#I don't think she is afraid of that place (or at least that fear is so much repressed that she isn't bothered by it) that being in ad

[icy-dark-star]

I think the funniest thing about Susie travelling to the Clash!verse is that it implies that even after returning to the company, she still gets randomly sucked into Another Dimension. Like she really can't escape that place.

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 2 - Not Guilty

As promised part 2 because I have no self control... CW: Dead dove don't eat , torture, no comfort yet.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

It's different today. They’ve switched tactics.

John came in with a box. Simon reaches in and pulls out a snake. 

They’re using your fear against you. 

Something you told them in confidence, a secret, something vulnerable you told them. It brings tears, makes a pit form in your stomach as you remember you can’t move. You can't escape.

John holds your head in place as Simon agitates the snake causing it to hiss. You try to turn away but John holds you firm.

“Tell us what you know and this can all go away.” His voice is low in your ears. 

“I don’t know anything.” You whimper as Simon moves closer. You’re kicking your legs, or trying to. They're strapped down just like your arms. You’re powerless to stop them, what if it's poisonous? What if it bites you? 

You never thought you would prefer a method of torture more then another. You never thought you would be in this position. The water-boarding still continues. Only this time when you open your eyes you’re face to face with your biggest fear. 

You've not screamed before. Even as they hurt you, even as they broke your resolve. You’re screaming now. It feels like a fever dream, between the lack of oxygen and the constant presence of your fear, you can't even focus on John's questions. 

“I don't know anything, please make it stop!” You beg as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, your head hanging down as you sob. You’re cold and tired, your body shaking. It’s been hours, at least you don’t think you’re afraid of snakes anymore.

The door to the room fly's open, you look up, it's Kate with a tablet in her hands and a look of horror on her face.

“It's not her.” She says. John takes the table out of her hands. “We’ve seen the messages. We have the guy.”  Someone else is in the room now pushing past her. Kyle, he comes straight over to you. He presses his warm hands on your face. You try to smile at him but you can’t.

It almost doesn't feel real. 

“Laswell, go get a medic!” It's Kyle’s voice level and controlled. You feel your restraints loosen and you slump against Kyle. There's another hand on your shoulder. 

Maybe it's not over yet.

“No! Don’t fucking touch her.” The hand leaves as Kyle pulls you to your feet wrapping your arm around his shoulders supporting you as you lean against him.

You can’t remember the last time you were on your feet. You look back. You see Simon looking at the tablet now, John's eyes focused on you as Kyle pulls you closer, his arm gripping your waist. 

You dont think you’ve ever seen that look on John’s face before. 

Fear.

You barely register meeting the medics halfway to the medbay. Hands touch you, your body is moved but you stay silent only nodding or shaking your head at them.

You’re poked and prodded, your body examined from head to toe. Kyle is always there, you see him out of the corner of your eye. His arms crossed his gaze soft, sometimes talking to the medics.

Then you’re alone again. 

Your mind turns to Johnny, he's in this hospital somewhere. Fighting for his life. He’s all you care about now. 

You dont cry again. You want to, tears threatening to spill every time you remember what happened. John's face, his shouting. Simon's eyes, hard and dark like daggers digging into you. 

They’ve made requests to see you. You refuse. The only person you’ll see is Kyle but even then you barely speak a word to him. He keeps you updated on Johnny's condition. He avoids topics about Simon and John. 

He still asks you every time he visits if you’ve got anything you want to pass onto them. That's when you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. Hoping you haven’t betrayed yourself. 

You’ll never let them see you cry again.

That night you sneak out of your room. Your body is stiff and sore but you don’t care, you want to see Johnny. You need to see him. After a little bit of searching you find his room, he’s alone on the other side of the ward. 

That's when you cry, when you see his body laid up in bed connected to tubes and wires one even shoved down his throat breathing for him. You pull a chair up next to his bed, you take his hand in yours lacing your fingers with his. 

This feels like your fault, maybe it is. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve spent the last few days being told it is. You stroke his arm telling him how sorry you are. That's where you let the tears out. You let yourself be upset with them, angry at them, the people you love. 

Or maybe loved. 

They’re not the same people you knew before you were locked in the room. And neither are you.

next I need overprotective Kyle in my life Banners by firefly-graphics

[areyouwell]

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt. 

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically. 

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile. 

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought. 

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him. 

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man. 

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name. 

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance. 

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly. 

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of. 

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?” 

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned. 

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level. 

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?” 

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.” 

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying. 

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two” Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door. 

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless. 

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless. 

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly. 

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering. 

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement. 

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man. 

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you. 

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him. 

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here. 

He was in huge trouble. 

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that. 

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about. 

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling. 

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder. 

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room. 

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you. 

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return. 

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either. 

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything. 

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little. 

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion. 

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone. 

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features. 

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck. 

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?” 

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met. 

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door. 

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?” 

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it. 

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. 

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more. 

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths. 

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited. 

Fuck’s sake. 

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing. 

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits. 

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips. 

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent. 

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second. 

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening. 

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that. 

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this. 

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking… 

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time. 

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?” 

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands. 

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine. 

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe. 

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities. 

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide. 

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself. 

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence. 

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill. 

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought. 

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one. 

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you. 

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features. 

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance. 

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care. 

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young? 

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down. 

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?” 

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care. 

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you. 

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours. 

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all. 

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

[sokuuuu]

saw a post on my fyp a few hours ago that got me thinking about the game again. I've also been deep into Greek mythology so forgive me for somewhat combining two of my interests.

A common trope for characters who are gods or deities is their lack of humanity. They aren't bound by the confines of mortality, therefore they do not live by our rules. Our human concepts of community, society, and relationships are utterly beneath them because they exist in the scope of inevitable destruction. The mortal ones are the empathetic ones in the story of the gods, the victims who struggle to cling to our human desires beneath the whims of gods. Slay the Princess, however, subverts this expectation. In fact it turns it on its head by humanizing the deities and complicating the mortal man.

The Princess and Quiet are not people to the Narrator, and he makes that blatantly clear - they're constructs. Objects to be used to fulfill his desires. There's a fragile relationship between the three where the Narrator holds most of the powerful information over these characters' heads. He watches and observes their actions the way a "God" in the most general sense of a word would. In fact, he created the world the two inhabit. For the most part they're just living in it.

It's especially interesting to me that what the Narrator seeks is immortality. He fears death, a concept so meaningless to Quiet and the Princess. Their roles are so uniquely swapped. The powerful mortal man yearns for the strengths of the struggling, clueless gods.

As we expect from someone human - or at least, mortal in this world of this story - the Narrator is complicated. But the story doesn't derive the Princess and Quiet of their humanity either despite their larger roles. In fact, despite the two being two halves of the same larger concept, STP pours so much attention into making the two feel alive. Making their lives matter. We don't want to die even though we know how many chances we have. Each time we die, The Voice of The Hero fears the upcoming. In the mirror, facing the end, they are afraid. It's the closest these two unending beings can get to understanding the Narrator's fear of death.

They share our fears. Do they share our human desires?

The post that inspired me to ramble like this in the first place (I certainly wish I could find it) brought me back to this part of The Princess and The Dragon:

Although they aren't aware of the limits of their own existence, the Princess and Quiet know what they feel fulfilled when they are with each other. Even after everything. The Princess is angry at you in this chapter, both you and your voices, and yet she still wants that part of Quiet back. The part that makes her feel whole again. It's an obvious calling to their connection to each other in hindsight, as two parts of the same god. But they don't fit together anymore. They cannot fit together anymore as two separate entities. Part of their beings complete each other, but they are two separate beings created by the Narrator now. They can no longer be each other, but they know they belong with each other.

It's a... romantic way of thinking about it. We know soulmates, two souls destined for one another. They make each other complete despite their imperfections. Despite their existence as two separate organisms. They are not one in the same and yet they fit perfectly together. It's fantastical. It's unrealistic. It's a portrayal of love only imperfect beings like mortals can strive for. And yet the irony is that the two are anything but.

The Narrator even admits it to himself: he's wrong about Quiet and the Princess (although mostly Quiet in this instance, the same can certainly apply to her). They are not just gods. They are not just constructs. They are people. People with free will, with empathy, with desires, with longing. He's just like them, and we're just like him. The Narrator dwells on this boundary between life and death, mortal being and god, while we find these barriers so unimportant to us. The ending of Slay the Princess is about shedding the boundaries between ourself and the Princess and letting the two complete each other in a perfectly imperfect way. The very essence of mortality and humanity, displayed by two gods.

There's a beauty to imperfection.

