#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

[amaya-143]

hello. part two of me ranting about the fear of memory loss in isat. is it that obvious i have autism?

part one was about the kings fear of forgetting. Go read. *clicks my fingers like a cat* go.

disclaimer not a psychiatrist blahh blahhhh u get the idea :p king rant was long, this will be longer. maybe one singular person is as normal as i am about this game and will enjoy. otherwise at least its out of my system and into words

So yeah, the king is afraid of forgetting. Siffrin, however, is afraid of being forgotten.

Siffrin, is late 20s, and just like the king lost the majority of their memories to the island.The people they loved, all that jazz i don't need to write the cinematics again. They too end up in an unfamiliar place, however they end up a rouge. They travel from city to city, never staying anywhere solid, never making any real connections for years (at least as far as we know.) To him, he is just a guy* who lost everything that they knew, and that's that. No point if it'll just happen again. In fact im not even sure if they're aware they're from that island, since I'm pretty sure he learns it ingame. He just exists. Thats it. Their life doesn't matter, doesn't impact anyone. He is forgettable

But then, they meet Mira, Odile, and Isa. Then Bonnie, and when things couldn't get more confusing, he loses an eye for them. The party loves Siffrin, even if they never say it pregame. They appreciate him. And even if Frin doesn't think it directly, they definitely subconsciously believe it pregame. Otherwise, it wouldn't be such a shock when odile says they're colleagues at best. So how can Siffrin go back to his old life? A life on the go, with no connections, nothing but the millisecond bumps into strangers and polite conversations with the clerk at the hotel desk. Nobody to come home to, no one to ask how their day was.

Its like trying chocolate after eating coco beans all your life. Maybe you can tolerate going back to coco beans for a bit, but you'll never forget the chocolate. It'll be something you think about all the time, your thought before sleep takes you, as tiktok would say your 'roman empire'.

So Siffrin cannot let them go back home. He wishes to stay with them. and thus, the loops happen.But after a bit he, quote, 'understands the king more than he'd like to'

He refuses to be forgotten, to have to go back to that life. They've lived the span of their memories being so blindingly forgettable, now someone, some people see them and its so close in his grasp. Isabeau is so close to confessing to him. Mirabelle is so close to her full potential as a housemaiden. Odile is accepting she's more than her roots. And Bonnie, the kid he lost an eye for, disabling him permentantly, HUGGED them. a massive deal for a fella whos been living off small talk and avoiding eye contact for the last 10 years. Just one more loop, if they do it all right then just maybe..

Not here to talk abt the loops. moving on.

After all these people who love him, they don't wanna be forgotten. Trauma isn't just a factor in disorders. Trauma can, and often does create its own reactions. For a real world example, Children who grow up with absent parents often react with avoiding and distancing tendencies, where as children with emotionally unstable parents tend to grow to be anxiously attached to those they love. These aren't disorders, but they are a reaction to the trauma faced and ingraned. Frin's fear of being forgotten is just as much a trauma response as it is a result of the way he lives. Who knows how many people Siffrin forgot in the island. What's stopping him from being like them? What's stopping him from being so forgettable.

Side note, act 5 is next to the Sunny vs Basil fight as my favorite two scenes in games, especially when it comes to imagining/reading about them in other characters povs other than the mains. And bigfrin is my absolute joy in the world. not sorry.

But after loops n loops of trying to prevent it, hearing off handed comments about how bonnie hates them, and how isa will say i love you to anyone except him, Sif's self worth is at an all-time low. They just don't have it in them anymore. They cant do it. we're looking at months of living the same two days over and over. Same lines. Same people. Same events. Years, if you're an insane person who does like 500+ loops. I think most people did like 70-150 though. Siffrin has been reliving this for so long he's begun to find comfort in it. It feels safe. Its boring, its insufferable, yes, but its SAFE. After suffering all those months, they're leaving anyway. They are going home. They will go home and forget Sif and it will all be for nothing. When Odile stops them from looping back, they strike. Either at themselves, or those they love. They would literally rather attack those they've gone through months of suffering just to spend more time with, or attack themselves time after time till it kills them. They'd rather it than risk them all leaving and forgetting him. I don't really have much more to say i guess i just ugh

i love act 5 i love bigfrin and if theres any writers reading this write some act 5 from other party members pov and you will get the juciest kiss.

if you read all this way, congrats!! i diagnose you with autism 💜

*guy is used as a unisex. i know the correct term for siffrin is fella. i went to gender school.

[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.

[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.

[earthchica]

sweetest things | 2

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: take a chance with Terry and see how things go.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (f & m), light choking, light spanking, dirty talking, friends to lovers, pet names { baby, baby girl, angel & more }

note: Sweet and nasty, Terry is everything lol. here's part two! please enjoy!

-

It's been at least a week, and you've been avoiding Terry since his confession and the kiss you two shared.

Oh, the kiss.

That's all you could think about: the way he held you close, how soft and sweet his lips were, and how his tongue danced along with yours.

You've never felt this way about anyone else in your life; you thought you did with your late fiancé, but this was different.

Terry was everything you hoped to find again, and honestly, you wanted him to be more than your friend, but you were afraid.

Meanwhile, Terry wasn't upset that you left; he was more concerned, he didn't know what went wrong.

He tried talking to you, but clearly, you needed time to think, so he didn't push.

"However, the more he gave you space, the more he missed having you around.

You felt terrible leaving him hanging like that, but your fears were clouding your judgment.

You had gotten used to being alone, but now that you had found someone like Terry.

You knew you were missing the one thing you had been yearning for: and that's love.

"Why are you over here, huh?" your mom asked, and you straightened up and gazed at her.

"What, you don't like my company anymore?" You inquired, settling onto the couch beside her.

"You know I didn't say that, girl. I'm just saying I don't want you to end up like me...alone" She says sofly.

"You're not alone, Mama. You got me." You softly uttered those words, gently taking hold of her hand, causing a warm smile to bloom on her face.

"I know, sugar, but I don't want you to miss out on love like I did after your father died. I want you to move forward in life and take a chance with that sweet man, Terry, you always talk about," she said, placing her hand under your chin barely.

"I'm just scared, Mama," You said, looking down with an emotional expression.

"I understand, sugar, but it's okay to take a chance and see how things go. Don't you think Scott would've wanted you to move on and be happy?"

You paused, letting her words sink in. It was a moment of decision and she was right.

