#dear myself with murderous intent

[m-a-k-k-u]

My Dearest Self With Malice Aforethought▪︎Shinai Naru Boku e Satsui o Komete

[syoounn]

•A little scenario saying they are handsome (part 2)

•Characters: Fyodor, Nikolai, Poe

(Part 1)

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Fyodor

You were quietly staring and admiring Fyodor's appearance as he made eye contact with you as it surprise you.

"Is something the matter?" He lifts an eyebrow, taking off his coat and putting it onto the coat peg. "You're gazing at me quite odd."

"Nothing.." you said shyly.

As usual, Fyodor sees through you rather easily. He approaches you with light, silent steps and cups your face in his hands, scrutinizing you intently with those violet eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm.. you're just handsome.."

He huffs out a sound that's a near to a laugh, a rare sight. His eyes, however, remain calm and serious as ever, and they seem to be inspecting you as if you were a book. Slowly, Fyodor leans forward until the tips of your noses are nearly touching, and his voice is a mere whisper when he speaks again. "What are you up to, my dear?"

"Im not up to anything..." you said.

His eyes glint with amusement, and he allows himself a mischievous smirk. Fyodor's thumb gently caresses your cheekbone, and he speaks in a low voice. "I know you better than you know yourself, my dear. That's not very convincing, is it?"

As if wanting to test his own theory, Fyodor's left hand now sneaks around your neck until his fingertips skim over your skin. A shiver makes its way down your spine at the gesture, the faintest of touches, yet full of intention. He chuckles. "Ah. See? I know you are far better. Your body betrays you, my love."

"And now you blush." His eyes gleam in triumph. Fyodor's thumb brushes over your cheek again before he brings his face close to your ear, and his breath is hot on your skin. "You know I always see through you, no matter how elaborate your schemes. After all, you are mine."

It's so endearing how you are trying to hold on to your secret. Without warning, he suddenly pushes you against the nearest wall, the hand around you neck keeping you caged in place as he presses his body against yours, and his eyes glint with a mixture of teasing and hunger.

You'll have to pray for yourself tonight...

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Nikolai

“Guess what I did today~?” He exclaims excitedly.

"Dangerous stuff..?" you said.

“Of course not, my love!”

He pouts, and you can hear him being sarcastic about this as he hugs you. He rests his head on top of yours. He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, and he rests his chin on your head.

“I was just doing simple work for Dostoevsky…”

“A boring mission at that - I just had to disguise myself as another man’s secretary! They were so fooled, too… they thought I was this boring person, and not the great Nikolai!” He says proudly before giving you a kiss on the cheek. He spins you around to kiss your lips properly.

"Mhm... The great Nikolai is handsome after all.."

He grins as he kisses you and lifts you up in his arms. He is quite strong, so doing this isn’t a problem for him, even if you are quite tall as well. He holds you up in his arms with a gleeful look on his face.

“You think so, dove?”

He hums, He’s always been overly affectionate. He’s like a puppy if a puppy was a psychotic mass murderer.

“But, if you really think I’m handsome…”

He gently rests you against the counter, standing between your legs, holding your waist as he smiles down at you.

“How about I show you just how handsome I am~?”

He rests his hands on your hips, his hands slowly tracing circles on your body.

“A little performance, perhaps?”

He leans in and whispers into your ear, his mouth so close to your skin that you can see a sly, mischievous grin on his face.

"Performance..?" you said, confused.

“Tada! As my dove, you get a very, very special performance! One that no one has ever seen before…”

He lifts up your chin and captures your lips in a kiss. He kisses you with a feverish passion, one that makes you not question how someone as strange as him had been able to pull you.

He is always very gentle with you, even if he can be very… cruel when it comes to his other activities. But you just hope you'll enjoy his performance tonight.

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Poe

Poe was currently working on the noble as you looked at him with curiosity while Karl was laid down on your lap sleeping soundly.

"Could you come closer..?" you said.

Upon being asked to come closer, Poe set down his pen and got up from the desk, walking over to you and stopping beside you, looking down at your sitting form.

“Is there anything you need, darling?” he asked a small smile across his face, his attention on you now and not on his work.

You lift up his bangs as you smile

"You're very handsome,"

He flushed a little upon hearing these words and smiles, and you called him handsome. Soon, a small embarrassed giggle left past his lips as his bangs were held up by you, revealing more of his face.

“Thank you- you’re very pretty too..” *he muttered out, leaning down a bit as to not pull your hand away as you held his bangs up with your other hand free hand to do as you pleased with it, his face was flushing a little.

Poe blushed a bit upon having his bangs lifted by you. You can see his flustered face.. it was cute.

“You are beyond beautiful. Perhaps you should model for me sometime?”

"Model?.." you said, confused.

Poe nodded, a warm smile on his face.

“Yes! To model, maybe for a book cover, for example, or to help me with some art references, I’m sure you would look amazing in whatever you did.”

Poe took a seat next to you and gently held your cheek in his hand. His gaze was filled with an immense amount of love as he smiled, gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Would you like to model for me, my love?”

That took you off guard, making you blush as you nodded shyly.

Poe practically grinned at your agreement, gently pulling your face closer as he kissed your forehead before speaking again, his tone softer.

“Do you perhaps have something in mind you would like to model? Like a dress, or something else?”

Both of you spent time discussing it..as it was the nicest and sweetest day you've had.

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[p-taryn-dactyl]

way down we go: the before (i)

the series: (i) (ii) (the aftermath)

a/n: hi! i really liked writing for this AU so I decided to give a little backstory! this is the story of the first meeting/date of reader and Agatha who is in her less than legal hobby phase. hope you enjoy!

word count: 2k

warning(s): reader is a little bit oblivious...or is agatha a mastermind?; cursing oh no; mentions of stalking; did i mess up the timeline i myself created? maybe shh; also guys, it feels weird to write about the police when im not their biggest fan...eh it makes a good AU so; theres a murder! but who did it 👀 ; made up forsenics; hehe i have a plan; i kinda just throw MCU names around as characters in here sorry

You were convinced the universe had a vendetta against you as you rushed through your morning routine. You had slept in forty minutes past your alarm, much to the distaste of your neighbors, who had been the ones to wake you with pounding knocks on your door.

"Why do I have so many fucking creams and serums?" You muttered angrily about the purchases your past self had bought as a celebration of getting the job. The new job that you were now dangerously close to running late to your first day. Finally your frustration came to a head and you finally just started on your makeup, pausing your blending and swiping to pull on pants and a sweater. A sweater you realized was on backwards and inside out once you were in your car and in front of your regular coffee stand. You had pulled the sweater off and was in the process of turning it right side out when you realized you had caught the eye of one of the coffee stand customers. You also realized you were only in your bra and your car windows were far from tinted. Heat rose to your face and you sheepishly pulled your sweater on over your head. If you ever had done the walk of shame, you imagined it would feel like how you did as you got out of the car. The customer who you had made eye contact with smirked at you as you made your way to join the coffee line.

"If I known I would be getting a show, I would've brought more cash."

While her voice held a joking tone, you saw no malicious intent in her blue eyes. Dear lord you had just flashed the most beautiful woman in the world. Forget your new job, you were just gonna run away to Argentina and change your name. You gave a small laugh, embarassment still coursing through you. The woman seemed to realize and bumped your shoulder with hers.

"Oh come on now, don't be shy. I liked what I saw." She whispered into your ear and made even more heat rise to your cheeks. The blatant flirting made you genuinely smile and a small burst of confidence had you responding.

"I guess the next logical step is to buy you dinner...or coffee! This coffee, I don't know why I jumped straight to dinner." You trailed off to a mumble, the burst of confidence gone. But the woman just looked at you with a fondness that you didn't know someone could have for a stranger.

"You'll offer me dinner before you learn my name?"

Your eyes widened and your hand shot out in front of you for a handshake.

"I'm sorry, that's just rude of me honestly. First I flash you and now this!" You started to pull your hand back, wondering why you even put it out but she grabbed it, shaking your hand softly. Her eyes shone with humor as she told you her name.

"Agatha Harkness, lovely to meet you dear."

You smiled but it quickly fell as you noticed the time on her watch and how long the coffee line was.

"Oh shit, I have to go. Guess I'll push through the day without a caffeine boost."

Agatha laughed, a sound you knew you wanted to hear more of in the future.

"Dinner?" You anxiously asked as you fumbled with your car keys, unlocking your car. Agatha nodded, cocking her head to the side as she smiled at you.

"I'll meet you here around 6? We can walk to The Bistro just around the corner."

While it was a question, Agatha spoke as if it was a demand. You smiled and nodded, internally hoping Agatha wouldn't take you up on your buying dinner offer. The Bistro was a delicious restaurant but was known for prices that normally took weeks saving up for. You waved at your date, climbing in your car with a giant smile on your face. Before you shut your door, Agatha called out.

"See you later, Y/N!"

It didn't occur to you that you never told her your name.

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Agatha watched as you drove away, a smirk pulling on her lips. Finally. She had been keeping tabs on you for weeks, the new forensic scientist who was the new obstacle in her way. Over the weeks, she memorized your schedule, where you frequented and when. This coffee shop was a constant, a perfect place for an impromtu meeting. But even with all the information she collected about you, she didn't expect to genuinely like you. You were adorable, both in your mannerisms and how you spoke. If she didn't already know your history, she would be more concerned about the profession you had chose.

She also didn't expect you to ask her out, an interesting development. Agatha was prepared to inch her way into your life as a friend, slowly coercing information out of you as the friendship progressed. But this, this dinner would would change everything.

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The universe definitely had it out for you.

Almost the second after you situated yourself in your new lab, after meeting the team and thankfully clicking with them, a call came into the precinct.

A body had been found.

The excitement of your first officical case made the whole process become a blur. But reality became stark the second you crossed the yellow tape. Red and blue illuminated the air, flashing in your eyes as you made your way to the body. Almost immediately, you were grabbing the arm of Detective Jimmy Woo, the man who had been kind enough to let you have the last of the coffee pot.

"This isn't where they were killed. This is a body dump."

Jimmy, quick to grab his notepad, started jotting down what you said before looking up at you, a quizzical look on his face.

"How do you know?"

You slowly started circling the body, Jimmy following you as you explained, careful to not disrupt the photos Darcy, the CSP, was taking.

"The way he's positioned," Jimmy looked like he was about to ask how you knew the sex but you held up a hand as if to say you'll come back to that, "His arms are up against his chest and so are his legs, rigor mortis sets in after death, meaning since there's no outward indicators on the scene of a struggle and from what flesh is left, it looks like the wrists and ankles were tied, creating the position he's in now. If I'm allowed to make an educated guess, he was stuffed in the back of a vehicle of some sort and died while back there. He probably was dumped when whoever put him in the vehicle realized."

Jimmy just stared at you and you fidgeted in place. The excitement of being in a crime scene made you break a rule you learned while completeing an internship at the Jeffersonian. Never make assumptions about how the victim died, wait until you have evidence for a hypothesis. But Jimmy just nodded, an impressed look on his face as he taped his notepad with his pen.

"We're lucky to have you as our main analyst, Y/N. Welcome to the team."

Jimmy went to talk with the couple who had found the body while fishing. If you had to guess, you would say they would be staying away from seafood for a long time.

Along with your new forensic team, you inspected the scene, collecting and bagging everything and anything that seemed out of place. Finally, it was time to head back to the lab.

Dental records of the victims skull gave you an identification quickly.

Vis Maximoff, 32, reported missing two weeks ago by a neighbor, who had chosen to stay anonymous. You were surprised to see a pending case attatched to his name in the system, one that had been open for almost a year. Vis's wife, Wanda, was reported as deceased under unusual circumstances but all evidence detectives had to even start thinking about arresting Vis was either circumstancial or non-existent.

You passed on this information to Jimmy, who had a confirmation from the coroner, Hela, that your theory of how Vis died was correct. Fibers found on his body matched those of the floor of a 2017 Buick Verano. He died of asphyxiation, meaning either he had no air in the trunk of the car, or something had been covering up his nose and mouth, keeping him quiet and ultimately leading to his demise.

The rest of the day went by in what felt like a second. Soon, it was coming close to your date with Agatha and you had no time to change. Darcy proved to be your savior as she walked into your lab without knocking, quickly clocking the panicked look on your face.

"Girl are you okay? I mean you did have to look at a dead man for hours so I guess that could be it but I'm also going to guess this is about something else because you keep picking at your sweater."

You looked up at Darcy, forcing yourself to stop plucking at your clothes.

"Maybe you should be a detective," you joked, Darcy snorted as she leaned on the table across from you, silently prompting you to explain, "It's just, I have a date with someone I met at the coffee stand and she's gorgeous - I mean really pretty, and we're going to a super nice place and I'm pretty sure I have dead man juice on my pants."

Darcy shuddered before coming around to loop her arms through yours.

"Well thankfully, this department has plenty of clothes used for undercover assignments and stake outs. I'm sure we can find something that screams 'FUCK ME' in time for your date."

If you had pearls, you would have clutched them. Darcy just rolled her eyes at your dramatic reaction. She pulled you up, dragging you to the giant walk in closet where the undercover clothes resided.

"Ok don't give me that scandalized bullshit, do you or do you not want her to fuck you?"

You murmmured under your breath as you looked at the racks of clothing. Darcy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. You sighed, making eye contact with the brunette.

"I mean I was mostly hoping that she even likes me after this date, but yes, that would be nice."

Darcy laughed, shaking her head as she joined you in looking for an outfit.

"You're a funny one, Y/N. This woman better not break your heart because you just gained yourself a best friend and- ew no not that dress, it makes you look like a corpse." -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha tapped her foot against the concrete as she waited for you. A small part of her wondered if you had forgotten about the date that was made so quickly, and she hated how that thought made her stomach sink.