[koqabear]

yandere soogyu pls

i would looooove to do a full yandere soogyu fic. i feel like lamb to the slaughter has already given us a sneak peek to their dynamic...

tw: kidnapping, mentions of drugging, yandere au, dubcon, slight pet play...? (HEAR ME OUT!!!) suggestive, mdni.

they don't know how it happened-- best friends since childhood, bound to share the same interests; they loved video games, loved the same music artists, loved photography-- so when they found you, it seemed like second nature to just... share you.

they're both eerily the same-- both calm and stoic on the surface, difficult to figure out over those harsh, cold eyes and hushed demeanor of theirs; so when you inevitably find yourself caught in their clutches, captured just for them to enjoy, it's hard to say if you'll ever find your way out.

but beneath those high walls they've built for themselves, always used to relying only on each other, are two drastic personas, revealing themselves slowly to you as you attempt to gain their trust.

soobin is shyer than you anticipated; for someone that managed to spike your drink and sneak you out the party you were at successfully, he sure is afraid to come close to you; always keeping his distance and talking softly, treating you like a feral animal that's ready to pounce on him if he commits any wrong move-- unaware that it's the complete opposite in your mind, always scared to offend him in fear of any punishment that might ensue.

always forced to be kind to him, to push yourself into the act that you're so happy to be here, ecstatic that you're forever bound to them-- because any wrong move, any wrong expression or fight that might hurt the boy's feelings, and beomgyu's swift to remind you why it's not a good idea.

you couldn't believe you thought of him as charming at one point-- couldn't believe you swooned at his prince-like appearance, flustered at the compliments he snuck when you least expected them-- because now, as you found yourself locked in your cage with aching joints and an itchy collar snug around your neck, all you could think of was how much you loathed him.

"cute little puppy won't stop pouting," beomgyu sighed from his place on the couch, soobin's worried expression only making you more annoyed, "does it hurt, baby? all those cramps on your body?"

"let me out..." you're barely able to croak out, throat dry and stomach grumbling from all they've deprived from you, "please..."

beomgyu could only chuckle at your broken plea. "so desperate..."

he leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and crossing his arms, a smug smile on his face as he watched the way you press your lips together and gulp.

"do you wanna prove to us how sorry you are?"

you don't hesitate to nod eagerly-- you know better than not to.

beomgyu's smile only grows at that, and he's nodding at soobin impatiently. "go let her out. careful, she's really sore."

watching soobin run to you, whispering soft apologies and cooing praises about how well you did, only makes your stomach churn in disgust. yet the relief that washes over you is much stronger, letting soobin pull you out your cage carefully, letting you kneel on the floor while you adjust to your newfound mobility.

"first," beomgyu begins, already enjoying the sight before him-- you look up at soobin, who has already begun to undo his belt in a haste, and feel defeat sweeping over you next. "apologize to soobin for being so mean to him. okay?"

glancing over at beomgyu, you find that his hand has already begun to wander down to unbutton his pants lazily.

"do a good job, baby. if not, it won't end well for you."

[sukunasun]

may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom. 

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

[yzzart]

hii!! love your work and i appreciate you so much for writing for tom <3 i was wondering if you could write a tom blyth x reader for the interview the cast did of how well the know each other??

An unfair test.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: do you, Rachel and Josh, really, know Tom?

word count: 1.990!

notes: anon, you don't know how much i enjoy writing these types of interviews and i love you for requesting this! — and i'm serious, I LOVE writing this!

"And today, we'll be competing against each other to see how well we know our friend Tom Blyth!" — You explained, crossing your legs and excited about what could happen.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you took one of the small cards that Tom was holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Is asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him cheating?" — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and returning the small card to your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah?" —Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. - "Look at this!" — She exclaimed, surprised and Josh's laugh was followed by the camera.

"Alright, let's do it." — Tom continued with an excited tone, moving the pen, which will be used, and reading for quick seconds the question that was on one of the cards. — "First question…" — He placed the card with the name 'Vanity Fair' on his chest. — "…what is my biggest fear?"

Tom looked at you, with a funny look of complicity and as if he was saying "oh, you know the answer" and it was, impossible, to try or contain the laughter. — Receiving looks and attention from Rachel and Josh.

"She knows." — Josh stated, thinking about his possible answer or something that could come to a correct conclusion. — "She definitely knows." — Leaning on the chain, you touched his arm.

"It's kind of funny to look at you and be like, hm, let me guess." — Rachel leaned over, resting her fingers on her chin, indicating a thoughtful pose and appearance. — "Let me guess, you don't wanna die alone." — She laughed. — "Please, Y/N, give me a clue!" — Her head rested on your shoulder.

"Wait, i guess i'm not so sure about my answer." — Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened, dramatically, a little at your words. — "I just think! "— You bit your lip, poking his knee.

"I have a guess." — Rachel turned to her boyfriend, waiting for him to say something or even give the correct answer.

"I think, mine is probably a little bit more shallow, but i think i got a guess, too." — Tom laughed at Josh's comment.

"Mine's the opposite." — Rachel said. — "You have a fear of like open water." — She observed some reaction or at least a simple speck of something new on his face, trying to guess if she was correct, but, she found nothing. — "Okay, you don't."

"What, is that your guess?" — He asked, tilting his head, as if wanting confirmation and certainty, to Rachel.

"Yeah, that's my guess." — She shook her head.

"Okay, Josh?" — Tom asked.

"I was gonna say mountain lions." — He reflected, still not sure if he would really go ahead with this guess and loud, synchronized laughter erupted in the room.

"In what way is this more shallow?" — Your boyfriend questioned himself and looked for a justification, a meaning for that comment. — "I'm curious."

"That's very poetic, in certain words." — You raised his hand in defense.

"I thought you were gonna say something like conceptual." — He referred to Rachel's guess, which failed along the way, and tried to justify it.

"Are you sure about your guess, darling?" — Tom pointed the card, with the answer, at you and he couldn't hide, even biting his lip, the anxious smile and, really, hoping that you would say the right answer. — "Or will it be a concrete answer?"

"You're making me nervous, excuse me?" — Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Definitely snakes." — You replied confidently, looking at your boyfriend and then at the camera.

"Actually, ironically, and that's like my childhood fear…" — He waved his hand. — "…which i've already overcome." — Tom finally turned the little card over so that the answer was visible and being revealed. — "Snakes!"

"The purest irony, that's incredible." — Tom pointed at you, a sign of affirmation. — "And so funny at the same time."

"Yes!" — He turned the card over again.. — "I was afraid of snakes when i was a kid because i saw a lot of Indiana Jones, and i watched a lot." — A scenario of little Tom watching Indiana Jones played in his head, causing a smile to appear on his lips. — "And i feel like this fear transformed me, you know?"

"Because cool people can be afraid of snakes." — Rachel added.

"Because cool people are afraid of snakes." — Tom agreed.

"And the fact that on set, we had two snakes, and you had to act with them for one part, is impressive." — Tom once again placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly.

"But, i'm not afraid of them anymore." — Maybe, a little, but, he wouldn't say at that moment. — "I've had a lot of therapy, honey." — You laughed. — "That's my biggest childhood fear, like, it's the first thing that would come to my mind if you asked me that."

In the future, during the editing of the video, a scoreboard with your name, Rachel's and Josh's would appear at that moment and with each one's score. — And you would be ahead, even with your colleagues' comments about how unfair it seemed that you were winning. — Indeed.

"Next question!" — Tom warned, holding up another card. — "Who is my ideal dinner guest?" — He looked at you again as you thought of yet another answer or possible guess.

"Normally, i would say, but, anyway." — You shrugged, pretending to be thinking about something and got laughs in the room, including from the people who were working behind the cameras; Rachel rested her hand on your back, still laughing. — "This is difficult even for me."

"That's my first and foremost answer!" — Tom stuttered confidently, lifting the paper carefully so that the answer wasn't visible. — "But, let's consider a second option."

"I'm going to say Francis Lawrence…" — Rachel suggested, slowly, and focusing on the main camera in front of her. — "…director of The Hunger Games." — You laughed. — "And to be fair, we'd all have him as a special guest, and he's the best guest."

"He's a great dinner guest." — You mumbled. — "I think he could easily be my guess."

"Oh, mine too." — Rachel positioned herself. — “And i feel like you, that's your ideal, someone who can talk about wine and loves food.” — She paused, thinking about her words and acting as if she said something. — "Y/N could fit that description like a shame, now that i see it." — Her voice swore, and turning her head towards you .

"I was going to say that now!" — Josh said, crossing his arms. — "My guess, which i feel is terrible, is going to be Cyndi Lauper, you know." — He uncrossed his arms, resting one of them on his leg and Rachel hugged the other.

"Okay, okay." — Tom turns the paper to the camera. — "I think it would be David Bowie." — God, you would never get that right.

"I swear he didn't cross my mind for a second." — Your head shook in denial, and in disbelief.

"Me too, i wouldn't understand that." — Josh looked at one of the cameras and Rachel moved one of her hands, a little in disbelief and intrigued.

"What it is, i just think it would be really fun." — Tom tried to justify. — "Okay, so, we have no points for Rachel and Josh and…" — He acted out a movement like they were playing a drum. — "…one point for Y/N."

"We are terrible." — Rachel confessed to her boyfriend. — "Terrible."

“And i feel like she can get another point now.” — Tom read the question quickly, before looking at you, who furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Really?" — You questioned, shook your leg and the british nodded.