The burden of loneliness and the remorse of moving on had exhausted you, and you were done with it.

Scott would not want this pain and sadness for you; he would have wanted you to experience love and happiness again.

You looked warmly at your mother, knowing she was always right and gave the best advice.

"You're right, mama," You said lightly.

Your mom affectionately says, "I know I am. Now, go get your man, child."

You couldn't help but giggle, leaning in to gently kiss your mom's cheek before you grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

You pulled up in front of Terry's house, feeling excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, you approach the door, and with a thumping heart, you knock.

The door swings open, and you immediately meet his eyes as his voice softly utters your name.

"Hey, Terry, uh, can we talk?" you asked with a hopeful smile. He nodded and moved out of the way to let you in.

You both walked into the living room and sat on the couch silently until Terry broke the silence.

"Shit...I'll get it if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to tell you how you-" He began rambling, and you tried to get a word in.

"Terry...Terry...Terry" You repeatedly said his name to get his attention, but he kept rambling on.

"Terry...I love you," you blurted out, catching him off guard. He glanced over at you with a genuine surprise on his face.

"What did you say?" He asked with a frown, trying to make sure he heard you correctly.

You moved closer to him on the couch, taking hold of his hand into yours.

"I love you, Terry, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you right then and there last week. I was scared and a little overwhelmed with feelings, but I realized I had nothing to fear." You said, getting a little teary while holding his hand.

"You've shown me who you are, Terry; you're everything I've ever longed for. I thought I could never love again after Scott, but you've proved me wrong. I love being around you and how you make me feel. I want to have another chance at love again, and I want that to be with you." You finished with a kiss on his hand.

Terry smiled, feeling bliss burst through his body after hearing your beautiful confession.

"Damn, baby girl, I'm so fucking happy to hear that. I-I love you," He said, which made you giggle and lean in, crashing your lips against his.

Terry wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

You moaned as he started kissing your neck, and you began lifting his shirt, feeling his abs.

He pulled back before things could escalate further, resting his forehead against yours.

"There's no rush into this; we can take it slow, baby," He whispered, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Do you want me, Terry?" You asked, gently rubbing your forehead against his, feeling his breath on your cheek.

"Fuck...I do. I want you, and I want to show you how you make me feel! I just want to make sure you're ready," He says sincerely, his tone of voice turning you on.

"I am...I want you, Terry. I want you so badly; please show me, and don't hold back!" you purred into his ear.

He kissed you, lifted you from the couch, and carried you to his bedroom.

Terry positioned you on the edge of the bed, tenderly kissing you once more.

You brought him down to the bed with you, swiftly taking his shirt off as his hands reached to start unzipping your dress.

He pulls your dress over your head and starts kissing your neck and grasping your plump breasts in his hands.

You moaned at his touch, holding his arm as he unhooked your peach-colored bra before moving down to your matching panties.

"Mmm, baby, you're already wet for me? You've been waiting for this to happen, huh?" Terry's voice rumbled with a deep, lustful tone, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Does this feel good, baby?" Terry asked, started circling motion through your panties with his fingers, making you moan with pleasure.

"Yes...Terry," you whispered his name softly. He hovered and began leaving kisses down your stomach to your inner thigh.

He was teasing you, and you didn't like that at all. You needed him; you wanted him.

"Terry, please," You begged desperately.

"Please, what, baby girl? You use your words. Tell me what you want?" He said it so dominantly, which you loved in a man in the bedroom.

You sit up slightly, letting out a whimper while looking into his eyes that were filled with lust and love.

"I need you, Daddy. I need to feel your mouth; I need your everything," You begged, eyes wide and filled with an irresistible lust and love.

"That's it, baby, that's what I want to hear," He said in a hushed tone, ripping your panties, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Terry chuckles, removing the rest of your panties before spreading your legs a little wider for him to plunge his tongue between my wet folds.

A moan escaped your lips as your head fell back to the bed, hands finding Terry's head.

The grip of his strong hands on your thighs as he devours your pussy has your head spinning.

His lips capture your clit, and suck it into his mouth, alternating between flicks with the tip of his tongue and light nibbles with his teeth.

"Ahhh....yes, Terry...yes!" you moaned, gripping his arm, your fingers digging into his flesh as steading yourself on the bed.

Terry muffled in your pussy, sending wild rumble through your body; he slid in one finger, then two, crooking them to massage your sweet spot.

"Fuck..you taste so good, baby girl. And doing so well for me," He said, gazing up at you from your pussy, overflowing with praise.

His eyes shimmered with pride and love, and you returned the same look, eagerly wanting, needing more from him.

"Keep fucking lookin at me like that, beautiful girl. and you'll get what you want," He says in his deep voice.

You kept your eyes on him as his tongue flicked hungrily over your clit, the way his mouth just worked so hard to make you squirt.

Terry was truly fingering and eating' this kitty kat as if it was the last official meal of his life.

"Shit, daddy. Oh my god, I can't...I can't...I can't take it anymore." You moaned and struggled to break free, but his grip kept you in place.

You feel him pull his fingers out and focus all of his attention on licking your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Shhh... you got this, baby. You've been doing so good for Daddy!" Terry says, going back in.

You cried in pleasure, feeling your body tense; you knew you were close to the edge.

You grasped the crisp sheets of the bed as you felt the rush of exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm gonna fucking cum" You cried, exploding on his lips with a gust sound.

"Mmm, that's it, baby, you taste so sweet," Terry said with a smirk while your juices were all over his face.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down from your high. Terry wiped his mouth before slowly moving up to hover over you.

Terry began planting soft, lingering kisses up your body until he finally reached your lips, almost stealing your breath away.

You smirked into the kisses at him and flipped him on his back down to the bed.

You unbelt his jeans and, taking them down with his underwear, gasped at the sight of his thickness.

"You're so big...and juicy, Daddy," You said softly, started stroking him a little bit before taking his throbbing dick deep in your throat.

"Fuck!" Terry grunts, holding your hair back with both hands. You start bobbing up and down his shaft heavily, your hand stroking him.

"So fucking good, baby, Taking me in so well, fucking gobble on that dick," He says, gently placing his hand on the back of your head, cradling it with care.

You loved how dirty he was talking to you. It was turning you on more—a sweet, caring man who knew how to talk dirty. *love it*

Terry sits up on an elbow to start fucking your face, making an even pace to thrust into your mouth.

