#He looks nothing like the animated version

[warlocksoup]

on the way ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ k. sakusa

masterlist

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, grief, awkwardness/tension, family member death, funeral, mentions of a dysfunctional family

a/n: me stop writing abt dead brothers challenge failed. sorry im coping still.

word count: 1.6k

07:00AM

His alarm goes off. It’s dreary and gray outside. Her body’s absent from the left side of the bed.

It doesn’t take very long to find her, and Sakusa doesn’t try very hard. He rolls out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and drags his feet into the living room. She’s standing out the window, looking out of it. He’s not surprised. Staring out windows silently, pensively, is a lot of what she’s been doing lately.

Sakusa approaches her from behind. She doesn’t flinch or acknowledge when his arms snake around her middle. “Are you going to get ready soon?”

08:43AM

They’re late. Thirteen minutes late to leaving. Sakusa doesn’t make a thing out of it, like he normally would. He doesn’t say anything at all as she climbs into the passenger seat and unceremoniously throws her back into the backseat. Sakusa figures that’s his cue that he’s the one driving. He doesn’t complain about this, like he normally would.

Once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, he takes a moment to wrap a wide hand around her knee, squeezing slightly, even though they’re running late. She doesn’t react. Sakusa looks at her, lips pursed together like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction from her. He’s been waiting for a reaction since the news broke. “You ready?” he asks.

She turns her head to look at him with her eyes dry and decorated with heavy, purple shadows. “Yeah,” she replies, voice devoid of animation, flat and stale. “Let’s go.”

Her grief makes him uncomfortable. Sakusa can only think of how uncomfortable it makes him as he pulls away from their home. He knows this makes him bad person. Or at least, it’s a bad feeling for him to have. He knows that he should be supportive, whatever that means, and that he should be a partner she can rely on.

Whatever that means. Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet.

It might be easier if she cried. He would at least know what to do then. He could take her in his arms and tell her it’s okay to cry and he would make her some of her favorite food and do things that loving, doting partners do in times of grief and sorrow. But she hasn’t cried. She hasn’t done anything but stare out the window and become a whittled down, blank version of herself.

He feels like all he can do is stare and wait. Just watching as she slowly dissolves, day-by-day.

The car pulls onto a main road. There’s traffic.

09:32AM

She doesn’t play music. None of her aggressive and headache inducing rock music or bubbly and headache inducing pop music. It’s just silence. The wind that sneaks in through the backseat window that never fully closes, and Sakusa’s breathing.

There’s nothing else.

He keeps looking at her, glancing at her for just a second when the road in front of him is clear. He’s taking stock of her expression, checking for slight changes and variations. But each time he looks, her lips are slightly downturned, eyes half-closed, cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

She’s unmoving, statuesque.

Sakusa watched when she got the call. He saw in real time as her mind started to shut down. With her phone pressed against her ear, standing in the kitchen with a half-cooked pot of curry, he watched as any traces of joy or excitement slip off face like melting snow plummeting off a roof. “Oh,” is what she said, “thanks for telling me.” That was all Sakusa heard before she hung up and turned to deliver the news back to him.

“My brother’s dead.”

He took hold of her at once. He whispered condolences into her hair, and he felt her shake but he never heard her sob or cry or anything.

She’s looked the same since then. She looks the same now.

He steals another glance at her, hoping for something different. It’s the same.

10:04AM

 She talks. Sakusa feels like it’s the first time she’s talked in days.

“He used to carry me around the neighborhood on his shoulders,” she says, out of nowhere. It makes him jump, slightly, before he steadies the steering wheel. He glances again. She still hasn’t moved. “His friends used to pick on me a lot but he always defended me. One time I caught him smoking cigarettes behind the house, and I pretended like I was going to tell our mom, but I didn’t. When my mom disappeared, he made sure I still went to school. Packed my lunches and everything. And when I was really little, I remember being confused. Because sometimes he felt like my brother, but a lot of the time he really just felt like my dad.”

Sakusa’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. He thought he would have something to say, but he doesn’t. Nothing feels right.

10:36AM

They’re late. Sakusa has a nervous pit in his stomach about this, but everyone else in her family is later than them.

She hugs her mom, looking stiff as she does, and returns to Sakusa’s side as soon as the awkward embrace is over. He holds onto her hand and doesn’t let it go for the rest of the service.

He listens to people talk about him. Sakusa never met her brother, never knew him personally, but it seems like the him that existed to everyone else didn’t exist to her. They get up there and they talk about him and the dark path he was on and how far he had strayed and how he was so untouchable, unsavable.

She’s stiff beside him the entire time. It seems like she’s holding her breath. Sakusa has to lean down and whisper in her ear, “Breathe.”

Her shoulders rise and fall.

11:49AM

She looks smaller in her childhood home, but she moves around it like she’s too big for the space. Sakusa still won’t let go over her hand.

In her brother’s childhood room, she flicks through piles of CDs and old mangas. There’s posters for bands Sakusa’s never heard of on the wall. There’s a half-full jar of foreign coins and trash that still hasn’t been emptied. Sakusa feels that it is all too intimately human.

Her fingers graze along the spine of a book that’s shoved under small television on his dresser. Love is a Dog from Hell. “He never read this,” she comments, lifting her fingers away. The tips of them are coated in dust. “He stole it from me, and then never gave it back.”

Sakusa watches her carefully. Her shoulders are more relaxed in this space, and there is a ghost of a smile on her face. He doesn’t want to make her leave, but he knows she can’t stay here, surrounded by memories and dust. “Do you want to take anything home?” he asks.

This makes her frown, and he doesn’t know why. “I can’t just take it from him,” she tells him, sounding so small.

She doesn’t need to take anything, anyways. Her mother prepared a small box of belongings that she thought her daughter would appreciate it. She shoves it into her arms on the way out, and it finds itself stuffed into Sakusa’s trunk.

12:59PM

She wanted to leave early, so they left early. She wanted to drive home, so Sakusa let her drive home.

She put in a CD for the drive home. It’s sad. If Sakusa felt like he knew better, he’d tell her that maybe they shouldn’t listen to something so depressing. That maybe they should let the radio play or they could talk about something. But Sakusa doesn’t feel like he knows anything.

He doesn’t feel like he even knows her, right now. Not shrouded in grief, not with this black veil pulled over her eyes. He doesn’t know what’s best for her. He doesn’t know how to help her or how to make anything better, even slightly.

He reaches over the center console and lets his hand rest on her thigh. He leaves it there this time. He doesn’t know if she appreciates it or likes the comfort or if she even notices at all. But he leaves his hand there, and hopes it does something.

03:02PM

They get home. She goes inside without grabbing the box. Sakusa gets it for her, and puts it somewhere where she won’t have to see it, if she doesn’t want to.

05:22PM

Sakusa cooks dinner. Her favorite. Definitely not curry. She eats it in small bites, and then takes a shower that lasts too long. He cleans, and listens for the sounds of her.

07:54PM

She’s in bed already. Funerals take a lot out of you, he figures. He joins her, if for no other reason that he doesn’t want her to be alone. She’s on the let side. He’s on the right.

His arms snake around her middle. He pulls her closer and kisses the side of her face. “I love you,” he tells her, because it’s true, and he wants her to know it. Even if he’s useless. Even if all he can do is watch.

He can almost feel it cracking in her chest. The way it boils over. She inhales sharply, and says, “Kiyoomi,” in a pitch or two higher than she normally speaks, like she’s out of breath. “I really miss him. I miss my brother.”

Sakusa tightens her arms around her as the sobs let loose. It rocks through her violently, and he holds her through it all. “I know,” he whispers back. “I know.”

[yanderes-galore]

Can you a mirror watch Reinhardt concept??? Please??

