#It also pulls power from the house but this isn't the first time the thing's caused issues

[the-unified-programs]

why does our smoke alarm not only feel the need to go off FOUR times in the span of four hours (most of the time staying on for, like, 40 minutes) but ALSO sound like it's possessed by a demon/just on it's last leg of life? Of course, it sounds like it's dying until you touch it, then it just screams.

[love-toxin]

THANK U. gush i absolutely will! and ill probably have to rewatch it now. but oh my god. the way eric would probably not want to have sex for the longest time even after u eventually get together (which would take a LONG TIME TOO!) patience is fr key. like probably out of guilt and SHAME but also cause he’s a gentleman. blushes cutely……. like i hadn’t even thought about that because hes an actual Good person who knows that love/relationships is about more than fucking but….. 🫣🫣 damn. need him fr

oh he'd be SO conflicted about it mrrrrrrghhh!!!! im going OFF-

love the thought of it eating him up inside. it takes so long for him to even speak to you, longer to get to know you, and when you fall for him like he has for you it suddenly feels like he's getting in too deep. it's not that he realized he doesn't love you because he does, he's got it bad for you, but he feels so guilty about even thinking of you in that light. you have an innocence about you that he's long lost and to imagine ripping that away from you, regardless of whether you're virginal or not, just makes him sick to his stomach. and he doesn't want to push you. god, that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

truthfully, he figured that since his body is immortal now, he wouldn't get those urges that he'd get as a mortal. he doesn't need to eat, or drink, or sleep, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't feel the need for sex either. it almost guts him when he realizes he does. when you brush against him or purse your lips or just say something a little off-colour, and he feels a tightening in his groin and a flush up his neck. he practically speeds out of your house in a panic the first time he feels it because he doesn't know what to do about it--how he's supposed to act around you when you don't have that kind of relationship yet. acknowledge it, ignore it, repress it, there's plenty of options but no real solutions.

what if he hurts you? what if you feel guilted into doing things with him, just because of his circumstances? just because you care for him so much? or what if he hurts you physically, because he still doesn't have the perfect grasp on his own, inhuman strength?

but then, when the time comes where you bring it up, Eric sinks down to his knees to look up at you. those brown eyes just radiate warmth, love, and he gently ghosts his palms over your hips with the most adoring "I love you" you've ever heard off his lips. if you want it, he wants you to direct it--you don't have to take control, but you get to decide each and every movement he makes. when he touches you, even for a fleeting moment, you have all the power.

Eric starts off slow. baby steps. first it's a few touches to your neck, kisses that feel hungry as he mouths at the delicate skin, but only faintly graze his teeth over a thin barrier. he squeezes your thigh one day as you're driving and retracts his hand almost instantly, he thinks he grabbed too hard--but you slowly pull his fingers back to rest there and his worries are soothed at once, though his heart jumps up into his throat. although progress is steady he still has flashbacks and night terrors sometimes, and they're almost always so vivid he wakes up in a cold sweat or has to stop in his tracks and just breathe. the people who hurt Shelly are dead. he's here to protect you now. you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you. he has to repeat that mantra to himself to calm himself down, and sometimes you have to come and remind him as you hold his hand and hug his head to your chest.

it isn't until one night, when you've been nosing his cheek and kissing him more than usual, that Eric starts touching you back. normally he would lay back and enjoy your attention because it's a sort of ritual for you before bed, but this time he just feels it. it's time. he can do it. as he climbs over you you reassure him that if anything happens--if you change your mind, or if he realizes he's not actually ready--you can stop, no questions asked, and just cuddle. but he can sense in the tightness of his body that it really is time, and he really is ready for this. he's neglected you for too long but he's recovering from the guilt of that, now it's just the thrum of excitement humming through his body as he strips yours down for the first time.

as strange as it is, he's happy that he doesn't see Shelly when he looks at you anymore. he used to see her face in flashes when he was close to you, and the shame had burned him alive for so long. she was his love and his everything, his bride that never was, and despite his growing feelings for you he'd struggled not to see her in everything you did. it wasn't fair to you and it was part of the reason he stayed in the shadows for so long, keeping an eye on you but not getting close. it's why he planned to never speak to you in person and simply watch over you like a shadow, from the shadows, where he belonged. it was only once he'd seen your personality shine through over the months that his view of you started to separate, and now after long conversations and your endless patience he can fully put his heart into you without constantly thinking of Shelly in the back of his mind. he recalls when you brought him to her grave with flowers, your smile so wide and sweet when you asked him questions about her, wanting to keep her memory alive for him--and it drives him down between your legs, those pent-up feelings lashing out with his tongue as he finally brings himself to indulge.

you're just so beautiful, so good to him, so....alive. your kindness may be a weakness but it fills him with strength, it makes him crave you in a way that has your hips rising off the bed and your thighs squeezing his ears, muffling out all sound except your moans and the wet shlick of his tongue inside you. your fingers threading through his hair drives him wild. if his mouth wasn't full he'd plead with you to pull it. but you don't have to have everything lined up right now, it's just about exploring--although he'll have a lot more of your body mapped out than you will of his, because he can't help it, you just taste so good. he may not need to be satiated in body anymore, but something in your arousal feeds him as if it's the fount of his power itself. like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, hidden all this time between your angelic legs.

he won't even get into penetration tonight; you'll be too exhausted once he's finished the banquet between your hips, and he'll barely know his own name aside from you screaming it. neither of you are really concerned with it though, because this is your love, and nobody else's. he's almost too sensitive to touch when he crawls up beside you and you reach down, fingertips lightly grazing his stomach until you brush against him and he hisses through his teeth. his instinct is to draw your hand away but he hides his face in your neck when you grip him, clutching on to you for dear life to keep from squirming away from the attention. he wants it. he just can't look you in the eyes while he takes it, because he knows it's been so long and you smell so good that he'll bust before he even knows it's happening.

but it's easy to tell where he's at by the twitches in your palm, the little jets of clear liquid that startle you as they splash on your hand. he seems to breathe with every pulse of his cock as it spasms for dear life, aching for your fingers that stroke him with such effortless adoration. his hold on you grows harder and firmer the more you give him that attention, and with an especially slick twist he's buckling, humping your grip with soft gasps, mumbling nonsense into your neck until he finally hits his stride and shoots his load all over your pretty belly.

it takes him awhile--a long, great while--to eventually work up the strength to lift his head and look. his work is messy and unprofessional, emblematic of a man barely held together by threads, and yet you look back at him with such sweetness he can't help feeling more fragile in your arms.

"I love you." you whisper into his ear, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead and tucking it behind. and for the first time, the first time in a very, very long time, Eric finally believes it.

[theaceace]

When Burgess summoned Dream, instead of Dream being completely cut off from the Dreaming, instead the magic pulled all of Fawney Rig into the soft places at the edge of the Dreaming, so like Dream still can't get out of the circle and his subjects can't get in but the Dreaming suffers much less and crucially, he still has access to some tiny fraction of his power

So now the whole house and everyone in it is sort of tied to the Dreaming and there's just oodles of magic coming off it, and the house in the Waking and the house in the Dreaming exist sort of superimposed over each other. Like you can be in one and sort of be aware of the other but you can't really flip between the two

And I want the whole thing to operate on a sort of combo between Aladdin in the cave of wonders/Orpheus leaving with Eurydice rules where it's said that if you enter the house in the Dreaming side and manage to find the Dream king, he'll grant you the thing you've been dreaming of, but the catch is you have to believe you have it. You have to leave the house without checking. So Burgess asks for Randall, but he turns to look almost before they're out of the basement because if he were Dream then he would pull a trick (TBF it wasn't actually Randall, just a dream of him, but Burgess couldn't tell the difference anyway because he was a terrible father and you can't change my mind). After that, he never managed to find the basement again. Never even manages to find the dream house again, only the waking one, although he goes mad looking for it

But like. Someone else asks for riches and the Dream king says they can be found the guy's pocket or whatever, but he can't feel anything? There's no weight there, no shape, his pocket seems empty (it isn't when he checks, but as soon as he gets out of the house, yelling about his triumph, it's gone and the house is mundane again)

Alex, who doesn't ask for anything until after the death of his father (and after he murdered Jessamy) asks for peace. For safety. The Dream king says nothing, and Alex lives the rest of his life in the Dreaming version of the house, too scared to step outside in case whatever peace he's found in his personal prison vanishes

Ethel never makes it to the house in the Dreaming . She takes what she wants from the waking, and when she leaves she doesn't look back once

Time passes, and more and more people find their way to Fawney Rig, but as Dream himself said, the great stories always return to their original forms, so no one succeeds because that's how it goes

And then. And then Hob. Hob who finds his way to the house just looking for an answer. Looking for something he can do to make sure his Stranger is there in 2089, because otherwise he might lose his mind with the what-ifs. So he finds the house, and he meets Alex, who hasn't set foot outside the front door in over 80 years except it's a little hard to feel sorry for him when Hob realises why. He meets Paul, who lives solidly in the waking, and hasn't been able to convince Alex that it would be worth it to leave with him. He finds his way down to the basement, finally, and there he finds his Stranger

And at first he thinks? It's a trick? Because isn't that sort of what this place does, it tricks you? But he speaks to Dream, and he gets the rest of the story from him, and the only thing Hob wants to take from this place is Dream. And he's like I want to get you out of here, but I can't because you're trapped in that circle (which for reasons unknown to the author right now but probably has something to do with the nature of dreams and stories can't just be broken like a regular spell circle) and I can't do anything about it and Dream is all you know the story, Hob Gadling. It is a more powerful magic than the binding. Leave, and don't look back, and trust that I am following

(Dream knows the story. He's sure he knows how it ends. But he also knows that it has to be played out, that he has to give Hob this chance - he finds himself, as he follows, weeping silently for his son and Eurydice)

So then there would be the agonising climb and return through the maze of the house where Hob almost looks back a bunch of times, and eventually he makes it to the door and steps out into the bright sun of the waking, and -

End title

[480pfootage]

And now onto how Kate interacts with the other proxies... phew! got this out in time for crp day.. Included: Tim, Brian, Toby, Rouge

Before getting into all the others.. Since the proxy Kate spends the most time with is herself I thought it'll be nice to.. have how she treats herself first. After the circumstances of STA she rarely gets time to take care of herself anymore. It's always victim after victim.. She finds herself thinking her body expendable; her empty stomach will heal after eating itself inside out, her broken limbs will always regenerate. Kate just doesn't treat herself very well...