"Agatha!"

Your voice called out as you turned the corner, looking slightly out of breath as you walked over to her as quickly as possible. You came to stand next to her as Agatha's eyes raked over you, taking in the dress Darcy and you had agreed on.

"Oh I don't know if we can go into the restaurant like this." Agatha said while slightly shaking her head. Your smile fumbled as you looked down at the dress, surprised at how much you ended up loving it.

"Oh I thought it was ni- I don't- Why is there a dress code it's breaking?"

Your panicked flurry of words made Agatha come to stand close to you, cupping your face in her hands and lifting slightly so you could make direct eye contact.

"I just don't know if I'm okay with everyone staring at my date."

You rolled your eyes jokingly as Agatha pulled away, swatting at her shoulder lightly.

"You scared me! Now if anyone is going to be staring, it's going to be at you. Did you literally jump out of my fantasies?"

You only realized what you had said once you saw the growing smirk on Agatha's face.

"Fantasies huh? We only met this morning and you're already fantasizing about me?"

You felt heat rising to your face, a seemingly normal occurence around Agatha.

"Let's go to The Bistro! Probably a long line to wait in, should get to that!"

Agatha wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as she whispered in your ear.

"This is going to be fun."

a/n: hihi! God I love this AU! This and The Aftermath parts of Way Down We Go are going to be two parts each, and then there's something else i have planned that hopefully y'all enjoy too!! thank you for reading!

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime x f!reader, Douma x f!reader, Daki, Kokushibo and Akaza (mentioned).

Warnings: modern au, cheating, choking, mention to murder, gore and violence, mild sexual content, vaginal sex, dom!muzan, sub!reader, slight somnophilia.

Plot: the morning after, you wake up in Muzan’s embrace. While he seems affectionate, his mood swings allow you to see past his angelic face and you start to connect the dots about his dark side. You make love again, but he becomes distant right after it. He leaves for work and you bump into Nakime, who tells you about some of Muzan’s habits. In need for fresh air, you run in the basement but Douma allures you to give in to your animalistic desires. You could love whoever you wanted privately, right?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

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THE DEVIL.

His hot breath fanned your earlobe, his arm was draped over your waist to keep you close to him. Muzan loved how you were smaller than him, so beautiful and fragile. You were his special someone to protect, to give his all for.

His mouth left a trail of open mouthed kissed down your shoulderblade, his half-lidded, plum red eyes watching how you stirred in your sleep and snuggled into his chest. He barely knew you and he had already taken so much from you. You had practically given yourself to him without blinking, so diligently, you had given up on the mundane and trivial part of your life to train yourself to be a First Lady.

“Y/N” he purred, his long fingers drawing patterns on the naked skin of your stomach to wake you up softly. He did not want to startle you, he just craved to taste you once again before leaving for work. While he perfectly knew he could have had you by the time he got back from his office, he had the irresistable urge to have you again now, as the first rays of the sun seeped into his bedroom from the curtains.

You rolled on your side, facing him and, lifting your heavy eyelids to peek out at his angelic face. It felt unrealistic. It was not a dream, you were really sleeping on Kibutsuji Muzan’s king-sized bed. His hand was gently squeezing your hip and you blushed, hiding your face into his toned chest, not to allow him to see your sleepy face.

A hoarse laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer to him, his chin propped on the top of your head affectionately “I did not wake you up for you to hide your pretty face to me. – he murmured, sending shivers down your spine – I have the ardent desire to fuck you again, before I go” he blatantly said, his fingertips digging onto your waist possessively, earning a soft whimper from you.

“Do you?” you whispered bashfully, craning your neck to stare up at him.

Your legs were still sore from the previous night events and a dull track of pain was still present in your core. But you could do it again, you could do it one more time because you wanted to, because he was staring intently into your eyes and his fervent passion felt like boiling droplets of lava on your sensitive skin.

“I don’t particularly like to repeat myself, darlin’. – he stated, arching a dark eyebrow up and propping his elbow on his crimson pillow, only to rest his head on his fist to inspect your visage – I own you, I desire you. Haven’t I been clear enough, hm?” he inquired in a cold tone, his voice dropping a few octaves.

There it was, his feral side. The one you, deep down, hoped to see crossing his face. He had rarely lost his temper on the camera, but when he did you usually feared for the safety of those who had dared to enrage him. And, dear God, something bad happened to them, sometimes.

How could he be so fascinating, when his malicious inner side showed up? You should have been scared of him.

“I didn’t mean to—…” you said, yet you never finished your sentence. His hand reached out to your neck, the iron-grip knocking the air of your lungs as he easily pushed you down on the mattress and hovered over you. You gulped down forcefully, lips parted in excitement and a ounce of fear as the dark-haired man on top of you grinned down at your writhing frame.

“Tch, bloody hell. How do you expect me not to fuck you senseless, when you look at me like that?” he rhetorically asked you, a vein popping his forehead as he gave your neck one last squeeze, before releasing it.

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils, legs timidly hooking behind his back as a sign that you were ready, that he could claim you again.

“Muzan…” you called his name lowly, your hand cupping his smooth cheek and brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. His eyes never left yours. His lips twitched as his mouth connected with yours in a hungry kiss. You did not even fight for dominance, he won, he shoved his tongue into your mouth without bothering to ask for permission. Your hands went up to thread his hair as you shyly squeezed his waist between your legs to relief your core from the pressure engulfing your nether regions.

He growled in your mouth, grinding his groin down onto yours to feed you what you longed for.

His hands cupped your face, his lips barely brushing over yours as his breath mingled with yours in erotic, erratic pants “Impatient little girl. You will learn not to play with fire”.

You had no time to realize what had happened. All you knew was that a sharp pain pierced the tender flesh of your neck and you squealed out in surprise. You tugged at Muzan’s hair unintentionally, when you felt his tongue lap at the bruised skin of your neck. Only then you came to the conclusion that he had bitten you and, right after that, he wasted no time in pushing your panties to the side and slipping into your already wet cunt.

♚

You walked him to the door, once you two were ready. He did not kiss you goodbye. Actually, he was back to be the cunning, distant politician you saw on the tv screen during his interviews. He barely glanced at you, before shutting the door behind him and leaving with Kokushibo.

You should have not felt hurt. You were not into an enstablished, true relationship. You were paid to keep him company and stick by his side in public. You remembered what he had told you before Kokushibo took you back home that night.

“You can love whoever you want privately”.

You could, right. But if he kept on these mood swings, if he made you believe you meant something for him by the way he fucked you, or the way he looked at you, there was no way in the world you could have ever had eyes for someone else. Additionally, who? Who could you love far from the medias, without letting the news reach the ears of the journalists?

You were conflicted and the best thing you could do to distract yourself was probably talking to someone, or asking them the permission to leave. Possibly alone. You made your way to the elevator, your finger reaching up to push the button, when you had stop midway.

“Miss L/N, can I help you?” Nakime asked from behind you.

You flinched, turning around to face the woman with the same expression of someone caught red-handed and bowed your head at her “Ah, Nakime-san, goodmorning – you quipped, forcing a smile on your face – I was going to the basement” you told her, thinking that your answer would have sufficed to chase her away.

Nevertheless, you were wrong.

“No one is in the basement” she declared flatly.

“Oh… Do you know where I can find Douma and Akaza then?” you then asked her, folding your arms against your chest. Were you really going to spend the day in her company? Honestly, it sounded like hell.

The brunette took a few steps forward, her high-heels clicking against the marble floor “On a mission. – she said, cocking her head to the side – How can I help you, miss L/N?” she repeated the question, her red-painted lips curling up in a faint smile. There was something off about her. She radiated hostility and danger. However, you did not have much of a choice.

You shrugged, averting your eyes from her and staring at the majestic Muzan’s potrait hanged on the wall. Damn it, his eyes were haunting you even through paintings.

“Uhm… A-actually, can you do something for me, please?” you stammered, fidgeting with the charm of your necklace. Bad habits never died. It was a clear sign that you were on the verge of snapping.

“Do you want me to kill someone for you?” Nakime blurted out, making your blood run instantly cold. What did she say? Why did she ask that as if it was not a crime? Was she really a killer? Well, you should have not been that surprised.

“What?! No!” you replied horrified, grimacing at the mere thought of Muzan giving his bodyguards the order to kill his opponents. But, deep down, you knew he did. You just decided that pretending he was a good man was the easiest way to get along with him.

Further more, the feelings he gave you were controversial. Would you have been able to forgive him, if he had told you he had made his flunkies slaughter his foes? Probably. Why? He could manipulate you to believe it was the rightest thing to do.

Silence swallowed you two for minute straight. Then, she spoke out again.

“Oh, I get it then. – Nakime said, walking towards you and stopping right in front of you – Just relax, okay?” she added, before slowly dropping down on her knees. You were puzzled by her actions, even more when she grasped your hand and planted a chaste kiss on its back. Nakime curled up to your thighs the hem of your skirt, careful not to touch the exposed skin of your legs.

You were paralyzed, mouth agape when she planted a kiss on your clothed sex. What was she doing? You shivered, blushing furiously as she reached for the waistband of your panties and tried to tug them down. Was she going down on you? Were you letting her do it? Christ, why? No, no, no. That needed to stop.

You took a step back, gawking at her as you straightened your skirt and ran your fingers through your hair in shock. Nakime cocked her head to the side, scrunching her nose in annoyance at your rejection. Why did she assume you needed this kind of favor? Plus, was she really into it?

“W-What was that, Nakime?” you blurted out, blinking at her skeptically.

“Well, I assumed you were sexually frustrated. – she chimed, standing back up and bowing her head at you – I apologize. Master Muzan usually asks me to help him relax” she added, blushing slightly but keeping her head high.

Her words made your breath hitch in your throat and you gaped, forrowing your brows in curiosity “Y-You… Does Muzan—”.

“Fuck me? Yeah, he does. Daily”.

“Jesus…” you choked, clenching your fists down your sides. You were such an idiot. Of course he had told you to love whoever you wanted privately. It was exactly what he did. You should have not felt offended at the revelation, you were nothing more than an actress. Yet, it pissed you off.

“I’m not even the only one and, definitely, not his favorite. Daki is probably on her way to his office. – Nakime added, glancing at her wrist-watch – Now, what was that favor you needed from me?” she pressed, folding her arms over her chest.

Daki. Daki was his favorite. If Daki was his favorite, you were not. Ouch.

“Who’s Daki?” you asked, cursing yourself for being upset about it.

Nakime scoffed “His sixth in command. Now, what in the actual hell do you need me to do?” she asked again, exhaling through her nostrils.

You rolled your eyes at her and turned back to the elevator, pushing the metallic button. You felt her staring at you, although her eyes, that you still had to see, were hidden by her long fringe.

“Where are you going?” she spat, but before she could pest you again with another question, you entered the elevator and waved your hand at her mockingly. Maybe you were going to be punished for that, but you needed to get away from her and taking a little time for yourself. You knew that there was a garage, somewhere, with dozens of car. You had heard Kokushibo mentioning it and, right now, you needed to borrow one of them. You were the soon to be First Lady, after all.

Nakime sprinted up to catch up with you, but the doors closed and in five seconds you were at the basement. When you walked in, you took a look around and you realized that the cold-hearted brunette was not lying when she told you no one was there. You sighed and started to search for a secret door, or something that could have led you to the garage, but you could not find anything.

“What the fuck…” you uttered in exhasperation, walking over the huge library and staring at the titles almost absent-mindedly.

It was foolish, maybe, but you had seen enough movies in your life to know that rich scions loved to hide rooms behind libraries. Now, which was the book starting the device?

Your fingertips grazed the covers of the novels, as you passed by and you were about to pick one of them to test your theory, when a mild voice rang in your ears and you jolted in fear. You twirled around, your back pressed against the library as your eyes locked with a pair of multicolored hues. Was he not supposed to be out on a mission?

“My, my… What is my cute, little doe doing here?” Douma chimed, his hands on each side of your head caging you between his body as the library.

You blushed, staring up at him in embarrassment. It was hard to breathe. Not only he was standing way too close to you for your likings, but he was handsome as hell and… And some dried, scarlett substance was splattered over his face. Was it blood? Was he out murdering someone?

“D-Douma… Is… What’s on your face?” you breathed out, heart thrumming into your chest as you pointed your finger at his right cheek.

He quirked his eyebrows up, his gloved hand reaching up to touch the stained portion of skin on his face and he grinned, his pearly teeth on display as he took a step back and nodded his head at you “Oh, that’s blood! It’s not mine, don’t worry, love!” he stated, winkig at you.

You thought you were going to faint and maybe you would have slumped down on the floor, if it was not for his sharp reflex. As soon as your knees buckled, his arms were wrapped around your waist and he held you up easily. It was time for you to deal with the fact that your fiancé was a murderer. The morning had started with a bang and you were, apparently, not ready for Kibutsuji’s secrets to screw your life.

“Sensitive, aren’t we? – Douma joked, as you clutched the fabric of his white shirt in your hands – Are you alright?” he asked, giggling at your reaction.

You sighed and let go of him, walking to the small leather couch and sitting down “Whose blood is it?” you boldly asked him, watching how he hastily joined you and slumped down on the comfortable surface.

“Does it really matter? I mean, he is not dead… Just battered. I did such a good job!” he beamed, winking at you and lolling his head back on the backrest.

You flinched and shifted to face him properly, eyes round as you jabbed your finger at him “Douma! Please… It matters to me. I didn’t think–…” you started, but you choked on your own words, tears spilling out of your eyes without your permission. Gosh, it happened. You were on the verge of a breakdown.