"What's my go-to karaoke song?" — He read it and, in the same second, he started writing the answer and thousands of songs ran through his mind; one after the other.

The last karaoke night where you and Tom were present was recent; and, magically, incredible to the point of completing an album of photos and videos in your gallery. — However, it was clearly impossible to conclude what his favorite song was. — And it wasn't an exaggeration or anything like that.

"And you saying i was going to get this one right." — Your complaint passed through the ears of your boyfriend, who showed an incredulous expression.

"Our last karaoke night was, like, two weeks ago?" — Tom didn't remember, and he remembered few things. — "I think, i'm not sure."

"I'm not going to karaoke with you guys" — Rachel's soft voice introduced. — "And i need to start going." — She turned to Josh and you.

"I don't think you sing." — Josh looked up as he spoke.

"He actually sings." — You answered him. — "And he dedicates himself like no one else, a true spectacle."

“I will say it was definitely a punk rock thing.” — Josh's guess entered his mind, and he thought about agreeing with it. — "Something like."

"I would say that a chorus of a Spice Girls or Backsteet Boys song with your voice crossed my mind, but i don't want to consider it as a guess right now." — You placed your hand on your mouth, laughing at the fictional scenario.

"And i would say i don't know what to say." — Rachel murmured. — "Serious."

"I'll give you a hint, it's probably not what you'd expect." — Tom tried to help, but nothing came to her mind.

"I guess that didn't help, dear."

"Mambo number five…" — Josh suggested, speaking quietly, but sure of his guess.

"Josh's mambo number five, what's your guess?" — Blyth directed the small card towards you and Rachel, waiting for your response.

"Any of backsteet boys." — You didn't even specify any of the group's songs, and you wouldn't even have time to choose them; it was as if all their names had disappeared from your consciousness. — "Any one."

"I'm gonna say…" — Rachel thought.

"No, i'll change mine to All the small things." — At the last second, Josh changed his guess and you thought about changing but decided against it.

"All the small things, okay." — Tom pointed out.

"I'm going to say 'I miss you' by Blink 182." — Rachel said with certainty, as there weren't many options due to the lack of opportunities to attend singing nights.

"Wow, it's really the 2000s." — He separated some cards on his lap before turning to the question. — "The answer is, somewhat surprisingly…" — For the third time, Tom turns over the paper with the answer. — "Senhorita by Justin Timberlake."

The disbelieving and doubtful reactions and expressions on your faces were met by Tom's warm and loud laugh. — None of you expected that song. — And you don't remember him singing it.

Or, simply put, that memory was in the back of your mind.

"No chance, not possible." — You said intrigued, looking at your boyfriend and shaking your head in denial, for the second time.

"I don't remember you singing that." — Josh also tried to remember or have some memory with the mentioned song but nothing happened, he didn't remember either. — "Serious."

"We sing!" — Tom insinuated, pointing at you and Josh, who looked at each other and still don't remember the moment; that is if it really existed and he sang that song. — "Because Y/N mentioned Backsteet boys, we can put at least half a point." — Therefore, your name would have a new punctuation, even though it was small and not very valid. — "And she continues ahead!"

"Oh, i give up." — Rachel and Josh spoke at the same time, holding their hands up and laughing loudly.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

[assassin-artist]

okay, I'll post what I've got for Sindra now. Plus an alternate version for if she were a Viltrumite herself (: lore rambling below the cut

Calling her species 'Vottan'. They're a healer-based society of people with hollow bones, it makes them very fast but also very fragile. Big culture based around worshipping life and birth, which is why being a healer is such a high position of authority. Most Vottan become healers, but only a rare percentage of the people are born with healing magic. Sindra, having been born with the gift, was raised in something like a monastery to become a healer from a young age. They take a vow of silence when they reach adulthood, which is the same time they get their markings that deign them a full-fledged healer (the diamond on Sindra's forehead).

Their healer culture is very judgment free, i think. They believe that it's not their place to judge whether an individual 'deserves' to live or die for what they've done, only that if they are capable of healing, then they will heal. Their fragile physiology combined with their willingness to medically aid anyone who comes their way made it very easy for Viltrum to take their home planet and subjugate the people. Most healers are left to their own devices, but the rare few that are born with the gift of magic in their veins are taken to be personal Viltrumite healers on the Viltrum warships. Vottan lifespans on average are longer than humans, roughly expecting to live to ~150 years before dying of complications due to old age. However, those born with magic have a significantly increased life expectancy, expected to live somewhere around ~2,000 years before old age.

Taking inspiration from hummingbirds here when I say that I don't think they sleep at all - instead they go into a state of dormancy every few hours where their heart rate and metabolism is slowed significantly to conserve energy for a while.

hm.... that's all the lore for her species i've thought up at this point. Let me know if you have any questions (: Now I talk a little bit about her personal story..

I made her mainly to be a Conquest ship, because I like the idea of the big scary strong man having a fragile partner. Her people being subjugated by Viltrum was just the convenient excuse so I could say Sindra and Conquest have known each other for years before the events of Invincible even happen. I don't have a set age for her but I'm thinking at least over a century by now, so they've been buddies for around 50 years or so. Maybe. I'll do the math some other time, I'm just vibing rn. Conquest still doesn't get someone to talk to because his companion is silent, but, despite her inherent fragility and Conquest's inherent overwhelming strength, she has never been all that afraid of him. I think a species that worships life would have a more accepting view of death as well - it's to be avoided if possible, but not something you should fear and dread. Plus, I've talked before on my blog about how I don't think Conquest would actually struggle to be gentle, so I think it wouldn't be that difficult for them to become close. In fact, I dare say I think Conquest would be gentler with her than any of the other Viltrumites would be... i rotate them in my head. my silly aliens

I like the idea that she eventually finds her way to Earth before season 1 begins, but I don't really have a reason for why she left the Viltrumites just yet. Maaaaybe someone lost their cool and attacked her for whatever reason and she just flew away, never looking back? I'm not sure, I'll have to think more on that. I just like imagining her on Earth trying to learn how to get along with humans and interacting with the main cast of the show.. She really just goes where she's told to go and heals anyone she comes across, so she would be a great find for the GDA. I think she would really like Damien Darkblood (:

I think she would eventually break her vow of silence and begin speaking again, but I'm just not sure if it's while with the Viltrumites (her first words would be to Conquest for sure) or while she's on Earth...

that's all the rambling i have off the top of my head. im sure i'll have more soon enough o7

[eeuni]

like him ! b.e

angst, fluff, daddy issues, sh & ed

you had experienced a loss that time would not fix. your father was going around in your mind, after years without knowing about him, you still carried him in your heart everywhere. he was not in a coffin underground, but far away from you. very far away, much more his love. ever since you could remember, his fights with your mother went beyond the limit, broken glass, bleeding knuckles and screams could be seen and heard. after those fights he would grab his things, ready to leave and not come back, telling you that he didn't want to leave you, but he had to do it so he could come back the next day, as if nothing had happened.

you grew up not knowing what to expect, terrified that he would leave again, tired of seeing him leave and come back. he would sit you on the chair, your mother and him crying, repeating that it wasn't your fault but that they were going to start a divorce.

one more lie.

you fell asleep with a bitter taste, at fourteen, what else can you do? bleeding thighs, mirrors covered with sheets, nights without leaving the bed that seemed like your body was slowly beginning to rot. your father took you to the river, taught you how to use a gun, made you laugh.

and for a moment everything seemed to be stable, at least for a year. another fight ruined happiness, confidence, the desire to stay alive. now he has finally left home. "he's coming back tomorrow" you believed.

It had been so long since you saw your father walk through that cursed door. empty house, relapse, therapy, and a new man in the house. your mother's boyfriend. what a detestable thing. your mother complained that you never went out, that you were always sad, that you missed your dad but he was not a good person.

of course you knew, you knew what he had done, but not by his own decision. you left that house behind, you traveled to another country, you looked for a different nickname, you started smoking and being alone as always but in another place.

while you were studying and working you met zoe, your new friend. you discovered that she liked the smiths, so you decided to invite her to lunch. now at 21 you ordered a bottle of alcohol. she told you about billie.

oh, billie.

the beautiful black-haired girl who gave you a smile all the time, who took you to the best places to eat, bought you flowers, did everything in her power to make you look good and happy. you liked her instantly, fell in love within months, and your fear appeared out of nowhere, one summer night.

billie adjusted the sheets of her bed where you now slept almost every night. she hid in your chest, watching you from below smoking a cigarette. her eyes were shining.

"that smells like shit." she spoke, laughing.

"yeah, i know, but it's different when you smoke it." you put out the cigarette, billie had bought about two months ago a cute ashtray with flowers on it for you to use. "you know what? i think i'm broken."

billie looked at you confused, you had said that out of nowhere. "the other day a friend and i were talking, she told me about the love she feels for her friends and partner." you kept talking. "and i was like 'how do you not be afraid? ' "

"about what?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"you know...that you don't know how to love and that in one moment you want to give them all the love in the world and in the second you don't want that person to repeat that they loves you or even touch you." you explained.

she thought about it for a moment, finding it difficult to speak.