TIM

Tim often takes the leadership role in any relationship and it's no different with the proxies and or specifically Kate.

Especially since she's one of the younger proxies alongside Toby, he feels the need to take care of her.

Kate doesn't think much of it when Tim finds her collapsed somewhere and brings her back to the cabin Brian, Toby, and him live.. She's happy that Tim takes care of her, i.e. gives her some food, tries to get her to shower, as she interprets it as Tim slowly starting to accept being a proxy and therefore starting to see the Slenderman as the savior he is!

She likes it when the proxies are nice to each other too so she savors the pampering she gets from Tim when injured..

BRIAN

Kate and Brian don't really interact much.

Kate only "visits" the cabin when the Slenderman teleports her broken body nearby and Brian mostly stays cooped up in his room until "hunts"

it's hard for them to actually cross paths with each other.

Brian is also a very apathetic being, stuck between his limbo of given life and death, he can't really experience empathy unless it's for someone he truly cares about (see Tim or Toby on the occasion).

He had to quickly pull Toby from falling to the belief that perhaps the Slenderman is good when he spent too much time with Kate and also some other stuff..

They both mainly stay out of each other's way when necessary.

I'm sure there's been a time that Kate accidentally stole his kill, not knowing the other proxies were already on the victim

Brian definitely got pissy because of that..

He had to be dissuaded from being petty by Tim

TOBY

That is his best friend right there. Probably. Hopefully.

Toby immediately latched on when he first met Kate while on a hunt.

She's actually around his age! Do you know how hard it is to find proxies that you could actually relate with that doesn't treat you like a child...!

Tim and Brian do think that she's a bad influence to Toby. He's quick to do anything to please if it means that someone would tolerate him and that doesn't bide well with Kate's admiration of the Slenderman and Rouge.

He also started cannibalizing some victims because of her.. He just thought it was sick and wanted to try.

Kate appreciates his company whenever it's available, but she doesn't actively seek him out.

Kate makes him not feel bad about just wanting to kill sometimes. It's just more power for the Slenderman either way, if he needs to let off some steam on a random person then go for it!

The thing about Kate is that she rarely speaks above a few grunts. She may spit out a few words, but that's usually it.. Toby likes translating what she's thinking (mostly getting it wrong, but the sentiment's there)

ROUGE

Above all, Rouge is the only proxy still integrated into everyday society. (Tim and Brian may go into town, but that isn't often.. Rouge actually has a nice suburban house..)

That makes it hard for Kate to visit.. It's very upsetting for her..

Rouge and Kate are a little co-dependent on each other.

Out of the proxies they're the ones that actually believe the Slenderman does good which is what initially brought them close to each other..

It's very much a peculiar relationship.. Kate has mommy issues while Rouge is still affected by her miscarriage all those years ago.

Their relationship is built on spontaneity I would say plus Rouge herself is already a very brash person..

Rouge is another person that takes care of Kate's wounds and also buys her things to take care of her burns and cleans her and takes care of her haiirr... a lot of things

Kate looks up to Rouge as she's taught her a lot on how to just past the time. Whether that be wood carving (which she in turn taught Toby), hunting, cooking, kissing ah they just like each other a lot..

The only difficult part of their relationship is the fact that the Slenderman has Rouge patrolling the South while Kate's mostly situated in the Midwest..

[nicxl333]

NSFW ALPHABET— ITOSHI SAE

depending on how this does i’ll continue this as a blue lock series :)

this is based on my opinion and also egoist bible facts about sae (hopefully it’s accurate enough)

A= Aftercare (what they're like after the act)

even though he may not seem like it, sae is very soft when it comes to you. your legs are aching? best believe he'll massage them. his first instinct would be to draw a bath for the both of you, cleaning you up so you don't have to do so much as lifting a finger. after all, it was him who put you in this state. after you're both clean he'd put you to bed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his chest where you both eventually fall asleep.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

on himself, probably his thighs. they are impressively toned and a perfect spot for you to hold onto when pleasing him so it's only natural that he takes pride in them. on you? ass. (canon) in his opinion, there's no ass that compares to yours and he'll quite literally do anything in his power to see it move. if you wear booty shorts around the house best believe he's grabbing it. he also definitely has a hidden folder on his phone filled with ass pics from you for when he's abroad for football.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

if you guys are doing it in doggy, he'll take the opportunity to cum on your ass. either that or inside you. he likes the risk, even though you're on birth control.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

he got wound up post game one day and took it upon himself to fuck his fist to the thought of you. specifically you last week being fucked by him in a state of overstimulation after he'd already made you cum twice on his fingers alone. that isn't the thing that makes this a secret he'll never share however. once he'd cum sticky ropes into his hand he reached for his phone and snapped a picture to send to you. but, in his post orgasmic state he misclicked and sent the photo to the one person he tended to avoid the most: shidou ryusei

sure, he could've deleted it and avoided the most embarrassing moment of his life, but, with shidou being the most desperate male he's ever seen of course he'd view it immediately, given the fact that sae never contacts him.

long story short shidou sent a surprise of his own and sae in a state of absolute rage made him swear to secrecy if he valued living.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

sae doesn't know anything apart from soccer, so it's safe to say that he was clueless about anything sex related. doesn't mean he didn't learn though. you were also each other's first.

nowadays it's questionable if you were really his first and only lover the way he fucks you with such expertise.

F= Favorite position

anything where he can see your ass clapping with each snap of his hips. doggy style, reverse cowgirl, leap frog, the snake. he's not very particulate on just one.

however, if he's making love to you, it needs to be in missionary. he wants you to know just how much he loves you with each roll of his hips into you. it's also a way for him to feed off your reactions in such an intimate setting.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

this is sae itoshi we're talking about. i can guarantee you whenever you fuck it will be a serious moment. that doesn't mean he won't tease you every once in a while though to stroke his ego. he is a massive egoist after all.

expect lines such as "you're about to cum again? i'm not even halfway through with you and you're already crumbling." or "stop holding back. just let me make you cum, it's not like you can do it on your own anyways. need me to do everything for you.”

H= Hair (grooming habits)

sae is the type of guy to stay well groomed. be it shaved completely or short wisps of hair that re uniformly trimmed.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/ dirty)

he is away a lot, given the fact he's an internationally famous soccer player, so he most likely doesn't have enough time to always ensure the most romantic settings for you, resulting in many heated quickies. when the football season is over however and he has a lot of free time on his hands, expect lots of beautifully expensive dates which almost always end up in passionate sessions of love making.

he may not always show it, but sae really does love you so much, more than you can ever imagine, and the best way of showing it in his eyes is giving you endless pleasure so you can fully feel the effects of his love (mentally and physically if you catch my drift).

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

you have him constantly hard on the regular, whether you're with him or not (not that he'd ever let you know the power you hold over him) and he finds his hand wrapped around his dick more often than not. before practice, during practice games, when you're with him. just the mere thought of you is enough for him to spring a massive boner that has to be dealt with at least once every two days. other days he'll either pray that no one sees or take a cold shower.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

dumbification. easily top of the board. he likes to see you completely lose yourself on his dick, fucked into total submission, to which he'd respond with a snarky comment.

"have i fucked you stupid? going dumb on my cock huh? i think you can take one more, can you do that for me? yeah?"

dacryphillia (in the good sense). he likes to see tears prick at the corner of your eyes due to how good he is fucking you. he'll reach down and wipe your tears away

"is it too much huh? don't worry baby it's okay i’ve got you"

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

as horny as sae gets he does have some form of rationality. given the fact he's bombarded by paparazzi a lot he wouldn't like to risk the both of you being next day headliners across the globe for something so unsavoury in their eyes.

he would fuck you most likely in the comfort of your shared condo or the safety of your hotel room if you have decided to travel with him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/ turn ons)

it's you. you don't have to do a lot to turn this man on, just your sweet voice is enough or your bright smile.

if he had to choose however, probably seeing your ass in a nice pair of shorts. specifically if you’re bent over cleaning or picking something up, to the point where he can see your ass peaking out.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won't do)

threesomes. he is way too possessive (in a good way) and full of love for you that he'd refuse to see anyone other than himself please you. he believes he's more than capable of doing that himself.

bring it up to him one day and he will shut it down immediately, no fucks given.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

definitely giving, although he wouldn't say he doesn't enjoy being on the receiving end every once in a while, particularly after a stressful day.

this guy is the absolute king at eating pussy, sucking on your clit while fingering you with curled fingers to hit your g-spot with each stroke. it's something about seeing you in total ecstasy because of him that really feeds into his ego.

P= Pace (how fast they are)

if you guys are fucking, hard and fast. he knows all the spots that make you scream so he's pretty skilled at bringing you to a quick earth shattering orgasm every time.

if you're making love, slow and deep. he wants you to feel every inch and every vein of him. he particularly enjoys the sweet whines you let out in his ear when he hits it just right.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

like said earlier, he doesn't always have a lot of free time to spend with you so always expect a quickie if he's only there for a day or so. it would be wrong to say he prefers it however because if he did have the time, he would spend it pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

as long as they're reasonable. if he doesn't feel comfortable or confident with it he'll make it known to you. he is open to some suggestions though. particularly degradation if you’re up for it.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

bffr. for starters he's a literal football player. this man spends almost every day of his career running up and down a massive pitch for a minimum of 90 minutes. best believe his stamina is absolutely god tier.

if he does have the time for it, expect 3-4 rounds of him going absolutely ham on you.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

funny story. the first time he walked in on you using a vibrator on yourself he demanded the name of where you got it from, then finished you off with the toy, then himself straight after. it was the first time he got you to squirt.

the next time you saw him he had a box full of sex toys for him to test out on you. it was a long, pleasurable night.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

he does enjoy opportunities given to make you beg for his dick. methods such as pulling out once he feels the signals of your orgasm coming, letting the heat inside you die down before he fucks into you again and repeats the process once more.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

nah. he's pretty quiet as it is so expect small grunts in your ear, or slight panting from exertion. don’t get him wrong though, he will tease the shit out of you if necessary. you on the other hand, are very loud, which he relishes in. your sweet sounds are a need for him in order to cum.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

as much as he hates threesomes i think he'd want to fuck you in front of shidou. not to the point where he can see your body, but so much so that he knows what's going on.

eg: you're sitting on his lap, wearing a skirt, where his dick can easily access your tight cunt. he'd probably engage in some conversation while he bounces you in his lap so he can show shidou just who you belong to.