As he's just a skin with some voice lines, I had to do a lot of HC for this. Hope you like it! I love Reinhardt <3

Yandere! Fallen Knight! Reinhardt Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Animalistic behavior, Possessive behavior, Violence, SFW size difference, Manipulation, Threats, Kidnapping, Isolation, Biting, Marking, Dehumanization, Blood, Murder, Sadism, Forced relationship.

In this universe, Reinhardt is much different from the one you know.

In fact... He almost seems feral in nature.

Shown by Ana's and Reinhardt's voice lines, He's often treated like a dog.

This is shown when he eliminates Ana, He says something about her no longer holding his leash.

When Ana eliminates Rein, she says she put him down.

Using this... I imagine Reinhardt acts more beastly, full of rage, and animalistic.

He's a unit who needs to be controlled.

He is able to increase the damage of his allies, block attacks, and devastate enemies with his shatter and fire strike.

A member of Talon in this universe, you won't want to be alone with him.

Especially since he's so uncontrolled.

Normally, Reinhardt is a knight of honor and glory.

He's a man you can trust with your life, one who would protect you with all he has.

This Rein has no honor or glory.

He's been made a hunting dog to do Talon's bidding.

He's little more than a beast of rage.

You can not trust him with your life.

But he will defend you, as he feels you're his to possess.

When it comes to (future) Mirrorwatch fics, I think I like the idea of you swapping universes.

In your universe, you have the Rein you know.

The original Reinhardt.

Yet when Reinhardt and Doomfist clash, their blows send you to another universe.

Imagine if in your universe you and Reinhardt are close.

Maybe close friends? Maybe he felt you were so much more?

Imagine if Reinhardt wasn't yandere before, but his Mirrorwatch version is.

When you wake up, you're confused.

Everyone's roles are swapped here.

Including Rein.

Reinhardt somewhat recognizes you when he sees you again.

Although in this universe he mostly sees you as a stranger.

To survive, you may need to go to this universe's Overwatch for help.

Which includes Strike Commander Ogundimu, Agent Colomar, and Captain Lacroix to name a few.

To you, you still see Doomfist, Sombra, and Widowmaker.

It's so strange to see your enemies become your friends, and your friends become your enemies.

Even more so when you see Reinhardt's a ruthless killing machine controlled by Amari.

Now his codename is just Fallen Knight... It hurts to see.

Rein may become intrigued by you when he hears you accidentally say his real name.

He's so used to the name Fallen Knight that hearing Reinhardt makes him pause.

Perhaps in this universe he had a version of you who died, which might have drove him to be manipulated by Talon?

Your voice and appearance look similar... For some reason he feels frustrated to see Overwatch evacuate you from the area he's attacking.

Amari tries to keep him under control, but Reinhardt keeps trying to follow you.

It appears you two have been brought together once again...

But not in the way you wanted.

This new Reinhardt is possessive and violent.

Like a wild animal, he'll stop at nothing to have what he wants.

Sure, Amari can tranquilize him or keep him back somehow...

Yet he'll have you eventually.

Getting kidnapped by Reinhardt in this universe is terrifying.

You spend most of your time at Overwatch's HQ after trying to describe your scenario to them.

After that, they vow to keep you under their protection until they can send you home.

Only for a Talon raid to strike Overwatch HQ.

Many Talon agents pour into the building, wreaking havoc.

You focus on escaping, only to hear a growl.

The sound of rocket boosters occur before you're pinned against one of the metal walls.

You scream in pain, looking up to see a face you once found comforting.

It looks like him... But the scar is on the opposite eye and he wears a respirator...

Or is that a muzzle?

He glares down at you with predatory intent, breathing heavily as he keeps you pinned.

The tension is thick in the air...

Right up until he picks you up effortlessly, slinging you over his shoulder easily.

Amari may let Reinhardt keep you.

Her dog deserves a treat for doing such a good job.

You get to be kept in his kennel for him to play with (his room, but Amari loves to dehumanize him).

Reinhardt doesn't let anyone else touch you once he has you.

You feel so familiar... a distant memory he can barely recall now...

But now you're all his.

Rein loves the size difference between him and his obsession.

At night he pulls you close once out of his armor, spooning you closely as he nuzzles into your hair.

He always keeps that strange headgear on, yet you don't dare take it off.

He probably bites... (He does).

In fact, if that gear ever came off, he may immediately start marking you like an animal.

Rein isolates you like you're his favorite toy.

He has bark and he has bite.

He'd threaten you to never leave his room, telling you he'll know and the rest of Talon will keep you here.

No one likes him when he's angry.

Reinhardt is a killing machine, you're not used to seeing blood on him or his armor.

He doesn't hesitate to hurt those who try to take you away from him.

Including Overwatch agents.

One wham of his hammer, and they're red paste.

Hopefully you're not around to see it... but it's not like he cares.

Reinhardt likes to intimidate you, to drag out obedience.

You should be scared of him.

He plays rough with you.

He'll pin you, carry you, rough you up...

You're a toy for a dog.

Yet sometimes... You think you see him care for you.

Sometimes you think you see your Rein in there when he cuddles you close.

However... He'll never be your Rein.

He's a fallen knight...

A beast no one can control... Who needs honor when he has you?

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 13: Memories to share

First chapter | Previous

Also go follow @lovelivingmydreams because she's awesome and her writing is amazing. And I have no idea how I convinced her to work on this story with just one drawing.

Enjoy reading:

And then he was in the middle of a little village. Nothing like any village he’d seen before though. The way the houses were built, the clothes the people wore… It was so different from what he was used to.

A little boy rushed past him.

“Virgil hold up!!!” a young boy’s voice shouted.

“Sorry Michael!” the little boy said. “I just want to show mom the flowers before they go bad,” the little boy said to the bigger kid that was catching up to, what Roman assumed to be, his little brother. The boy who would grow up to be the High Mage of the Night Flame.

“If you pick them, they usually last longer V. Now take my hand and lets walk home together. At least pretend I’m looking after you,” Michael insisted.

Roman studied them both. The little boy’s hair looked lighter and shorter than what he was used to seeing from Virgil. Other than that he could definitely see this as a past version of him.

He looked so happy and carefree. As only children can.

“Welcome to the village of my youth.” Roman looked beside him and saw Virgil standing next to him. “It doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing bad. People just left for greener pastures and the village got forgotten to time. I went back a while ago, it’s nothing but open fields now. I still remember it like it was yesterday though,” he continued.

“I… It looks lovely,” Roman said, not sure what to make of it.

“I figured we could combine our options. Get the most out of this dream. I’ll teach you along the way,” Virgil promised before turning his attention back to the memory and speaking the way he did whenever he taught them anything.

“It was named RiverFort,” Virgil stated. “Because of the nearby river and the fort that was built by the guild on the other side… The magic guild that is. Mages were a rarity and ascended mages even more so. Which is why I often find myself older than everyone in the room combined these days,” Virgil joked. “This is Axilla, long before we really named ourselves that. The guild aided the villages within this unclaimed territory and in exchange we all provided what we could…” Virgil nodded ahead and they saw a man and a woman greet Virgil and his brother. The woman was pregnant. Little Virgil kissed his mother’s belly and handed her the flowers.

Then little Virgil went to greet his father who ruffled his hair before continuing a conversation with a gentleman in robes.

“You really got us out of a pickle there Remy. Any idea why those wolves left their territory to snatch our sheep?” Virgil’s father wondered. He seemed like a kind man. And an animal lover with the way he gave the mage’s horse an apple and pats while talking to his rider.