"can i tell you something?"

when billie asked that you froze. if that was what you were thinking, you wouldn't know what you would do. you swallowed, sat up better on the bed and looked at her curiously, with fear.

"...yes."

"i think i fell in love with you."

a burning sensation formed in your stomach. of course you loved billie very much, so much that sometimes it was overwhelming and perhaps the fear of not knowing how to love her stopped you from taking any steps that would indicate that you need her. you loved her from afar, in silence, admiring her beautiful being for months.

"what if i hurt you?" was the first sentence that came out of your trembling lips. billie's gaze softened, placing a hand over yours. "what if i don't know how to love? what if i'm a copy of what my father is?"

tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, you began to feel the need to tear your skin off at the thought that you were living it all in your father's body, with his ideas, his traumas, his wounds that continued to bleed. you couldn't hurt her, even if that meant keeping all the love you had for her to yourself and taking a step back.

"hey." she caught your attention, you looked into her eyes again. "what your father is is not synonymous with what you are. you are not in his skin. you love in such a beautiful way, i noticed it. with me, your friends, with people you don't even know. would your father do what you do every day for the people you love?"

you saw him in the back of your mind, grabbing his bags and leaving you for the last time. the first time you wished for him to come back and he wouldn't. by this time you were crying, fighting with yourself.

"you don't mind loving someone who has disorganized attachment?"

"i don't mind loving someone like that, because i know very well that you can overcome any difficult moment." she smiled softly. "and that you love me too much to keep me away."

you laughed at billie's words. she was right, you had created a connection with her where you simply needed her.

"you're right." you proved her right. "i love you too much to keep you away."

"so...that means you're in love with me too?"

she asked, her excitement building behind her heart because she was sure you would say yes, even though a part of her was still afraid. you nodded.

you bit your lower lip and before billie could say anything you captured her mouth in a kiss full of sweetness. you felt every foreign wound beginning to heal. the foreign wounds that your father left on you.

no doubt your expressions were perhaps like his, your way of walking or smiling.

but your way of loving would never be a murder committed by the one where he left the lifeless body on your shoulders. with billie you would learn to leave all that pain aside.

(...)

two years later, billie was now your girlfriend, you lived together with shark. you were sorting through a couple of boxes containing things from your childhood, you looked through a diary you hadn't seen in a long time.

"she said that i made expressions like him.

my waist and my posture like him.

so do i look like him?"

a tear fell. you grabbed a pen, sitting down on the cold floor. you started writing in that old diary from your childhood.

"you can look like him

but you don't love like him."

you heard billie's sweet voice calling you to dinner. "my love?" she asked. you wiped away your tears but before you could compose yourself billie walked into the room, instantly getting worried. "baby! what happened sweetheart?"

she came over, crouching down beside you. you smiled.

"im just very happy."

you answered. your girlfriend's gaze fell to that old diary, reading those words. she didn't say anything, she just held you tight against her body, kissing your forehead. "i'm so proud of you."

"i'm proud of myself too."

you finally learned that life doesn't end when your father walks out that door of your childhood.

[tikhondownichi]

That post about Prorva and Lamarr (love the HL reference) has got me thinking. Like.

Sebastian is not a good parent in any sense of the word. But in the circumstances given he is the only reason Prorva is alive when he could have easily killed her for food (as shown in your first few posts about her. Normal fish behavior), out of “mercy” (Urbanshade has never and is especially currently not a safe space for children or offspring). But he kept her alive, gave her his old jacket (weather its because he wanted to give her something special to him, wanted to keep her clothed, or even just wanted to get rid of the jacket is up for debate). But there is at least some amount of caring. I get the whole joke is Sebastian is a terrible dad and isn’t afraid of that fact but like. There must be something.

Im a sucker for angst so just. Something happens to Prorva. Not sure if in her current age or sometime while she was growing. Bad encounter with an Angler/Pandemonium, set off a tripwire trap, bugged turret, or just something that has Prorva hurt bad. Would that be a chance for Sebastian to show a more caring side? Im sure he’d mock her and complain about waisted supplies but like. If he fears, even for a second that she is dead or might die, would it show? Would Prorva notice? Would it affect their relationship as father and daughter? Is or would Sebastian be protective of her, even just a little?

Sorry about the ramblings. Im just obsessed with angst sjfbejfbdk

In fact, we should give Sebastian credit: he was able to raise a little bro in this godforsaken place where anything could kill you, especially a small child. In a place where you're always wondering what you're gonna drink and eat tomorrow so you don't die of stomach ulcers. In the cold and total unsanitary conditions, where if you catch a cold, you are very likely to die. We can berate Seb endlessly for what a bad father he is, but on the other hand, the basic parenting functions he performed: Prorva is alive, healthy, fed, clothed. Objectively yes, Sebastian has made a lot of mistakes and screwed up (a lot), but on the other hand he was sent to Hadal Blacksite barely a young adult, barely knowing how to do anything alone in this world, and now he's a 32 year old adult and he's a fish that has to figure things out on his own. It's crazy. He's understandable.

Yeah. Even though Sebastian is an ass most of the time, but if a situation happens to a gremlin that puts her life in danger - he won't stand by. Yes, Seb will be passed, swear a lot, probably mock, but he'll help (even if he says he's not going to deal with that shit). He can be caring (though he expresses it in his own way) if the situation really demands it.

For the moment, Prorva's whole life revolves around Sebastian. He's the only person close to her. She senses any changes in his behavior and actions, but his complex emotions she will not understand due to her immaturity. After all Seb is an unstable and complicated person.

It's okay, I enjoy reading and writing this kind of musings (especially if it's about angst) ( ´∀｀ )b

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

been rewatchin' BTAS recently. so here's is some of my absolute fav episodes to name. 📺💥

...

(naturally, that's not all of my favorite episodes, haha. BTAS is just nearly perfect in terms of writing of an animated show. aside from a couple of lackluster eps, an' a few that i just don't personally care about much.

but anyways … 

‘blind as a bat’ was one of those eps, which actually made me so paranoid as a kid. losing your sight is one of the scariest things, which can happen to a person. an’ i love how they portrayed this via bruce, whose whole life is literally him fighting crime, but how will he do it now, when he can’t see anything? like, it doesn’t stop him of course. but man. it was so gut punching. BTAS not only understood batman / bruce, but they also gave him a lot of vulnerable moments like that. i mean, this was also one of like 2 or maybe 3 eps, where we see bruce tear up an’ it’s always gonna tug at my heart strings. admittingly, penguin mostly was there just to be well, an asshole, but i like how much it says about him, when he giddily an’ sadistically corners bruce, fully enjoying the fact, that he’s helpless. 

‘eternal youth’, i gotta appreciate how terrifying this episode is. an’ the utterly messed up the concept behind it. i think, that BTAS had really nailed the fact, that poison ivy is honestly a horrifying person. her rapey gimmick aside, her motivations an’ how far she’s willing to go for it … oh, she’s such a delightful psycho! i love, love ivy who acts like this. a proper female villain to boot an’ who’s also not a one trick pony, but can bring a lot of more of awful an’ chilling things to the table. not to meantion, that it's always good to see batman's other rogues, than the clowns to threaten batman's loved ones, esp if they had no idea that they do it.

‘joker’s favor’, for what it worth i’m happy, that i still can fully enjoy joker an’ harley’s characters at least in some media. i suppose, arkhamverse is fine too, but over the years, i feel like both of the clowns were overused in literally everything under the sun to the point, where i’m unable to stomach them in most outlets nowadays. i jus’ don’ wanna look at them or hear about them or anything … but here? oh, what a blessing! the best harley to ever exist. an’ one of two jokers, that i actually really like. as for episode itself, this has such an interesting flavor to it. not only we get to see what it’s like for a normal gotham citizen to be at the wrong place an’ at the wrong time, but also what smth like that can do to an otherwise a simple, everyday man. also, the joker crawling on his knees like a coward is always great. since i feel like many writers forget that aside from a crazy murdereous psycho, he’s also supposed to be a narcissistic wimp, who’s deeply afraid of death. an’ it was harley’s debut ep too. she’s so casually evil in it as well. an’ that’s kinda why i drew her without a mask btw. since we do see her face in that very ep.

‘nothing to fear’. i’ve talked so much about that ep, but i don’t mind talking about it yet again. a life changer episode for me. i also remember that while ‘pretty poison’ was entertaining as heck, an’ ‘on leather wings’ was breathtaking in some scenes, i’m pretty sure, that it was ‘nothing to fear’, which fully convinced a child me, that i will be always on the clock, sitting next to tv to watch every following episode of this show. so, yeah, forever gentle of this one an’ the concept behind it. also so many parallels an’ bruce’s fee-fees. i love how jonathan would always have that deeper, private key to bruce’s mind. an’ how bruce is always there to terrify him right back. 