You moaned, enjoying every minute of it simply because his dick tasted so heavenly in your mouth.

You popped him out of the mouth with a gasp of saliva before biting your lip to stroke him between your plump breasts.

"How does this feel Daddy?" you asked, sensing he was about to bust with the expression on his face.

"Fuck, baby. So good, so fuck....I'm about to" He stopped mid-sentence, feeling his cum shoot out of the tip of the dick.

Went all over his stomach, your breasts...a little bit of your face. You smiled happily, cleaning it up with your tongue.

You lay next to him, kissing his neck while observing him slowly calming down from his high.

Terry looks over at you with a grin before he reaches your lips; he gently moves on top, igniting a fiery and passionate kiss that leaves your heart racing.

His dick rubs against your wet folds, not daring to enter but just rubbing and teasing.

Terry slowly enters your wet pussy, which makes both of you moan at the same time.

He then wraps your legs around his waist, burying his face into your neck before starts thrusting slowly while kissing your neck.

You placed your hands on his back as he went faster than before.

"Yes...Yes...just like that. It feels so good, Terry," You whispered in his ear.

He moves away a little bit to grip your waist as your hands move to grip his strong, toned arms.

Both of you stared at each other while moaning and groaning at the great pleasure you two were receiving from one another.

You were loving the way every inch of his dick was pounding inside your soaked, wet pussy.

You began rubbing your clit to feel yourself rising again. "Oh, Terry, it feels so good. Don't stop, don't stop."

"I won't ever stop, baby...fuck...that pussy clenching that dick," Terry groaned, pushing you to lay sideways.

He grips your ass cheek, pounding into you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Your breasts bounced with every rhythm of thrust he gave you. He wrapped his hand around your neck while putting a finger in your mouth.

Your body again began to shake as you felt your second orgasm begin to build and rise quickly.

You both kissed entirely in sync, feeling your walls tightening around him, and the next thing you knew.

Both of you came together.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Terry repeatedly cursed, slipping out, resting his dick against your ass cheek while stroking the cum out of the tip.

You and Terry gradually eased back from the intense rush before tenderly assisting each other in tidying up.

His chest rose and fell gently beneath your head as his left arm lazily draped over your waist.

"That was amazing!" you said while gazing at Terry, who responded with a tired, soft smile.

"For sure, baby girl," he whispers with a chuckle, tenderly pressing his lips against your forehead.

After that evening, your routine with Terry remained the same, except you two were now a couple.

And after dating for months and establishing boundaries, everything was going amazingly good.

Eventually, Terry met your mom, and she adored him; they got along so well.

Months passed by swiftly in years, and you both faced ups and downs, but you overcame them, and your relationship strengthened.

Your love has deepened, and you find yourselves falling more deeply in love with him each day.

You remembered the day your mother advised you to take a chance with Terry, and you were so glad you did.

"What's going on, that pretty little head of yours?" Terry inquired, gently drawing you away from your thoughts.

You both just left a charming seaside restaurant after celebrating your third anniversary.

The sound of waves crashing in the distance filled the air, drawing you two for a nice walk on the beach.

"I'm just thinking," You said with a soft chuckle, wrapping your arm tightly around his, holding on closely.

"About?" he asked with a playful grin, gently nudged your arm, eliciting a joyous giggle from you.

"How amazingly you and I worked out. How lucky I am that I got to meet and fall in love with you," you said, stopping you two on the beach.

Terry looks at you with such love and warmth before kissing your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He pulled away, cupping your face with his hand before speaking so sweetly and softly.

"You know, baby girl, I feel the same. I always wondered how lucky I am to meet and fall deeply in love with such an angel. You know you always ensured I felt your unconditional love and sense of security. You embraced every part of me, the good and bad, and never judged me. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, baby," he says, getting down on one knee.

You gasped in disbelief at the scene before you. The love of your life was asking you to marry him.

You had a hunch this moment would arrive, yet you were a little overwhelmed by it.

"Baby, I wanna get married, I wanna have a family, and I wanna see our kids grow up while we grow old together." He shared with a tearful chuckle, and you laughed alongside him.

In a trembling, anxious voice, Terry asked, "So..will you marry me?"

Overwhelmed with emotion.

You replied, "Terry, yes! I love you so much. Yes, I will marry you."

"Really?" he asked happily, and you nodded excitedly; he stood up and gently placed the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much, baby, "Terry said, lifting and spinning you around in pure joy.

You found immense happiness and overcame guilt by following your heart all those years ago.

However, this was only the start of your happier ever after with Terry.

[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.

[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:

[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.

[fen-luciel]

The witches' covenant

Part.1 part.2

Here's the smut story I promised. It was supposed to be short, but of course, I dragged it out. I'm not yet sure if it will be divided into two or three parts, as the original draft is becoming darker than initially intended.

I hope you enjoy it.

WARNINGS!

Smut/Manipulation/coven/dubious consent

Witch reader X Sith Qimir

There are things you take for granted in life.

Breathing is a rhythmic movement of the body, automatic but fundamental. Maybe no one ever explained to you how or why, but you know it works that way. It's natural. Maybe you've never asked yourself because you take it for granted.

Growing up in a coven of witches led to asking a lot of questions to which you often didn't get an answer, at least not a sensible one. I still remember the first times I asked my mother about the thread, actually, I don't remember her answer, but I do remember being confused. I think she wanted me to find my own logic, and if needed, she would correct me. But I was ashamed, afraid of saying something stupid, and I felt embarrassed when the older members gave me that amused courteous smile after I had said something silly. I know they didn't mean to judge me, but the knot in my stomach that formed every single time was suffocating. So, I developed a bad habit.

I stopped asking. I would nod, at most I would ask to have the explanation repeated, but I never took the first step. "Do you understand?" I would nod. "Do you have any questions?" I would deny.

Yes, I had questions. I had a lot of them, many of which kept me up at night, like doubts about the thread, about our coven, about our planet, about what was outside the galaxy... but I didn't ask.

I tried to give myself answers. As the years went by, I realized that I wasn't the only one without answers. It was clear that many, like me, blindly followed my mother's will as the head of the coven.

Do you have a doubt? Talk to Aniseya.

Don't know what to do? Aniseya.

Are you suffering? Talk to Mother Aniseya.

Everyone sought answers from my mother, and I could understand why, she was... ethereal.

Always calm, with a warm smile, a gentle hand... she made you feel safe.