X= X-ray (what's down below in dem pants)

easy. he's big in both sectors. he's very girthy, meaning you're stuffed to the brim each time he takes you. equally he's got a decent length, 7.2 inches, slightly curved to the right. the tip is quite an angry shade of pink while the rest of his dick is pinkish light brown. (#ca9f94 for reference) he deffo has a big vein running underneath which you do well to lick at every time you give him head, and his tip is definitely extremely sensitive.

lick the hole of his tip and he's cumming instantaneously.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

due to extended periods of time away from each other his sexdrive is on an all time high. when he's with you it's gotta be at least once a day y'all go at it.

don't think yours isn't just as high though, he can barely walk through the front door before you're pawing at his clothes in desperation to take them off.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

he's an athlete, it's mandatory that he gets some form of rest. he most likely falls asleep with you or just after you, softly stroking your hair or caressing your waist gently, before giving you a peck to the forehead and drifting off.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can you write about a reader who is the most beautiful girl in the village? Donna literally worships her, she has many pictures of her in her house,she is overprotective, literally treats her like a goddess. Every time Donna sees reader she loves to touch her, tell her how much she loves her and how beautiful she is.Reader is also very shy and doesn't talk much, even more than Donna. Can it be smut G!P Donna with reader being super shy and embarrassed? Reader needs aftercare soo much :))

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!!! :)))))

Your cursed beauty

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 7,672

Summary: She's the only one who really loves you...

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

��So, with the rune in his hand, he made an effort not to use that power again, because the fate of the region was much more important than his selfish desires...” you read out loud as you wrote.

The always reassuring silence of the mansion, the subtle lighting of the place, that peace, that tranquility were your best companions when it came to writing one of your stories. It was a shame that someone had other plans for you.

“Hey! Silly, silly!” a shrill voice pulled you out of the sheet of paper, blurring the image of your characters in your mind. At least you were used to it. “Hey, do you hear me? Hello? Silly?”

“Angie...” you sighed in a low voice, shaking your head as the puppet climbed onto the old desk, taking a not-so-subtle look at the already written sheets. “W-Wait…”

Your whispers weren't going to stop the doll's curious eagerness.

“Keep reading, keep reading, keep reading,” the puppet insisted, pointing at the paper.

“I can't read what isn't written,” you murmured, taking that new page out of the machine, pretending that this intrusion hadn't made you nervous.

“Well, write then,” Angie said, with her hands on her hips.

“I can't if you're here,” you said with a shy tone, afraid that one of your words would offend the doll. It wouldn't be the first time. “Besides, I'm done for today.”

Sometimes you thought Angie only did those things to make you nervous. What nonsense, of course she did it to make you nervous.

“I hope you've accepted my suggestions,” she said in a petulant voice.

You looked at her briefly, shaking your head. Despite your shyness, despite the comfort you felt in not having to speak, you knew it was impossible.

“I can’t put spaceships in it, it’s a fantasy novel,” you said in a soft voice, not looking at the puppet as you did so, an old trick to lose the fear of communicating.

“Bullshit,” Angie protested, in a brusque tone, one that even startled you. “Spaceships are cool.”

“Angie, lasciala stare,” a tender voice appeared to protect you.

Your lips broke into a smile, your cheeks flushed at those melodic words. The sound of the heels matched the beat of your heart and your eyes moved from the desk to contemplate her approaching figure.

Since you were very young, you were blessed with the gift of beauty.

Being beautiful was the dream of many girls, they strived to achieve it. They prayed to achieve it.

You never had to do it, you were born beautiful, according to too many people, you were the most beautiful girl in the village.

It was a proud title, in which you yourself didn’t believe. You never cared. You never looked at yourself the mirror and smiled. You never contemplated that beauty everyone said you had.

The only thing you were proud of was your gift for writing.

Creating a world, characters, play with them, make them live a thousand adventures was truly your passion. Since you were 10 years old you had started with short stories, with tales that you read to your parents. That was a gift for you, not looking in the mirror and knowing that you were beautiful.

Unfortunately, those kinds of talents were not noticed in that village. The Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... They transformed that place into a gray pit of bitterness, of conformism.

Like those knights in the books, with small brains and big lances, the villagers didn’t see in you an artist, not even a friend, all they could see was your face, your beauty.

A beauty desired by others, an extraordinary gift that was a blessing for those silly girls who dreamed of their prince charming. For you it was not like that, for you that beauty was a curse, an unjust sentence.

You felt the eyes, the glances on you, you heard whispers. You lived with uncomfortable smiles.

Far from considering you a strange girl, your friends seemed to be interested in your talent. That was a good thing, or so you thought. Every day you had several people willing to listen to your stories, to hear a voice that wasn’t yet afraid to come out of your lips.

In your ignorance you believed that those invitations were simply a desire to hear your stories, since it was the favorite excuse of those boys and girls.

You soon discovered you were wrong. You only had to ask, ask what part they liked the most, what they thought of the fate of a character, to realize that they never listened to you, that your stories didn't matter to them.

Nobody cared about your writing, nobody cared about your stories. They only wanted to be close to you to try to make that fairy tale princess fall in love with a brainless knight.

That same attitude, the repetition of that behavior over and over again led you little by little to despair, to not feeling comfortable talking, relating to people.

One day you were beautiful and outgoing, the next one you were beautiful, yes, but shy and lacking in words.

Shyness arrived over time, as a side effect of that curse your beauty was.

“Oh, come on, don't be like that, let me invite you to dinner at least,” he protested, while you walked away, telling yourself that it was over, that no one who didn't want to listen to you would deserve to hear your voice.

“I really want to know the end,” a hoarse voice startled you, getting in your way.

It wasn't a dream, nor a nightmare. One of the village Lords, the youngest, the strangest, Donna Beneviento, appeared in front of you, with her hands in an elegant pose.

It seemed unlikely, even impossible.

But your duty was to obey those authorities, and so you did. The lady in black and you sat on a bench. Silence accompanied the mystery hidden by that black veil. There were no words, only gestures that encouraged you to continue that story.

You would never have imagined that she, that sick, disturbed woman, that doll maker would listen to you. She didn't interrupt. She didn't seem to devour you with her gaze. She just wanted to listen to you.

No one, not even your best friends, had made the slightest effort to let you share your talent with them.

Donna Beneviento did, she listened to you again and again, she asked you questions, she seemed curious about your talent, enthralled by your stories, and not by your beauty.

Well, that would be trivializing it a bit, of course she thought you were beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the village, but that was a very secondary detail.

She was the first, the only one who dared to meet you, who seduced you not only by what you were on the outside, but also by what you were on the inside. The dates on that remote bench were frequent. They were dates that weren’t scheduled; they simply existed, always in the same place, always at the same time.

You found refuge in her presence. Attentive, kind, shy like you... That was the youngest of the Lords.

That was the first time, the first time that a compliment, a flattery, was accompanied by praise for your talent.

Her deformed face forced her to isolate herself from the world. Her different body embarrassed her, almost as much as your beauty did to you. You tow ere so different and so alike…

You had no doubt, you loved her, and she loved you.

Without thinking, you threw yourself into that romance, into her lips, into her kisses, into her hugs. Donna was the only one who treated you the way you deserved, the only one who won your heart.

Living in the old mansion was your next step. You couldn't walk without feeling her lips, her caresses, her words of love. Yes, she was also dazzled by your beauty, she adored you as if you were some kind of Goddess, but you knew she was the only woman you allowed to do it.

Your shy attitude was curious to her. Your talent was fascinating to her. But, Donna... She was much more than that to you, Donna was everything to you.

You could no longer live without her kisses, without her voice, without her caresses... Anything that meant not having her by your side was like a hell for you.

“Hi, tesoro...” the lady sighed, bending down to steal a kiss from you, to cheer your spirit with a tender smile.

You smiled again, embarrassed by the softness of her lips, her words. Your cheeks had become accustomed to blushing in her presence, and your body trembled accepting her caresses.

“Donna,” you said with a soft voice, broken by the shame your body felt when hers surrounded it.

“Are you done for today?” she asked softly, looking at the pile of papers on the desk.

You nodded slowly, lowering your gaze as she looked at you again with that smile, one that didn't seem to want to fade from her face.

“I've finished two chapters,” you said in a whispery voice, trying to make the heat in your cheeks dissipate, something complicated due to her constant caresses.

“Mm, you were inspired,” Donna said, amused, putting her hand on your shoulder and sitting on the desk. “Do you want to read them to me?”

“Oh, um, I…” you said nervously, moving your eyes away from hers. “You, you know it’s embarrassing for me.”

Donna laughed, shaking her head, taking the opportunity to run a hand over your face again, to be captivated by your features. Your cheeks accepted that caress, responding with an increasingly dark red tone.

“You know I love listening to you,” she whispered, moving away so as not to overwhelm you. “Your voice is worthy of the Gods.”

You laughed as you shook your head, giving her a soft slap on the leg.

“Hey, don't say those things to me…” you said in a shy tone, focusing your gaze on the papers, and not on her beautiful, truly beautiful smile. “It makes me nervous.”

“Oh, does it make you nervous when I tell you nice things?” she said in a tender voice, biting her lip. “You're perfect, you know?”

“No, no, I'm not,” you murmured, looking for the chapter you had finished. “If I read you… will you stop talking to me like that?”