Douma stared at you clearly confused, his hands immediately cupping your cheeks as he tried to calm you down. You sobbed, his thumbs wiping away the tears falling from your lashes as he ducked his head down to inspect your face better. You did not protest, you did not have enough strength to do anything else, except for leaning into his touch and batting your eyes closed.

“Don’t cry, little doe! – he murmured, his nose now brushing against yours – No one is going to hurt you, I promise!” he soothed, his hands sliding down your back, until they were settled over your hips. It was weird, inappropriate even. Maybe, if Akaza or Kokushibo were here, he would have not even dared to touch you like that. But some physical contact, some comfort, even from a serial killer, was not that bad.

You had slept with one of them twice, after all. And, naturally, you knew that Kibutsuji Muzan was the worst of this crew.

You nodded your head and Douma smiled, cradling you in his arms. Now, you were the one who had pushed his limits. You should have not straddled him, you should have not played with his tie, but when he grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, you parted your lips and Douma kissed you.

It was intense, but not demanding. Was it a soothing kiss? You had no clue about what was happening, but you kissed him back, chest pressed against his one as he held you close to him. His tongue brushed over your lower lip and you softly moaned, arching your back as he entered your mouth. It lasted for a while, your body melting under his touch. You only abruptly parted, when you felt his bulge pressing against your thigh through the fabric of his trousers.

“What the fuck did I do?!” you panicked, standing up and fixing your clothes. Was everyone horny in that place? Were you slowly slipping in the deep end too? Were you becoming a whore?

Douma licked his bottom lip, a smug smile curling his plumped lips as he stood up and straightened his tie “Oh, well, you opened your mouth for me, ma’am. Such a pity you did not open your legs too…” he complained, feigning sorrow and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Muzan did not have to know about that. Plus, he had no shame in sleeping with Nakime and that Daki girl, right? Maybe you should have not felt guilty for it.

“Listen, that was a mistake—…”.

“One hell of a mistake, love!”.

“Gosh, will you please just take me out for a stroll and a lunch? I might just explode” you blurted out, throwing your hands in the air.

Douma gladly complied, his hands somehow always finding their way to your waist, but you finally managed to hop into his car.

Your phone in your purse buzzed, you ignored it. You were too busy chatting with Douma, laughing at his stupid jokes, to check it out. It was Muzan, telling you that you would have made your first public appearence in two days and that, maybe, you were in trouble for having tricked Nakime.

Muzan: I don’t accept insubordination. I know what you did. We ought to talk tonight. Don’t bother wearing anything.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! Third part is out! Buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourselves for a very, very crazy ride with the Kibutsuji crew. I enjoyed writing this part and, just to be clear, I’m a sucker for Douma… So, it’s clear why the reader is going to have some fun with him, alright? Thanks for the support, really! Please, read the first two parts of this series to understand better. Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

Tags: @bookandstar

[saintmuses]

❝𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧❞

Pairing:

Lenny Miller x Reader

Summary:

She never got to marry, or bear children, or have a house with a white picket fence. She never got to grow old either. Even in death, she would never be able to escape from the man who loved her a little too much.

Warning(s): Death. Implied murder. Angst. Implied toxic relationship. Age gap (10 years apart between Reader and Lenny). Major power imbalance. Dark!Lenny. Minors, dni! Note: I was trying to make this something that you would read from a non-fiction crime book which includes many characters from Anna so it does not feel personal. Reader is a Russian American in this one. Also the switch between ‘Leonard’ and ‘Lenny’ is intentional. The title is from Mirrorball because I thought it was fitting of how it refers to the end of something, therefore the end of one’s life as they know it.

Word Count: 3.3k

1995

"It was something I would do, but I would've never expected her to do it. She and I were very different in that sense." Anna Poliatova, her best friend from childhood days murmured softly, her accent curled around the letters as she sat down in a chair for the interview regarding the crime documentary. She had eyes that were colored like the sky, and platinum hair, straight as spineless grass in the plains.

"1990 was something for her," she then laughed. "She met someone I never even knew about, but I found out in her diary of an early 1990 entry of a man named Leonard Miller."

April 16, 1990

Dear Diary,

When you meet someone, how would you picture meeting someone? One day, they would be a stranger to you, but they could be everything but a stranger tomorrow.

I didn't expect to meet Leonard Miller yesterday, but everyone knew of him. 

I mean he is an agent handler for Central Intelligence Agency, his reputation precedes him everywhere he goes in that workplace. What attracted me to him right away was how he eluded power and raw presence. He commanded attention as soon as he walked into the room. I had to talk to him because of my job; I’ve been assigned as a secretary for the director of CIA.

The day before, you would be doing something so mundane, right up to the moment, and that was when everything changed. I haven't felt this way in a long time, like a schoolgirl's crush on a man who is very handsome, but very off-limits. There’s a workplace code set in place for something like this. My brain had to remind myself that we cannot be more than just co-workers, no fraternizing around, but my heart didn't care.

I was never supposed to be that person.

Never.

Y/N.V.

Y/N Vasilisa—Love to those close to her due to the meaning of her last name—was born in New York in 1966 to her parents Arseni Vasiliy and Janet O’Conner.

Aurora, New York was a town where families would bloom while the others faded.

Arseni Vasiliy was born in Moscow, USSR, and migrated to America when he was nineteen and met a girl from a town over, then fell in love with her. They were married in 1964, two years before Y/N was born. "She kept him on his toes, and they made the marriage work. They had good years," his friend recalled, a brief appearance. "Really good years."

Janet, her mother was very protective of Y/N, perhaps because she was the baby, the only child of the family. They were close, close as best friends could've been.

The Vasiliys were the poster child of what family should really look like. It was a small family, but it was home.

Y/N met Anna Poliatovia in English class when she was a teenager. She came to America as a foreign exchange student from Soviet Union program. They were the duo that every girl was jealous of, and every guy wished they would've gotten together with.

Y/N Vasilisa was an honor student, had perfect grades all four years of high school, and became a valedictorian for her class.

Everything had changed a month before her graduation in 1984. Her parents died in a tragic car accident. Their slow but terrible deaths were caused by fire when a drunken driver of semi-truck crashed into them.

She moved to New York City after she graduated from high school, wanting to get away from the town that used to be so kind to her.

In a utopia world, no one would die. In the real world, parents weren’t supposed to bury their children. In a twisted sense, they made the natural order of death happen. Y/N had to bury them at eighteen.

She went to a community college while working for a company as a secretary during the week, and she would complete double shifts as a waitress at a restaurant on the weekends to be able to afford an apartment she lived in.

As Y/N struggled to make the ends meet, Leonard Miller was on his way to becoming an operative for CIA.

Leonard’s father was born in Europe in 1928, but his family moved to America specifically Hawaii in 1935, although it was not a part of fifty stars for another few decades. When his father was twenty-one, he met his wife at a shore, and they were married before finding a job as a constructor while his wife was a housewife and a mother of four children.

Elizabeth was the first and only daughter that was welcomed to the world in 1951, John was born two years later, then it was Leonard and Maxwell after that.

The family experienced a devastating loss when the patriarch of the family died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-three in February 1981, leaving his wife, children, and grand-children behind.

While the women of the family were soft-spoken, soft hearted; the men were stolid, hardworking, and they set their minds to succeed in America.

All men but one worked for a construction company that their father built with his partner. The company became Miller and Co. when it thrived in Pearl City, and the boys except one joined.

The third child of the family did not want to work for the construction company, opting to make a path for himself.

Leonard -Lenny for short- was born in 1956, the third child, but second boy in the family. He had dark brown hair, icy blue eyes so piercing that someone would feel like he was looking into their soul. He did almost everything first, he was not only an honor student, but he was also undeniably his parents' favorite son out of four children. He was hardworking and disciplined like his father, quiet and conservative like his mother.

John and Maxwell, his brothers were the opposite of it. They were the life of the party, the charmers who could work a room full of strangers and leave with a bunch of friends.

They were very much loved by their parents despite the differences in all of them.

To them, Leonard was the good brother. The one who could give dependable advice. To school, he was quite unattainable. Polite, friendly, only mingling when he had to, but he knew how to have fun as well.

When he was eighteen, he graduated from high school in 1974, and enlisted in military. It was there he was recruited to become an CIA operative thus moving to Washington DC to be close to Langley.

Despite being the second oldest brother, he did take over the proceedings of the patriarch after his father's death, but he refused to do anything with the construction company. His other brothers were there to run the business while he and his sister were there for their mother.

Before his father's death, he accepted a promotion to become CIA Agent Handler.

And he was thirty-four years old when he met Y/N Vasilisa.

"She was filled with life," Lenny said softly, fingers tracing the surface of the table in front of him as he stared down at the patterns, remembering the night he met her. "She was something else," he swallowed thickly before turning his head away, not without a hint of regret in his icy depths.

Y/N met the director of CIA when she moved to Washington DC after college, who recruited her to be his secretary in late 1989 and having the career that aligned the path of the position as CIA Operative Handler, it was inevitable.

"I remembered being there when they first met," Maud Lebereva, her friend and co-worker recalled. She had buzz cut brown hair and wide doe eyes, she also migrated to the states from Russia when she was a teenager. "He came in to have a meeting with the director about an upcoming mission in then-USSR, he had his eyes on her way before she noticed him. It would've been sweet if it was something else, but I saw something I knew wasn’t sweet." She murmured, shaking her head.

No one knew anything about them. They had started meeting at lunchtime, getting to know each other, it was harmless. Anyone who walked down the streets in the DC area would see them sitting outside in cafes, laughter could be heard from them, and they looked like they were friends, best of friends even.

They were friends for a few months until early summer of 1990 when the director of CIA had a gathering where every person must attend the function.

He had to walk her to her home that night, and that was when the dynamic changed for them. A soft kiss on her cheek, a pair of lips pressed against her skin slowly before withdrawing, and she had blushed viciously.

After that night, they weren't just friends. They were on their way to becoming lovers.

No one knew about them. They talked through phone calls that would be on the side tables, they emailed each other, and they would do anything discreetly.

He was still unobtainable, and she was still feeling guilty. Although, he had said he loved her in the summer of August at the Bahamas when he took her out for a vacation under the disguise of attending a seminar. Somehow, in her mind his declaration of love made everything seem alright.

It wasn't until late November when everything started to unravel around her. She met a very sweet man Alex Tchenkov through a friend and knowing there couldn't be any more than just an affair between Lenny and her, she went for it.

That was when she realized she had the idea of love wrong. Love wasn't about swearing an oath not to be seen, keeping the lines blurry between what was right and wrong, and it wasn't supposed to feel poisonous. It felt deadly, like a bitter taste of acid whenever she looked back to the months of her affair with Lenny.

Her friend, Anna was in Langley for Christmas, and Y/N took her out to a bar in Washington DC. Afterwards they sat on the concrete edge of Tidal Basin for a long time until the sun began to set over the capital, talking. The blonde woman gave Y/N an early Christmas gift, and she started to cry. 

 "She cried for a really long time," Anna said thoughtfully, nibbling on the side of her bottom lip. "I didn't know she was trapped in a wrecking affair at that time, but she was crying because she said she didn't deserve Alex," she remembered idly. "I was confused, but at that moment I knew there were so many things about her, many secrets that she hadn't told him, and she was really scared she would lose him if she was honest with him."

Eventually one person found out in February, it was Maud who had introduced her to Alex. She had sworn to keep it as a secret, and there were times when they would all meet for lunch.

"Despite my ill-feelings towards Leonard, he was a good person to people around him that I knew of. Figuring him out, and not being able to put a finger on why he gives me a bad vibe, that is where I can't stand him." Maud murmured; her eyes flickered briefly to the window. "I do remember one time I sympathized with him when it came to Y/N, it was a dinner at a really expensive restaurant, and he offered to pay." She laughed slightly, although it sounded uneasy.

The whole dinner affair was tense, it was to say with the understatement of the century. Y/N barely gave Leonard any time of the day, only cordially polite even it would make the worst of the worst dictators silently kneel to the ground.

At some point during the evening, Y/N excused herself to the ladies' room. When she was gone, Lenny had turned to Maud and asked why Y/N hated him.

"I was surprised when he asked me that," she paused, thinking back to that night. "He sounded desperate and sad, and it was that moment I felt bad for him.".

Maud tried to give him an excuse not knowing how to placate his emotional being, and she knew the sad pitiful look on Leonard’s face was caused by Y/N’s attempts to leave so she could be completely in a relationship with Alex. She did wonder if Leonard had any feelings for Y/N after all. If he did, it would be too bad.

"I mean I knew Y/N was irrecoverably in love with Alex, and I just felt bad for Leonard because he didn't stand a chance." Maud sighed, chuckling. The sound was not without a small amount of pity. "I just never knew how bad of a person he was to her. It's always the guys that can fool you easily, but not girls. However, she did fool me a bit." A grimace adorned on her face as she thought about it.

In the leading months, she and Alex got involved exclusively with fear gripping in the back of her mind that Lenny could ruin it all. Leaving her life into ashes if he ever exposed their affair to Alex.

"It was the one thing in her life she was most ashamed of," the brunette murmured, "but it wasn't her fault. I just wished she would understand that. However, he was a powerful man in Washington DC. He could easily ruin her life if he wanted to, and he did."

It was after midnight on July 5th, 1991, but there was a soft orange glow behind the curtains framing windows in the apartment. Silhouettes could be seen moving as six people roamed around the place restless. The fear had gripped them all after false-hope rationalizations failed to erase the tension Y/N had left them with.

Her other best friend had noticed something was wrong when Y/N didn't show up for dinner along with Maud.

"She didn't call to tell us she was running late, or anything really." Anna stated, her blue eyes glistening as she sniffed slightly. "I tried calling her several times, but it went straight to the voicemail." Her eyes flickered to the window as her lips turned down slightly. "I waited because she always called me back no matter what."