When I was younger, one of the things that terrified me the most was the fear that something bad would come to harm us one day. I was too young to give a real shape to the evil, it was more an unpleasant sensation that I imagined, and my mother could perceive it without me saying anything.

So, sometimes, in the evening, when everyone else was asleep, we would go out into the woods alone, with a small light to guide us, and we would reach the golden tree.

I loved that place even though it was another one of those things I couldn't explain since it seemed to be the only tree of its kind. I would rest my head on my mother's lap, and as she gently stroked my hair, she would tell me a lot of different stories, fairy tales, adventures, legends. She seemed to know an infinite number of them. I would have liked to ask her where she had heard them, but even in that case, I didn't ask. And so, every time, the next morning, I would wake up in my room, comfortably lying under the covers, the nightmares completely forgotten... at least for a while.

Growing up, many of those childhood fears disappeared, or I managed to answer them on my own thanks to years of study. However, other doubts occupied my mind.

For example, why were we so isolated from the rest of the world?

Why could we use the power of the thread?

Where did our traditions come from?

How ancient were they?

And how were other witches born?

I had seen pregnant women in the village, I had heard the cries of childbirth, the first cries of the babies, the birth of new life in the world was fascinating even though I had never seen the act in person, being too young or unable to help. But it was what happened before that confused me.

Every five years, a meeting was held, after which ten women would leave the walls of the fortress, and after a few months, they would return expecting.

I didn't know what happened, what they did. I believed there was some sort of ritual I wasn't yet admitted to. I imagined that one day it would happen to me too. As the daughter of the matriarch, I had more responsibilities than the others, I would take my mother's place one day. I imagined I was obliged to participate in any ritual presented to me in the coming years. As I was the future of the coven, one day I would have to create the new generation.

When I was about twelve years old, I realized something was off in my mother's stories and finally decided to ask her a question.

"What is a man?"

The embarrassment was still there, under my skin, but she smiled at me gently. Her answer was cryptic as always, but it made me feel better to hear it. "Everything in the galaxy has its opposite. Light and dark, peace and chaos, ice and fire. Woman and man. And between these opposites, many shades that draw closer until they merge. We are opposites and the same thing at the same time"

I nodded, but as usual, more because I felt stupid asking further.

"So... are men evil?" I tried one last time.

She shook her head.

"Do you think you are pure? Gender is only a physical limit, not a mental one. Don't combine the two, it would be a grave mistake" I was ashamed of that question, but I felt better. I felt like I understood.

Years passed, I began to mature, to train more vigorously, to study even more. I was increasingly involved in meetings, though some were still off-limits to me. And the more I became aware of the thread, the more... something called to me.

At first, it was like an unwanted gaze. I would wake up in the middle of the night believing there was someone with me, but upon waking, the room was intact. I even took extra precautions, but none of the alarms went off. I thought I was just stressed.

But the sensation worsened. I felt chills on my skin when I was in the waking world ready to fall asleep, a light touch that grazed my bare skin. At first, I thought it was the wind. Then, the fabric sliding over me at night. Maybe a chill or pajamas tickling me unintentionally, but that wasn't possible.

It seemed like a physical touch, hands, perhaps a feather, I don't know. But it warmed my skin. I would wake up in the middle of the night, uncomfortable, with a damp sensation between my legs that I had never experienced before. Sometimes, I mistook it for other types of discharge only to check and realize it wasn't what I imagined. I blushed, seeing how wet my underwear had become, leaving a sticky, damp spot in the center, the same liquid trickling between my legs or down the cheeks of my butt.

One evening, whether by luck or misfortune, as I headed to the laundry to leave my panties, I ran into Mother Koril.

"What are you doing awake at this hour? And wandering the corridors, Moreover." her tone always harsh and imperious.

It took an enormous amount of courage to explain to her what was happening, but despite my worst fears, she simply nodded. "It's normal for a girl your age. You shouldn't resist it" She ordered me to hurry and go back to bed, then disappeared down the corridor.

But I didn't understand. Resist it? Resist what? It was just another doubt I couldn't answer.

But now the seed of doubt had been planted. I wanted to understand what she was talking about, to see if I could fix this problem that kept recurring every night.

So, one evening I lay down in bed, making sure I was securely locked in, and against all logical reason, I decided to wear only a light tank top, leaving my lower half uncovered.

The only protection was the bedcovers, but I didn't think it would be a problem.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

To this day, I didn’t know exactly what happened that first night. I have scattered and confused memories. I was aware of my body lying on the mattress, but it was completely dark around me, and I couldn't tell if it was because I had my eyes closed or if it was so dark that I couldn't see a hand in front of my face.

All I knew is that the tingling sensation returned, that shiver that ran through my body from my forehead slowly downwards, my nipples hardening as if a gust of cold air made me shiver and even lower on my stomach, finally settling between my legs.

It was a light touch, a slow, long movement that grazed my center externally. I could feel the wetness beginning to seep from my core. Normally, that would have been the moment when I forced myself to wake up, but I repeated Mother Koril's words in my head "let yourself go"

And so I did.

Instinctively, I spread my legs wider, bending my knees, that touch lingering on the bud between my legs that I had never dared to touch in my life, starting to tease me inexorably in a slow, circular motion. I could hear myself panting, my hips moving erratically. It didn't matter if I was trying to escape or seek out that sensation, that touch didn't stop. I didn't understand what was happening, but I could concentrated my internal muscle in one of those natural movements like when I breathed, I did it automatically.

My body knew what I needed, even if I hadn't yet processed it mentally.

It was only a moment later when that caress moved further down where a pool of juices wet my behind that I became clear-headed again.

A pressure pushing into my wet center made me react suddenly, frightened. I woke up, sitting up in bed in one swift motion, as if walking from a nightmare. Moving the covers, I immediately saw the stain spreading and soaking through the sheets' fabric.

I was so ashamed of it that I decided not to tell anyone, tried to dab the stain hoping that it would not be visible the next day, had to dry between my legs with numerous tissues and hissed when I indirectly brushed my still sensitive clit.

I went to sleep with a sense of dissatisfaction that I did not understand.

For two days I pretended that nothing was happening, when I lay down and started to feel that tingling sensation I immediately opened my eyes again, unfortunately in this way the hours of sleep were broken and I rested with more difficulty being slow in everything I did.

On the third day, my mother realised my discomfort and after a particularly bad training session, she took me aside.

"Koril informed me of your conversation the other night" she began.