“Maybe,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

You indicated for her to sit in a nearby chair, while you cleared your throat.

“Mm, let's see…” you whispered, dying of embarrassment as every time you read out loud, even more knowing that the Angie doll had climbed onto her owner's lap, also willing to listen to your story without spaceships.

Little by little, you related those parts of your novel, which Donna, along with a mysteriously silent Angie, listened attentively.

 “What do you think?” you said, sighing in relief when you finished reading.

The lady in black, with her head resting on one hand, blinked, her smile widening.

“Edgar's story is very tragic,” she commented, with a low voice, moved by the fate of one of your characters.

“Yes, well…” you said, nodding and moving the pages, returning again to your usual shyness. “He can have all the money he wants, but he will never get Regina's love…” you commented.

“Never?” Donna asked, curious about your comment.

You shook your head with a smile.

“Not everyone has to have a happy ending, right?” you said amused.

The lady sighed, getting up from the chair and lowering Angie to the floor.

“I had it,” Donna whispered, helping you get up from the chair with an elegant gesture, placing her hands gently on your waist. “Although I didn't deserve it…”

You enjoyed the contact, the soft hand that placed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Me neither,” you said in a low voice, intimidated by the intensity of her gaze.

“Nonsense, tesoro, you deserve anything you want,” the lady in black whispered, leaning to your ear and kissing your skin slowly, savoring each of the soft movements of her lips on your neck.

“You’re exaggerating,” you said shyly, laughing nervously at the tickling her kisses did to you.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, sighing and caressing your cheek one last time before slowly pulling away, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to go make dinner.”

“Oh, do you need…? Do I help you?” you asked, more confidently.

Donna turned slowly, shaking her head.

“No, tesoro, just rest,” she said softly, walking away from you with her graceful step, the rhythmic sound of her heels clicking on the floor.

You stood still on the floor, but before the doll maker reached the elevator, you walked quickly towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

“Donna,” you said with a shy smile, slowly turning her around and capturing her lips in an improvised kiss, one you rarely felt capable of giving.

She smiled into your lips, cupping your face in her hands, caressing your lips slowly, softly, while you leaned, smiling. Your cheeks were burning with shyness, but also, with love.

The kiss deepened, and seemed to never end. Your hands settled on her chest and hers ran seductively along your waist.

“Amore mio…” she sighed, letting her lips go free, kissing every part of your face, releasing the chastity of her hands, which tickled your arms, your neck. “Principessa…”

You resisted nervously, unable to control those kisses that were increasingly unbridled.

Laughing again, shy at her whispers, which only knew how to praise you, to adore you as if you were something precious, fragile, tremendously valuable, you put your hands on her chest, stopping the passion that was increasingly ardent, because otherwise, you would be unable to do it.

“Donna,” you whispered between kisses, gently moving away, causing a tender growl from the lady, who finally agreed to stop kissing you. “I'm… I'm a bit hungry.”

“Oh, certo…” she murmured, kissing you quickly and running her thumb down your cheek while laughing nervously. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” you whispered shyly, with a sincere, sweet smile, a smile like you've never had, one in love, truly in love. “I love your kisses…”

“I love you…” the lady whispered, giving you one last kiss before pulling away again.

“Hey, that's enough! Stop, basta, parad!” Angie shrieked, pushing the lady by her legs. “How disgusting…”

“Angie…” Donna sighed, shaking her head.

“Is the blood reaching your head? I doubt it…” the doll mocked, making the lady blush with a serious look.

“Angie, don't be rude,” the doll maker protested, turning around. “I'll see you right away, amore mio…”

“O-Okay,” you said shyly again, laughing at Angie's impudence. “I'm going to take a bath, I need it.”

“Mmmm,” the lady in black protested, turning on her heels and biting her lip. “(Y/N)… You know I love to do it with you.”

You shrugged in amusement, looking at the floor so your embarrassment wasn't so obvious. The characters in your novel weren't afraid of such things but you... Despite having shared everything with Donna, you were still extremely shy when it came to taking off your clothes next to her.

Your life was perfect, really perfect.

“And this... It's for you...” Donna said as she served dinner, handing you a perfect rose, like every night.

“Oh...” you murmured, smelling the intoxicating scent of the flower. “Donna...”

“Mm?”

“It wasn’t necessary” you said with your voice low, soft and shy as usual. She smiled at you, gesturing with the bottle of wine. “Oh, don't pour too much wine, otherwise, my head will hurt.”

The lady laughed, obeying your request and leaving the bottle on the table, waiting, as always, for you to eat first.

“Do you like it?” she asked, unsure, observing your gestures.

“Very much, darling,” you said kindly, earning another radiant smile from the brunette, who, finally making sure that you enjoyed her food, began to eat. “Thank you…”

The glances crossed as always, the smiles danced between them from time to time, the shine of your eyes reflected the dim light of the candles.

Every night, every moment was the most romantic of your life. Of course, you could envy many things from the books: talkative, outgoing, daring characters... But if there was something that those romance stories were not able to convey, it was the love that existed between you and Donna. That was just impossible.

“How...?” you said nervously, interrupting that silent dinner, wishing to be the one to start a conversation for once, something difficult due to so many years of voluntary silence. “Ahem, how about your...? Your... Dolls?”

Donna looked up, knowing that you were interrupting because of your internal struggle to stop being the shy girl you always were.

“My dolls… Well, I guess they are as usual,” she commented, drinking some wine. “They're not very talkative.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, entertained on a nearby sofa.

“Well, not all of them,” Donna joked, lowering her gaze again.

You nodded. Yes, Donna wasn't the most extroverted and talkative woman in the world either, but at least she tried, and with better results than you, of course.

“I, I'd like to learn how to sew,” you murmured, hiding your shyness in a glass of water. Donna smiled, arching her eyebrow.

“Sew?” the lady asked, with a tender voice, unable to hide a bit of curiosity.

“Yes, well… You must be sick of fixing my dresses,” you commented amused, finishing your plate, looking at the sleeves of your dress, always masterfully mended by the brunette.

“Don't talk nonsense, tesoro, I love sewing for you, and making you dresses…” she commented, winking at you. “You have a perfect body for it.”

“Oh, well…” you said nervously again, running a hand over the back of your neck and looking away. “But, I would really like to learn.”

“Okay, dolcezza, I'll be happy to do it,” Donna said in a soft voice, with a slight blush on her cheeks. “Tomorrow when I get back from the meeting we could start, what do you think?”

“Oh, tomorrow…” you sighed, blinking nervously. “I don't know if I can, I had thought that, since you have a meeting, I could take a walk around the grounds, you know, to get inspired.”

Donna stopped eating, with a slightly more serious, darker look. You didn't expect any other reaction.

All the virtues of the lady in black were enough to make you fall in love, but, like everyone, she also had flaws. The worst of them was her subtle possessiveness, her jealousy, the fear of losing you, something that always led her to overprotect you, to put a bubble wrap on you so nothing dared to harm you.

The lady wiped herself with a napkin, drinking some wine before looking at you suspiciously, perhaps searching for the words to dissuade you.

“Mm, you can wait for me so we can go together,” she murmured, searching for the lie, the deception in your gaze, something that made you even more nervous.

“Yeah, but... Well, it's just that I don't know when you're going to come back,” you said with a voice that was getting weaker and weaker, playing with your cutlery so as not to look at that darkened eye. “Last time it got dark.”

“You know you can't go out alone, (Y/N),” she said abruptly, crossing your arms. “If I come back late, we'll go another day.”

“But Donna... I...” you insisted with a broken voice, with the seriousness of her gaze stabbing a dagger into your heart.

“Basta, (Y/N). We've talked about it many times,” she hissed, clenching her fists on the table, without changing that sinister expression. “You can't go out, it's dangerous.”

“You worry too much,” you murmured, frowning and shaking your head. “Nothing will happen to me, it's still your territory.”

“I worry enough, tesoro,” she whispered, crossing her arms. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

“I think you're exaggerating, darling,” you said with a fake smile. “I don't think anything will happen to...”

“You can't go out!” the woman in black shouted, with an angry voice, losing control, something that happened less and less frequently.

“Donna...” you whispered, scared by her abruptness.

 It shouldn't surprise you, but your soul was suffering to see the love of your life losing control.

“I'm sorry,” she said nervously, looking at the table and shaking her head. “I just... I can't imagine that... (Y/N) you, you can fall off the cliff, you can trip and hurt yourself, do you understand? How do you think I would feel if something happened to you?”

You nodded, calmer as you saw the light in that darkness again. It seemed to take a lot of effort, but little by little, she began to control her problems, more or less.

“Um, Donna,” Angie interrupted, dispelling the uncomfortable tension that had formed between you. “Can you stop being too Donna?”

“It's none of your business,” the brunette hissed, her breathing still labored.

“Come on, silly Donna, (Y/N) is not a dog. You can't have her stuck in the house all day long,” the doll said, defending you. You raised your eyebrows but didn't intervene. “She's not stupid, nothing will happen to her.”

“Am I talking to you?” the lady asked, with a dangerous tone, getting nervous again.

“Now you are,” the puppet joked, laughing amused.

“Ugh…” Donna protested, shaking her head and getting up from the table, approaching you.

The brunette bent down, taking your hands, kneeling on the floor with a different expression, a sad, pleading one.

“Amore mio, I'm sorry…” she said in a soft voice. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

You nodded slowly, letting her hands caress you with soft, but trembling hands.

“I'm sorry, per favore, perdonami…” she sighed again, burying her head in your lap, soaking your dress with a tear of sadness and regret. “You are the most important thing in my life, my girl… My soul…”

“Donna…” you sighed, caressing her black hair, calming her demons little by little, comforting her in your arms. “My love…”

“If I lost you, I would…” she sobbed again, raising her head to look into your eyes.

“Shh,” you whispered softly, caressing her cheek. “You won't lose me, I promise. I promise I'll be careful of cliffs, ditches, and anything that could hurt me. Nothing will happen to me, darling, trust me.”

“O-Okay,” she said, nodding, getting up from while kissing you slowly, repentant for her irrational anger. “You're right, tesoro.”