“Not a clue Francis. But I’ll figure it out and make sure I won’t have to come back. If I may pick up a few blankets and a traveling cloak on the way back? Have it set aside if I don’t. Emile is in the north and he’s super capable but negotiations are always a bit iffy,” he shrugged carelessly.

“You be careful too alright. By the grace of the stars, we will see you soon,” Virgil’s father insisted.

“Bye mister magic man!” Virgil said cheerfully. The mage, Remy knelt and looked at him. “Hmmm. Getting bigger huh little man? I get a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he stated, booping Virgil’s nose to which the little one mock complained. Then he got on his horse.

“Bless your days in the kingdom of the sun,” he bid, and rode off towards the woods.

The family headed inside to listen to Virgil’s story about his day with his big brother.

“Remy was right. He ended up being one of my teachers. And he’d been around the block a few times by then. You’d like him,” Virgil chuckled.

Things shifted. Very briefly Roman saw a little bigger Virgil accidentally levitating a pot that was falling from a stove, much to the amazement of his parents and now two siblings. The little sister he’d mentioned before was an adorable toddler in this one.

Then Remy was back, performing a magic aptitude test, looking not surprised in the least. And then Virgil was being picked up by a carriage his mother tying a no doubt handmade scarf around his neck, the family wishing him luck and praying for the stars to guide him.

Roman noticed that the young boy and his teacher both had applied colored shadows under their eyes.

He got in the carriage, and the family and the village disappeared. Instead they were riding down a long stone rode in a bustling city. Though it didn’t seem as big as the capitol Roman remembered. Little 11 or 12 year old Virgil was looking around nervously.

“It’ll be alright squirt,” Remy, who’d apparently been his escort, assured him. “You’ll make tons of friends and have loads to write to your family about. And just think of all the ways you’ll be able to help them out when you get back for the breaks?” Remy pointed out.

Virgil nodded, still withdrawn from nerves. A stark difference to what he was like when in a familiar environment.

Roman looked at the passing buildings trying to find the academy.

“The one you know won’t be built for a while,” Virgil reminded him. Right… Was this even the current capitol?

“This is what you know as Lumen. One of the bigger cities at the time,” Virgil explained as time sped up around them and they found themselves on the edge of the city up a winding path towards a large building, nestled against the forest.

Then Virgil got out and showed to the dormitories and his room.

“There were ten kids in my group, all of varying ages,” Virgil stated as they watched him put his things away, hug his scarf tight and going outside. “And in a strange moment of bravery, I left my room to go and meet them right away,” he chuckled as they reached a playground where a lot of kids were playing. Most were around Virgil’s age, though there were a few late bloomers there too.

Little Virgil looked around and found a kid sitting by himself, reading.

Roman squinted. Was that Gustav?

“Hi,” little Virgil greeted.

The kid looked up, and Roman was a bit surprised to realize it was indeed a younger Gustav.

He also had shading under his eyes. It must have been the style at the time. It was kind of cute that Virgil still did it though.

The young arch mage looked at Virgil's offered hand curiously.

"Um... I'm Virgil."

Gustav gave Virgil a careful smile and accepted his hand. "Gustav," he said. Virgil visibly relaxed at the successful introductions.

"Can I sit with you, please? I promised my mom I'd try and make friends," he said softly.

Gustav giggled. "Well. I didn't, but I guess I don't want you to break a promise to yours," he said, making room on the bench.

"I almost forgot about this part... looking at it from this angle... I guess I get why he didn't like J and Remus all that much," Virgil mused next to Roman as little Virgil sat down and asked about the book Gustav was reading. The conversation seemed to be going well when suddenly...

"CRACK!"

"Woah!"

"Hey!?"

"Hi there," another boy greeted them. Which would've been fine if he hadn't fallen from the sky accompanied by a broken off tree branch. Right on top of Virgil.

Both were now on the ground with the new boy looking down at Virgil.

"You wanna play tag?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you start with: Are you okay? Or: I'm sorry? Or something like that!?" Gustav scolded as he pushed the new boy off from Virgil and helped him get up and dust him off. "I'm fine. Just... caught me of guard," Virgil assured both.

Gustav was not satisfied, though.

"What were you doing up there anyway? Spying on us?!" he accused.

"Napping, until you two woke me up... after that, a bit of spying," the boy admitted.

"That's a weird napping spot," Little Virgil said. Amused.

"Those are the best kinds," the boy argued.

"I like you. I'm Remus," he decided. Holding out his hand. "Virgil, and this is my friend Gustav," Virgil introduced, making Gustav hold his head up a little higher at being called friend.

"What on earth is all this commotion about?" A new boy wondered as he joined the group.

"Mister bright idea climbed a tree. Took a nap, we heard a snap, and then he bruised a knee," Gustav huffed. The group stared. And Roman chuckled. "Was that on purpose?" Virgil asked. Gustav shrugged. "Not at first," he admitted.

"Impressive," Virgil said.

"Well. I am Janus. And you all are...?" The new boy wondered.

"Virgin, Gus and Remus!" Remus screeched.

Gustav made a face. "Gustav and Virgil..." he corrected.

"You talk fancy. Who's your daddy?" Remus wondered. Making Virgil hide his face to stiffen a laugh. Gustav just rolled his eyes. Glancing at Virgil nervously.

Owch. Yeah. Roman wouldn't have liked two random kids stealing the show right when he was making a proper friend. Especially if it ended in him and said friend never getting close.

"My uncle, is high Mage Remy. Eternal lover of the smoldering heart. so my talent was spotted rather quickly. How about you three?" Janus wondered.

"My parents have like, a ton of stores so they paid for an aptitude test so I’d be out of their hair," Remus shrugged. "Jokes on them. I'll be even more of a menace when I know magic,” he added with a grin. Roman noted that both Virgil and Gustav felt a bit self-conscious now. Virgil glanced to Gustav, realized he was not alone in his worry and found courage. "My parents are tailors, and um... I caught a pot without touching when it fell. So when mister Remy... your uncle, came by to check on our village, they told him. And he checked, and now I am here," he said. Making Gustav relax.

"It's just my mother, and I. She helps one of the farmers who has no children to help him to get by. One day, I made a mess of her nice dress, and I wished it was clean, and then it was." He said, feeling more confident now that he and Virgil seemed to have more in common.

"Cool," Remus grinned.

Someone rang a bell. "Oh, class in session! Come on! You gotta sit with us!" Remus insisted dragging Virgil along, followed by a bemused Janus and a dejected Gustav. That must've stung.

"Your friends seem fun," Roman decided. It hadn't seemed like they were deliberately pushing Gustav away. But the young arch mage clearly hadn't felt comfortable around their big personalities.

"Yeah," Virgil smiled.

"Now. Your turn. Show me something about you," Virgil instructed, catching Roman of guard.

"Me?" He asked.

Virgil nodded. "Pick a memory. Focus on it. And share it like how you shared your emotions with me the past two days," he instructed.

Okay. Doable...

Roman took a breath. Focused and...

He was home. Just the sight of it nearly made him tear up. How had Virgil kept it together when showing his own. "I was prepared. You are doing great," Virgil assured him. Roman nodded gratefully and led Vigil to the play room where he and his friends were bowed over books on magic.

"And then he single handedly tamed the beast of Zimmer and sent it back into the woods!" Young Roman told his friends. Much to their amazement.

"I wish I could do something so amazing," Patton sighed.

"But we can. We just have to get into the academy," Logan stated wisely.

"Don't we have to pass an aptitude test for that?" Roman asked, more intrigued than skeptical. "Yes, but I found an old book in your parents' collection, one from before the plague, and in it, it says that magic is a skill you can learn. Like cooking and art. Talent helps, but it is not our only way to pass the test. It even has the instructions. Are you two with me? I am confident I can do it, of course, but I'd rather not be by myself," Logan said formally.