I could do nothing but tighten my lips in discomfort.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is changing as you grow. This is the connection to the thread that shows you the way. You don't have to resist it"

I replied with only a nod of my head.

I didn't understand what she was talking about, what I was resisting but I didn't know who to ask more of, I didn't want to look stupid.

But I trusted my mother.

So that night I tried again.

One thing I realised was that that touch had become more insistent on those evenings that I had run away from it. As if it was chasing me before I woke up, I closed my eyes and could already feel it between my legs.

Again, one new evening I tried against all my primal instincts to let go. One thing I realised was that the sensation I felt on my skin was actually an imitation of a hand's touch, the mornings I showered before joining the others had become a time of personal exploration where I tried to imitate that touch and soon realised that I could actually register that as the caress of a hand on my body. But I did not have the courage to do more.

Instead that evening as I concentrated on breathing in the darkness of my consciousness those phantom fingers returned insistently, they did not lose a second in teasing me by pressing directly on my clit, it was gentle yes, but firm. My legs instinctively spread wide, my hips in the air hungry for touch as that circular motion returned to tease my flesh.

I could feel a steady trickle of juices sliding from me and wetting the mattress as I trembled and tensed.

I gasped open-mouthed, little noises escaped my mouth, I wanted more even though I didn't understand what exactly I was chasing, and then again, that pressure where I needed it most.

There was no doubt when that itch opened my folds pushing deep between my legs, it was like feeling long, thick fingers digging directly into my womb, I panicked as I tried to wake up, but something was blinding me. Someone was tied to me in the wire holding me still and open to whatever was being done to me.

I was stuck with my legs open as that force pressed my inner walls, stretching and teasing me in a slow movement.

I could only continue to whimper as those fingers opened me inexorably.

Everything slippery, the sound of juices coming out noisily from the pressure as yet another caress returned to tease my bud, my swollen, wet flesh trembling from the stimulation, a hint of tears forming at the corners of my eyes, I wanted to look at what or who was doing this to me but it was all dark, I could only feel the mattress beneath me, my arms locked along my sides, my only outlet was in clutching the blankets in my fist.

I felt my body tense up in a vice bordering on painful before that touch continued to force its way into my folds even more deeper than before, I felt like I was going crazy not fully understanding how many fingers were in me, I moaned out loud for the first time as the soft walls stretched to make room, I held my legs open in a desperate search for something more almost hoping it might come in, harder, wetter, a ringing in my ears made everything muffled blocking out the rest of my senses.

And finally almost in a cruel gesture the touch on my clit became faster joining the thrusts in my core, a fire burning my skin, vibrating with a pleasure I had never felt before, a tide flooding my senses rhythmically until I reached the limit I cried out with no voice in my body, the walls contracted around those fingers almost as if they wanted to suck them inside me and these, covered by my fluids, slid easily in and out of me without leaving me a moment to breathe, my clitoris pinched hard one last time making more tears fall from my eyes, my hips galloping the air as I reached the first orgasm of my life.

Maybe I was crazy, but I swore I heard a low voice whispering "Good girl".

When I opened my eyes it was morning, it was like waking up from a nightmare in reality, I had dry skin around my eyes from spilled tears and between my legs a dirty, wet feeling, underneath me the sheet still damp in a stain under my bottom.

I didn't know what was happening, none of it made sense, why was this only happening to me now? And who was on the other end of the line?

By now I was sure of it, someone was luring me during the night hours by drawing my consciousness through the link, but I was still not good enough to be in control of what was going on around me, I was becoming vulnerable in the hands of someone I didn't know, or at least it felt like I didn't know.

Over the next few days I concentrated on searching for that signature in the coven, I found it hard to believe that anyone would dare use the power of the thread on me, I was the matriarch's daughter, I was respected, we were united and yet no matter how hard I searched nothing seemed to resemble what I had felt that night, not to mention that bond itself was silent.

On the one hand I was glad that it was no longer coming to disturb my sleep, but on the other hand... I blushed at the idea of feeling those shivers again, I had even (not without a huge dose of embarrassment) tried to do it on my own, but clearly I was doing something wrong, I was too hard, too hasty and in the end I was left with a sense of incompleteness that irritated me all day long.

I felt used, it seemed like whoever had sought me out had taken what he wanted and then left, it had been so persistent in the beginning and now? I needed... more.

And I knew I wouldn't fight it.

I wasn't a bad student, my mothers were proud of the results I brought I was consistent and diligent, but I improved even more after that experience, I studied harder, more intensely... I would never explain to either of them why I had changed.

And what was I supposed to tell them anyway?

Someone touches me between my legs at night and I realised I want more...? No it was better to avoid.

The subject of private parts was not taboo in the coven, in fact there were specific rituals regarding the sensuality of the body, I didn't know much about them since I wasn't admitted to those yet, but the body is a temple of physical and mental wellbeing and as such should be cared for.

I was simply too embarrassed to ask for more, as usual, I knew more about the medical side of it, but I had never wanted more, I hadn't even thought about it and there weren't really any girls my age to vent to.

All I knew was that by now I had made up my mind.

I would be the one pulling the strings this time and I hoped that whoever was on the other end would respond.

[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.

[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

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Finding Out You Have Panic Attacks

A/N: Not requested. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't calm down. It's so hard to sleep. I think nights are the worst. This happened after my dad passed when I'd break out in stress hives almost every day for a year 😅 If anyone knows any tricks or tips or hacks, please let me know. I hope this can offer comfort for anyone experiencing similar issues 💕💖💓🩷💗💝💘

Butcher wasn't sure what was going on. Truthfully, he thought you were dying. All of a sudden, you're gasping, trying to catch your breath. You're shaking, curling into yourself. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You can barely explain what's going on and what you're thinking, and he isn't very comforting in the moment. He panic himself, asking you what you need. You don't know, though. After it's all over and you've spent some time apart, you go up to him and apologize. It was completely out of the blue. Nothing you could think of brought it on. At least, nothing specific. Everything, it seemed, put you in a panic these days. He shrugs it off, not wanting to make it a thing. He brings it up later, though, when it's just the two of you, asking you when it all started. You admit it started when you joined The Boys. Danger was around every corner. You were wanted. You'd spend hours worrying about every scenario that could ever play out. They all ended badly. He understands to a degree. Your lives are hard, complicated, and full of danger. It's only a natural reaction to be afraid. To worry.