‘read my lips’, when i was a kid, the twist of that episode made me so intrigued. bc i wouldn’t have ever thought about who the main villain was an’ how the show would handle it. like, you would expect a villain in typical sense. a man or a woman. or smth like that, not an actual dummy an' person who controls him, but belives that he's not. i love how this whole thing made bruce low-key paranoid as well, bc at some point, he also almost believes that the dummy is alive an’ cursed or smth. i also love how he doesn’t right away realizes that arnold is mentally ill an’ not just pretends like he is. bc it would have been such a clever scheme, if it was one to begin with.

to conclude this all, i will prob for sure ref those eps in my upcoming BTAS fic, bc yeah. i have a tunel vision in a way lol. but mmm, BTAS really feels like timeless classic at this point.)

[galedekarios]

thoughts on emmrich's vows & vengeance ep

i just wanted a place for me to gather my thoughts about emmrich's ep.

i have to say that i enjoyed it much more than the others, though i'm very likely biased. i absolutely have my problems with the overall writing as well as the way the podcasts treats the lore of the world, but i liked the insights it gave into emmrich, his personality and also his relationship with manfred.

so in no particular order:

1: emmrich's kindness

this is something that really, really stuck out to me this episode. emmrich is so incredibly kind.

from wanting to set the horses pulling the carriage free so they can have a chance in the storm, even if there is a possibility they might not come back and leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere:

ROLET: The storm’s getting heavy, Master Emmrich. We may not be able to go much further. What do you want me to do? EMMRICH: Hmm, perhaps we should pull the carriage off the road and hunker down inside until it passes. ROLET: What about the horses, sir? EMMRICH: Unhitch them. ROLET: Unhitch them? EMMRICH: Those animals are every bit a part of nature as this storm. Their instincts will guide them to safety. We just have to give them the freedom to take care of themselves. I trust they shall return when this tempestuous weather has passed.

he's immediately ready to help nadia despite knowing nothing about her, who she is or what she is saying is true, dismissing rolet's very reasonable fear of bandits:

NADIA: By the Lady, I am so happy to see you. We, we, we've been stuck here at least an hour. I didn't know what to do. They, they were too heavy to carry in this mud. Their pulse is falling and I- EMMRICH: There, there. Please put your mind at ease, my lady. What is your name? NADIA: Nadia, but… EMMRICH: A pleasure, Nadia. Emmrich Volkarin, at your service. Now come, we have some room in the carriage and you can shelter there until the storm passes.

he's not only incredibly polite to everyone in this episode, but he's also very gentle with rolet and helps him walk after he injured his ankle:

EMMRICH: Forgive me, but I must gently roll the ankle to examine its condition. (ROLET YELLING) EMMRICH: How does that feel? ROLET: Ah, not good! EMMRICH: I'm afraid it might be broken. I don't think you can walk. ROLET: I can limp. EMMRICH: Not by yourself, you won't. We shall help you. Now, here we go.

he's incredibly human here, not caring about standing, doesn't think himself above to do so because rolet is his coachman. he only wants to help. it's also very nice to see him being a healer, too.

DRAYDEN: That's it! That's where they went. EMMRICH: Well, then we go this way. Please take my arm for balance.

the same kindness and compassion that he shows the horses in the beginning, nadia and drayden, as well as rolet, is echoed in the way he treats the spirits/demons in this episode:

EMMRICH: Spirit, I am warning you to stop this right now. DEMON SPINELLA: Piss off, human slime. EMMRICH: I do not wish to hurt you or the body you inhabit, but I will not allow you to harm my companion. DEMON SPINELLA: Go back to your necropolis, death whisperer. EMMRICH: I'm sorry, but that body does not belong to you. EMMRICH: Spirit, you are not welcome here. And you are not welcome to that body. You shall leave now! EMMRICH: Please relinquish her body before someone gets hurt. DEMON SPINELLA: Oh, well, if I can't have her body,then no one will! EMMRICH: Easy now. Take that bottle away from your neck and put it down. DEMON SPINELLA: Or else what? EMMRICH: Please, I beg of you. DEMON SPINELLA: I want you to remember this moment clearly and painfully because this is on you! (FLESH SQUELCHING) (DEMON CHOKING AND GURGLING) EMMRICH: No, don't! EMMRICH: No!

he doesn't know who the woman possessed it yet he still tries to save her. he still tries to reason with the spirit.

and even though we can't see what is happening as for as the character's facial expressions are concerned and drayden rushes to reassure emmrich, that what happened is not his fault, that it's not on him, i think that it's very clear in his prolonged silence after that emmrich may see it as his failing and that it left him shaken.

all in all, it just really echoes what corinne busche and others who were lucky enough to play the preview of datv already said about emmrich: he's an extremely kind man.

what makes me worry though a bit is just how quick he is to trust and others at their word.

i talked about this with my friend @lairofsentinel too and we both feel that emmrich might not be as discerning about people's motivations and their possible deceptions - and the inherent danger in that - as he is when it comes to the dead, spirits and healing.

of course, taking v&v's writing with a grain of salt, but if it's reflective of how emmrich behaves in the game itself, it might be interesting to explore this "flaw" in emmrich's character.

emmrich seems very much too good for his own good.

he has spent more time among the dead, knows about their regrets and their emotions, and is renowned for his skill (see also tevinter nights). it might be that it came at the detriment - to some degree - when it comes to dealing with the living.

2: emmrich being very competent at what he does

it was also incredible to see emmrich at work:

NADIA: Drayden! EMMRICH: Stand back. EMMRICH: (echoing) May these words travel beyond the flesh, beyond the body, flowing down the silver thread to the spirit lost. Your home is calling, Drayden. Hear me! Your home is calling. NADIA: What are you doing? EMMRICH: I'm sending a message beyond the Veil to let Drayden know that it will soon be safe for them to return to their body.

-

EMMRICH: Now I need to finish preparations, but once the ritual begins, it shouldn't take long. However, with the poison's advancement, I will most likely need to perform an exsanguination. PASCAL: Hmm, blood magic, such messy business. EMMRICH: Ah, merely a cleansing. Nothing will be summoned, I give you my word.

-

EMMRICH: Spirit fire of midnight suns, through my spire of ill and ire, the wretched blood be blessed, not mired. EMMRICH: Manfred, stand back, I must direct the blood through the air without interruption. But,be ready. (MANFRED HISSES) EMMRICH: Let the cleansing grace lead you to thy spirit's place. Manfred, the blood has gathered. Quickly, please, spark the flames with the silver power. EMMRICH: Excellent work, friend! The blood is returning to the body. Drayden's spirit has heard the call. Come on, Drayden, I can feel your spirit's might. You are strong. You can do this, just fight. Fight for yourplace in this world. EMMRICH: That's it, you're almost home. Manfred, please smash the ampoule of Cetusbile. EMMRICH: Drayden, I commit you once more to the flesh. Now, find this body and purge it of its trespass. And wake up!

i also like that last bit especially because it's another callback to corinne busche saying that emmrich is all about positive affirmations, that he's very encouraging.

i remember the gameplay previews where he compliments rook during a fight - and he does the same here, encouraging drayden to find their own strength to return.

3: emmrich & manfred

i absolutely love the way these two interact. emmrich clearly is proud of him, he defends him, he speaks up for him. but he also knows he can rely on manfred.

my favourite moments were probably this moment after rolet and nadia startle at the sight of manfred:

NADIA: Why is there a walking skeleton exiting your carriage? EMMRICH: That, dear Nadia, is Manfred. NADIA: Manfred, your assistant? EMMRICH: Indeed, a gentle spirit, ball of curiosity, and a threat to no one.

it's just such a sweet way to describe manfred and you can tell there's genuine affection there.

i also thought it was cute that manfred doesn't like nicknames and that emmrich translates for manfred:

NADIA: Someone hand me that board. NADIA: Thanks, Bones. NADIA: Ah! What's your problem? EMMRICH: Oh, I'm afraid Manfred here is not very fond of nicknames. NADIA: Oh, sorry. (MANFRED GRUNTING) EMMRICH: He says apology accepted.

there also multiple instances of emmrich complimenting manfred on his work, just as he did in his short story:

EMMRICH: Manfred, did you salvage my kit? (MANFRED GRUNTING) EMMRICH: Excellent work.

and it's clear that manfred is a big part of how emmrich performs his duties. he's very much included at every turn and emmrich clearly relies on him and trusts manfred to do what he needs him to do.

4: other stuff

ROLET: But this place is creepy. EMMRICH: Well, I think it's quite charming. ROLET: All due respect, sir, but you would.

emmrich finding the obviously haunted castle vibes of their temporary shelter charming while everyone else has the creeps (and rightly so!) was so funny and in character.

in conclusion:

me waiting for 31st october:

[talesfromawannabewriter]

The Bride of the Goblin

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

A child’s laugh mixed with the sounds of nature filled the green scenery. A young girl ran across the grass, following the deer as they bounded away. The majestic creatures always brought a sense of curiosity and joy to the girl named Ada.

They were beautiful, free to roam as they saw fit. Never having to listen to anybody but their selves. In fact, all animals that existed she viewed as that.

In all honesty, she was quite envious of them even at such a young age.

