, she doesn’t.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile before he looks away, turning to speak with David. When you also look away, fiddling with some papers, you catch Genya’s eye, and she gives you a pointed look. After that, you can’t suppress your smile.

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[hoagiesnadwich]

back together

HOLY MOLY ITS FINALLY DONE!!! I honestly never thought i would get this far into making the comic. its crazy to me that ive been doing this for like 5 months?? thank you everyone so much for your support!!! :-D

part 8 <- part 9 -> part 10

[mimimar]

so this is what it feels like to draw magic for someone else

(art prints)