Hughie learned about your panic attacks one night after you were cleaning yourself up, splashing cold water on your face. It was over, thank goodness, but it took a lot longer to get rid of the feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You admit you've been dealing with this for a while, but was afraid to bring it up to anyone. It could be embarrassing. You were hysterical. And the worst part was you knew it was irrational. Hughie assures you it's not silly or irrational if it's causing you this much stress. He doesn't want to pry, of course, but he does want to know about it. When it started, what kinds of things worry you, how he can help, etc. Hughies had his fair share of panic attacks. He's no stranger to them. When you're feeling overwhelmed or like your brain won't stop thinking, he's the first person you go to. He tends to use distractions. Goofy stiff about movies or TV shows or random facts he's acquired through the years. Anything to take your mind off things. He's completely free of judgement. He just wants you to be okay.

Annie could kind of already tell. With the way things were at Vought and being part of The Seven, it was a pretty anxiety inducing situation. Homelander was cruel and reactive and all over the place. You could never tell if he'd laugh off something major while tearing everyone and everything apart over the smallest mistake. Annie found you hiding in the bathroom just before a team meeting, trying to talk yourself down. She knocked softly on the stall door, assuring you it was only her. It all comes out. The fears and worries, the stress making you so sick you were barely eating or sleeping. She opened up about her own fears around Homelander and pretty much everyone involved with Vought, slowly coaxing you out. When you've pulled yourself together, you immediately apologize. You don't know what came over you. It definitely wasn't right to put it on her. Annie thinks the opposite, glad you could trust her, reminding you you can always come to her. She gets it 100%.

M.M. never knew you struggled with panic attacks. You hid them so well that no one did. It isn't until you're at the Sage Grove Center that you're faced with Lamplighter and Stormfront that he sees fear and shock and panic. You freeze, your breathing ragged, tears welling up in your eyes. You have to move. You have to think quickly if you're going to get out alive. But first, he has to calm you down. He holds your shoulders, talking you down, reminding you to breathe. It takes a little while, but eventually, it starts to soothe you. After you're out and safe, far from the both of them, you thank M.M. apologizing for your behavior. He tells you there's no need to be sorry. He's just glad he could help. Marvin becomes a confidant when you're feeling anxious. Now that he's aware of it, he can pick up on the little signs before it becomes a full-blown panic attack. Even when it does, he's always there to help. He never wants you to feel like you have to face it alone or that it's an inconvenience to him. He cares about you. He wants you to he okay, to feel safe.

Frenchie found you one day, music blaring in your headphones, trying to calm yourself down. He startled you, his hand on your shoulder, making you jump. When he asked what was wrong, you were hesitant to say why. You didn't want to come off as weak or like you couldn't handle being part of the team. You loved the cause you were fighting for. It was just a lot. Finally, you told him, unable to keep it under control. You even tell him about your worries that if any of them ever found out, they'd kick you off the team, out of the friend group. Frenchie assures you they need you. Panic attacks don't change that. He wishes you'd opened up sooner instead of suffering alone. They had plenty of issues, this isn't as big a deal as you thought it was. It's hard, of course, but they've seen this before. You tell him music helps, but there are still so many times you can't stop it. You feel like you're dying. He offers the support he can, wanting you to come to him when you feel it coming on so that you're not alone, so you can figure it out together.

Kimiko finds you up late one night, curled into a ball on the couch, watching TV. She can see the tear marks on your cheeks illuminated by the screen. By the time she finds you, the crying has mostly subsided. When she asks what's wrong, it all comes out. The fear, the anxiety, the panic attacks. They used to be so much more manageable. Lately, it's been out of control, especially at night when there are so few distractions and you're all alone. You try not to bother anyone with it, having had poor experiences in the past. She tells you those people suck and you shouldn't feel like you have to hide it. Ever. It just ends up making it worse. She thanks you for telling her, asking if there's anything she can do to help. You're not really sure. After that, Kimiko is always checking in with you. She doesn't make a big scene about it. Keeping it between the two of you, she'll ask if you're okay or if you've been feeling okay. You're always honest with her, knowing she'll catch you if you fib. She ends up sitting with you at night, watching TV together. Her presence alone is comforting enough.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight prt.8

Disclaimer: I wrote this because Victoria is a Shakespeare girlie and loves Romeo and Juliet. She also loves Crimson Peak, which inspired the last two parts.

Description: Benjicot resorts to drastic measures to win back his lady's trust and love, having accidentally placed doubt in her mind as to his true intentions.

Part 7

Playlist:

Gold Rush~ Taylor Swift

The Way I Loved You~ Taylor Swift

How You Get The Girl~ Taylor Swift

Adore You ~ Harry Styles

Warnings: female reader. Nothing else I don't think. Robb being an iconic twink with access to the blueprints for Bracken Hall and too much sass for Westeros to handle.

"Let me get this absolutely crystal clear in my mind. You described your union as 'mutually beneficial'!" Robb cried incredulously, striking Benjicot on the shoulder from behind, as he sat slumped onto a desk in the library of his ancestral seat. 

The glow cast by the lit lanterns, attached to the ancient stone walls, cast shadows over his face which bore signs of the deepest distress. 

"It sounds beyond reprehensible when you repeat those words, words which I most bitterly regret. I did not mean them in the way that both yourself and my lady have interpreted them, but it makes them no less acrid when you repeat them." He responded dejectedly, slumping his head once again upon the desk. 

Mumbling almost incomprehensibly so that Robb had to tilt his head down towards his friend to hear him. 

"What can I do to make amends? She hates me. I fear she will never speak to me again." 

Robb cast a contemptuous look at his friend before retorting. 

"You bloody fool. Not only did you make her sound to even my indulgent ears like a prize to be bartered between Houses, but you also did so with the very fiend from whose taunts you once defended her. Can you not see that you have made a shy, sweet girl who loved and trusted you feel as if the one person who she believed cared for her and would protect her above all others was nothing more than a cipher of the bullies she has sought to shield herself from?!" 

Seeing Benjicot's increasingly pained expression, as he roughly gripped his hair in both hands, Robb relented a little. 

"The damage you have done in your carelessness will be very difficult to remedy. You must show her that you love her and value her above all else. Words are not enough." 

Lifting his head, Benjicot's expression became resolved as he turned it to meet his friend. 