When the deer stopped to have a bite of the grass a few of them went right up to her and allowed her to pet them. Their fur was soft yet coarse, it was something that she couldn't quite describe.

Yet still knew what it was at the same time.

Ada: Your so pretty.

She said softly so as to not upset nor frighten the doe in front of her. However, it would be of no use as it's ears twitched, looking around to see where the imaginary sound was coming from.

Ada was confused as to why it suddenly left but she was determined to find out why and where it was going.

As fast as her little legs could take her, she finally caught up to the deer who by now was following a quiet sound. She didn't hear it before but now she had.

The further the two progressed the louder it became. Until Ada and the deer stopped right in front of a tree, and she knew exactly what kind of noise it was.

It was the sobbing of someone in distress

Ada: Hello?

She called out hoping someone would call back. Fortunately, for the young girl she did receive an answer.

Lucifer: W, who's there?

Ada could tell that it was the sound of a little boy: Hi! my name is Ada what's yours?

Lucifer: ...I, I'm Lucifer.

Ada grinned: Well Lucifer may I see you?

Lucifer: No!

Ada: Why not?

Lucifer: You'll scream and run away! Just like everyone else!

Ada: ...Is that why your crying?

Lucifer didn't say anything back and she assumed her guess was right.

Ada: Well, you don't have to be afraid of that happening because I won't scream, I promise.

Lucifer: How do I know you telling the truth?

Ada: Because I always keep my promises, and I always tell the truth. My mama actually says I'm very honest!

She beamed with pride as she said that. Her mother would often tell her that it was possibly her best characteristic.

Lucifer: ....Alright, I'll come out, but please don't run away!

She was confused deeply by the little boys pleas. Why on Earth would she run away from another kid?

She found out as soon as she saw a being start to come to the other side of the tree. What she saw truly shocked her to her core.

First, she saw pale skin, almost as white as snow. Then soon the rest of him, his ears were large and pointed, his teeth sharp like knives as they bit his lips, his hands that wrung each other anxiously had claws attached to him.

But what caught her attention most were his two eyes that were as red as her favorite fruit.

Apples.

Lucifer waited for the screams of horror to start or at worst a rock to his face. However the more she gazed at him the more he realized it was not one of disgust or fear, but of that of wonder.

Adam: What are you?

Lucifer: I’m Lucifer!

Adam giggled: I know that but what ARE you?

Lucifer: My mother says that I am a goblin. Or at least partly one.

Ada: Your unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You’re like one of my woodland friends!

Lucifer: I can’t help the way I look!

Ada: I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything by it, I just mean that I think you’re very pretty!

The poor boy felt his entire face grow hot as the girl got closer to him.

Ada: Do you want to play with me?

Lucifer: I….w, what?

Ada: I said would you like to play with me?

She reached her hand over for him to take. Lucifer stared at for the longest time before finally accepting it.

Ada grinned as she proceeded to drag him to where she normally spent her days at.

For the remainder of the day Ada showed him all of her most favorite places in the forrest.

They climbed trees, swam in the creek, and rolled on the grass together. She even took him to the deer again where they accepted him with open arms.

Lucifer was having a jolly good time with his new friend. He certainly can’t remember the last time he laughed or smiled so hard.

However, like all good things this had to come to an end.

By the time the sun set Ada had to go back to her home.

Ada: Sorry Luci, but my mama and papa get very cross with me if I’m even a second late for supper.

Lucifer tried not to let his disappointment show: That’s okay Ada, I understand.

Ada smiled at the goblin and planted a chaste kiss on the forehead, the young boy could hardly breathe as his heart banged against his chest like a drum.

Ada: Good bye Lucifer!

Just like that the young girl was gone but that had cemented the feeling stirring within him. He was unaware that what it was would cause a deeply infatuation that would soon lead on to full obsession.

[missshirophantom]

I love your yandere Sebastian Solace so much <3 could you make a request on him having female reader in his shop after kidnapped the reader from her journey on getting the crystal to escape the place where she is forced to stayed in his shop- Where nothing but some noisy other prisoners/people could disturb his time with being with only your presence. When one of prisoners flashed him of the flashlight she took the opportunity to escape the shop without alerting Sebastian of her leaving due not wanting to risk getting caught (sorry if this doesn't make sense)

From the author : hello! I'm glad of that. It took a while, but it's done. I apologize if there is something wrong in the written request or if I misunderstood something. I hope you don't mind that I came up with the name of this one... Stories, yes. And I hope you don't mind the slight rigidity typical of yandex. content. I apologize also if this is short or a little concise, I was in a hurry when I wrote this, plus I was busy writing one story that I finally finished. Have a nice read :D

Warning : female reader, references to bondage (not really), mention of slight isolation, threat of fracture and amputation of a limb, possessive behavior, yandere.

Number of words : 1856

I Warned You

A lot of things have been happening in your life lately. The time before you were put in jail does not matter. Whether you were actually imprisoned for a crime or not. The important thing is that in the end you agreed to the offer of a certain company Urbanshade. All you wanted was to finally get out of this prison, especially when the woman was not living very well there.

However, you never even allowed the thought that this seemingly simple matter would turn out to be so dangerous.

Meetings with these... Creatures that have left you with nightmares. You didn't even think then that it could be worse than just being in jail. At least there was some respite, but here you're just in eternal fear for your life.

You weren't exactly sure what attracted one of these creatures named Sebastian, as he calls himself. Especially when you came to his store several times for, most often, a first-aid kit.

So that didn't explain why he kidnapped you and kept you in his store. It was especially frustrating that you were pretty close to that damn crystal and the long-awaited freedom. Literally a few steps away, and then you lost consciousness before you woke up in a man's store.

You were afraid to do anything. More precisely, you tried, but Sebastian's threats were sufficiently eloquently that you did not think of doing anything to his satisfaction.

Compared to what happened to you in prison before, being here is not a bad thing. If you think about it optimistically.

There was food, albeit mostly raw meat, and canned goods from the warehouses of this base. There was also a soft, very soft, place to sleep. And a little entertainment in the form of reading the documents that Sebastian allowed you to take and talking with him.

What you definitely didn't like, and even scared, was the almost constant attempts of a man to bite you. He also kept you wrapped up with his tail all the time when you were sleeping or "annoyed" him when he was busy. You didn't know what it was about, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

And you also hated when he used handcuffs to keep you in his "lair" while he went to get supplies. Even when you behaved well, he did it anyway, deliberately not believing you and mocking you. Which was true, but your wrists hurt because of the uncomfortable position and even turned a little red where the metal rubbed against your skin.

You reluctantly accepted it.

An attitude, but definitely not a position.

You were afraid of what Sebastian might do to you if you did run away, but damn. You were so eager to get out and finally get freedom, despite the fact that your last attempt was unsuccessful, and the scar on the back of your neck still hurt. A reminder of your "misconduct," as a man hissed in your ear during his bad days. And then there's the daily mockery...

Even his "good" attitude towards you does not cover what is here, especially with him, is unbearable.

But subconscious fear, as well as those memories of your past escape attempts, made you freeze in place when you stood next to the ventilation hole open to customers.

About the customers...

These are the days that allowed you to exhale a little, because it was at such moments that Sebastian's close attention and obsession were less, because he was distracted by the prisoners who bought things from him. And it also lifted your spirits a little, because you could talk a little with those prisoners who did not treat girls disgustingly.

It's good that your abductor did not interfere with this, even if he frowned and became more intrusive after the person left.

You fidgeted a little in your seat while you were sitting on one of the iron boxes, looking bored at the book in your hands, which you reread for the third time. Sebastian brought you this book from one of his outings. The plot was not bad and you even liked it, although after each re-reading, the book turned out to be quite boring. And not only because you already knew the story.

You listened out of the corner of your ear to the mumbling of a visiting prisoner who was fiddling with his research, greedily looking at some of the things being sold in Sebastian's bags.

As far as you remember, this person lacked literally several dozen studies to buy this. It could be seen that they were clearly in distress.

You put the book aside, raising your head.

Sweat broke out on the man's face as they rummaged in all their pockets, desperately looking for more research, but not finding it, began to sweat harder. At the time, Sebastian was looking at them maliciously, folding his two arms over his chest, clearly enjoying the discomfort of the prisoner.

You frowned quite a bit at this. Suddenly, a rather unexpected thought came to your mind: what if?..

It is at this second that the man pulls out a Flash Beacon and pulls the trigger, clearly hoping to steal the right thing in this way.

And at the same moment, when Sebastian's angry and painful scream rang out, you rushed to the vent and crawled through it.

You acted on pure instincts, moving as if your life depended on it. You could hear an even louder, angry scream as you ran out of the hallway, followed by the sound of a gunshot.

You didn't remember how long you ran like that, but you had to run as far as possible, especially when you acted so impulsively and did not report this action to Sebastian in any way... Although, if that had happened, he would have handcuffed you to a pipe or a staircase railing... But you just wanted to feel freedom at least for a short time, even without resuming the path to the crystal.