While they had waited for her, for the police, for some word, anything; they forced themselves to believe that she was okay, she had to be, the other option was something they didn't want to think about. 

Ever.

"I remembered going through her room, finding her journal, and I thought as I stared at the slim book 'God help me that I will break her private cocoon she'd set up for her mind, but if it was to help us find her then so be it'." Anna murmured; her eyes closed briefly before opening. "I remembered there was some sort of a letter stuffed in the last page she'd written."

You asked me a long time ago after we met, 'what do you want?' in a teasing manner with a soft twinkle in your pretty eyes. What I want...is for you to be happy. I love you.

"It wasn't signed, but it didn't really have to be it was obvious, and that was when I knew Y/N had been harboring a secret for a long time." She shrugged before sighing, looking away. Her blonde hair swayed slightly. "She was definitely not perfect, but she was the best of us. Despite the flaws we harbored in ourselves, she saw the best in them, and I can see why she would look past his overbearing flaws in the beginning to see the best in him even when she shouldn't. I can't really fault her for that, she tried, and she did until it wasn't enough for her." She then hesitated, "and whatever she wrote in her last entry...I knew he’d read it because I know Y/N, she would've just thrown away the letter after reading it, not put it in her private cocoon where it would ruin her peace. The letter he put in was more of some correspondence to her journal right before everything..." she then paused; her bottom lip trembled as a gasp escaped from her mouth resonating in her lungs as a light sheen glazed over her eyes.

June 29th, 1991

Dear Diary,

There were times I questioned myself, in the beginning I could see why I wanted to be with Lenny despite all the wrong things that I have seen.

Now more than a year has passed, and I'm suffocating. The leash I didn't notice wrapped around my neck on the day we met had been becoming shorter and shorter, chipping away its inches as his control became iron-clad over time.

I had once asked him when I met him, he was the guy who had it all, and he did, but to assuage my curiosity, I had asked him "what do you want?"

And it was that particular conversation that changed everything for me.

We were doomed, entirely and truly.

I can't say it wasn't love at first, for me it was, but it wasn't for him. I had only noticed after I fell out of it was when I realized we were doomed. He was an agent with a dangerous future, and I was at a different place in life.

Being with Alex had made me see things differently, it made me realize that Lenny Miller is not the man I or everyone else thought he was. He is a narcissist, a liar who manipulated everything around him including me. He was like a rose, sweet at first until I touched the thorns and that was when he became cruel. I fell in love with the idea of him and accepted the false flaws until it got to the point where it all became too much for me to bear.

He knew I wanted the chains off my heart especially after meeting Alex. Especially when I want to be free, I need to be free, but he won't let me go. I know he will never let me go, and I'm afraid of whatever that means.

It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't love despite him saying it was.

I have to get away from him before the suffocation drives me to the grave.

Y/N.V.

"I did love her. I loved her more than anything in this world, even when she didn’t love me anymore, but I suppose no one would understand." Lenny had emphasized slightly, almost bitterly. His blue eyes were steely glinted when the light from the sun hit their depths, before the mask of indifference fell into place. "The last time I saw her was when she didn't want me to be in her life anymore." He had murmured before looking out to somewhere in the room. He had said when the sun began to set, everything fell apart around them, "and that was that." He then shrugged as if it explained it all.

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Tuesday, July 21, 1992

A MISSING AMERICAN WOMAN'S BODY FOUND IN LOIRE RIVER IN FRANCE

(Photo taken at the graduation in 1984)

The body of a 26-year-old woman Y/N Vasilisa who was reported missing a year ago on the 5th of July had been found in the Loire River under the boat dock in Nantes with a bullet wound in her head.

Vasilisa’s death, according to Detective Chief Marcel Clairmont of the Nantes Prosecutor's Office, was caused by bruising around the neck which resembled strangulation before the victim was killed with a bullet wound in the forehead. The cause of death was accurate after the autopsy was completed by the Washington DC Coroner Vincent Delacour. The prime suspect for her disappearance prior to her death, former CIA agent Leonard Miller’s DNA was not found anywhere on her body, and the bullet did not match his gun serial numbers thus eliminating him from the list of suspects...[read page five for more information].

[doukeshi-kun]

𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛✗𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙬𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚

featuring ⨳ stalker!nikolai gogol x fem!reader

synopsis ⨳ “I flirt with my woman by chasing her with a knife, dearest. And she likes it. She loves it. She loves it so much that she can't stop thinking about it. She thinks of her chaser so much that her pretty brain can't hold all the thoughts she had about him that she has to put it all down into her little journal.” Nikolai presses his knife a bit harder, “She likes it.”

contents ⨳ stalker au, 18+ content, dark content, harsh languages, very dubious consent, predator/prey dynamics, threats, manipulation, rough semi-public unprotected s*x, horror descriptions, repetitions are intentional, masochism, violence, impact play, oral (both receiving), knife play, hints of ‘exhibitionist’, light mindbreak, very toxic relationship, obsessive and possessive behaviour, dead dove do not eat

notes ⨳ stupid ass labels ruin my hardwork. thanks a lot. now i have a reason to post this draft. fyi this is a part 2 of my stalker nikolai au

❝ Day 6 of him not being outside my house.

One more night and it will be officially a week since he last came here. Truthfully, dear diary, I know I should feel relieved and happy that one threat to my life is gone, even if it's temporary.

But I think he fucked me so hard that he fucked my head too.

I can't stop thinking about him. Not in a bad way. I just can't get him out of my head. Every fucking time, I find myself looking at my phone at work because I hope he texted me creepy messages. I purposely wear short clothes when I'm out in the living room because I want to tease him. I don't even lock my doors, hell, I even leave my wardrobe slightly open.

Why why why why am I acting like this? I'm losing my logical sense! I should not do those stuff! I should not rile a fucking murderer! No normal human would think of walking around their house topless, nipples out, perked and shit, just for their fucking stalker to see!

I blame my fucking hormones.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm a whore this whole time.

I am ashamed of myself.

I am also ashamed that I actually wait for him to barge in my house again. I want to experience that first night when he first talked to me as Kolya. I want him to wat no no what the fuck am I writing

Anyway, dear diary, I'm quite excited about this weekend. I will go out to have a drink— actually we'll get fucking drunk so fuck yea

I wouldn't call myself a lonely person, but I do... have very few friends. Maybe it's because of my weird hobby. Maybe it's just my social skills. But, putting that aside, I am quite happy that I am actually invited to go.

Because nobody invites me that often. pathetic bitch

And very rarely do people take my invitation to go on some horror adventures with me. I could count on one hand how many people have come with me to enjoy those scary things.

Maybe I should put myself out there. I can't stay this aloof and alone without a companion, or a genuine genuine friendship. Romance is one thing, but to be honest, having a deep friendship is beautiful too.

I hope I can have a best friend. Maybe one day. If I don't fuck myself up in my life so badly, that is. ❞

— ˚ ១。read more? ☄.

— ˚ ១。read more? ☄. [AO3]

[throneofsapphics]

piercings

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.” 

I hummed. “No promises.” 

Warnings: nudity, piercings, blood, slight possessive behavior, drinking, a tiny bit of fluff.  

Word Count: ~1.3k

I came home drunk, stumbling into my room, laughing to myself. I’d drank enough alcohol that I didn’t feel the pain of my recently pierced nipples brushing against my dress. I had to take a few breaths after opening the door, pressing my hand against the frame to steady myself. 

I stumbled into my bathroom, leaning over the sink to splash cold water on my face. I stripped away my dress, tossing it into the basket without a second thought, my underwear following. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, nipples swollen and slightly bloodied around the piercing. “Clean that in the morning,” I mumbled to myself, thinking clearly enough to write a note, placing it under a paperweight. 

Cln piercing in mrninh. I examined my work. Good enough, I might not remember it anyways. I stumbled into bed, still naked and probably reeking. I’d have to get new sheets in the morning, but right now taking a bath alone would be risky - considering how intoxicated I am. I slipped under the silky sheets, thanking whatever Gods might still be around for Aelin’s taste in luxury. 

-

I woke up the next morning to a sharp pain on my breasts and my eyes shot open. Small droplets of blood dotted the white sheet barely covering me. I yanked it back. Two bars, right through both of my nipples. Dear Gods, how drunk was I? 

I groaned, pulling myself out of bed and grabbing a nightgown, wincing as I pulled it around myself.

A note stood out on my desk, crumpled parchment shoved under a paper weight with a pen messily discarded next to it.

Cln piercing in mrninh.

That explains just how drunk I was. I winced as they pushed against the fabric again, and loosened the strip of fabric tying my robe together. Could I get away with walking around the castle naked? That might be a stretch, and might result in someone’s murder. 

When Rowan and Aelin found out about this … pulling them out would be futile, they’d notice the small wounds left behind anyways. At least I remember going to a professional piercer, getting them done with a friend. I discarded the note, and went to clean them as best as I could, bending awkwardly over the sink, hissing as I dabbed a cloth against them. If these got infected I’d never hear the end of it. I likely won’t hear the end of it now. I splashed water on my face and dressed, foregoing the band and choosing a loose top, taking a few deep breaths before resigning myself to my fate, and heading for the dining hall. 

We kept separate rooms for this exact purpose - my stumbling into the castle at ungodly hours, often when both of them needed to be up early. Plus, I did enjoy having my own space sometimes. 

-

Aelin noticed something was off as soon as Y/n walked in. She knows she went out last night .. probably hungover as hell. She slid her a cup of tea with a small smile, one she returned gratefully but looked a bit nervous.

“What did you do?” Rowan asked gruffly, setting down the papers he’d been looking out. 

“Go out.” She rolled her eyes, “you already knew that.” 

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question her further, turning back to the papers. 

… 

Later that night, she figured out exactly what she did. Y/n turned away as she changed, hiding her body from view and throwing a silky blue nightgown over. As she turned back, the moonlight hit her perfectly, outlining her breasts with … 

“What are those?” She carefully kept her voice even. 

“What?” Y/n said defensively, wrapping her arms around her chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Aelin stalked towards her with predatory intent, pulling her arms away. Y/n hissed as she flicked one nipple, flinching back from her. Aelin’s eyebrows raised, “and when did that happen?” 

“When did what happen?” Rowan opened the door, spotting the two of them. 

“Nothing.” Y/n said through gritted teeth, keeping eyes firmly fixed on Aelin, pleading. Aelin just grinned like the cat who caught the canary, before turning to Rowan. 

“Her nipples are pierced.” 

He stalked over, pushing Aelin slightly out of the way to look. “Who did those?” His voice grew dangerously low. Sounding as pissed as Aelin felt. Y/n, likely drunk off her ass, getting a piercing where someone else saw her half naked. Saw her mate naked. 

“A piercer.” Y/n snapped, looking out towards the window, avoiding both of them. She yelped as Rowan’s hands grabbed the nightgown, ripping it off of her. “I liked that one.” She protested, but he stared at the small piercings cutting through her rosy pink nipples, and trailed a finger around them, ignoring her wince. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He seethed. 

“I was thinking I wanted to do something fun. With a friend.” 

“Letting someone else see you half naked is ‘fun’?” Rowan tilted his head, the question a challenge. 

“That’s not what I said.” Y/n snapped back. 

“If you wanted them badly enough, I would’ve done them.” He countered, “Not some random person.”

“And have you given one before?” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m over 300 years old.” 

“So? You grabbed some ice and a needle, and stuck it through someone's ear, that doesn’t make you an expert.” He snarled at her, and she kept speaking before he could reply. “I like them,” and wrapped her arms around her chest, wincing as they hit the small wounds. 

“You let someone else touch you.” Rowan kept his voice mild, despite the anger rolling from him in waves. 

“They were professional,” She rolled her eyes, turning to head to the bathroom. Copper, Aelin scented, and intercepted her before she could go far, grabbing her upper arm so Y/n would face her. She frowned, looking down at her. 

“That’s not normally how you react when you see me naked.” Y/n hissed. 

“They’re bleeding.” Aelin muttered, before dragging her off to the bathroom to clean them. 

-

“They are pretty,” Aelin reluctantly admitted as she gently dabbed a cloth against them. 

“Maybe you should get matching ones.” I whispered quietly, low enough Rowan wouldn’t hear. Aelin’s eyes gleamed. 

“So he can be pissed at both of us?” 

“I’ll do them. Nobody needs to see their Queen half naked.” 

“Have you given someone a piercing before?” 

“Multiple times.” I winked, “but never nipples.” I frowned. Aelin snorted. 

“I love you, but I’m not letting you near me with a needle.” I huffed in fake annoyance, and she rolled her eyes before kissing my cheek and pushing me back into the room. 

Rowan’s eyes devoured me as we walked back out, piercings and all. I pointedly ignored him, picking up the torn cloth and throwing it into a spare basket. Maybe I could salvage it another day. I was sorting through, looking for something else to sleep in so I wouldn’t ruin the sheets, when he gently gripped my shoulder, a small tin in hand. He didn’t say anything but opened it and carefully rubbed a salve on the surrounding area. A bit of relief came through, and I sighed in content. 

“Only because I don’t want them to get infected.” He grunted, reaching over me and grabbing a night gown before motioning for me to lift my arms, and he tugged it down my body, lifting it so it wouldn’t drag against the bars. 

“Thank you,” I said softly, pressing up on my toes to kiss his cheek. 

“You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.” 

I hummed. “No promises.” 

He rolled his eyes, but tugged me back towards the bed. Dropping the tin off on a small table.  

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #37:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[...]

Never before have I been so glad to have learned Morse code before meeting Thalia.

We did discuss, once, so long ago, about our shared skill in Morse code… And other codes we both seemed to know. We talked to each other in Pig Latin for the next hour. I told her all about K and his code. All of which I still have memorised.