Young Roman grinned and threw an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Of course, big brains. Where do we start?" He stated. "Yay! We're going to change the world together!" Patton cheered, hugging his friends who chuckled.

"Admirable attitude. It is correct, of course. Even if you didn't have talent, which, for the record, you all do, you could learn to connect with your own mana 'the hard way' as they say."

Roman smiled at the reassurance. He had felt a bit insecure about that.

"Well, you didn't meet your friends at school so I’ll go again," Virgil offered showing a classroom with young Virgil flanked by his friends. Gustav a row behind them.

"Why are we seeing this from this perspective? The memory of the ball was like looking through your eyes," Roman suddenly realized.

"Because this talks easier. The details out of sight are filled in through reasoning. I remember Gustav was behind me and I now realize what first meeting Remus and J might've felt like for him. So I, subconsciously make assumptions based on that. We are watching an unreliable narrator. Especially when paying attention to what happens out of sight," he explained as the teacher paced in front of the room.

“So, who can tell me why we need herbs and minerals and animal parts for casting?” the teacher wondered. Looking over the crowd.

“Remus?” he pressed. Remus rolled his eyes. “So we don’t get tired when doing spells,” he said.

Janus snickered at his friend’s deadpan tone. “Care to elaborate Janus?” the teacher challenged.

Janus sat up straighter. “Spells cost energy like climbing a set of stairs would. Using the mana in outside sources when we can, keeps us from draining our own supply,” he stated.

The teacher nodded. "Why can’t we use whatever we want then? Why, by example, do we use Merick’s leaves and not aloe vera in pain relief spells and potions?" The teacher asked.

Virgil perked up a little, looked around to see if anyone else wanted to answer and carefully raised his hand.

"Yes." The teacher acknowledged.

"The mana in the plants is less flexible than the mana within ourselves. Pushing it beyond their natural form would cost us more energy than we would save. Pain is a symptom unrelated to actual damage. Aloe vera needs something to fix. Mericks leaves soothe and relax." Young Virgil stated. Roman cocked his head. Spotting a difference in their education.

"Indeed. You can learn the components needed for each individual spell or you can learn what those components actually want to accomplish with their mana. That will allow you to truly blossom as mages and push the boundaries of magic,” the teacher explained.

Gustav leaned over his desk and tapped Virgil on the shoulder. “Gotta be you, I’m starting to think you can look at a brand new plant and immediately tell what it’d be good for,” he whispered. So some time had passed. And Virgil had made an impression it seemed.

“Is that why you’re being such a suck up?” Remus teased. Gustav turned red and fell back into his chair. “Whatever, freak,” he huffed. Virgil was clearly uncomfortable caught in the middle of the argument.

“That’s enough of that,” Virgil decided.

Roman agreed and focused on a memory of his own to relive.

His own experience with his chosen field of study.

They stood in a different classroom. In a different building. Students were filing out and joking about. Logan and Patton hesitated by the door as a young Roman approached the teacher.

“Um… Sir?” he asked.

“What is it?” the teacher said, the enthusiasm for teaching Virgil’s teacher had nowhere to be found.

“Um… Well the dean said that we should talk to the teacher specializing in our chosen discipline about… Well specializing and I…”

The teacher perked up. “You want to specialize in herbology?” he asked. Surprised, skeptical, hopeful.

“Y-yes. I mean. Plants and their uses always interested me. And well… Being able to recognize them on sight seems like an important skill. So…” he explained awkwardly.

Now the teacher lit up. “Then I will do my best to teach you all I know,” he promised.

Roman turned to Virgil. “Herbology wasn’t very popular the past fifty years,” he shrugged.

“Well, they never taught you the cool parts so I’m not surprised,” Virgil shrugged.

The memory shifted to his teacher’s private office late in the evening. Young Roman was bowed over a few books, several pots of herbs set up before him.

“It is said, that in the time before the dark plague, there were herbologists who were so in tune with the mana of living beings, that they could sense the ingredients of anything they ate, even down to the exact amount of salt crystals.”

Virgil chuckled. “Slight exaggeration,” he assured him.

Roman wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he figured questions could wait for the road. Virgil might appreciate a distraction while they traveled.

“Sadly, the methods with which they achieved this ability have gotten lost after the plague,” teacher sighed wistfully.

“Sir… I don’t understand these instructions,” young Roman told his teacher.

“This healing spell calls for Mint root, but that feels wrong? In this one,” he pointed to another page, “the revitalization spell, mintroot is combined with Lilly pollen. And it just feels like the Lilly pollen would be far more effective for the healing spell?” young Roman pointed out.

Virgil looked to Roman with a bright, proud smile. “Good eye,” he praised.

Roman’s teacher looked at Roman’s notes and hummed. “I understand your concerns. But Lilly pollen is too potent to use on its own and any deterrent would render the benefit entirely useless. It is a level three after all. We can’t use catalysts in reckless abandon, that is what caused the plague,” he explained gravely. “But good eye Roman. You clearly have talent,” he praised. Young Roman smiled but didn’t look too convinced.

“Do my eyes spy a spark of rebellion?” Virgil gasped.

“I may have started using Lilly Pollen where I felt it was appropriate whenever I wasn’t supervised… I’d say don’t tell Logan but I think he’s thrown all caution to the wind since you made him great wizard mage,” Roman admitted.

“Following your own gut over a teacher’s instruction isn’t such a trivial matter though. That took courage,” Virgil complemented before taking charge of the memories again.

Leaving Roman no chance to react.

Virgil showed a few snippets of memories of him and his friends growing up at the academy. Laughing at Remus’ antics, debating ethics and technicalities with Janus. Going home and showing all that he had learned to his family and using it to help around the village.

And then they were inside a room with a familiar layout. It was round. The floor and ceiling decorated with mosaic representing the night sky, the magically glowing stars the only light source.

Virgil was sat in the middle of the room. Meditating.

Roman could hear the instructions echo in Virgil’s mind, the only sound in this silent room other than Virgil’s breathing.

“Focus on the flow of magic within you. Until it is all that is left. Let it show you your power. Do not waver. Do not turn away. Welcome it. It is part of you. Yet it also is a life all its own. Let it show you, who you are meant to be.”

Roman felt something stir inside him at those words. “That’s a better pep talk than I got,” he whispered to Virgil.

“Do I want to know?” Virgil wondered.

“Try not to die,” Roman surmised.

“… Roman, I never asked. How many Great mages has the academy produced since the plague?” Virgil asked.

“Um… Us?” Roman admitted.

“So… You outrank the council?” Virgil concluded. “Uh… I never thought about it like that… I guess?” Roman mused.

Virgil frowned but focused back on the memory. Also choosing to keep questions for the road.

The stars seemed to go out, and a purple glow appeared inside Virgil right at his heart.

Not a glow… A flame.

Virgil opened his eyes and stood up in the void. Looking for a light, an exit. Something.

He reached for his chest and touched the flame, held it in his hand, and set it free.

The magic spread into the room, creating new stars. Constellations Roman didn’t recognize, and was fairly certain Virgil didn’t know either. So it wasn’t just that he didn’t pay enough attention in astronomy class.

Young Virgil stared on in awe and stepped back in surprise as his magic fire returned to him and burst into an inferno, revealing a phoenix made of purple flames.

Virgil hesitated and bowed. The Phoenix let out a majestic cry and flew straight through Virgil, making his robes flare up and his hair blow back. It was much shorter at this time in his life, but long enough to be affected. Virgil looked behind him and he was back in the meditation room, the door glowing with his magic and opening.

His classmates streamed in.

“That was wicked cool!” Remus exclaimed as he threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulder.

“Uh… What was?” Virgil asked.