Your legs barely held you up and hurt a lot from the sudden and prolonged running, which almost made you stumble. You were breathing heavily, almost hoarsely, leaning against the wall. Gradually, as you catch your breath, you begin to fully realize what you have done.

Damn it, what have you done?

What is the chance that in this case Sebastian will not give you a very strong punishment? And then he will move with his magician to another place so that it will be harder for the prisoners to get to him, and also so that you are not familiar with the situation?..

Although it was not this that scared you more, but what kind of punishment a man would apply for your impulsiveness ...

You swallowed nervously, involuntarily looking down at your legs, which were trembling after running... Or maybe from fear of the unknown.

You started when you heard a noise in the next room and ran again, as if your life depended on it. Which was not far from the truth.

You heard a very familiar angry growl behind you, which caused you to accelerate, panicking, looking for a place where you could hide from danger. In the next room, you find a small overturned closet among other furniture scattered throughout the room, and hurry inside. You clamped your hands over your mouth, curled up in a trembling ball in the corner of the furniture.

You held your breath when you heard another crash and thud, but it was all in this room.

— Where are you, little fish? — The voice was full of growls and hisses, quite far from human speech and literally inhuman.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to move a muscle, when you heard the sound of a body sliding on the floor, as well as the way the furniture moved, almost breaking under the force of the hybrid's claws.

— Do you remember I warned you not to run away? Or have you forgotten that?! — there was another sound of furniture moving, but this one, apparently, flew into the wall. Dangerously close to where you were— ah, I knew you were dumb, but to be so lovely?

You tried not to flinch or sob at his tone and noise as he broke furniture next to you, clearly venting his anger.

— Should I break you or amputate your leg so that you stop thinking about escaping, huh?!

You shuddered weakly, shrinking into a ball from his threat, barely breathing through the tears that silently flowed from your eyes. Of course, you guessed that something would be determined, but... No, no, no...

— If you come out now, I won't do anything to you, little fish, — the tone of the voice dropped, and the hissing was not heard so much now.

But for some reason it scared you even more, which is why the instincts in your body made you freeze in place. You've never felt so terrified, even when you almost ran away the last time. You felt like a real prey next to a large predator, ready to attack and eat right like that.

Because of fear, time seemed to freeze for you, as well as all the noise that began to move further and further away from you, indicating that Sebastian was moving away from your hiding place. You were still trembling, barely able to move for the first few seconds, when you realized he was gone.

It took about a few dozen minutes before you could move, when the paralyzing fear began to subside from you. By that time, all the noise had stopped and it was terribly quiet.

It bothered you a lot and you were afraid to open the closet door, but you couldn't sit here for a long time because of a little claustrophobia and fear that the hybrid might come back and find you.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks with a trembling hand, exhaling raggedly and hesitantly and very slowly unlocked the locker door.

At the same moment, your hand was intercepted and you were literally yanked out of hiding with your scream.

You saw your own frightened reflection in Sebastian's inhuman eyes. A sob escaped your lips, breaking the silence, then a terribly quiet voice was heard:

— I. Warned. You.

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, Epilogue

(He looks so fine, I can't handle it. Can handle him though, just like you're about to do). Anyways, this is the final end of this story. This has been such a great experience, and I've loved writing it. I know many are waiting for the next one (which will be with Chris), but please give me some time to get started on that. Right now, I have a bunch of requests to take care of, which I will also be doing while posting the next story.

Again, thank you all for the encouragement and support throughout this, and don't worry. Josh is NOT gone, you can request as much as you want. Anyways, as always, my blog is 18+ and so is this post (hint hint) so just enjoy! <3

Luckily, I got to know that both Matt and Jessica survived. Mike was so happy when they told us. Jess looked like a wreak though, I’ve never seen her like that, physically or mentally. She told us that she didn’t think she’d survive if it weren’t for Matt. I’ve never seen gratitude like what I saw on Mike’s face that day. He went straight for Matt, pulling him into a hug, leaving him stunned. 

The police were quick to separate all of us, getting each one’s story. I told the truth, everything there was to say, but I don’t think they believed me. It hurt telling them about Josh. I feared that he’d serve time, that he would stay behind bars for a long time. They decided that there would be no trial, considering his mental state. I heard his laughter from the other room, crying by myself as I wondered what he would remember, and if the traumas we went through would be the drop that spilled the glass. They decided he was a danger to others and himself, and it didn’t take long to get him to a clinic and try some new medication. Again, after another traumatic trip to that damn mountain, I didn’t keep in touch with him. They didn’t let him use his phone, and the only people allowed to see him were his parents. After four months, they let Chris visit, but it had been a long time since I saw them, so I don’t think that letting me visit was even an option. 

The friend group split. I don’t know what happened with Emily and Matt, last I heard, they were still together, but that was a while ago. Jess and Mike broke up after a while. I heard it was bad, and Jessica was the one who made the cut. Sam still talked to him, so I got some info here and there, but he is not the sort of man I really wish to be in contact with. 

I still talk to Sam, and we continue our daily coffees, only now, we talk about the last events that happened on that cursed place. She seems like she’s falling down some rabbit hole about mythological creatures and folklore. I’ve told her that we should forget everything, that maybe talking to a therapist could be good for her. She doesn’t listen, and I’m just trying to keep her present, afraid that she’ll end up as Josh. Isolated, and supervised continuously. 

I’m often invited over for gaming nights with Chris and Ashley. The games vary, but it doesn’t always feel as welcoming as thought. I often feel like an intruder, like they would feel bad by hanging out together without me. I tried to talk to Ashley about it, but she assured me that they love me, and us being together is a good way to deal with everything. I still feel like a third wheel, sitting in the corner while they have flirty interactions or Chris steals a kiss. Still, they both feel bad for me, that much I’m sure of. One of the good things that come out of it is that Chris tells me about his visits. In the start, Josh had been confused and scared, pleading with him to get him out of there. Now, six months later, he was better, the medicine finally working and pieces falling back into place. He’s bored out of his mind, joking that if they didn’t give him at least a console, he would kill himself. Chris laughed when he said that, but my breath hitched and I suddenly felt unsure. Ashley noticed, walking over to me and telling me that Josh joking like this just meant that he felt better. They’d gotten used to my cries. I was never this bad before, but even though I didn’t have a reason, it still came out. Every day, several times. I had to lock myself in the bathroom or my bedroom to relieve myself. 

***

I cut the tomato in thin slices, arranging them in fine lines on the buttered toast. A knock is heard on the door. “Just walk in Sam, it’s open” I shout, knowing when she usually comes over on her morning run. I hear the door open, footsteps out of the hallway. I grab the salt, carefully shaking it over the tomato to not get too much. Two hands make their way around my waist, pulling me into a tight body. I stop breathing as I know that this is not Sam, this is a man’s body. I look down, hands looking awfully familiar. 

“Hey” he whispers against my ear, and I feel tears coating my eyes. I turn around, looking at a smiling Josh. 

“Hey” I answer, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. My hands travel behind his neck, locking him in place. His dark circles aren’t as bad anymore, and he does look quite healthy. I still don’t know what to say, shocked by his sudden presence. He smirks, tilting his head and looking at me with sceptical eyes. 

“Well, isn’t this a first time for you not knowing what to say”

“I-I”

“We’re getting there…”

“Hey, you bombarded me wi-” I’m interrupted by a kiss, his head moving in sync with mine, hunger, lust and eight months without contact pooling out as a stress-relief. He grabs me harder, taking hold of my thighs and lifting me up on the counter. God, I’ve missed him. My legs cross behind him, pulling him deeper into me. His lips are soft and warm, connecting with mine as I open my mouth a bit, letting him in deeper. I whine, feeling the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. His hands move to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the wetness. 

“We should probably talk” I say between sobs. 

“That’s why I came over” he answers, pulling away a bit. I waste no time, taking his arm and forcing him back, his lips on mine while I sob. His sisters, the prank, the wendigos, everything poured into me slowly coming out. 

“Sorry” I whisper. “You’ve just come out, this isn’t what you need right now” I squeak, trying to compose myself. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving again”

This makes me break down even harder, being reminded that every time we rekindle, something gets in the way. He lays my head on his flannel-coated shoulder, letting me cry till I can’t breathe anymore. He holds me up, making sure that I don’t fall off the counter while leaving sweet small kisses on my forehead. When the air is finally quiet, he pulls away, thumbs rubbing my cheeks. I feel the mascara being smudged, though that’s more my fault than his. 

“God, I’d already gotten ready today, and now I guess I have to do it again” I laugh, trying to look a little presentable. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispers, awe in his eyes. I stop the tears and kiss him yet again. 

After a while, we make our way to the sofa, determined to talk about this now, to get it over with. I walk to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Are you sure you need that? What if you start crying again?” he shouts from the living room. 

“Haha, I’ve gotten everything out now” I laugh back. 

“You sure? It would be awfully inconvenient for you to spend half of the time in the bathroom… alone…” 

“Almost done Josh!”