Thalia cannot talk for long, though. The messages rarely consist of full sentences. Recently, she sent one word. “Fingerprints”.

I’ve been trying to figure out what she means. Does the agency use fingerprint technology to get into their hideout? So that I, and other non-recruits cannot enter? But… Technology like that, in the City, has been around for decades… Centuries, even. They ought to know that people have been able to hack those locks long ago.

Oh… Oh… But, of course! Our fingerprints…!

We leave fingerprints… Everywhere! People leave fingerprints on doors to buildings they’re not supposed to enter - of which there are many. I know this, because I must have been in all these buildings the City has to offer.

But I’ve never been caught… Oh, my gloves… My gloves!

Who knew… This whole time… My gloves have been more than just my style and this costume that I wear to… To… Hm. I’m not actually sure. But boy, have they come in handy.

[...]

I realise as I speak to you, dear listener, that you may not know what I speak of when I discuss the ongoings of the City. I never truly know the limits of this radio. With no one else using these frequencies, who’s to say it is merely restricted to the City?

If you are listening from outside, oh, you must understand what it is like here.

It is true, that nothing in the City is what it seems.

Buildings, here, can be separated into three different types. The first are the obvious ones - the lecture halls, the cafes, the restaurants. Buildings that the government intends you to enter.

The second, the uninhabited buildings. They stand in the City purely to allow the landscape to look more crowded, closer to the true picture of a ‘city’. No matter what, you cannot enter these buildings.

And third, the extinct buildings. These were places which used to serve use to the people in the City. The government no longer found a use for them and shut them down. Yet, they remain open. Yet, these are forbidden to be entered.

The streets of the City itself, as I often say, are stalked by horrors. The common sight of a cyborg is not new to the citizens of Universe City. Whether that be the cyborgs that wish to eat you or the ones that seem to walk about like everyone else, with no murderous intent. I’m not sure if they know they are cyborgs.

I’m not sure if I’m not a cyborg. Why else would I wear all this stuff? My suit… My gloves… To protect myself I suppose. But is this who I am…?

Have you ever felt there is more to who you are, old sport? But you just can’t… Find it…?

I’m a Russian doll of needing to escape. I, myself, am stuck in Universe City. But there’s more of me wishing to get out. I just have to figure out who they are.

[...]

[saintlucretia]

A Lethiferous Date With an Art Deco Man

Pairings: James Patrick March x Female!Witch!Reader

Warnings: Violence. Death. Alcohol. Smoking. Blood. Murder. James Patrick March.

Summary: Y/N is a young witch at Miss Robichaux's Academy. Cordelia has sent her to The Cortez to find out what happened to Queenie and what a coincidence, James March is the one she should talk with.

A/N: Hope you enjoy <3

I was sitting in the bar, smoking a cigarette when I noticed the man I was looking for all day. Finally, James March. This son of a bitch. I watched him from my seat, as he approached the bar counter and started talking with a bartender. I couldn’t hear them, because of the distance, but he probably was ordering a drink. I took a minute to take a closer look at him. Perfectly pressed black striped suit with red tie. Gentleman from a black-and-white movie. 

I put out the cigarette and stood up, straightening my black mini-dress. It took me only a few seconds to take my purse, but when I turned back to the bar counter he was gone. Damn him. 

As I was walking toward the elevator, cursing myself for my sluggishness, I heard someone calling me.

“Miss, wait a minute!”

I turned back. It was a bartender lady.

“You forgot your sunglasses, dear,” she said, handing them to me.

“Thank you very much.” I smiled, getting ready to leave.

“Sorry, do I know you?” she asked, watching me intently. “God, I saw you on CNN! You are one of the witches, right?”

“Yes, I am,” answered I, a bit surprised that she recognized me.

“Gosh, such an amazing meeting!” She hugged me excitedly. “You are part of that coven, where they wear chic black and do spells, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled and then an idea formed in my mind. “Have you, by any chance, seen another witch checking in here? A few weeks ago? Her name is Queenie.”

A smile quickly disappeared from her face. The woman frowned, looking uneasy for a moment. 

"Queenie... no, I don't think I remember that name," she answered with another forced smile, looking away.

"Are you sure?" I pressed on. "She has short, curly hair and..."

"I don't know dear, I’m sorry." She interrupted me.

Her response was too quick and too defensive for my liking. 

"Really? Are you sure you don't remember meeting a woman like that? Not even seen her somewhere?" I pressed on, my eyes studying her face intensely.

The woman shifted uncomfortably, wringing her hands together. Her eyes darted nervously around the lobby, avoiding my gaze. She was clearly hiding something. 

"Well..." she started slowly. "Now that I think about it... I do remember her staying here a few weeks ago."

“And?”

She cleared her throat anxiously, still avoiding looking directly at me. "Well... she didn't stay here long. She checked out very quickly, and didn't like our rooms or something."

I studied her face, trying to determine if she was lying or not. She was a terrible actress. Her eyes were averted, and she was nervously twisting her fingers together.

Before I had a chance to say something she added. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know, dear, have a good stay.” She quickly walked away.

What the hell is going on in this place?

I sighed in annoyance and headed to my room. Walking through the halls I heard muffled screams, after all, Cortez is known as a perfect place for any sort of crime. A brilliant choice for a holiday stay, Queenie. Bravo.

After spending almost the whole day exploring this building and trying to figure out what really happened, this situation started getting on my nerves. Why are there always psychopaths in charge of grand places? 

Even though I had a sneaking suspicion that Queenie could probably be two weeks dead already, a glimpse of hope was still living in my heart. She was a strong witch after all and I hadn’t sensed her spirit here. Having finally become convinced that without magic I couldn’t know anything, I locked the door to my room and began to look for candles in my things.

I placed them in a circle and lighted them in an order. At the academy, Madison and I performed the ritual of summoning the dead a couple of times. It was my first time doing it alone. I stood at the center of the circle mumbling special spells. 

“The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself.” Nothing really happened. It was oddly quiet and the silence was unsettling. “The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself. Now.”

“Ah, what a demanding tone.” I heard his voice behind my back and even though I was waiting for him, I flinched anyway. “You know, darling, I may be an old-fashioned man, but I am not used to being invited on a date by women. I am a gentleman after all.”

I turned around and saw him standing in the far corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall. James March, in all of his dapper glory, was watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. "So you have a flair for the dark arts. How delightful." He smirked, looking me up and down.

“Quit your games. I have a business conversation with you.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

“Ah, skipping the pleasantries?” James chuckled, strolling towards me. He stopped in front of me, looking down with a playful smirk.

“Two weeks ago a witch from my Coven checked in here and now she is missing. Tell everything you know.”

"Before I answer, let's set a condition. I'll tell you what happened to your friend if you give me something in return," he said, tilting his head slightly.

“I will not bargain with you. You are not in charge here, Mr. March, so you better cooperate or I will exorcize you.”

He laughed, clearly seeing through my bluff. 

With a sly smile, James March stepped closer, his eyes roaming over my face. "Oh, darling, you're just trying to scare me. You can't exorcize me, and we both know it. Many tried, but no one succeeded."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to be intimidated by him. "Try me."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Tsk, tsk, what a feisty witch. Has anyone ever told you that it's charming?"

"Cut the flattery. Tell me what happened to Queenie."

He took another step closer, now only a few inches separating us. He was watching me intently, with a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Now, now, why don't you ask me nicely? Or are you too good for manners, darling?" He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

He chuckled and then turned away, stepping to the window. "You know, I find the tendency of using expletives that young girls have adopted nowadays depressing."

I rolled my eyes at his old-fashioned values. 

"I think you have lived for far too long, March," I retorted, walking closer to him. "It's a new world out there, and new rules apply."  

He turned back to me and smirked. 

"Ah, but old rules still can be fun, darling. And manners are a lost art, sadly," he said, his eyes drifting over my figure. "Some of us prefer a bit of elegance."

“I am happy that you keep ancient traditions,” I replied sarcastically.

He chuckled, his eyes now focused on my face. "You seem quite a character, love. Not afraid of me at all."  

I smiled. "Is that supposed to be menacing? I'm not intimidated."

He arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Most people find me unnerving. Especially the ones who know about my reputation."

"No offense, but you seem like a typical psychopath, who killed dozens and enjoyed it. Nothing special."

“Ah, that’s where you are wrong, prettyhead dear. I’m not just a psycho, as you may say, I am a man that understands true art-”

“I’m not here to analyze your mental disorder, March.” I interrupted him.

He smirked and stepped closer, getting into my personal space. "And I thought we were on such great terms, love. Why so impatient?"  

James leaned in, his breath warm on my cheek. "But you're right, let's get to business. Your friend is missing and you want me to tell you what I know, yes?"

“Right.”

“Well, hypothetically, I know something important, but why would I help you?”

I raised an eyebrow, challenging him. "Oh, please, don't pretend like you don't want to help. I see your pathetic attempts to please me."  

He smirked, enjoying this little game. "But why shouldn't I enjoy this little situation? A pretty young woman, locked in a room with me, doing anything possible to get information from me. Sounds like a win-win."

“Ugh, you are unbearable.” I sighed and sat down on a couch.

He chuckled and sat beside me, his body dangerously close, his shoulder touching mine. "Unbearable, yet you're still here." He turned his head towards me, studying my face. “I can’t fight an urge to help a beautiful lady with her problem, but I will expect something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow, wary of his request. The last thing I wanted was to owe a ghost something. But it was my mission after all.

"And what exactly do you expect in return?" I asked, my tone guarded.

James smiled slyly, leaning closer to me. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous and exciting behind their polite gaze. 

"Nothing major." He said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold, like a gust of winter air against my skin. "Just your attention and conversation, I could use some company.”

I tried not to visibly shiver at his icy touch. His request was reasonable enough, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface. 

"That's all? Just conversation?" I inquired, not quite convinced.

"It could be quite boring being a ghost. I don't mind a partner for… playing cards, for example, especially such an interesting one, as yourself," he said, fixing his tie and watching my figure up and down.

I let out a scoff, not entirely surprised by his response. James March, the ladies' man. Hard to admit, but still charming, even after death.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. March," I replied, trying to keep a cool demeanor despite his flattery.

James chuckled, amused by my attempt to maintain composure. His gaze never left my face. 

"I am, darling. A gentleman who can appreciate a cunning conversation." He said, looking me in the eyes. "And I enjoy the view as well."

His eyes slowly roamed over my body, shamelessly admiring the curves of my dress. His gaze was intense like a predator sizing up its prey.  

I felt a shiver run down my spine. His blatant flirtations, coupled with the cold touch of his fingers against my skin, sent a strange mix of fascination and unease coursing through me.  

"Fine, let’s say I will owe you." I retorted, forcing myself to sound unfazed. “Now tell me everything you know.”

James chuckled, a pleased smirk playing on his lips. "You're truly delightful when you're being demanding."

He leaned in, his breath cold against my cheek. "But I'm afraid I won't tell you anything here. Let's say, a date somewhere more, hmm, private?"

I arched an eyebrow, suspicious but intrigued. "Private?"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this question. "Oh, nothing too sinister, I assure you. Just dinner. You see, I've grown quite fond of you since you graciously invited me into your room..."

I looked away in hesitation.

"So? Do we have an arrangement?" he asked, standing up from the couch. 

I weighed my options. On one hand, I didn't trust him, and a private dinner seemed... risky, to put it mildly. But on the other hand, this was a way to ensure his full cooperation. He is probably the only one who knows about things that are happening in this place.

"Fine," I replied, standing up as well. "One dinner. But no tricks, no games. I want straight answers to my questions."

He smirked, clearly satisfied with my response. “Anything for such a charming lady. I expect you at 7 pm in room 64, dear.” 

I nodded, not quite sure about the decision I just made. What have I gotten myself into?

"Seven o'clock, room 64," I repeated, looking up at him. "I'll be there."

“Good.” He said, and in a matter of seconds disappeared. 

I was left alone in the room, staring at the spot where he had been just moments ago. Had I just made a deal with a ghost? Oh, Cordelia, I hope you weren't mistaken, you sent me here alone.

I had a few hours before my “dinner”, so I decided to do some research about my “date”. I sat down on the armchair and grabbed my laptop from the desk. I started digging through every online resource I could find. Newspapers, historical records, paranormal articles. Anything that could provide me with information about James March.  

After a few hours, I got a clear picture of this man’s life. He was indeed a former hotel owner, a murderer, and apparently a rather charming psychopath.

I closed my laptop, feeling the weight of the newfound knowledge settling on my shoulders. The man I was about to have dinner with wasn’t just a ghost. He was a horrific serial killer. Cordelia has warned me that he could be dangerous and blah blah, but I haven’t really considered the scale of his crimes. Torture, rape, terrible methods of murder, and an incalculable number of victims. 

I took a deep breath, realizing that I was about to have dinner with a man who had committed the most heinous crimes that I couldn't even imagine. In a way, I was glad that Cordelia had sent me here and that she believed I could handle it. She believed that I could stand up for myself. Even against... him.

I wondered what changed in me that I wasn't horrified by this realization. Instead, the thought of our upcoming meeting was thrilling, exciting even. It was as if a dark magnetic field was sucking me in. And I couldn't resist.

I checked my watch. It was a quarter to seven. I got up from the chair and took a closer look at myself in the mirror. I fixed my makeup and decided to change it into something more “formal dinner” appropriate. The black lace dress below the knees.

The dark fabric contrasted nicely with my pale skin, and the lace pattern gave the dress a romantic flair. I took a few steps around the room to check if I was comfortable in the new outfit.

Satisfied, I looked at my watch again. I was already one minute late. I took a deep breath and headed towards the door. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was buzzing with anticipation and nervousness. I glanced one last time at the room as if looking for any excuse not to leave. But I knew I had to go through this.