“Let’s just say for a moment I thought there’d be a phoenix permanently burned into the doors to the ascension chamber,” Janus smirked.

“Indeed. Congratulations. Virgilious, fate spinner, Mage of the dark phoenix,” their teacher allowed.

Roman looked at Virgil.

“My first nickname. Based on my ability to weave any sort of spell into fabric. Cleaning was my first one but I perfected it to a point where I could integrate three different spells into one fabric. After building a proper reputation as a high mage I got the name Night Flame,” Virgil explained.

Roman looked to the crowd and spotted Gustav standing by the edge. Observing with a closed expression.

Though past Virgil wasn’t looking directly at him so that wasn’t necessarily how he looked at the time.

Past Virgil was too busy feeling bashful about the attention and the title.

Roman felt a little bad for the young Arch mage. If things had gone just a little differently, he would’ve been part of the past few memories rather than a figure in the background.

“Gustav. I believe you were next?” The teacher stated. Now Virgil’s attention did go to him. Gustav hid some kind of expression and nodded formally.

“Watch him get a gnome,” someone whispered in the group, making a few others laugh and Gustav flush.

“What would be wrong with that? Gnomes are mischievous but creative and in tune with nature. There is no such thing as a bad guide. Only shortsighted, immature mages who probably shouldn’t be getting theirs yet,” Virgil scolded his classmates who looked sheepish at being called out like that.

“It’s alright Virgil,” Gustav said, finding his confidence. “Who knows? Maybe I will get a less popular guide. I’m not stupid, I know that is more in line with my standing,” he noted, strolling to the center of the room. “Then again,” he stated as he turned around. “Maybe I’ll be the dragon who will unite the lands under one crown. And you’ll all wish you’d tried a little harder to get my favor,” he smirked as he dropped himself into a cross legged position. “Well, most of you,” he finished.

The teacher guided the group out of the room. Virgil looked back briefly and found that Gustav had dropped the bravado and looked nervous. And then the door closed.

“We don’t need to see every ceremony. There was no dragon that year in any case. But I had learned that if I was going to ever become a high mage, I’d have to come to terms with the fact that I’d have to learn to fly. Remus tried pretty much the day after the ceremony to ascend. And Janus had started daily meditations in preparation for a serious attempt a month or two later.

I was nowhere near mentally ready to even think of that. So… I practiced.”

Roman looked up and they found themselves in a small clearing in a forest. Virgil was pacing the forest floor.

“A bird. Of course I had to be a freaking bird… That’s fine though. I can prepare. This time tomorrow I’m not going to be held back by something as silly as a fear of heights.”

Past Virgil stood still in the middle of the meadow and retrieved a feather from his satchel.

And then his form shrunk and changed. And before them stood a falcon, moving his body experimentally.

“Changing shape gets much easier once you ascend. As you might have noticed. When ascending you essentially abandon a physical form, and become magic yourself. And magic, can take any shape it needs to with ease. Before that… It feels a bit uncomfortable to shape your body in a form that is not its own,” Virgil explained.

“So, changing your looks wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as becoming an animal,” Roman concluded.

“Yeah. Depending on how much you change, but I suppose even changing yourself to an entirely different body type is more doable than becoming a different species,” Virgil agreed as his past self-made a few clumsy attempts to get up on a fallen tree to have a launch platform.

“What you see next stays between us alright?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “I wasn’t going to share a second of this with anyone anyway,” Roman promised.

Virgil smiled at him and then focused on the memory again where the falcon took off. And fell out of the sky almost immediately. Roman blinked and the falcon was back on the tree.

Took of once more, and fell again.

A few more minutes went by. Though Roman never saw the impact. Just the moment that Virgil lost the fight with gravity and then he started over again.

“You fell a lot,” Roman observed.

“I was much too stubborn. Getting tired made it harder,” Virgil huffed.

The memory showed an exhausted falcon, falling asleep on the forest floor… That didn’t seem safe.

Indeed. The sky grew dark and something emerged from the bushes. A fox.

Luckily Virgil woke up just in time to doge it’s attack. He cawed in warning but the fox must’ve been very hungry or in need for some food for their cubs perhaps, because it tried to attack again. Virgil, rather than turning human, fueled by adrenaline, launched himself skyward, and this time, managed to remain there. Flying up above the treetops, elated at his success, and from the looks of it he soon found himself at home among the winds.

He flew past the forest edge and made his way into a familiar village. He returned to his human form on the pathway and was immediately greeted by his family who’d been worried since he hadn’t come home before sundown as he usually did. His father had been about to go look for him.

It was a sweet display.

Then the memory shifted to inside the home. The family was gathered and an older man and two young adults were measuring them. Much to the delight of Virgil’s little sister.

“We did well for ourselves after I figured out the self-cleaning fabric thing. So, when the time came for the introduction ball of the new great mages of that year, we decided to splurge on some new clothes. We didn’t usually do anything fancy so I had a tailor from the city come to make us all something fitting for the occasion.

And, I met the guy who taught me to… appreciate dressing up,” Virgil admitted. Fondly looking at the young man who was clearly trying not to be weird while taking a great mage’s measurements.

“What happened to the lyre player?” Roman asked curiously. Recalling what Virgil said about the first man he kissed while they were sitting at the loom.

“Oh, that was years before this. I was… Sixteen. He was part of a traveling band, but they ran into some bad luck and needed a lot of repairs, so they stayed the summer and did odd jobs to pay for their repairs and necessities and such. We… hit it off. But at the end I had duties in the city and he went back to the road,” Virgil recalled.

“How old are you at this point?” Roman wondered. Virgil had been around Roman’s age when he stopped aging. And he was a great mage in this one, so this couldn’t be too long before that.

Virgil hummed.

“Well, gosh, I haven’t thought about that for a while… But I was 18 when I became a wizard… 19 when I became a great wizard. And… Yeah about 25 when I became a mage.” Roman nodded. That wasn’t an unusual timeline.

“I think… I think I’m 27, almost 28 at this point,” he decided.

Roman observed past Virgil exchange a smile and a joke with the apprentice, making him laugh and relax. He looked cute.

They watched just a little longer. Seeing the young man start to gush animatedly about his passions and Virgil starting to get intrigued.

Then Virgil showed him his next memory.

They were in a large room, lit up with various types of magic lighting. Making for a festive atmosphere. There was music playing and there were people dancing in gorgeous suits and gowns in styles entirely unfamiliar to Roman.

So far he’d seen Virgil and the others wear robes and the casual fashion of commoners that didn’t change as much. He almost wished Virgil had shown him a local festival so he could’ve seen what they’d worn for such an occasion.

He spotted Virgil and his family. The ladies looking lovely in purple gowns with feather’s in their braids. His mother’s hair in an updo and his sisters and another woman Roman didn’t recognize in a lovely half up half down. Their gowns had high collars, tiny glass beads sewn in into the fabric to make them shimmer like the night sky. Their sleeves long and widening from the elbows down. Their skirts flowing delicately with every move. Virgil, his brother and father were all wearing a similar costume consisting of a dark purple shirt with black pants and ties. His father and brother wearing a decorative feather shoulder piece on opposite shoulders while Virgil wore one on both. All the men had the shadows under their eyes, most men at the party did. It really was a fashion trend.

They looked great, and excited to be there.

They greeted a few people at the door. Virgil was predictably dismissive of his teacher’s praises and his family’s pride. He introduced his brother Michael, his sister in law Penelope and his little sister Mariane alongside his parents, Francis and Evelyn. Once he felt there’d been enough introductions he took his sister to the dancefloor she’d been eyeing since the moment they got in.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her when he saw her look at the crowd. “It’s all in the lead. So I’ll be the one looking bad if something goes wrong.” His sister rolled her eyes and stepped on his foot on purpose, much to his amusement.