I walk back out, and he’s still spread out on the sofa. I sit down on top of him, holding his shoulders as I lean down to kiss him. His hands wander, gripping my thighs and ass. 

“You said we should talk?” I tease, knowing he’s getting riled up. 

“No, no, no, no. Fuck talking, let’s do this instead” he urges, gripping me harder and pressing me down on him. I want him so bad, but we do indeed have to talk. 

“We have to” I whisper. 

“I know”

The hours go by as we talk about the incident. I get especially emotional when we talk about the prank, how he tricked me, several times. He wasn’t in his right mindset, but he would do everything in his power to get me to trust him again. He had talked to the others, but the other part of the group decided not to keep in contact. It was a toxic friend group anyway, I comment. He talked about his time in the facility, how it was scary in the beginning, cause he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Luckily, Chris had told him about the wendigos, but he still had to pretend they didn’t exist and they were a figment of his imagination when they did his mental evaluation. He just wanted to put everything behind him, and move forward. After a while, the mood lightens, as we stop talking about the deep stuff. 

“You hit me!” he laughs, hitting me in the arm. 

“Well, I thought you were a fucking Psycho!” I defend myself. 

“That wasn’t the only time!”

“The way you were talking? You asked for it!” 

“You know, I should really come up with a revenge plan for you”

“Let’s not forget about what you did”

“Nah, that doesn’t count, I was insane”

“You can’t play the mentally ill-card on this”

“Yes I can”

I hit him again, and he grabs my arms, lifting them behind him, causing me to fall flat down on his stomach. 

“I think, maybe we’ll go to the bedroom, you get undressed, and I can start leaving some marks on you” he whispers, fingers still entwined with mine. 

“Really, what kind of marks are we talking about?” I skeptically ask, looking up at him. 

“Maybe a bit similar to the ones you left on me, just without the wood” 

“You’re sadistic”

“Some things can’t be cured”

I reach up to him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

“Got something else planned?”

“Eight months gave me time to think”

“And what are your thoughts?”

“Something about you, tied up, blindfolded, begging me to touch you…” he starts, and I feel myself getting wetter. His breathing is hot, and he can’t stop staring at my lips. I smile, slowly grinding on him. Making him let out a groan. “Fuck, and then I’ll teach you a lesson” he says, hands moving to my thighs to help the movements. I bite my lip, eager to get into it, to let him get into me. 

“Fucking hell, you need to stop that” he whines. 

“You’re the one leading me” I tease, caressing his arms, making him aware of his grip on my thighs. I lean forward, kissing his neck, small pecks all over. He makes a small whimpering sound when I kiss him right below his ear, so I bite down. He jolts, giving out a loud moan. I kiss the pain away, lightly sucking. His hands wander under my shirt, grabbing my waist. In response, I grace his neck with my nails, feeling him shiver under my touch. 

He takes out his hands, placing them under my thighs. I pull away, wondering what he’s doing. 

“Jos- woah!” I yelp as he lifts me over his shoulder, holding onto my legs so I don’t fall down behind him. 

“Josh! What the hell are you doing?” I yell. He stands up, making the ground so far away that I don’t dare to scramble. He smacks my butt, making me gasp while walking over to the bedroom. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t like it. 

“You know, you’re gonna pay” he says, something sinister in his voice. 

“Oh, really?” I tease, earning myself another smack. 

“Don’t try to be a smartass, that’ll not get you anywhere” he says, caressing my legs, one of his hands moving up between my thighs. 

“Josh” I say, grabbing hold of his waist from upside down. 

“What can I do for you?”

“You can put me down”

“I thought you were into the whole Spiderman-thing” he asks, opening the bedroom door. 

“Well, that’s when we’re face to face” 

“I guess I’ll have you upside down some other time then” he says, bowing down, making me slam into the bed. I shriek, surprised by the action. He doesn’t waste time, leaning over me, capturing my lips in his. It starts hungry, but eventually finds a rhythm filled with passion and regret. I open up, letting him inside. Our breaths are heaving in sync, and I grab both sides of his face, eating him up. 

“Eager are we?” he teases, but I have no more room for jokes. 

“Eight months Josh…”

“Yeah, I know”

We continue the assault on each other, chests heaving and bodies grinding. With every passing second, my body grows hotter and wetter. I grab hold of the hem of his shirt, dragging it off him. I’m mesmerized. 

“Have you been working out?” 

“Wasn’t much to do there” 

“Fuck” I mumble as I feel him up, memorizing his lines. He eagerly drags my shirt off, shocked by the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. 

“And you were saving this sight only for me?” 

“Only you” I smile, loosening his belt. He grabs both my hands, holding them over my head. 

“Let’s not get right to the main course” he purrs in my ear. 

“Oh, please, I’ve waited long enough”

“Patience” he whispers, voice vibrating hot against my skin. He leaves a trail of kisses, starting on my lips, moving slowly down my neck. With his free hand, he grabs my breast, squeezing and fickling with my nipple. I moan from his touch, legs automatically pressing against each other, longing for some type of friction. My core aches for him, being turned on for so long that I feel like a primal animal. He notices, and places his knee in between, making me grind down on him. 

“You’re too eager”

“Fucking hell Washington, if you don’t do anything in the nex-”

“Oh my, of course. Whatever you say m’lady” he smiles, entertained by my longing for him. He strokes his fingers over my wetness, noticing that I’m drenched through. I ache for him, him and his touch. I have for eight fucking months. 

“God, you have been waiting for this” he calmly exclaims, hand unbuttoning my pants and sliding under. He goes into my panties, coming in contact with my folds immediately. I whine, feeling his faint touch. His thumb starts rubbing circles around my clit, and the longing pleasure I’ve been waiting for seeps through my body. I let out loud moans which are drowned by his kisses. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, inserting one of his fingers. He pushes in and out, continuing to put pressure on my clit. The knot in my stomach tenses abnormally quick, and I throw my head back as he starts kissing my collar. He chuckles against my skin, noticing how down bad I am for him. He doesn’t stop, working his fingers and toying with my breasts until I come all over him. 

“Good, good” he whispers as I breathe heavily. He makes his way down, taking hold of my pants and dragging them completely off. Before he goes down again, he takes off his own, leaving him in only his boxers. I see his hardness through the fabric, the size of it drenching my already soaked underwear. He lies on top of me, hand caressing my stomach and moving to my waist. He takes hold, spinning me around on my stomach. I give a yelp, but he quickly puts a bit of his weight on top, caging me under him, unable to move. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easy” he whispers as his hand moves down to my panties, dragging them off. 

“Fuck, Josh please” I plead, having been ready for him for a long time. I immediately hear a loud smack, before feeling stinging pain on my ass cheek. I cry out, and he moves his hand to rub the painful area. 

“Tell me exactly what you want” he purrs in my ear, hand not moving. 

“I want you Josh” I whine, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes. A loud smacking noise fills the room again, but this time I moan out his name. He smirks, hand rubbing soft circles, numbing the pain. 

“You need to go into more detail than that” 

My mind is fogged, the instincts being mere sexual as everything he does and says turns me on more. 

“You’re practically dripping, like getting manhandled that bad?” he comments, fingers gracing my warmth and making me give out a choked cry. 

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get you right off” he coys, smirking as he kisses my neck. I try to steady my voice, but it still comes out in the most erotically desperate sounds ever made.

“Please Josh, I want you inside me, now, right now” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes please, please” 

“I love it when you beg for me” he whispers as he takes off his underwear. Finally. He takes hold of me, turning me back on my back so we’re facing each other. 

“I wanna see you” he says, leaning down and kissing me. His cock brushes up against my folds, coating itself and pressing. I gasp as he goes inside me, painfully slow. He grunts as he gets all the way in, grabbing my thigh hard, definitely leaving a mark. 

“God you’re beautiful” he whispers, hand coming to my face, thumb swiping away a tear. He leans even further down, making sure our chests are pressing up against each other, and my arms move under his, and hold onto his back. 

“Josh, I’ve missed you so much” I stammer, the ecstasy of everything blurring my mind and messing with my senses. All I feel is his eyes staring, his hot breath, and immense pleasure. He starts moving against me, pelvis grinding on my clit, with no need for extra factors. I take him in, soaking and moaning, wishing that we didn’t lose two years of this. His breaths quicken, moans passing through his lips. I clench around him as I come again, and he rides the orgasm out with me, capturing my lips once again in a sloppy and panting kiss. 

“I love you” he whispers, still moving and breathing heavily. My heart flutters as he says it, my legs pressing him deeper into me. 

“I love you too” I say back between gasps, taking hold of his neck and pulling him to my lips. He goes faster, and I feel the slight overstimulation as he continues, making me whine. He gets me to the edge again, using his hand to fondle my breasts and sucking my neck. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he pants. 

“Yes, please do!” I urge, coming another time around his cock, tightening. This throws him over, and he buries himself deep inside as he comes as well. He collapses on top of me, the sudden weight knocking my breath out. It quickly comes back, and I fold my arms around him, hugging and kissing his hairline. 

“Don’t leave” I force out, breathless and weak. 

“Never” he answers, just as exhausted.