I walked through the hallway as fast as my high heels allowed, heading towards room 64. As I approached the door, I took a deep breath and gently knocked. I tried to calm my racing heartbeat and mentally prepared myself.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly. Standing in the doorway was James March, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and a sly smile appeared on his lips.

“Darling, you look entrancing.”

"It's good to know I could meet your standards," I replied, unable to hold in a small smirk. 

I stepped into the room, my eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles providing light. A small table was set against one wall, adorned with a white tablecloth and silverware glimmering faintly in the pale light.

James closed the door behind us, his gaze fixed on me. I walked to my seat, but he was faster. "Allow me, darling." James moved around the chair and pulled it out, gesturing for me to sit down. His manners were impeccable. A true gentleman from a past era. It was hard to believe that it was the same man, who rips open girls' guts as a hobby.

As I took a seat, he moved back to his own chair. “Black suits you splendidly, dearest.” 

I felt something like fear settling inside me for the first time in his presence.

“Would you like a drink, darling? I have a great collection of wine. Or perhaps the lady prefers something more exciting?”

"Wine, please. Red," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I wasn't sure if alcohol would help or hinder this already tense situation, but I needed something to calm my nerves. 

James got up from the chair and walked towards a small cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a collection of various bottles adorned with elegant labels.

He rummaged through the collection, eventually pulling out a bottle of dark red wine. It was an older vintage and had intricate designs.

James grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and returned to the table, pouring the wine into both of them. The dark liquid shimmered in the candlelight, like the blood of his victims.

He handed me one of the glasses, his fingers grazing mine for a moment. His touch was cold and unnerving, yet strangely thrilling.

I took the glass, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I took a sip, trying not to show how much I was shaking on the inside. The wine was smooth and rich, leaving a lingering warmth in my throat. Relax. He can’t harm you. 

James settled back into his chair, taking a sip of his own wine. He watched me silently for a moment, his eyes flickering over my face.

"You seem a bit unsettled, darling," he said, his voice soft and seductive. "Is something troubling you?"

I ignored his question. "You promised to cooperate. What happened to Queenie here?"

"Ah, back to the subject of our friend," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

He took a moment to swirl his wine in the glass, then looked at me again. "Let’s say, she was a necessary link, unluckily for her. Wrong place, wrong time... I suppose it's not too difficult to guess what happened to dear Queenie."

“You couldn’t kill her. She has a voodoo power and-”

James didn't even bother to listen to the end. Instead, he chuckled again, a cold, humorless sound.

"Indeed, I did kill her," he said, leaning back in his chair. “It was a shame if you will allow me, I have always been interested in bearers of the gift of the dark arts.”

“It’s impossible… No one can harm her without harming themselves too, she is a voodoo…”

James chuckled again, clearly amused by my bewilderment. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"Oh, darling, you're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?" he said, his tone mocking. “I am not alive, a ghost, if you recall.” His smirk widened.

The realization felt like a blow. I sat there silently, feeling like a fool. Of course. He was a ghost, a creature of the Hotel, our powers can’t harm him. I took another sip of my wine, silently berating myself for my oversight.

“So she is dead?” I asked calmly.

James nodded a smug smile on his lips. "Oh yes, darling," he said, an almost gleeful tone in his voice. 

“And her ghost? Why can’t I feel the presence of her spirit?”

“Souls need peace at first, she is probably trying to cope with what happened, but you will see her soon. In a few days perhaps… It’s just a matter of time before you cross paths with dear Queenie’s wandering soul.”

Suddenly anger fogged my mind.

“And why the fuck haven’t you told me this right when I asked you?”

“Ah, so the kitten is showing her claws, is she?" James raised an eyebrow at my sudden display of anger. He seemed almost amused by my reaction. “As for the reason… Well, it would be silly of me to miss the opportunity to date such a beautiful lady.” He smiled. 

I stood up from my seat and walked toward the door. God, and I have spent all this time in this dump to find out that she is dead.

"Oh, come now," he said, his voice dripping with mock hurt. "You can't just rush off like that. It's impolite to ditch your host so soon."

He moved closer to me, closing the distance between us. "And besides..."

He reached out a hand, gently touching my shoulder, a sly smile on his lips. "The night is still young, darling."

As his hand touched my shoulder, a shiver ran down my spine. But I pushed the feeling away, determined not to give in to his charms.

"The night may be young, but my patience is not," I said, my voice cold and firm. I stepped toward the exit, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Ms. Y/S, it would please me more if you could stay and join me… For a dessert.”

I tried to pull my hand away from his grip, but his hold on me was strong. His words were spoken like an invitation, but I could hear the underlying hint of demand in them.

"Dessert?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what kind of dessert would that be? Perhaps, the one that requires my dead body on a table?” I said sarcastically.

James chuckled softly at my jest. "Oh, darling," he said, his voice dripping with fake shock. “I assure you, it's nothing so sinister as that. "He released my hand. "Although, the idea of you on a table... Now that is an enticing thought." 

“You disgust me.” I rolled my eyes and reached for the door handle. 

He blocked my way with his figure. “Please, darling, don’t leave. I will not do you any harm, you can have my word.” James slowly took both of my hands in his. “See, if I wanted you dead, I would have mixed something into your drink, don’t you think?” He brought my left hand to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

Despite my disgust, a shiver ran down my spine as James took my hands in his. His touch was smooth, almost seductive. I tried to push the feeling away, but his words rang true. If he had wanted to harm me, he could have done so many times already. As he kissed my knuckles, I felt a sudden tug of hesitation within me. I wanted to pull away, to maintain my anger toward him, but his touch was disarming. He is so handsome. I am just drunk.

“I am a man after all. Can’t a man desire a woman’s attention?” He brought one of my hands to his chest, resting it against his heart. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

My head was almost spinning, and I felt numb. James' voice was like a sweet poison, seeping into my veins and dulling my senses. I could feel my resistance weakening, my anger fading. I tried to shake off the feeling, but his touch was intoxicating.

I couldn’t feel the steady beat of his heart, because, well, he was dead, but there was something strangely soothing in this gesture. I couldn't deny it... He did have an effect on me.

“I…”

James smirked at my half-formed response, his grip tightening around my hand. "Yes, darling?" he prompted, his voice low and seductive.

He stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between us. "What were you about to say?"

“I can’t stay.” My voice was embarrassingly shaky.

James chuckled softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Can't," he echoed, the word lingering between us.

He ran a finger gently down my cheek, his touch sending another shiver down my spine. "But do you want to stay?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “You see… I don’t think I could let you go, dearest.”

Our faces were mere inches apart, the space between us filled with tension. I could feel his breath against my skin, his body pressed against mine.

"I..."

My voice trailed off. Part of me wanted to stay, to let myself fall into this seductive dance. But another part, a stronger part, was screaming for me to leave, to gather my thoughts and regain control over my emotions. He fucking killed hundreds of people. He fucking killed Queenie. 

As my mind fought between desire and reason, James seemed to sense my inner conflict. He smirked, and his hand gently stroked my cheek.

"Such a struggle, darling," he said softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Trying to decide between your desires and your morals?"

“Mr. March, it’s-”

“Shh…” He put his finger to my lips.

James gently shushed me, his finger on my lips silencing my words. His eyes flicked to my mouth, lingering briefly on my lips before returning to my eyes.

"Call me James, darling," he said, his voice low and intimate. 

I tried to gather my thoughts for a response, but his gaze, fixed on my mouth, made it difficult to concentrate. "James..." I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “If my supreme finds out about it… I should go.” I broke free from his grip and quickly ran out the door. Strange, but he didn't follow me. 

I continued walking, turning around a couple of times. I could still feel the lingering effects of James' touch on my skin, his words echoing in my mind.

I needed to report back to Cordelia, to tell her about what had happened here and needed to quickly get out of this damn place. I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing through the empty hotel halls. The further I got from room 64, the easier it became to think clearly again.

As I turned the corner, I saw my own room door. Relief washed over me, and I walked toward it. 

“Crazy night, don't you think?” I heard a female voice behind me. Turning around, I saw a young woman leaning against the wall. Black dress, smudged makeup, ripped tights, and a cigarette between her fingers.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked her, as she slowly walked to me. The woman took a drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she sized me up. 

She chuckled and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You indeed are quite the beauty.” The woman gave me a once-over, her gaze lingering on my features. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she spoke again. "Now I understand what all the fuss is about," she said, taking another casual drag from her cigarette.

I sighed tiredly. “Miss, I have no idea what you are talking about, now excuse me, but I have to sleep.” As I turned to leave, I felt a sharp pain in my side, just below my ribs. I winced, reaching a hand back to feel the spot where the pain had surged. To my shock, my fingers came back stained red with blood.

"What the-" I started, turning back to the woman in disbelief. 

“Nothing personal.” She said stabbing me right into my chest. I tried to use my powers on her, but nothing happened. The pain was searing. I was helpless. Fear ran through me, and I stumbled backward, trying to distance myself from her. She took another drag from her cigarette, a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Suddenly, everything began to spin. The hallway grew fuzzy around me, and I felt my legs give out. The pain in my chest and side was intense, and I felt myself begin to lose consciousness. I hit the floor with a thud, my head spinning. Darkness threatened to take me. 

I saw the figure of a woman standing near me, watching me bleeding out. The world around me had become a hazy blur, but I could make out a second silhouette near her. I heard a distant voice. Male voice.

“Ah, great work, Sally! I knew that I could rely on you. Now I think you deserve an evening with John.”

“This is the last time I do your dirty work, March.” I heard the woman's answer. 

“Don’t be dramatic, after all, you have just made me the happiest man on earth.” 

The last thing I heard was a soft chuckle. Then everything faded to black.

[trlvsn]

this long ass trainwreck of a post is about two types of cards and two types of hands in apollo justice: ace attorney. also about beanix. like, a lot. i got carried away.

i have already written a post about phoenix wright in turnabout trump and his decision to make apollo present forged evidence, but i will repeat myself a little for the sake of making sense. before, i have stated three definite motivations for his behavior: teaching apollo to never make the mistake of blind trust ever again, making sure that he wins the case and completely cutting himself off from the law, submitting to the image of himself that others see. "maybe i did, maybe i didn't, but who cares anymore" - phoenix wright, 2019, dear genties and ladymen of the court. but anyway, as fascinating as his character is in aa4, the only way to really understand it is to focus on the bigger picture. phoenix wright has been collecting evidence for seven long years, working on the jurist system, playing the piano, looking in the mirror and seeing the cracks from the big big punch the system landed on him. phoenix wright might still remember how to be a lawyer, but he is no longer part of the current system, in fact, he refuses to be. he frequently says he "quit law", meaning him not going back or trying to was somewhat of a conscious choice. bringing me to my second point and fourth reason of him forging evidence: the rules don't matter to him anymore, because these rules are not the ones he agrees with. he is no longer playing by them.

once you understand that, the point of view shifts. his actions are only wrong from a legal standpoint (aside, of course, from betraying apollo's trust, not excusing that but also not really talking about that right now), he is acting as a man, not a lawyer. look at the forged evidence morally: did it do harm? we know the man who he was trying to frame with the evidence is guilty (kristoph), we know he knows and we know he knows what will happen. what happens is: with the price of a small lie, a bigger truth gets revealed, and millions of other wrongs that the system created break. this action has led to good consequences and was done with good intentions (well, i assume), meaning it was, objectively, good, righteous. it's just that the law is righteous no more.

furthermore, when you look at phoenix's actions overall, we understand that the fire burning inside him has not changed. he is fighting for a better system, one that will never leave an innocent alone and abandoned, as now there are 12 jurists and any of them could be on that person's side, not based on their position or job, but based on reason and common sense. see me making the word job bold? that's for a reason, i will talk about the significance of jobs later. anyway, phoenix's seriousness about the whole thing is really well-demonstrated by sprite.

now. you might notice klavier and kristoph here. that's because, as noted by countless other ace attorney fans, phoenix's expression mirrors theirs. if it was just kristoph's, this expression of phoenix's would frankly concern me: a parallel with an "evil" character is not exactly a good sign. however, this expression gains a new meaning with klavier having it: aside from indicating that phoenix wright remains a sponge that adopts people's mannerism, he is experiencing a similar mindset to the gavin brothers: perfectionism. not in the von karma way, though, a different kind. this perfectionism means "i have poured my heart and soul into this concert/murder/jurist system and everything has to go right. for the love of god". it means phoenix's heart is in it. it means the mask falls.

the make falls, and yet phoenix wright remains in his hoodie and beanie. the mask falls, and yet, by the end of turnabout succession, he says he might learn how to play piano, or, maybe, perhaps, someday, pass the bar exam. weird, isn't it? the system is fresh and just, his honor is restored, but he is embracing the freedom of choice and a chance at authenticity instead of deciding what that authenticity will be for him right away. that, at least to me, is because phoenix wright is no longer defined by his occupation, and neither are any of the characters, really. here is where i come back to the job thing.

a wise tumblr user out there somewhere once said aa2 is about identity, and i completely agree. in the introductory case, phoenix loses his memories and regains his sense of self by, essentially, doing his job, remembering why and how he does it. and, like phoenix, aa4 is much more mature in the subject of identity. (not calling aa2 an immature game, just pointing out the development of identity as a concept). phoenix wright is a piano player slash poker champion, and yet he brings the truth to light and turns the system upside down. klavier gavin is balancing being a rockstar and a prosecutor; despite being a singer, he is factually serious and determined in court, despite being a prosecutor, he sings for thousands and is the most glimmerous of fops. ema skye - and boy will i say a lot about her in a separate post someday - is a detective, and yet she keeps her soul alive with luminol and fingerprint powder, using forensics despite not being a forensic scientist. apollo justice is a successful attorney, and yet he presents forged evidence in his first trial, and, while it wasn't his choice to do so, he also doesn't make the choice to go ruin his career and reveal the truth of the evidence, does he?