Then he took her in a spin around the room. Mariane looked like she was having the time of her life. Dressed up and dancing at a ball.

And then a handsome young man tapped Virgil on the shoulder, interrupting their dance.

The young man was a bit flushed as he took in Mariane before turning to Virgil.

“My apologies, mister Virgil. Would, either of you,” he glanced hopefully to Mariane, “Mind if I cut in?” he asked.

Virgil smirked and looked at his sister who was clearly taken aback by this turn of events.

“Mariane, this is one of Janus’ cousins, Vincent. Vincent, this is my beloved little sister Mariane. Do you mind keeping Vincent company while I look for his cousin and Remus?” Virgil asked.

Mariane shook her head. “Not at all,” she breathed. And so Virgil handed her over with care and left the floor to look for his friends.

He found them soon. Both dressed even more lavishly than Virgil was. Remus a collage of styles and suits that were all demanding attention. Janus seemed to have pieces of scaled leather incorporated in his suit. Probably showcasing their guide.

Roman noticed Gustav talking to a few noble looking men with a woman at his arm that must’ve been his mother. His suit was modest if not for the ornate pieces of jewelry added to it.

Remus and Janus praised Virgil for his suit and they talked about old times and their plans for the future. Virgil laughed with them but kept glancing at the dancefloor.

Suddenly something startled him and without a word he made his way back towards the center where Roman also spotted someone trying to cut between Vincent and Mariane. Something neither seemed interested in.

“Excuse me,” Virgil announced putting himself between the pair and the third wheel.

“… Great mage Virgil. Good evening. I merely wanted to honor your sister with a dance,” the man assured Virgil.

“The honor would be yours entirely, if she was interested, which she isn’t. Go find someone who is Philipe,” he warned.

“Ah, so you know who I am… Wouldn’t you agree that it would be in your family’s best interest to…”

“I would agree to no such thing,” Virgil interjected. And Roman could feel power build even in this memory. Clearly mister Philipe hadn’t expected that reaction.

“In fact, I think you’ll find it would be in you and your family’s best interest not to anger me any further. I would be very careful of angering the Dark Phoenix. For they are loyal and reliable and inspire such traits in those they meet. I have friends Philipe, and those friends might have more influence than you’d like,” Virgil warned.

“Virgil… You are…” Mariane said softly behind him.

“Is that a threat mage?” Philipe challenged.

“It is a promise that I am not afraid to put you in your place in front of this whole party,” Virgil growled. And around him people gathered, looking at Philipe like his judgement had already been passed. And it wasn’t favorable. Vincent had escorted Mariane to her parents and they all looked on while Virgil laid down the law.

Philipe seemed nervous now, looking around the room and seeing no support. He was about to say something else but then backed away in fear. Virgil’s building power was more obvious now, his clothes and hair flaring and moments later, it erupted with a protective fury from his being.

For a moment Virgil was completely gone. Only a shapeless mass of purple flames in his space.

“Virgil!” his family called, and as if in answer to his name, the flames took the shape of a bird, and then a man, and then Virgil reemerged from the flames. Reborn as a high mage.

[starrynights23]

The Valtor I wanted in Fate the Winx Saga

Fate the Winx Saga Valtor

[artieseni]

treyarch!!! make eddie a pathetic little meow meow like primis ricky and my life! is yours!! also give us the homoerotic subtext

reference! dempsey finally snaps and beats up richtofen but then ricky pulls out his goofy smile and dempsey's annoyed he can't control his fluttering heart ok ty bye

[anormaladn]

HEY- UHM----

[love-is-a-pearl]

I tried a lot, I really tried, but in the end it's inevitable... JN ASH IS THE WORST VERSION OF THE CHARACTER AND THE FACT THAT HE IS THE FINAL VERSION HURTS MY SOUL!

Eh, while it's true he didn't do much in Journeys, I don't mind his characterization there. It's very Ash-like and consistent to what he had been through beforehand. There's some off moments, but bleh, every season has it too.

I think lots of people hate it cause too many folks keep projecting that he is older than 10 and when he actually acts that age, it feels OOC when... it really isn't... he is just acting his canon age 🤷

Also I'm the kind of person that is just glad he's gone. Period. His send-off was far from perfect, sure I wanted more from it, but at this point? I'm just glad it happened and for that alone I'm thankful for journeys.

[lyssafreyguy]

Sasha from Animal Crossing for reference:

[minakoaiinos]

Lost my original post of this from the other day but I genuinely don't understand how Black Butler discourse ever shifted into the does Sebastian ~really~ like Ciel or is Ciel just dinner line of conversation that is pervasive as it is because Sebastian is the one that has absorbed his whole existence into Ciel's. Sebastian's face is what Ciel wants Sebastian's whole purpose is doing things for Ciel Sebastian's every hell of a butler yes my lord speech is about how he's Ciel's and Ciel is the one going around saying shit like whatever Sebastian is just my pawn 💅

[shalvis]

Xenoblade 1 is the best game like ever fucking made and it has two of the most dogshit sequels ever fucking made

[touyaz]

touji is the only exception to my Strong Man aversion

[gender-euphowrya]

randomly put on a speedrun vid of gamecube ttyd and it made me notice some. interesting. localisation choice in the PAL version gkfjfkdd

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

[miupow]

★ ── LE SEXE, JE VEUX DIRE !

what happens when you give the hyung line an aphrodisiac 。 。 。?

꒰୨୧ ꒱ pairing。stray kids hyung line x fem!reader genre。 pure smut , pwp warnings。 aphrodisiacs , sex while intoxicated , breeding kink , primal play , vaginal fingering , oral (m. rec) , deepthroat , unprotected sex , creampies , masturbation (m. rec) , phone sex , diy porn , sex while filming

a/n ⸝⸝ requested skz version of my txt drabble! i’m lowkey not a big fan of this… but here it is anyway lol. [ 0. 7k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

𝔅ANGCHAN

chris is completely sure the aphrodisiac candies you purchased wouldn't do a thing, just a silly marketing gimmick printed all over the foil packaging he turned over in his hands. but you had gotten them as a surprise, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings– so he casts aside his doubts and eats his share with a smile, ready to put on his best show of pretending to be affected. he wouldn't even be really acting, since you can get him going no matter what... yet to his complete shock reduced to a mess within minutes, panting and squirming above you, his hips canting up to press the swell of his clothed cock against the curve of your ass. his control slips when you grind back against him, pussy drunk and unable to think of anything other than fuck, claim, breed as he flips you over and mounts you like an animal. he’s definitely having you get more of these.

𝔐INHO

minho’s immediate response to you showing him the chocolates was to scold you for wasting money on worthless placebos. there was no way you believed that they would actually do anything, right? but he eats them with you anyway, because you’re very persuasive when you’re pouting. he’ll tell you they did nothing for him at all, as he’s knuckle deep in your pussy, your hot little mouth swallowing his cock to the hilt. he didn’t feel a thing, as he’s lining up his weeping tip to your entrance. he’s completely unaffected, watching with dark hazy eyes as his thick cum leaks out of your hole. those stupid chocolates had nothing to do with how he fucked you until the sun came up. and you let him believe it, because it gives you an excuse to try it again.

𝓒HANGBIN

changbin always finds some way to derail your plans… you had hidden some aphrodisiac chocolates your had bought in hopes of surprising him with them later, but you were never the best at hiding things— your boyfriend finds them within the first day. mistaking them for regular candy, he eats them without a thought; and hours later he calls you desperately from the studio, hiding in the bathroom with his pants around his knees as he fists his aching cock. the lewd wet sounds echo against the tile and harmonize with his pretty low moans, all filtering directly into the phone’s speaker and making your pussy throb. “i need you so bad,” he whimpers, his hand speeding up, “need your pussy so bad…” detailing in a needy groan every nasty little thing he planned to do to you once he got home, the growl in his voice enough to make your legs shake. you hated to ruin the mood, but you just had to know; “binnie, did you eat those chocolates in the pantry?” “um… maybe?”