You smiled tenderly, ending that argument.

It was funny. When Donna was in trouble, your informal nature, your self-confidence came back to lend a hand to you. Sometimes you wondered what your life would be like if you hadn't given up socializing, if that desire to talk for hours, to say everything you thought, had remained.

“You're welcome, silly...” Angie whispered, while Donna and you looked at each other in love, in silence, with the sweet glow of forgiveness on her face.

You looked amused at the doll and back at its owner, who shook her head, pulling you up from the chair so she could hug you affectionately, lovingly, letting a sigh run through your bodies as you buried your head in her black dress.

“I love you so much...” she whispered, swaying with you. “I have a hard time believing that you're really with me, it's like a dream.”

“Don't say that,” you said shyly again, with the blush on your cheeks confirming that the bad moment was over. “You know I blush easily…”

“Mm,” she murmured, stealing one last kiss from you before slowly pulling away, her gaze fixed on yours. “I like seeing you blush… You're beautiful, you know?”

“Donna,” you said looking away and giving her a playful punch on the shoulder. “Stop it…”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed amused, leaving you some room again and turning towards the table. “I'm going to pick this up, you… Well, why don't you prepare a movie?”

“Oh, I… Okay,” you said, with the blush limiting your words, walking towards the elevator until a tug on your dress stopped you.

“Hey, you, aren't you forgetting something?” Angie said, crossing her arms with a cocky tone and pose.

“Um…” you murmured, frowning, confused and looking for Donna's help. Unfortunately, the lady was busy with the dishes. “N-no, I don't know,” you stammered.

“I helped you, I demand compensation,” the doll told you, determined to not let you go.

“What do you want? you asked nervously, playing with your hands.

“Oh, it’s not complicated, just one word: Spaceships,” Angie said, with an amused tone.

Not knowing if she was joking or on the contrary, she was serious, you rolled your eyes, without answering back, hitting the elevator button.

The next day, that afternoon, you were finally able to go out for some fresh air. The meetings of the Lords were always something annoying for you, something that took Donna away from you but… That day, you really needed that walk.

Unfortunately for you, that silent walk through the forest was not entirely useful. Your head tried to get inspired, but you were unable to do so. Maybe what you needed was a break.

“Okay…” you said, closing the door of the mansion, scared when you felt a tug on your dress. “Oh, no!” you squealed, thinking that maybe someone had grabbed it.

Your face turned red from embarrassment, but not like when Donna whispered in your ear, this time it was because of the terrible ridicule you had before your eyes.

 In your clumsiness, with your mind wandering through imaginary landscapes, you had closed the door too soon, thus trapping the fabric of your dress.

“I don't believe I'm that stupid…” you muttered, pulling hard on the fabric, unable to open the door again. “Shit!” you screamed when, with a disgusting sound, the fabric tore, ruining one of your dresses, one of the ones Donna made for you. “See? That’s why I wanted to learn how to sew…” you hissed, lamenting, kicking the floor nervously.

Furious, angry with yourself for your clumsiness, cursing in ways you only used when you were alone, you went down to the bedroom to change clothes, searching in your head for the best way to ask the doll maker to fix your dress again.

“Great, (Y/N), you’re stupid…” you said to yourself, opening the closet and looking for a nice dress, one to give her a surprise you thought she deserved.

Rummaging through the clothes, something fell to the floor. It looked like a small box, like a jewelry box. You picked it up, unable to resist the temptation to open it.

Maybe there were the Beneviento family jewels. Maybe some ruby, sapphire, or precious stones would serve as inspiration for some weapon in your novel.

“What?” you said surprised when you saw its contents. There were no rings, no necklaces.

Inside that small box were photographs, a few photographs in which you were the main protagonist.

“No…” you sighed, watching yourself walking to the market, reading alone in a corner… It was obvious, although you couldn't believe it. Donna had been spying on you.

Long before she met you, before she dared to talk to you that day, she had been following you, stalking you without you realizing it.

The thoughts became confused in your mind. That idealization of the lady in black, that feeling of thinking that it wasn't your beauty that attracted her in the first place, blurred as you looked at those photographs.

You shook your head, feeling your stomach sink, how everything you thought was clouded in a fog of betrayal, of deceit.

“Everyone is the same… You too,” you said nervously, with a dark hiss, squeezing one of the photos in your hand.

You, who believed that she was the only one who loved you for who you were inside, and not on the outside, saw that, in reality, the brightness of your eyes, your face, your figure, was what attracted her attention, you didn't know how long ago.

“Why, Donna? Fuck... I thought you were different...” you lamented, passing a hand over your forehead.

Disappointment attacked your feelings, but the love you felt for the lady in black was resilient, even with that disappointment, your heart didn't change sides, it was still with her and it always would be.

“(Y/N)?” her soft voice interrupted your laments. The sound of her heels was getting closer. Apparently, that day, the meeting ended early.

A smiling Donna entered the bedroom, ignoring the scene in front of her, grabbing your waist, leaning you in a chivalrous manner and kissing you in a somewhat old-fashioned way, something that, in other circumstances, drove you crazy.

“I've missed you, tesoro…” she whispered with a tender voice, approaching your lips.

You, angry, upset by your discovery, turned your head away, pushing Donna roughly.

“(Y/N), what…?” the lady asked with a frown at your rejection. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's this, Donna?” you asked hissing, showing the lady one of the photographs, one in which you were calmly reading.

“Oh, I…” she said shyly, blinking in embarrassment due to your discovery, with the smile slowly fading from her face. “Well, I…”

“How long have you been doing this?” you asked, putting the embarrassment aside, demanding explanations with an irrational fury.

“I...I...” she stammered, desperate, nervous, shaking her head.

“I...I...” you scoffed unpleasantly. “Fuck, Donna, I thought you were different!”

“What? No, I, I just...” she said, unable to look you in the eyes, terribly embarrassed.

“You just what? Were you spying on me?” you asked, getting a little closer in a threatening way, making her back off. “Answer!”

“It's not that, I...” she said, breathing heavily. “You, you don't understand.”

“No, of course I don't understand...” you hissed, looking at the ceiling. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

Donna shook her head, her body shaking, totally humiliated.

“Because you weren't like the rest, because I thought you looked beyond my physical appearance,” you explained, pointing at her with your finger, forcing her to lower her head, to accept your reprimand.

“But, but I...” the lady interrupted, narrowing her eye. “Listen to me, I...”

“No, I don't want to listen to you, Donna,” you said, nullifying any attempt of the brunette to defend herself, to explain herself. You didn't remember having gotten that nervous, ever. “Why were you doing this? Why were you spying on me?”

“Because, because I... I, I love you...” she stammered, with a sad look. “I fell in love with you before I met you and...”

“So that's why you were secretly taking pictures of me, right? That's creepy, Donna,” you snapped, showing the photograph. “I can't believe it. You're just like everyone else…”

“No, you're wrong, I'm not like them,” the lady in black defended herself, with a tear running down her cheek, reaching out her arms to grab yours, something you prevented with an unpleasant gesture.

“You've shown me… I'm just a pretty face to you, aren't I?” you said in an ironic tone. “I always was. If you loved me before you met me it means that the only thing you cared about was my appearance, right? Then fuck you!” you shouted furiously, crumpling the photograph in your hands and letting it fall to the floor.

You were completely unhinged. Not even you could understand the reason for your anger, you simply couldn't.

“No…No, no, no, no,” Donna sobbed, throwing herself to the floor and grabbing the photograph, smoothing it again with trembling hands. “That’s my favorite…” you whispered, holding it tightly against her chest.

“They’re right about you, you’re a sick nutcase,” you hissed without thinking, letting out all that irrational rage.

Donna didn’t respond. She just closed her eye shifting on her stomach with your picture on her chest, crying inconsolably.

A spark of sanity came back to your mind, making you put a hand over your mouth, aware of what you had just said, of the damage you had done to poor Donna just because your beauty made you feel self-conscious, just because that was the reason for your hermetic attitude. You didn't want to be a pretty face, not to her.

“Gods...” you sighed, shaking your head and putting a hand on the shoulder of the lady, who was still crying inconsolably. “Gods, Donna, forgive me, I didn't mean that.”

“I just wanted...” she murmured, her voice broken by sobs. “I wanted to see you all the time... I knew, I knew I could never have you so... I took pictures of you secretly but, but it's not what you think... It's not that... It's not that!”

“Don't you understand how bad makes me feel that you noticed me because of my looks?” you asked in a softer, calmer tone.

“Is that really a bad thing?” the lady asked, putting the photograph back in the box.

You remained thoughtful, stepping back.

“N-No, I don't know,” you murmured unsurely, calming your breathing. “The truth is, I…”

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” Donna said, putting the box away in the closet, controlling her sobs. “I don't care if you hate me saying it. I'm not going to stop doing it.”

“Donna…” you sighed, relaxing little by little, regretting your attitude.

“Yes, I fell in love with you, always so quiet, reading anywhere, with that smile…” she whispered, bringing her trembling hand closer to your face. “You are like a Goddess to me, better than a Goddess… But I… I knew that I could never have you, that you would never love someone like me. I limited myself to looking at you from afar, dreaming of your beauty, until that day…”

“What day?” you asked, tilting your head, with a serious face, but with your eyes shining.

“The day you were talking to that boy, when you were telling him a story,” she said, without looking at you, still nervous. “Then I had no choice but to do something. Besides being a beautiful girl, you were smart, you had imagination. I had to meet you, (Y/N). I had to know if your beauty also touched your soul… And it really did.”

“That's… Very, very nice,” you said with an involuntary smile, lifting her chin. “Donna, Gods, I went too far… Forgive me…”

“I’ll always forgive you, (Y/N), you are the love of my life,” she said, placing her hand in yours. “Don't worry about the photos, I… If they disgust you that much… I'll, I'll get rid of them.”

“No, wait, honey,” you said, stopping the lady from bending down again to pick up the box. “Wait, my love… No, it's not necessary…”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, (Y/N), I live to take care of you, to love you…” Donna murmured, caressing your face erratically.