point is, the characters make choices, no longer identifying themselves solely with their jobs. they do what they do, and what they are is what they put out into the world. while aa2 is about identity, aa4 is about actions, making a change. no longer is it acceptable to stand by and observe - you either build a new system brick by brick and break the old one with your bare fists, or you're a victim slash pawn of it. or you're kristoph gavin and those like him - the one who the old system relies on, and the one who relies on the old system.

either way, the matter of actions, well, mattering, is really well-demonstrated by the importance of hands in aj:aa. i already talked about hands for a bit in this post, reblogged from @/phantommarigold. what inspired this line of thought was phoenix's tendency to hide his hands in almost every sprite of his, except for the objection one (which is stated was for the reason of hiding his true intentions, aka his "hand" as in hand of cards). the other reason, however, was the significance of hands in aa4 overall. kristoph gavin's hand has a devilish scar on it, showing his true identity and being a tell of his; apollo's perceptive powers are enhanced by the bracelet on his hand, which he so impolitely points at other objection-style, and so does phoenix in turnabout trump. klavier is a guitarist, so hands are quite literally an important part of his; but they are also very detailed in general, drawn with rings and great detail. in moments of weakness and confusion, he uses his hands to cover his ears, subconsciously desiring to ignore the truth (but choosing not to, of course. eh, that's for another post). machi tobaye holds lamoir by her hand at all times in order to guide her. things such as letters, written diaries, handwriting and fingerprints play a crucial part in multiple cases. i am confident that if i tried hard enough, i would find even more examples. point is: hands are important. hands symbolize action, creation and ruin, hands are our instrument, which we use to leave an imprint on the world. again, choices and actions.

but let's go back a bit. this will be a little niche, and yet i am compelled to point out the possibly unintentional tarot symbolism in character design. kristoph gavin has a devil on his hand, and frankly, that is very fitting for a name of the fifteenth major arcana. the devil traps, conceals the truth and holds immense power, which is essentially what kristoph does. the card is also associated with manipulation, which is also undeniably what he does to klavier at the very least. the card suits him, frankly even more than the descriptions of the devil as a mythical being.

before i point out the most obvious tarot reference, bear with me while i talk about the more far-fetched ones. first and foremost, trucy wright as the magician, the first arcana: someone who holds all the tools (the necessary (and forged) evidence, two times throughout her life) but isn't exactly at a point of bringing them into full action, someone who motivates and powers (her being phoenix's light), and, well, literally a magician. apollo justice as the sun - named after the greek god of the sun, bringing light and joy into life (by assisting with the downfall of the dark age) and possibly being childish (the naive behavior of accepting forged evidence in turnabout trump). are my descriptions of the cards fully accurate? no, give me a break, divination may be in my blood but it's not in my brain. anyways, lamoir as the star - constellations on her clothes, divine-looking, and the seventeenth arcana, following the tower - a symbol of a wreck, a disaster, a change (losing memories, in her case, and ... well, being shot does resemble the lighting that strikes the tower). this might seem insignificant for those not familiar with tarot, but the major arcana are famous for telling a story of life if put in the correct order, so it made sense to me.

now, the most important tarot reference of all is the one at the start of case 2. take a look at the transcript/description of the intro from ace attorney wiki:

Intro

The camera slowly zooms away from a wheel that is turning.

As long as we draw breath, the Wheel of Fate turns...

There are brief scenes of Phoenix Wright about to get hit by a car, Trucy Wright chasing someone, and a man playing on his harmonica. Afterward, it is shown that the wheel is part of a stand being pulled by a man late in the rainy evening. Everything except the wheels is silhouetted in darkness.

Spinning big crimes and little crimes together.

The man suddenly stops.

And when the Wheel stops...

The camera pans to another man blocking the stand-puller's way. As the camera begins to zoom away, there is a flash from a gunshot. The camera accelerates, showing part of a park before obscuring the scene behind some city towers.

You die.

the wheel of fortune is the tenth major arcana, and it's meaning is quite obvious.

fate is an uncontrollable force, one that is the most powerful in the universe as it is the universe itself. in this case, it spins a complicated tale, connecting small and big crimes, unintended consequences and failed plans.

in the end, what's done is done, no matter what you originally intended. you may not have wanted to present forged evidence, but you did. you may not have wanted this job, but you have it. you may not have known and you may not have seen, but now you do, and what you do next is what matters.

so you better be careful. tomorrow is a new day no matter what happens; time is inevitable, and so is change, but if you get your hands dirty and play your cards right, then, perhaps, the sun will shine on that day and the day after that.

[ctheathy]

HI! I was wondering if you could do a secret history tail with a reader who has a smart mouth (not like cussing but like making sassy remarks to him!) and has their guard up all the time and acts all tough and mean around him (but ofc has a rush on him and she tries to ignore it) but when he teases them or shows them the tiniest bit of affection there like tail wagging putty in your hands!

Secret History Tails w/ bold yet shy!Darling

Secret History Tails x Reader

General+Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Author’s note : Thank you for the request, my dear~! My sincere apologies in case the request was aiming at a oneshot instead [You may of course just ask for another one if I did in fact make that mistake]. I apologise in advance of it being somewhat shorter than my usual posts as well, I unfortunately do not hold a lot of sass myself so this was a more difficult one I must say, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Ooh, my; toying with your limits around an unstable maniac, huh? You’re playing on quite the thin ice there, darling.

Due to no specific choice being given,, SH Tails from TSAA was chosen.

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Mentions of murder [No implications though]

My, my. You surely are a fascinating thing, aren’t cha? But Tails is nothing less himself either. Usually he’d be one to just rid of those who cause him trouble, either through executing them by getting his grabby fingers onto their devices or just with his bare hands if he has to, but for your case he ... Doesn’t. He cannot get himself to go along with it and deep down surely doesn’t truly want to either way anyways. Besides, he feels incredibly intrigued by you. He’s grown quite the sass through straightforwardness over the years himself aswell, so a darling who isn’t afraid to bite right back at his indirect insulting makes him feel taken aback at first, yet also makes it feel like a massive challenge for the yellow fox.

At a usual basis, he honestly found you to be quite the “issue’’ from first glance, finding your tough persona to be rather arrogant at times. He is shown to be outright self-assured himself, so seeing another who has similar characteristics, much less let them be very well known torwards him was causing quite the complication at first hand, making it difficult for the two of you to bond properly. He has mixed feelings about the entire thing. While he’d usually find your mere act of toughness and smart behaviour funny, there’s always been atleast some moments where it got to him on a deeper level, feeling as if it was your goal to ruin his entire day. And while he’d usually just be one to outwardly laugh your remarks off, you could clearly notice the more silent and irritated presence he had to offer right afterwards, quietly grumbling nonsense to try and restrain himself, knowing just as well as you do that he cannot truly do much about it without blowing his cover. He doesn’t hate you, he knows that much; but good Lord, did your sass-o-meter really have to be that high? It rarely seemed to have it’s limits at all and it has made it incredibly difficult for the fox to recognise his emotions around you.

With the information I’ve gotten, I immediately enjoyed and went with the assumption that his manipulation has little to zero effect on a wise yet bold darling. And the fact you manage to keep your guard up right while at the same time being as cheeky as ever, he’s seems to be a bit powerless in this position. He takes up so much time toying with the crew’s emotions and thinking that an unique perspective like yours could be difficult for even him at times. While I trust that you’re definitely one to be one step ahead of his less friendly intented plans and are experienced among outsmarting his inventions, it’s still suggested you’re very careful with what you do, as he’s still quite the danger nonetheless. You’re both intelligent ones, that’s for sure, which bothers him but also pulls him torwards you in a way. He’s impressed, that’s to say the least.

The first time he genuinely figured you out was purely on accident. He was working on one of his little gadgets while you came by uninvited; sassing about how you could get the the job done with much faster than he could. And while he knew you were just bragging, as realistically, you likely lacked knowledge among the subject; he found himself having quite the rough day to begin with, having felt extra irritated by your cocky nature much more than he would any regular moments, usually finding it humourous more than anything. But he couldn’t help but feel his patience starting to reach its limits with you making yourself out to be much, much bigger than your true self actually is. Fingers tightened on his screwdriver with his left eye starting to get to the point of twitching; the cup being just seconds away from overflowing. Everything what happened after went by like a lighting shock to you. You found him pinning you against a nearby working table of his, his face being way too close for comfort as you struggled keeping your own at bay; a red-pinkish tint starting to form its way onto your cheeks, who quickly starting working its way up to the rest of your face. Though shock had still remained in your eyes, an awkwardly dorky smile got its way plastered onto your lips. In all honesty saying, you were a mess. While being completely frozen in place at first, you quickly made a sad attempt to cover up your expression in the red mess you’ve become, looking to the side and trying to avoid the very astonished yet surprisingly loving look on the fox’ facial features. Surely you were going to have trouble sleeping the night after this.

But that is not the specific thing that saved you from getting your mobile being blown up in your face.

I can also see him going out of his way to fluster you to no end, having grown to enjoy the messy expression on your features every time he does so. He of course makes sure to keep your boundaries in mind and isn’t one to purposely push you too far over the edge, but it has definitely been clear he’s having the time of his life whenever you fall back into those little habits of yours. And while the two of you still have these little sass competitions with one another, although it being a whole lot more enjoyable this time, he’d absolutely use the excuse that he only takes up his time to flatter you in order to just keep you quiet for a good while. When honestly speaking, perhaps. Just perhaps.

Right after you’ll notice him being a whole lot more softer torwards you in general. After your particular moment of weakness, he’s one alot quicker to pick up on any minor given signs about your genuine intentions around him. He takes the hint when small gestures of kindness are given, which you have absolutely been extremely grateful for. The fox is definitely one to be a whole lot more patient around you, not wanting to rush anything you’d may want to share with him eventually; but somewhere in the back of his head even he knows that he personally cannot wait for your true thoughts about him to spill right out. He’s clearly been much more appreciative and excited when being in your presence than he ever has before, now starting to understand the goal behind your cool demeanour. There’s even been a point where he had thought that you hated him with every inch of your body, so despite how this occasion has still caught him by surprise, he’s definitely not one to complain about it.

He doesn’t want to admit to himself he finds you extremely charismatic and adorable this way.

[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022):  episode 5,  a vile hunger for your hammering heart. tw:  murder, death, abuse, violence, blood, strong language, all vampire things.

* i can't die like this!

* let my dog live.

* it's a kill list in a teenager's handwriting.

* i'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this.

* they'll scale the sides of this building, force their way inside and paint the walls with his blood.

* don't look down on them, look in the mirror.

* he's an opinionated young man, he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited.

* what does he taste like?

* i didn't ask that.

* you were thinking it.

* he tastes like honey and pineapple, he stuffs himself for days before he offers himself to me. would you like to sample?

* i care for him more than he cares for himself.

* stay out of my head.

* you wouldn't find the corroboration you're seeking even if you could. we burned, we buried. and a convention city is not motivated to advertise grim statistics.

* i know what i'd do, but you've cut my hands off.

* don't do that, it's private.

* what night is it?

* i couldn't hear you over the tugboat.

* a whole lot of concern has been wasted on you these past months.

* did you read my other ones?

* well, you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good.

* you gonna let him do this to me?!

* i've read some passages out loud, i'm afraid. hurtful words for both of your guardians.

* i buried them, okay?! way out of town! nothing out there for miles, no one's ever gonna find them except maybe criminals burying bodies of their own.

* i'm never gonna forget what happened here. i hate you.

* get out of my room!

* you want money?

* i mean, it's always a straight line with you. yes, i am asking for your support in my campaign.

* sounds like there's a maniac on the loose.

* don't be too startled if the police come knocking on your door.

* i was in the middle of cleaning when they knocked.

* you often leave your daughter alone with access to illegal spirits?

* that's my daughter's room!

* oh, i'm getting ready for bed!

* have you lost your goddamn mind? overnight, in a jail cell, with no coffin. we all be dead by morning.

* we do not bring souvenirs into the house!

* so much wine in his blood... and beer, and whisky.

* you wanted her, you fix her!

* do you remember our life, how happy we were before her? an anvil tied around our ankles, pulling us towards the pitch-black ocean floor.

* who am i supposed to love?

* how are you gonna fix it, huh? which one of you is gonna fuck me?

* well, you're not my type, i like a fuller figure.

* if you could find other vampires, which you won't, they would shred you to strips because you are built like a bird, because you are a mistake.

* how about you shut the fuck up?

* he treats us like shit and you take it! why is that?

* you, as cruel as the devil ever made, to refuse me one love when you got two!

* i've been entertaining myself.

* i'll kill her soon.

* don't run off...

* why did you take me home? why not a hospital? maybe i'd have a handsome husband by now, or he'd be plain with a good disposition. that'd be fine too. i'd be sweeping floors, making dinners, nursing babies. maybe i'd go to church... you think on that some.

* i had no words for her, what words were there? "it all happened so fast", "i was trying to save you"... "all vampires are born out of trauma."

* poor dear. she wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

* look, charlie manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs. still, he was charlie manson.

* is that all you think of her?

* it won't matter what your intentions are... it's the world out there right now.

* once you put it out there, they decide what it is. it can get away from you.

* i won't have her exploited.

* keep reading.

* keep talking.

* assume we are under suspicion. assume our finances no longer provide us protection.

* make your kills outside of the city, one a night. no persons of note... unfortunates, undesirables.

* we should leave the city, start anew, turn a betrayal into an opportunity. new york, chicago, los angeles...

* we should dismantle her room.

* she'll be back.

* there would be no roaring twenties for us.