"I will, even if she will never again allow me to be in her presence," He struggled to continue, the thought causing him physical pain, "I must at the very least convince her that my love for her was never a lie. I cannot bear the thought that I have only cemented her insecurities. That I have born my own part in making her feel as if I mocked her...just like her contemptuous cousin." 

At this, he began to rise.

"I must see her." 

Perking up at this and slapping his friend approvingly on the back, Robb moved to lift his sword from the table and responded. 

"Glad to hear it. I'll get the Lads together and we can defend your flank whilst you hop over the border and get on your knees to beg your lady for forgiveness, you're favourite past time I know." 

Looking at him with mild irritation, Benjicot rose, placing a firm hold on Rob's shoulder. 

"Whilst I greatly appreciate the support, I must go myself. She's shy and frightened enough of me, after my misdemeanor, and I don't want you and your cronies scaring her off before I can even apologise." 

Laughing at this, Robb retorted smugly. 

"More likely you're afraid of her falling in love with me. Fear not, my interests lie in another direction entirely, but I'll hold off if you are determined. Of course Kermit will be devastated not to have a free shot at a Bracken, but I will assuage him." 

With this, Benjicot nodded at his friend before rising quickly and striding from the room, through the halls of Raventree as he continued to ruminate with anguish on the distressed face of his lovely lady and the part he had played in causing her distress. He would explain that he loved her and valued her above all else. That he meant every word he had said to her. That he would protect, serve and adore her if she would only let him, only forgive him. He would beg for her forgiveness, even if she could never herself love him again. It would be enough if she would only permit him to continue in her presence as a loyal knight.

It had been a day since Y/N had fled from the man she had come to trust and love, the only one she believed had ever cared for her and seen her as more than a shadow in the background of life....mistakenly. After Aeron had carried her back to her quarters in Bracken Hall she had locked her doors and allowed no visitors, barring her handmaiden. 

She spent the intervening hours between that of the previous days events and the advent of night on her balcony, her still pained ankle raised on a cushion on her chaise, as she read of Visenya. She was mentally and physically retreating to the shelter of her room and her books, determined never to open her heart to another person, as she had so foolishly done this time. She was silly to believe that Benjicot could love her for herself, rather than the political promise she could represent for him. She had trusted him where she had never invested anyone else with such trust. She had begun to gain in confidence in her dreams, her beliefs, and in his love, all for it to be shattered in a moment. Her embarrassment at having opened her heart to another person, to revealing herself so freely, where she was always so careful to be a shadowy presence in others' lives, was overwhelming, as she sunk further into her seat and further into herself. 

Wrapped in these painful thoughts, it was a few seconds before she heard a muffled voice calling her name from the direction of the dark expanse underneath her window. Rising carefully from her seat, using the pillars lining the portico of the balcony to balance herself as she moved towards the edge of it, she looked down to see the hopeful and desperate expression of the man she both hated and loved. Seeing her come into view, his face lit up with irrepressible delight, before quickly falling when she began to quickly turn away, book pressed protectively to her chest as she made to retreat to her room. She did not want to speak with him. 

Seeing her retreat, he quickly called out. 

"Please my love, please, I entreat you to let me explain what you overheard in the woods." 

Stopping where she was, she turned and moved once again back to the edge of the balcony. 

Speaking quietly and timidly, but not so much so that he could not hear her, accustomed as he was to listening for her quiet voice, she responded. 

"Please leave, I do not wish to speak with you now or henceforth. I can't understand why you are here now when you have made it abundantly clear that I myself am not what you seek. I would like you to leave."

Taking a deep, pained breath, Benjicot's expression underwent several changes before it became resolute and he stepped determinedly towards the pillar bolstering the balcony from the ground. 

Confused at his movements, Y/N became panicked when she realised he was climbing the pillar, frozen in position. It wasn't until he had swung his leg over the top of the balcony and had landed gracefully that she turned to flee, forgetting her injured ankle in the attempt, causing herself to stumble and hold onto a nearby pillar for support. Feeling gentle hands enclose around her elbows, she heard Benjicot speak quietly near her cheek. 

"Please don't run from me, my love. Your ankle is still injured. Please just allow me to help you." 

Looking down with concern at the ankle in question, he slowly, with great caution lest his lady should be offended, raised her arm around his neck and held her waist, fully supporting her weight so that he could place her on her chaise.  

Distressed to see his lady look away from him, her expression betraying embarrassment as well as displeasure, he knelt before her, bending his head low, before gently, reverently holding her hands in both of his own. 

"I will not disturb you further if you do not wish it, but I must convince you of the truth of my feelings for you and beg for your forgiveness for making you believe otherwise." 

Stopping him abruptly, Benjicot immediately desisted in deference to her speech, so important was anything she had to say to him, even if she meant only to order him away from her forever. 

Speaking quietly, she interrupted him. 

"I already heard what both you and my cousin said of me when you believed me not to be listening. I know that your protestations of love for me were all a ruse and that you were both in league together." 

Benjicot's expression betrayed the deep pain he felt at her response, drooping his head to rest it on her knees. 

"I can never apologise enough, nor beg for your forgiveness enough, for making you believe such a horrific notion. I had never spoken to your cousin of you before that dreadful moment, except when I first had the honour of meeting you. You were never just a bartering tool between us. I would break his legs if even tried to make such a suggestion. I had only meant to convey to him that I would repair the conflict between our houses so that in choosing me as your husband you would not also be choosing to abandon all that you knew. It is my mistake that I so brazenly worded my intent, my love." He added, casting his face down in desperation. 

"I have loved you since I first saw you sitting with your nose tucked into your histories under the Brackentree and have persued your love ever since. I have meant every word I have said to you since, and will continue to prove it to you in any way thay you will allow me."

His lady slightly turning towards him, Benjicot grew at once desperate and hopeful that she would listen to his entreaties, gripping her hands tighter in his as he raised his face to hers, hoping to convey the truth of his feelings in his eyes. 

"You speak very elegantly but I now know that you are so to all ladies and that this charade is not reserved for me alone." 

Reaching out to touch her face before quickly retracting his hand once he saw Y/N move away from him in discomfort, he instead responded. 

"Whilst I would consider myself to be a gentleman, there is only one lady I would traverse miles of enemy land and scale walls to get to." Saying this with a gentle smile, he continued to gaze upon her reverently. 

When she did not respond, he removed a brown leather volume from its place, stashed underneath his cloak. 

"I found this in my library and I thought it might be of interest to you." 