“I know, Donna, I…” you stammered, losing yourself in her gaze, in her sincere words of love. “Donna…” you sobbed, burying yourself in her arms, hugging your lover tightly, calming the delusions of your mind.

Her embrace was warm, comforting as always, strong, safe… In your head you regretted your attitude, that fury, the absurd transformation of your personality due to the interest people had in you, a physical interest, without feelings, a superficial vision of what you were on the outside and not on the inside.

The things the lady in black did, the photographs, didn't matter. Little by little you began to realize that it wasn't important.

What was important to her wasn't your appearance. It was that your beauty was linked to your soul, to your intelligence.

“Honey…” you sighed nervously, caressing her cheek, letting her arms cradle you. She looked back at you, nodding for you to speak. “Forgive me. I'm sure you'd like me to be a little more talkative or outgoing but… It's just that… Everything, everything that's happened to me, my disappointments… I…”

“Shh, don't go on, darling. It doesn't matter… I like the way you are, I love you just the way you are…” she whispered, kissing your lips softly, mixing your salty tears with the dance of a loving kiss, a sincere one, one that ended that horrible moment you both suffered.

Donna pulled away, making an effort to give you a smile, one that made your cheeks shine again with that blushing tone.

“Mm?” the lady in black murmured, when her gaze strayed to the torn sleeve of your dress. “What happened to your dress?”

“It's just that...” you murmured, moving your ankle, embarrassed. “The door caught me.”

“The door,” she said, with an amused expression, studying the damage of the seam. “Don't worry, dolcezza, I'll fix it.”

“You always fix everything, don't you?” you said shyly, looking down, only being able to hear her nervous laugh, a sweet and tender one. “Okay, let... Let me...”

Your feelings sent signals to your head as you moved away from the lady, with your cheeks flushed and your hands tremblingly traveling to the buttons of your dress, slowly undoing them, one by one.

“Tesoro, what..?” Donna asked, looking at you curiously, watching how, controlling your shyness, you took off the sleeves of your arms, thus revealing your partially covered torso.

“Shh, I'm embarrassed if you talk,” you whispered nervously. “Just let me do it by myself”

She nodded, not wanting to bother you, to intimidate you, running her gaze over all the parts of your body that were gradually becoming exposed.

“Sei una dea della bellezza,” the lady in black murmured, breathing nervously in front of your half-naked body.

“Don't even talk to me like that. Don't use Italian against me. You know I'm embarrassed…” you protested amused, grunting in shame, unable to hold her gaze.

You could sense a smile as she approached, surrounding your body with her hands, caressing your waist, your back, lifting your chin so your blushing face looked at hers.

“I will never be tired of saying how beautiful you are,” she whispered in your ear, with that melodic voice that always made you squirm, while her soft, delicate hands took advantage of your distraction to act on the clasp of your bra, unbuttoning it instantly.

You laughed again, resisting the embarrassing impulse of your hands, which asked you to cover yourself. Fighting your own shyness, you succeeded, while Donna helped you face that absurd shame with a soft kiss from her lips, with some sensual caresses on your bare back.

“Donna…” you whispered, letting yourself be carried away by the humidity of those tender kisses, by the glances, by the sighs, by that increasingly warm, an increasingly anxious atmosphere.

Your dress fell down your legs, crashing against the floor irremediably, making a shiver run through your legs, the cold making the hairs on your skin stand on end.

“Come here, amore mio… This horrible floor is not worthy of your footsteps…” Donna whispered, lifting you in her arms in an elegant way, raising your half-naked body to lay it on the bed.

“Why are you so tender?” you asked amused, crawling across the mattress, closely followed by the brunette, who began to get rid of her own clothes without taking her gaze off yours, a look of admiration, of faith, of adoration to your body, to you.

She didn't answer, she simply moved the black dress away from her body, approaching you little by little, running her hands over your legs, over your waist... Leaning down after a sigh and kissing you again.

They were sweet, tender kisses but they betrayed the passion that had begun to form in the dark bedroom. The blush on your cheeks didn't want to leave your skin, shame refused to give you a break.

You were sure that every time your lover ran her hand over your face, her skin burned from your heat.

You laughed shyly when Donna exposed her bare torso as well, when she did with her hands what yours were incapable of doing, uncovering the beautiful woman beneath that black fabric, that pale, soft skin you were addicted to.

A brave arm pulled her head, returning her lips to where they belonged, directly to yours.

Her hips began to dance over yours. The heat of her body was mixing with yours. The kisses became fiercer, wilder as her fingers enjoyed your body, the shapes and curves you were born with, that kind of cursed blessing your beauty was.

“Gods… I love you…” Donna whispered, shaking her head, unable to repress her excitement any longer, pulling down your underwear with a soft movement, studying your embarrassed face, your gaze desperately searching for a place to focus on that wasn't her body.

“I love you,” you repeated, trembling as that hand ran down your chest, the other spreading your legs, exposing you completely.

The wine seemed pale compared to your cheeks. Your whole body trembled nervously as Donna finished undressing, as she positioned herself on top of you, ready to make you hers.

“Please, if you want me to stop, just…” she said, looking for the doubt in your eyes, that unmovable blush on your cheeks when her erection brushed the moisture of your folds, when you saw for yourself what you were doing to her body.

“No, no, Donna…” you said, gaining confidence due to that obscene, lustful touch, one that you had already experienced, but that you had a hard time getting used to. “Just… Don’t, don't look at me, okay?”

The brunette laughed, delaying her entrance and shaking her head, running a hand over your reddish cheeks and another one over your leg, scratching it without harming you.

“You can't ask me that…” she whispered with a smile distorted by desire, while her hips forced her to move so as not to lose that wet contact. “Watching you is my greatest hobby… You can close your eyes.”

You obeyed, writhing from the sensations her hard shaft sent to your body, not wanting to see her gaze when making love to you, not wanting to feel the shame that would prevent you from enjoying.

“Ah, Donna…” you gasped when she finally entered slowly, letting your wet entrance adapt, without forcing, enjoying the moisture that surrounded her, the ease with which your body accepted that invasion.

“Am I hurting you, amore mio?” Donna asked in an almost silent whisper, moving more slowly until she entered completely.

You, unable to say a word, unable to bear that incredible pleasure, shook your head, running your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you. That gesture reached the brunette, who quickly understood the message, you wanted her to move.

You would never say anything, you would never ask for anything. The only thing you could do without dying of embarrassment was to moan, to say her name, but never interrupt or dare to ask her for something different.

The wet sound of your bodies was accompanied by discreet moans, by the random sound of your lips colliding with each other in a disorderly manner. Everything gave you pleasure: her hands, her erection deforming your walls, her soft caresses, her reassuring, flattering whispers…

You were stupid. You would never give up that, the comfort of her body inside yours, the love and understanding that only Donna could give you.

In the middle of that lustful festival, your arms moved alone, running down her back, enjoying her skin when you thought she didn't notice, when the soft but determined movements of her hips began to become erratic.

Her hands also lost their tenderness, gently grabbing your legs, lifting them at will. Just thinking about that look, that eye shining with desire as she took you… Just with that thought you let out a louder moan and your hips began to want to keep up.

It was an intense rhythm, embarrassing but not wanting to miss anything, wanting to enjoy each one of those wonderful sensations, that very sexual, erotic and hot way that Donna had of expressing her love for you.

“(Y/N)…” she moaned, losing the rhythm, moaning faster, unable to control her movements, scratching your legs, your fragile skin.

That only made you tense up, scream, say words you would never say while you noticed how your body contracted, how your walls played with her erection, hugging it, holding it, squeezing it until, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your orgasm, she released herself inside you, stopping her body as close to yours as possible, with her legs shaking and her seed sending soft and wet caresses to you.

“My love…” you sighed when the lady fell exhausted on your chest, catching her breath little by little, with a smile, not wanting to leave your wet and warm body.

“(Y/N)… Ti amo, ti amo…” she repeated over and over again, finally coming out of you and covering your face with kisses, settling you under the sheets, letting her body surround yours, protecting it from shame, from your fears…

“Donna,” you said, snuggling up to her, controlling your still agitated breathing, melting into her body in a tender embrace, far from the lust of moments before. That was the true reward, for which you fought day after day with her insecurities and with yours.

Her hugs, her caresses, her fingers tangling in your hair… That was much better than Paradise, much more pleasurable than anything else.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked after a few minutes in which your breathing was the only soundtrack. Her voice was tired, exhausted from the effort, but always, always in love.

“Yes…” you sighed, snuggling up a little more, wrapping her other arm around yourself, daring to look at her smiling face, making your ears delight in her soft and affectionate laughter. “I've never been better…”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Out of reasons to love you

requested: Reader realizes that her and Az are mates, but she also knows that Az has feelings for Elain. She made him choose (without him knowing about the bonds). He chose Elain and reader breaks/rejects the bonds. The potential angst this could have omg.

a/n I apologize in advance🫂

Azriel x reader

warnings:pain more pain, blood and did I mention pain?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Love. What a ravishing thing it can be. One to lift the fallen ones and encourage them to go the distance they never imagined. A power to build. To create. Cherish and worship. Songs, books, and paintings all have a hint of love in them because the inspirational power of it extends itself beyond this world. Yet not enough attention is given to what happens when love isn't answered. When it's crushed under one's feet. Ripped out of one's chest.

You met Azriel when you two were still little. You happen to live next door to his father's house. And screams, even if muffled, didn't go unnoticed by you. You'd slithered out of bed one night, holding a teddy bear in one hand as you climbed down the ivy tree through the window.

That was the first time you saw what happened down in the basement. What horrible things Azriel's father, stepmother, and stepbrothers did. The torture behind the cry you have listened to for weeks now. You ran away the first night, but you couldn't stop thinking about it no matter what you did. So you went back.

Azriel was crying quietly in the corner, his burnt hands trembling. That was all it took for the fear of being caught to vanish. Maybe being so empathetic was going to be your downfall, but the boy looked like he could use some help, and you weren't about to leave him alone. And the moment Azriel turned to you, once he heard you knocking on the little dirt window, everything changed.