��YUNJIN

the candies were his idea, actually— he figured they were a perfect addition to the films he liked to make. you couldn’t even call them sex tapes, with how careful and artistic hyunjin was in filming them… but he loved to film often, and was always coming up with new ways to keep things new and exciting. sharing candies between kisses on camera, hands wandering as you lay tangled together on the hotel bed. the both of you growing hotter and needier as time went on, gentle caresses turning into rough manhandling, tugging at each other’s clothes til you were both bare in eachother’s arms. hyunjin looks straight into the camera with a smirk as he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your face buried in the pillow to muffle your scream when he slides his thick long cock into your wet pussy with one firm thrust. he reaches over to pick the camera up off of it’s tripod, angles it down so it gets a clear view of your asscheeks bouncing against his abs from the force of his thrusts, his big hand pressing down on your arched back as his cock splits your creamy cunt open. neither of you last as long as usual, deeply affected by the aphrodisiac and desperate for release— he makes sure to get the best possible angle of him pulling out and cumming on your ass, pearly white ropes of cum decorating your flushed skin like a painting. you’re his favorite work of art, and he just can’t get enough of showing it off.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[skyrigel]

Hi! I love all of your writing, could please do Benedict and best friend reader at a ball and he over hears some girls bullying reader and goes OFF and reader runs off and he thinks he’s embarrassed her but when he finds her she explains she found it super hot and then some smut please! 💖

You are in love 1 || B.B

Part 2 of " you are in love"

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x best friend! Reader, + Polin

Warning: fem! reader, no description of reader, friendly flirting and teasing, mutual pinning, use of inappropriate words, reader has a step sister. Fluff and angst, part 1 of you are in love. Part : 2 will be smut

Rigel's note 🪩: Thank you for requesting, and the compliment<3333 *smooches* I hope you don't mind me doing it in two parts :) the title is taken from Taylor Swift's song " you are in love", it popped as soon as I read best friend reader, hope it's not as bad as it's in my head, sending love back, also part 2 soon.

" Perks of being a woman, you don't have to dance with Eloise bridgerton." You remarked when it was the fifth time Eloise stepped on lord White's toe.

Benedict snorted on his lemonade as he looked at you sideways, his iconic lop sided grin plastered to his smug face.

" I was her dance partner, " Benedict fake sniffed, wiping the fake tear, ", that too, before she started lessons."

You winced at the idea of Eloise before her lesson and gave Benedict a pat on his back for being ever the sacrifice.

" I thought that's why you danced wierd " you told him, smiling when he looked at you scandalously.

" Excuse me ?! " He narrowed his eyes, " you take that back ! " He slammed the glass down with force.

" Will not, you dance like...like a snowman ! " You beamed, slamming your fan down and glaring back, nose to nose, eye to eye.

" That never stopped you from dancing with me." He said smugly and retreated to his space with a satisfied look in his eyes when your jaw slacked slightly.

" You don't dance like a snowman with me." you told him in a small voice and that's when it hit you how gracefully he twirled you around when he was practically running away from other beautiful young ladies.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling at you as he raised his brow, like in a question.

" And why would you think that ? " His mouth twisted and you didn't know what to say.

" Perhaps because I dance well...? " You tried and despite it being not the answer he expected, he laughed all the same.

" You dance like a ... a Kangaroo." Benedict thought hard and a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled proudly when he got the right word to annoy you.

" What's a kangaroo ? " You asked, you had heard it somewhere but it was easier to ask him than think hard.

" It's like..." Benedict motioned with his hands something like a vase," it's a cute animal." He finally said when nothing more could be made out from his gestures.

"Oh." You nodded and then it hit you, " Did you just call me an ANIMAL ?! " You snarled at him and he shaked his head with a chuckle.

" I called you cute too." He squabbled.

" Kangaroo's aren't cute ! " You jabbed at him and he chuckled, grabbing your wrist firmly, a spark so bright jolted inside you and you felt your face grow hot.

" Then I don't dance like a snowman—" you sticked your tongue out at him and he was lost in words, just looking, you saw the opportunity and yanked your hand away from his grip. He relented like a gentleman.

" You are always like..like running away and leaning off while dancing and it's so so snowman like." You argued and Benedict's eyes twinkled like moon.

" Have you seen a snowman waltzing ? " Benedict asked and you shaked your head, while clutching at your chest, you couldn't help the giggling.

" Yes if we are talking about a tall, handsome and smug snowman."

" You think I am handsome ? " Benedict ducked his head closer to your face and you felt your breath hitching in your throat, like air was punched out of your chest.

You rolled your eyes when it became too apparent that no word would come out of your traitorous throat and you couldn't help but gaze back at him, he looked back just the same, all fire and blaze.

" You didn't answer my question." He said slowly, each word carefully and it squeezed your heart how close his face was, how beautiful those eyes were, and that nose, and those cheeks, those lines when he smiled, he oftened and it was so warm and gorgeous, how you never noticed how captivating he was, every atom of his body was tied with an invisible thread with yours, a golden one. And you would be damned to think of that mouth, your lips parted at the ethereal site and Benedict smiled at that.

" No." You just said it, eager to say anything and break this moment, it was swirling you around in a storm.

" No ? " He questioned, frowning and he was handsome at that too, you were so doomed.

" You are silly like handsome, like some lord Byron poetry." you murmured softly, safe guarding the hammering heart in your chest and blinking at the sudden burn from his gaze on you, drinking you in, his brow knitted in funny way, a mock annoyance crossed his face.

" Lord Byron ?! Really, " he dropped back to his seat and you finally took a breath, then he covered his face like a damsel in distress and when he glanced sideways at you, he was smiling his brightest, oh, you just realised how goofy and precious and mesmerizing his smile was, you wished to stop time and paint it under your lids so everytime you close your eyes, you could meet him there, in your secret gardens and then a death like that would be sweeter.

" What ? " You exasperated when he refused to look away, even when your nose wrinkled and face basked in it's warmth, he wouldn't let go of you, taking each and every detail in like he was wishing to stop time too and paint you. He could, he was an artist.

" You called me poetry..." His mouth quirked up in a delightful grin, like it explained all the merry and you groaned, looking away as you huffed the tingling in your body that wouldn't go, your eyes landed on a very eventful moment.

" Is that our Colin ? " You raised your brow at Benedict who sat up straighter and turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.

" Why is he eye murdering lord Debling ? " You asked him, he winked and pulled your chair closer, not caring if any mama saw or perhaps lady whistledown herself.

" Penelope is dancing with lord Debling, and well she's laughing at something too, oh—" Benedict whispered in the shell of your ear and you barely nodded, Colin looked like he had enough, he was making his way through the crowd towards Pen.

" Forty shillings if he punches lord Debling." You piped up, Benedict shaked his head.

" You are gonna lose cupcake, he's gonna take Miss Featherington's hand and—" you gasped when Colin stopped abruptly, said something urgently and took Penelope's wrist between his hand, Benedict cocked his head to his side and winked smugly.

" And ? " You drawled and it amused Benedict beyond limits, like he has been waiting for it.

" Birds and bees." He said in a code like hushed whisper, you smacked the back of his head.

" I don't have a mother, you know." You told Benedict and he touched his upper lip with the tip of his pink tongue, he nodded along knowingly.