Hesitantly reaching to take the volume from his hand, she examined it before opening it. 

As she did so, he interposed "May I?" Pointing at the book. 

He turned the pages to an earmarked section, coloured with a rich illustration of a knight kneeling in homage before a queen. 

"This tells the story of a knight loyal to his queen above all else, swearing to protect, serve and..." He hesitated "love her for all of his life".

She gazed curiously down at the illustration in her hands as he spoke. 

"I thought you would like to have it, even should you order me away from your presence now. But I should like it to serve as an illustration of the devotion I feel towards you and as a reminder that I will always protect and adore you, even if only as your knight. Without any conditions. Without any expectation for you to love me in return. Just....let me adore you." He faltered staring up at her penitently, anxiously awaiting her response. 

It was a few agonising moments for Benjicot before Y/N raised her hand towards his shoulder, causing him to hold his breath lest he frighten her in his shock. Delicately placing her hand on his shoulder, she placed the other one on his other shoulder, causing him to subconsciously lean into her touch. 

Looking timidly away from him, she began to speak. 

"So you really did not mean that I was a...political tool." 

Leaning further towards her face, he quickly refuted such a notion. 

"I would thrash any man who suggested it. You are my lady, my love." 

Gazing into his eyes searchingly, she seemed to find what she sought in them, and leant her head gently upon his shoulder. 

Shocked, yet rejoicing at her affectionate gesture and in the comfort she seemed to look to from him, he lost no time in wrapping a protective arm around her waist, pulling her into his torso as he held her head gently in his other hand. Closing his eyes in relief, he held her like that for a few peaceful moments, scarcely believing that his love had forgiven him and that she had initiated their embrace. Taking it as a sign of the trust she had reinvested in him to protect her heart as well as her person, he solemnly swore in his own mind to guard it with more sucess than he had yet done as of late.

She pulled away too quickly for his liking, wishing as he did that she could always be so close to him.

"How did you even find your way here with impunity, let alone my balcony?"

Smirking at this, Benjicot threw his cloak dramatically over his shoulder to amuse her with his antics.

"I of course practiced great stealth, opting for a cloak and daggers approach."

Raising a disapproving eyebrow at him but with her mouth turned up at the corner, Benjicot rejoiced to have made her smile and to have amused her.

"In truth i just walked past the Red Ford and straight until i found Bracken Hall, i wasn't too worried about encountering any Bracken men. I'd just run them through if they tried to prevent me from reaching my Love. As far as finding your balcony goes, i was just blessed to see your pretty person upon it....and my good friend Robb also has an encyclopedic knowledge of Bracken Hall, having planned to storm it so many times." He added, slightly sheepishly.

Rolling her eyes at him, lightly swatting his chest.

"You're crazy."

Smirking again he rose to put his arm against the wall by her face, leaning his face towards hers.

"Crazy about you."

"And ridiculous," she added, laughing.

Reaching out to hold her chin gently in his other hand he leaned in further, before whispering in response "ridiculously in love with you", as his lips crashed onto hers, his arm moving to encircle her waist and support her weight as he did so.

Breaking the kiss, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, gazing up at her as if she were the sun. 

"Can i come and see you tomorrow?" He asked tentatively, unable to fully conceal his fear that she would still order him hence.

"I'd rather you didn't risk your life in such a dangerous attempt. I can always come to meet you."

Frowning at this, he stroked the back of her cheekbone with his nuckle. 

"You think i would allow my darling to cross that distance with an injured leg when i can cross it myself?"

Seeing her blush at his appellation, he smiled and reached forward to increase her blush by kissing the corner of her mouth.

"I think not. I have no fear of your Bracken bannermen. Although I do fear having to inform my disapproving lady love that i've despatched all of them because they tried to stop me from seeing her."

Benjicot walked away from his lady love's balcony that evening, not before blowing her a kiss, and silently rejoicing that she had forgiven him and permited him to remain in her presence and in her heart.

@lovebabe18-blog @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess @dancingbaek @aemondslove @cheendrella

[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.

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Body Horror and Internalized Misogyny

This post showed up in my "for you" feed, and I commented that 63% of people have internalized misogyny, to which two other people asked how being afraid of getting pregnant was misogynistic, so I thought I would explain.

First, the option that the majority of people voted on was this: Pregnancy "sounds like unreal terrifying body horror". Not just something scary or dangerous, but body horror. So lets talk about that first.

Body horror comes from taking something normal and natural about the body and twisting it. Putting teeth where there should not be teeth. Grafting dozens of arms onto every part of the body. Faces in odd places. Limbs bending the wrong direction. Think Dark Souls et al.

Now, one could try to describe normal bodily processes as horrifying, but I wouldn't call this body horror. Take puberty, and all the crazy things your body goes through during it, or describe exactly how each organ keeps you alive in detail. Or take "Skeletons", by Ray Bradbury. This is a horror story in which a man feels aches in his bones and becomes convinces that his skeleton--all skeletons--are some form of Other, some entity inside people that is trying to get out. He describes seeing his wife's skeleton peering out of her mouth each time she smiles, and seeing the shape of people's bones poking out just below the skin.

The thing about this story is that the skeleton is not actually what is horrifying, but rather the man's phobia of the skeleton. It's one of those stories where the protagonist is clearly not in his right mind. It only veers into body horror once the inhuman doctor that first stoked his fears into a phobia shows up and sucks the skeleton out of the man, leaving a gasping, jelly-like mass with nothing to hold it up.

Body horror inherently comes from something being unnatural, something a body is not supposed to have or be able to do.

If one were to view a racial trait, such as more or less body hair, darker or lighter skin, or the presence or absence of epicanthic folds as horrifying, we would call that person racist. If they viewed their own racial traits as horrifying, we wold call that internalized racism.

So now we can circle back to pregnancy. True, pregnancy can be dangerous and scary, and one's body goes through some pretty crazy changes during and after it, but it's also something that female bodies have evolved to be able to do. The potential to become pregnant--the specific gametes and organs and hormones--is literally what makes a body female, at least for placental mammals like humans. Pregnancy is a normal, natural, uniquely and definitively female biological process.

You don't have to want to get pregnant, and it's totally fine to be scared about being pregnant. But to treat it as something unnatural, or as the original poll said, as "unreal terrifying body horror" is to see the capabilities of the female body as somehow Other and alien and twisted. That is misogyny. When women view our own bodies this way, it's internalized misogyny.