Your tiny frame allowed you to squeeze through the open window so you could make your way in and out of the basement. Azriel didn't talk much at first, but you didn't blame him. So you did the talking at the beginning. Bringing him food your mother made, sweets, and tonics for the bruises. Sat by his side in silence. Then, once the burns had healed, you took hold of his hand and held it in yours. Although one thing Azriel was the most thankful for was you massaging and moving his wings. Wings he couldn't use to fly with. Wings, he couldn't even stretch in that horrible place since the basement was way too small for it. If not for you, he would have lost all feeling in them.

Sent by Mother herself. His ray of sunshine. That's what he called you. Azriel feared that you would vanish and walk out on him, but that never happened. No matter what was to come, in one way or another, you found your way back to him. Even the night you two got caught and his father walked in on you cleaning the new cuts he had left on his son's body, you didn't back away.

You stood firmly in front of Azriel, throwing a bottle of tonic at his head as the male inched to move closer. Even if it did nothing, you fought till the moment you were in his grip. Trashing around like a wild animal. That was the night Azriel moved to fight himself. The sight of his father's hands on you. Gripping your body tightly made him roar out in anger, and with a vicious pull, he ripped one of the chains off his hands.

He didn't get to reach you, but it was enough to prove a point. That you had saved that last piece of his soul. That you had managed to keep the fire inside him alive. Shielding it from anything and everything that imposed a threat of putting it out.

That was the night when they brought out the torches again. The night they made you watch as they dipped Azriel's hands in the flames. You cried for Azriel. Azriel cried out of the agony he was in. And you two cried for that last bit of hope you secretly wished for, and it got answered. As two Illyrian soldiers broke through the doors.

They tried to separate you from each other, but it was pointless. The moment the warriors unclasped the chains, even with trembling legs, Azriel stepped closer to you. You didn't have enough strength to hold him up, but you still managed to break his fall just a little. Even with unimaginable pain. Until the moment he went unconscious. He clung to you as if all of his world was made out of you. And even coldhearted warriors didn't find enough strength in themselves to pull the two of you apart. So to the camps, you went.

The first couple of weeks were torturous. They didn't let Azriel heal properly. You tried to fight that decision, but your eagerness only resulted in you earning a harsh slap. So you went on behind their backs. Slipping out at night to find herbs and making different mixtures yourself, as you saw your mother do, all in hopes of keeping infection away from your friend's hands. You warmed each other up during those cold nights, never letting go of one another unless it was necessary.

Things changed when Rhysand came around alongside Cassian. And with that, of course, Rhys's mother, who took both of you in since she appeared to know Azriel's birth mother.

Azriel was beyond protective of you when he brought you alongside him to the house, which the boys were now supposed to share. He kept you behind him, glaring at the other two boys the moment they tried to peek behind Azriel's wings to see you. You were his and his only. The only good thing that had happened to him ever since he entered this world. And on that jealous side of him, he didn't want to share you with anyone else, especially not other males. At times, Azriel didn't realize what all of this meant. Too young to pick and find the meaning of his feelings.

Yet that happiness didn't last long. And that small chunk of time you two used to spend together every day was ripped away from you. When the teenage horniness kicked in and Rhysand's mother wasn't around, it seemed like they would let loose completely. They started to bring females in almost every night. Females who were way older than you and whose bodies had already matured. They looked at you with pity, but you pretended that you didn't see it. You laughed off Cassian, who wiggled his eyebrows every time he tried to sneak in a new female in. Ignored Rhys when he was being clumsy. But it was Azriel's moans that brushed your heart every time you heard them. You were happy for him regardless. Since you never allowed yourself the thought of him loving you. Friends. Perhaps siblings, but never lovers. So the more those nights appeared, the more you found yourself slipping out of the house and sitting outside the camp borders till the sun started rising in the sky.

After endless females came his first-ever love. Love for Rhysand's sister. You still consider it your first true heartbreak. That was the first girl he talked to you about. You and her were great friends, especially since you never really had female friends, and Azriel saw that as an opportunity to understand how her mind worked.

Morgan was next in line. It was clear to you that she had no interest in Azriel, but he seemed oblivious. Oblivious to the point where, for weeks, he ignored you. Convinced that the reason why Mor wasn't giving him a chance was that she thought that you and Azriel were together. So you stepped away like you always did. Stepped away because your love for Azriel was way stronger. Meaning that you were willing to hurt yourself to ensure that he was happy.

The day Azriel found out that Cassian took Mor's maidenhead was the first time you saw him seriously mad about something. So openly mad that he had moved to beat Cassian up. Your attempts to separate them were pointless, but you tended to the bruises afterward without a single complaint.

You wondered what was wrong with you that he didn't see it. Didn't see you. Acting out of a wimp you kissed him that night. You hoped your body and the sounds you made would make him finally see what was right in front of him. Yet this only made the situation worse. The bond had snapped for you that night, and you clung to Azriel like all your life depended on it, but the moment you two caught your breaths, Azriel walked away.

You had never told him that that was your first time. That you were glad that it was him. That's how you always wanted it to be. Gods, and most importantly, you didn't tell him anything about the bond.

When Elain came around, the last drops of wishful thinking vanished in an instant. Azriel was infatuated with her. Even if you tried to be discreet while being around them, you didn't need to hear it to know what was happening inside his heart. He still seek you out when he was hurt and needed comfort, but he never stayed long enough to warm your bed. In all honesty, he only did this when there was no one else who wanted to warm his bed.

And gods know you tried to give him a hint. You tried to tell him that you loved him. That you two were bound by a bond of all things. The bond he so desperately wanted to find. But if, after so many years, he had no clue about it, what realistic chance did you stand?

You were sitting in your room with a cup of tea warming your hands as the doors to your bedroom opened and Azriel walked in. You didn't need to study him long to see that he must have faced some sort of trouble since his face was bruised. The shadow singer simply sat down on one of the chairs before moving to undo his leathers, but you didn't move.

"I think the end of an arrow is still in my shoulder," he said, voice calm as he spoke. This was a typical thing for you two. He found comfort in your presence, and you found comfort in knowing that he was well, but you didn't move an inch this time. "Y/N," Azriel said, trying to get your attention, but all you did was stare at the wall in front of you.

"What am I to you?", Azriel let out a muffled laugh, scanning your frame. You knew that he was silently questioning your timing in bringing this question up. You had voiced your feelings once to him. You told him that you felt mistreated and neglected by him, but that changed nothing.

"Can we deal with the arrow first and then talk about this?", "No, we can't," you turned your back to him, "We can't because I'm tired of being your rag doll. I have feelings too, you know." Your eyes were stinging already, and you hated yourself for being this emotional.

"Why are you treating me like this, Azriel? Can't you see how I feel about you?", your eyes desperately searched for any glimpse of understanding, anything that would make you realize how he felt. But he only ran a hand through his hair. "Are you going to help me with this or do I need to find someone else to help me?" Those words pierced right through your heart, and you felt your bottom lip trembling. Azriel lingered for a moment before he walked out of your room, slamming the door.

Sleep didn't find you all night long, and with the early morning light, you made your way out of the house. "What a pleasant surprise!", the day court was gleaming with light, but it only made you sulk more. The smile on Helion's face not helping the case much as well. "I need your help," you stated blandly. You two had worked together for some time when Rhys assigned you to conduct several kinds of research in one of Helion's libraries.

"Ask away," he said sheepishly, tilting his head to the side, "How do I get rid of a bond and don't give me that stupid bullshit." You knew you were in no position to order him around but secretly hoped that those couple of times you had slept with him would give you the answer you needed.

"You can reject...," you gave the high lord a disappointed look, "I don't want to reject it; I want to break it."

Helion knew about your bond with Azriel. Knew that none of the sweet words you spoke to him meant anything. That they were all for the shadow singer, "Hun, you can get yourself killed", "Does it look to you like I care?", you knew that you looked a mess. You were sure your face was dull, eyes sunken in and puffy from all the crying, "You can help me, or I'll do it myself".

Drawing shapes on the marble floor felt wrong in a way. But you didn't stop; the book of spells that Helion gave you was firmly clenched in the other hand. You had collected all that you needed. One thing that represented you. One thing to ground you. One thing to break the bond. And one thing you had lost. All you needed now was a drop of Azriel's blood, and everything would be complete. You knew that all of them were having dinner upstairs. So with a dagger firmly held in your hands, you made your way up.

You shouldn't have stopped to look at them all. That was a mistake. You didn't need to ask or hear it. It was enough to see the way Azriel sat next to Elain, his eyes never leaving her, to know that she was the one that he chose. One of many that had replaced you.

"Y/N, dear, how nice of you to join us." Rhys's voice made you jump slightly, but you managed to smile as you walked inside. Cassian gave you a sad look, brushing his fingers along your upper arm as you walked past him as if he were trying to support you, noticing the lack of life in your features, "Not for long," you mutter under your breath. Swiftly cutting Azriel's arm, followed by your fingers, which brush alongside his blood. And then you're off, running out of the dining room and down the stairs. Cutting your palm while you're at it. A breath of relief when you see the wooden door. Stepping between the white lines and quickly pressing your hands to the still empty places. Closing your eyes, you started mumbling the spell Helion told you to memorize.

You could hear the doors being opened and voices filling the space. Azriel was quick to try and reach for you, but Rhys stops him instantly: "You can't cross that." That's when his eyes took in the sight in front of him and his heart broke a little. But some mystical breeze killed the lights of all the candles before the circle you sat in started to glow.

"What are you doing, YN?", Azriel asks, trying to step closer, but his brothers kept holding onto him. You lifted your eyes to look at him, and it was like he had seen you for the first time like he finally could read the pain inside you.

"I'm letting you go," Azriel shook his head, still unsure about what you were on about. Din not understand till the sharpest pain ripped through his chest, sending him down to his knees.

"I gave you everything. I tried to be everything for you, but I was never good enough," you cried out, blood slowly starting to run out of your eyes as you gazed at him.