" Well, someone's gotta teach you."

" Mm.. you are my best friend." You would look anywhere but at him but your eye's were locked in his, he was being brave then so can you. One step, not much.

" I can not tell you birds and bee." Benedict said sincerely.

" Colin helped Pen ! " You said, nose flaring as he worried his jaw but didn't say anything.

" He told her how kids are made, something like going to a farm and then...well he kissed her but that's not the point." You blurted in a whisper, he listened intently.

" He kissed her already ? "

" Well a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell but a lady can, but that's not the point! " You pouted, his resistance crumbled but then again, bloody bridgerton.

" That's not my place cupcake." He was breathing hard, his mouth would open and snap close again, taking back all the things left unsaid.

" Well then—" you hated how choked your voice got, you tried, didn't you, it's not like you left it on god's cue, this was the biggest hint you could have given him and if he didn't got this, then only bricks might work.

Give him one more, a small voice said in your head, it was yours, but stronger and braver than you.

" —then you can tell me about love."

Benedict laughed on that, like it was the funniest thing you had said.

" You know what? I take it back, I am gonna ask someone—" you smoothed your skirt and began to get up when he pulled you down.

" Sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry, don't go leaving me stranded." He pleaded.

You looked at him hard, looking for any sign of humour and you found none, he was glittering when he clapped his tongue and opened his mouth, his soft tongue resting like a tired cat.

" Love," he began," is like music."

" Like music." You repeated, struggling with the fit laughter that shook your shoulders.

Benedict glanced at you offended but when he spoke next, it was how the poets said, with longing and desire, like bleeding for your beloved and when no blood was left then it was ink and parchment.

" You can hear it in the silence." He said, you remembered those afternoons when no word was said between you and your bestfriend and yet nothing was hidden and left unsaid.

" You can feel it on your way home." He said, penetrating his gaze in you eyes and he remembered damn well that night after he rescued you from the lake when you almost drowned, the terror of losing you, the spark of holding you closer than ever.

" You can see it with the light's out, it's so bright and golden." Everything is more beautiful with you Benedict, you told him one Sunny afternoon, basking under a tree while he read you poetry, Better than Byron.

" Loving that one person will make you love yourself, with them, you are enough." He was whispering now, chest heaving as his hand trembled and unknowingly yours found his under the table, locked eye's and joined hands and sacred whispered chants. It was enough.

" You aren't too much, or too little, or loud or boring, you don't have to be interesting or witty or anything, being youself with them is enough." I like myself with you, he had told you when you were sixteen.

" That's love, being safe with them is love, being their home is love, to be able to leave all shades behind and be naked in just body and soul and not being afraid, not being embarassed is love."

" Benedict..." Your voice was soft and sweet and it took him a moment to realise he was crying, when you gently wiped it's proof with your handkerchief.

" I...I will be back in a moment—" he stumbled out, still smiling a small smile and oh god what you have done, you have ruined him as well your self and nothing will ever be the same.

" Yes...." You said, because he was waiting for your approval, he nodded back when he got it and disappeared amongst the crowd as you watched him leave.

Love was indeed like music, the one you liked, it could be light as bee buzzing and sharp as thunder roaring in clouds, it could be slow and rhythmic and soft like water flowing, it could be the sound of his laughter and the way he drew his breath, it could be how he whined and joked and played and teased, for you, love was the music and muse of Benedict bridgerton and yes, you were very much doomed.

" What a pleasant site, a spinster smiling on her own, have you planned some scandalous plan of yours to bag some noble man ? " Claire wheezed in a duckling like laughter, shared with Asha Patil and Gissele Turner.

You refused to say anything, it only further added spice to their boring marital lives, with their husbands out and wombs empty.

" Would you look at her ? She's giving us that attitude, no wonder she's still unmarried ! " Scowled Asha, with her frizzy hair and crooked nose, her eyes coated in loathing of most tainted kind.

" She might had gotten the ring if she wasn't being Mr. Bridgerton's bitch." Gissele whispered it down to you and anger shot up through your veins and your eyes snapped to her, it didn't matter if she was your elder sister and the rage that blinded you was so fierce that you didn't feel when two big tears rolled down your cheek.

" Don't cry now, you can always be his mistress atleast." They all laughed, loud and big and white teeth flashing, with their fake diamond rings rubbing in your eyes but it was too blur, you saw nothing, you heard nothing, everything was drowning around you.

" Speaking of mistresses, Lord Hasting has bought a bigger estate for his mistress than your home in east London and I wouldn't blame him lady Hasting."

You can hear it in the silence.

It was your love's voice, it was your Benedict speaking and you lifted your mascara stained lashed eyes at him.

If you had known him less than you couldn't have known of the terrible anger that was shaking him, that smile was no ordinary, it was feral and stray, wanting to tear anyone who dared to come near, he was burning in anger that was beyond words.

Claire sizzled at that remark, turning her hand to her palm side and only moments ago she was flashing her ring and now, she was hiding it.

" Don't ruin your reputation by showing ungratefuls such as her your pity Mr. Bridgerton." It would've hurt less, were it Claire or Asha, but it was your own half sister, be it half blood but blood all the same.

" Lady Turner, i have no wish to speak to you, you have hurt my best friend beyond words, you had taken her affections for granted so if someone's ungrateful then it's sorely you, you don't deserve a sister like her, she's too good for all of us." He was carefully placing the word and his anger slipped between, his teeth grinded and breath hitched, you stared, just at him and him, everything was getting dimmer but you knew in that moment, you would know him in darkness.

you can feel it with the light's out.

He had done many things for you, Benedict stole Anthony's horse to take you out on a midnight ride, he nicked Colin's sword and taught you fencing, bought ribbons of your favourite pastel silk, saved your favourite sweets, and so many and so more, but this was something you couldn't have done yourself if you wanted, he had done it, he had stood up for you and it was the most gleaming moment of your life, he wasn't playing hero, he wasn't being mean, he was protecting your with your honour and Benedict, the gentleman who wouldn't hurt a fly, he was going to dagger them down with words alone.

He was speaking and speaking and they were all quiet, their eyes low and nose bowed down, he was speaking and speaking, words clear with pure affection and respect and then your felt it.

The warmness aroused in your womanhood and an inaudible gasp parted through your lips as you felt the slicky wet feeling caress your inner thigh and the sensation was so electrifying that you had to close your eyes in order to take a breath and even then, you could feel his words, soft and praising, " ......if you were half good as a woman she is....." He was breathless and he wasn't stopping and something inside you wanted to cup his face and tell him, don't Stop, never stop.

And then his eyes looked for you, he found your gaze and held it and you felt the shame, you couldn't do this to him, this burning desire would take you both down in flames and what it would be to become one, only in ashes, it was scaring you.

And before you could think of say anything, you were already on your feet, stumbling through the crowd with your gown kissing the floor behind you.

You didn't know where you were going but far, away and this feeling wouldn't let go, you knew well but you wanted air, the warmness that was spreading was maddening and the hunger was tugging under your skin.

He was calling out your name, you hated yourself but you needed to run, this love would ruin you, what if Benedict hated you if you told him how you felt, how you thought about him, would he call you a whore along with Gissele, would it hurt more ?

More than anything.

His voice turned to pleading as crowd thickened and you were getting out of his sight. You wouldn't look back, because if you did then you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from doing something very stupid.

You were out of the gates, descending down the stairs as one heel slipped out but you didn't care, you were on a run.

Johnny was already motioning the horses as you frantically climbed in, you could see Colin chasing down Penelope's carriage in a distance as you opened the window to inhale heavy gulps of air.

Would Benedict Chase you down too ? Would he come and look for you ? And if he did, what would you tell him ?

You are my best friend.

Part 2