* we were underground for seven years.

* (name), come home. i know i hurt you. i know i can make it right again.

* little girl... i'm talking to you. now what were you doing in the library? you're not allowed in there.

* i don't talk to strangers.

* you can read?

* just as i thought, a little thief. you're coming with me.

* what are you gonna do after that? after you turn her in, after it makes you feel like a big man, what's your next move, you think?

* you're not allowed to ride one of those on campus.

* this is our school, where is your fighting pride?

* you hungry?

* flaubert's style is so dense. the absence of metaphor is so striking...

* should we make it a night of the two?

* you sound like every pompous sorbonne student i've ever eaten.

* should i do it like you instead? read the first ten pages of every book and pass myself off as cultured?

* well, at least you're listening. i sit there thinking "light yourself on fire, see if he'll notice."

* you draw me into your gloom.

* it's your fault she's gone. if you hadn't pushed her...

* i cannot listen to this insanity about (name) one more time.

* i got to hear my own funeral. only couple dozen people showed up, most didn't have much to say. started talking about the weather a few minutes in.

* poor fella digging my grave lies resting on the family plot.

* what was he like, your maker?

* it ain't like that, he's more like a dad.

* oh, now there's three of us.

* got me wondering what it'd be like, ride with others, hunt in a pack. a little fang gang.

* you got a name?

* you don't kill like a (name), you kill like a killer.

* there are four pages torn out... did she tear them out? didn't seem like something she would do...

* when you do that, when you editorialize, however noble the reasoning, it calls into question all of the other shit you're shovelling my way.

* don't ask again.

* it could be her, but i'm the one who is presently standing in front of you.

* so, if my considerable considerables continue to be squandered...

* hello? oh, sorry... no, it's good to hear your voice.

* we're headed north... crash cleaned us out. and don't offer, 'cause i'm not asking.

* you look good.

* don't need that either, (name). or... whatever you are that took my (name).

* i prayed myself old, begging what to do about you. god never talked back, so... this is how it has to be, for me, for my family. you understand?

* i've come to apologize, i put you both in a bad spot. i wasn't right in my head... i am now.

* apology not accepted.

* so, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good?

* perused a few folklore anthologies and now you're going to cross the ocean to take on a society of monsters?

* if what i've read is lies, then tell me what's true.

* seven years and what's changed other than you need a housekeeper?

* the vampires out there are vicious... oh, but you know that already. who did you meet out there?

* that's it, keep 'em scared. that's his way.

* we took her life from her. we cursed her.

* come with me! come with me, (name)!

* i thought i could live without you but i was wrong.

* his love is a small box he keeps you in. don't stay in it!

* a thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her you're just gonna up and leave me?!

* please, come with me! let's be vampires worthy of your love!

* i fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper... i never once harmed you.

* let him go... he didn't do nothing. it's me you want.

* i have patiently waited in vain for you to love me as i love you. just say it... i'm never going to love you. it would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips... your quivering, hateful lips.

* let go of me.

* anything for you.

[beatrice1979a]

Fav fics I've written - self-love <3

@hartwign asked:

Fic authors self-rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! <3<3

***

Ok ghost of the past... ffnet

Soooo In my late 20s I discovered a small (but extremely cozy, inspiring and talented) fandom... it felt like a community, almost like family... they were very encouraging... so I ended up dabbling in fanfic writing for about 20 months to help me improve my english while i was planning to immigrate to an english speaking country.

My favs:

The Chance - my very first fic. (spanish: La Oportunidad) Wrote it like a last century latinamerican short novel which was my style back then before I discovered fanfics. So tons of long descriptions, adverbs and head hopping and switching POVs . But i still like it. It's still my most popular work in ffnet. I'm planning to piss off my 28yo self and write an alt. ending. bwahahaha

Breakdown - my last fic. I wanted to try creating a quick 3-chapter agatha christie murder mystery fic and ended up writing a full 60k multichapter with twists, and romance and cliffhangers. Got a few fans mad. but I LOVE IT. Every time I read it... just puts a smile on my face. I want to try and write and read another murder mystery. Maybe in the Miraculous fandom ****looking at you sentitwins detective agency***. I really had fun writing it. I like that style a lot.

An Unexpected Customer - slice of life and natural dialogue. I love writing guy's POVs more than heroines. I still like it. Only fools fall in love like that <3

Just any other night: the final chapter - yay my first mature (smuttish?) fic. Anyway, the challenge for me was that there were about 5-10 words in the english sex vocab that I totally HATED to read/write back then. so i challenged myself to NOT use them at all. It's still a nice read.

Forever yours - Headhopping at my worst but it was intentional. I don't like writing heroines much. I end up adding too much of myself and my own personal experiences in them. But I still love this fic. Its still one of my favs.

**

Dear Future B...

please write again and revisit this list a year from now...

but finish those drawing sketches first... you slacker...

But I still love you!

sincerely,

B of the present.

ps. find a Beta and fix those grammar mistakes....

(laughs at myself... yeah right... *runs the other way*)

@fandomofone @kuromori4 @artemonh @ducky4eva tagging you. You actually have been writing in the last 15 years....

these are Gio and Betty and the Suarez family... if you are curious

yes... i have a thing for guys in leather jackets. sue me

[wisteriasymphony]

RONGEUR D'OS - Reverse!AU

(for @nocturnal-notes :3 )

15:34

My name is Alya Césaire, loyal member of the Resistance against the Supreme. As an aspiring reporter, I believe it is my solemn duty to share my experiences with the world, so that the truth may be uncovered to all.

I say this because...

As of a few months ago, 6 million bodies were estimated to be hidden away in the Catacombs of Paris, underneath the 14th arrondisement.

As of writing this, dear reader... the number is now estimated to be under 250,000.

Hesperia has urged me to not worry about it, but my intuition persuades me to believe there are evil intentions behind these disappearances. This, in addition to a sudden rise in missing persons and unexplainable cases of murder, seem to imply something has gone deeply wrong... whether that's the work of the Supreme, or another entity entirely... Well, that's what I want to find out.

19:02

My partner, Nino, has accompanied me into the Catacombs. All things considered, I'd say we're well armed: I've seen enough horror movies to know we should pack an abundance of flashlights, and I'm able to contact Hesperia via radio should anything go terribly wrong.

Shadybug... Claw Noir... I don't know if you're behind this or not, but I'm after you.

19:07

I never took Nino to be such a scaredy cat! He keeps hearing things, like nails scraping the walls or bricks crumbling, but I think it's either coincidence or a psyop. In our quest for the truth, we should stay vigilant but not unnerved. All things considered, our search has gone quite well.

19:35

I have photographic confirmation that somebody else is in these catacombs with us. It's too blurry to make out specifics, but the silhouette is there. Let's hope they're friend and not foe.

19:37

In chasing after our mystery guest, I may have left Nino behind. Oops. I'll get right back to you in a bit, buddy.

19:38

A reporter has a duty to speak nothing but the unbiased, entire truth. Dear reader... whoever you are... take my insistence of this to heart regardless of what I may say next.

To describe what I found in these halls in even half its detail would be, dare I say, a violation of your sanity. When I was spotted, the creature turned its head to face me—its body did not. Only then was it I realized what I mistook for a friendly smile was merely a chunk of a decaying femur within the creature's jaws. If it ever was human... that part of it had rot away and been overtaken long, long ago.

If it were affiliated with the Supreme, I would have known such right away. But that moment of hesitation I experienced while I met the eyes of that monster assured me (or lack thereof) that its only motivation was a hunger for flesh.

I'm sorry for doubting you, Msr. Gabriel. I don't know if you knew what was down there or not... but in some sense, you knew enough. I'll find a way to dress my wounds to prevent infection. Maybe even research one more time to make sure lycanthropy really doesn't exist.

----

okay thiiiss is what i meant. i have more to this obviously, an unfinished shadybug + The Creature in place, plus one that describes the creature better. let's say it's like how Karra turns into Xocoyotl except if it went horribly wrong. but this gives you the jist! :)

btw i'd love to see what you have in mind for hero!claudia :D i do think you're right that she'd be a lot closer to lydia, more athletic and upfront with people but also somewhat frail from chronic illness. not to out myself but maybe like a dr3 kaede akamatsu personality? yeah, like that.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

I mean. I have to ask about "blownasunder" 👀

ahah you caught me P:

basically it’s a project that never saw the light beyond ch1, and that’s mostly bc your beautiful fic fed all my reading needs dear ;-; but also bc I was having troubles researching South Korean legal system and law school education curricula.

it should have been a canon divergence au where Yo Han didn’t become a judge but an Ethics Professor instead (can you imagine?? him?? ethics?? that’s an insane reach even for me), while Ga On began university later bc he did end up in jail in high school after getting (some level of) revenge for his parents. the catch should have been all focused on Ga On’s relationship with Jung Sun Ah as his benefactor funding his studies after charitably reintroducing him to society through a deal with the court. he gets a more lenient sentence and is made to apply for social work in volunteering activities (handled by the cult) before his military service. this all to be allowed to go to university and then law school in the end: so he actively mecame the posterchild for the elite’s facade of well-meaning intentions towards the commons folks and is paraded as such (causing him all sorts of self-esteem issues mixed with pride for “being picked” and for “having made it back to society”).

I thought to myself: what if Sun Ah gets to Ga On first? I wanted to explore something similar to the betrayal Ga On felt in canon towards [redacted..... for spoiler reasons in case anyone hasn’t watched the show till the end yet], but this time around in regards to an “older-sister-like figure”, so to speak. Sun Ah is very deceitful and can act the caring type well, so I wanted to see how Ga On would have grown up to be under her influence rather than anyone else’s. this would have also made him closer to the cult too and he would have been essentially groomed into being one of the many perfect little puppets they used for their schemes.

Soo Hyun would have not been in the picture close-range, since at the time she would have been in police academy, but I still wanted her to project her guilt onto Ga On for “not having managed to save him back then”, or something on those lines. my queen Jin Joo is also there, but I wasn’t sure whether to make her Ga On’s tutor or Yo Han’s teaching assistant yet.

I ditched the idea in the end, but i still think about it from time to time. I envisioned a How to get away with Murder scenario for the high-stakes ethics lectures under Yo Han’s guidance, but in this au Yo Han would have been highly suspicious of Ga On since the kid was basically taken under the 1%’s wing and is consequently indebted to them. Ga On would have been still 27-28 in this au tho.

I’m sad I wasn’t able to give justice to this plot idea, bc coming up with Yo Han’s shenanigans in class was proving to be very difficult for me at the time xD I wrote the basic plot points on my notepad and maybe the first chapter.. but then I gave up.

but in a way I’m glad I did, bc I was frustrated with myself and decided to treat me to some good food on ao3 and found your fic ;—; that way I found you T—T and we became friends T^T so all is well in the end :D

[grishaverse-chaos]

The Darkling

why I like them: could have been SO GOOD in theory okay? I will never shut up about this because "character who everyone thinks is evil is actually just the victim of a smear campaign and some really bigoted propaganda" is SUCH a good character concept and I wish darkling fans were right about him because it would be so fucking cool and aesthetic

why I don't: he uh. he isn't that. he could have been so fucking iconic and instead he was just a vicious murderer. who grooms teenage girls.

favourite episode/scene: LOVE the bit where alina stabs his hand in s1e8. tbf that's more of a fav alina moment than anything else lmao, let me think... okay fr I love the "fine. make me your villain" scene bc it just really showcases who he is as a character and how he sees himself (hint: those two things are not the same)

favourite season/movie: imo he's better written in s1 of the show than in s2, idk though. and I do love his story in the kos duology lmao

favourite line: that one bit in rule of wolves where he says "everything I have done has been for ravka" because it's so clearly Not True and yet.... he clearly thinks it is.... so where does intent stop and impact begin...... it's deep okay

favourite outfit: purely for shits and giggles I'm going to say his black kefta in s2 where there's bits of gold bc I loveeee people being haunted by those they've wronged and I think alina haunting him really fits into that theme

otp: no thank you! in all honesty he prob could have been Fixed™ if he'd had a genuine relationship at an earlier age but he didn't so I refuse to inflict him on any other character. darkolai is interesting to consider though bc I feel like the ways they see themselves clash so heavily.... it's about self image and it's about villainy and law and justice and power and and and. they would Not be a good relationship but I think they should interact more for the Narrative

brotp: his sister ulla! they'd have such a fun sibling dynamic lmao I think it'd be sweet

headcanon: tbh I don't tend to think about him much beyond the big narrative stuff so I'm struggling to think of something that fits the genre of "headcanon".... but let's humanise him a little! I bet he reads really literary fiction and gets ever-so-slightly pretentious about it lmao

unpopular opinion: is it unpopular to say that despite his original good intentions he's a bit of a dickhead and not as smart as he thinks he is? in some corners of the fandom it totally is but idk

a wish: at this point there's not much more that could be done with his character beyond what's already been set up (him being mercy killed so he's not suffering in the thorn wood for all eternity) so I'm going to say that I hope his stans get better reading comprehension bc dear GOD some of the takes I see (posted in the alina tag btw I'm not deliberately seeking them out) are absolutely horrendous. is that too salty? perhaps. idc though it's my blog and darkling stans are free to block me if they don't like my takes

an oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen: I swear if he goes NEAR alina genya or zoya again I will reach through the fourth wall to kill him myself. only half joking btw I'd be so pissed. imo they've all had the closure they need narratively and for him to seek them out again would be a dick move of the highest degree

5 words to best describe them: used to have good intentions. that might be cheating but idk if I can pick 5 random adjectives lmao

my nickname for them: I call him darkles sometimes (bc it's funny and also I think it'd piss him off if people called him that in-universe) also a lot of less positive nicknames ("that prick", "shithead" etc) but idk if that counts