"But I ran out of reasons to love you, Azriel, and you refused to get to know me, so I'm letting you go," you continued to mumble the rest of the spell. Azriel's screams ripped through the room, and Rhys could only do so much to take some of the pain away.

"Don't Y/N, I... Don't break it", Rhys mumbled now caught on to what was happening, "Break?", Azriel asked through painful breaths, "You knew? Y/N...".

A bitter laugh escapes your lips as your body begins to shake, "Almost five hundred, and you're only figuring it out now", you said sadly.

The thread between you starts to glow. Now visible for everyone to see. Azriel wailed again, and this time your painful screams joined him. And the light began to dim before cracks appeared throughout the thread. Your eyes meet Azriel's, and it felt like you have finally seen him after years of searching for a man you had fallen for.

But then an unimaginable silence filled the room. The silence that sands your hands up so you could cover your ears as blood seeped out of them. Silence, with the sound of a needle falling. Like a drop of water hitting the surface. The bond broke. Shattering into a million pieces. The holler that left Azriel's chest sent the whole place trembling, and then the silence returned. Azriel's body gave up, sending him to the floor. Not even Cassian and Rhys managed to hold him up. His breaths were uneven and his body shaking, but he still turned his head to look at you.

You. Who was laying in the pool of your own blood. You who he could no longer feel. You were the one who had taken his heart. You who he hurt because he had loved you too deeply. You who had died because Azriel was too afraid to admit that it had always been you. It's been you ever since you jumped into that little basement and offered him your teddy bear. You.

--------

All acotar writing: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek

[tomssexdoll]

heyyy titty shitty witty kitty litty baeeee

SO what abt ljke mafia boss bill TEEHEHEEEEEE and he’s like cold and a killer yk typical mafia boss things but he met you at a fancy party and fell madly in love and now y’all are married!! and he’s not cold or mean towards you and only you, he’s just a little teddy bear in private. and even in front of his little henchmen tbh. and the sex is NAAAAHHSSSTYYY😈😈🙏🙏‼️‼️‼️‼️ he def into that kinky shii. and he’s also like super paranoid that his arch nemesis will come after you so he’s super protective!!! antywaysss these would probably be best as head cannons and i imagine it as 2010/2011 bill THAANKSS♥️🐺🙏

YESSS HEY GIRLLLL

mafia bill headcannons

(ok ik mafia stories are severley looked down upon but shut up ur irrelevant, TAKE THIS AND DEAL W IT)

Your family is very rich, very high in power

you met at a fancy dinner event

your parents were asking for favours from Bill

your families are very close now

when he first saw you he instantly fell in love

tried to impress you the whole night

literally begged your dad to let him be with you

he was a bit cold at first, worried you'd run out on him

after confessing your true feelings he warmed up quickly

showers you with gifts

never cold or mean towards you and ONLY YOU

yells at someone or fights someone and is in a really shitty mood but the SECOND he sees you, he is happy

very affectionate in private, always asking for cuddles, kisses, hugs

literally whines when you don't cuddle him

will let his henchmen see him like that only sometimes

you always joke and say "how about I record you like this and show everyone?"

when he yells or gets mad at you he instantly regrets it and comforts you

very very protective

will kill anyone if they try to hurt you

you're the only one that's seen him cry

always on edge

thinking that rivals or enemies will kidnap you when he isn't there so he has literally 10 body guards follow you everywhere you go

VERY FREAKY IN BED

choking, spanking, hair pulling (by him ofc)

loves when you act out so he can "punish" you

sex is super rough but so good

will make you overstimulated 90% of the time

loves to see you cry during sex

loves to see you beg for more

aftercare is amazing he is so caring

buys you anything you want no matter the price

goes on dates with you all the time whether you plan it or he does

loves your date ideas and usually prefers when you plan something

hand on your thigh while he drives

sometimes he fingers you while he's speeding on the highway

very risky but never ever puts you in danger

one time you were so drunk at the club and he came to get you, when you refused to go home with him he slung you over his shoulder and carried you out

loves cooking with you

the other members of the mafia/bodyguards and just anyone in the house finds your relationship so cute

he's never had a soft spot for anyone before

when you came into the picture he swore to love and protect you no matter what

loves when you talk about your future, (wedding, kids)

admires you while you sleep (not in a weird way like if you fell asleep in his arms while watching a movie he'd be like aww)

loves playing with your hair before bed

gives the best massages

shower sex duh

car sex after an event

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @ballhair @estxkios @charliesgoodboy @ge-billsgf @bkaulitzlover

[hereticdrws]

Mizu headcannons

Warnings: panic attacks, nightmares, mizu being a dick in the beginning

a/n: every day I wake up and check tumblr to see if anyone has posted a new mizu fanfic so I have stupidly decided to take it into my own hands 🥲/j

- ⚔ - enjoy my lovelies - ⚔ -

• mizu is definitely very distant during the beginning of yalls friendship/relationship, mostly because she doesn't want to be hurt again (m*k*io)

•she also will try to push you away later on like, showing you her scars, revealing she's a woman, and js showing all her flaws (not all of them all of them but most) in an attempt to scare you away

•you both still love each other in a friendly way like when her clothes get cut up you sew them together, when she's hurt/sick you'll do everything in your power to heal her/protect her until she's better and vice versa

• while she does try and scare you away with her flaws she also tries to show you she doesn't care abt you by kinda being a bitch

As I walked behind her, I wasn't aware of the hole in the ground covered by snow and leaves, I ended up tripping falling into her back.

"Watch it!"

She said in an angry tone, glaring at me as I looked up to her from the snow.

"Get up, we don't have any time to take naps"

She sneered.

"I clearly wasn't taking a nap, I fell, you don't have to be such a bitch about it"

I said under my breath.

"What did you say?"

She said, almost seething.

"Didn't say anything"

I shrugged... she simply glared at me before turning back to the road, mumbling about me under her breath.

• she definitely becomes more bitchier once she realizes she has a crush on you

• when she realizes she has a crush on you she kinda freaks out, telling herself there's no way you would ever like her back because you were both women

•she tries to push you away even more when she realizes but you don't budge, mostly because you know why she's trying to push you away (I mean cmon, girl can't hide her feelings for shit tbh 😭)

• once you realize 'oh shit she likes me' you DEFINITELY tease the ever-loving shit out of her but in a low key way

I walked beside mizu into the crowd of people, we had just arrived in a town near kohana, mizus old village, after visiting her sword father. The crowd seemed to basically part once mizu stept through, making way for the 'man' but the second mizu passed all I felt was shoulders bumping me and pushing me away from her.. at least that was my excuse.

I grabbed her hand as to stay near her, pulling myself towards her and wrapping my arm around hers.

"What are you doing?" She said in a low angry tone, though the subtle blush creeping onto her cheeks proved her tone other wise.

"Trying to stay on my feet without being pushed down, why is there something wrong?" I said with a slight smirk, raising my eyebrow at the 'samurai not samurai'

•you are definitely the first to confess feelings for mizu, but mizu is the first to initiate the kiss

•she's taken of guard by you telling her how much/long you love her

•her eyes kinda brimmed w tears when you confessed because she was so used to the feeling of never being loved

•when you fist kissed she was definitely very passionate when it came to it, being the touch starved woman she is 😌 for ex: she would push you down onto the cot (small bed) and make out with you like you were her last meal, she would definitely leave marks but it would stay at that, nothing nsfw....... yet.

•when you too finally become a 'couple' mizu is like 1000% more protective of you, always has to have her hands on you, whether it be in a crowd, the forest, a brothel, or even a tea house, if any danger comes the first thing on her mind is to protect you and vice versa

• she's definitely a cuddler, like she has had damn near no loving touch in her life so when she finally dates you, she can't keep her hands off

•she isn't big on pda since she has to protect her identity and being vulnerable in any way in public is js asking for danger

•but she would still keep her hands near you, whether it be around your waist, your arm, or your hand

•she has a few nicknames for you. Ex: honey, baby, love, and doll or dove bit that's only special occasions 😌

• she's also definitely the type to get jealous, she can't stand when your around taigen because of his flirty nature, ofc if you wanted to be friends with him, she wouldn't stop you, she doesn't want you to feel controlled or stuck

•but she'll get kinda petty abt it like she'll start ignoring you and kind of avoiding you, but you'll talk it out and everything will be fine (ik ik lazy writing don't judge 😔)

•it takes awhile for mizu to open up about her past, like allll of it, but when she does your right there holding her, stroking her hair as she tells you everything

•when mizu sleeps she tends to have nightmares alot due to her past and present (girl cannot catch a break for the life of her) so some nights she'll wake up screaming with her chest pounding, flying to her feet into a defensive position, but once her eyes adjust she'll sink onto the ground holding her chest. You'll shoot out of bed, slowly coming towards her, whispering every move your going to make to her so you don't frighten her more, once she catches her breath she'll fall into your hands, letting you pull her back to bed.

Ladies, gentlemen, and absolutely everyone else thank you for reading this, my asks are open for art reqs and any little oneshots or headcannons or literally whatever else I haven't written in ever 🥲 I hope you enjoyed, reblogs r highly appreciated!! I love yall tysm for reading 😊

-rowan

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Okay, here's some Mafia Wife Tonkla thoughts.

I have an idea for an AU that diverges from canon very early that I've been thinking about for a couple weeks, but this one hit me tonight and I had to type it up. I'll get the other one written in the next day or two, but please enjoy this:

(ao3 here)

Canon verse where they escape, and move out of Bangkok. It's a near miss with Win, and even after learning that Tonkla shot Great, almost losing Tonkla is so terrifying that Korn is sure that if he hadn't pulled Tonkla just that little bit to the left, if he’d been a half a breath slower, if Tonkla had died, that he would have taken his own life immediately after. Tonkla has been his reason for everything since college, without him, Korn has nothing to live for. 

So he forgives him (Great is out of the woods now, and Korn is so, so grateful and relieved; he loves his brother more than anything – anything except for Tonkla. He hopes he gets to hug his brother again, and scold him for smoking, and tell him he's sorry, but he needs Tonkla to breathe. He's not proud of it, but he won't deny Tonkla ever again).

Korn has the money and the phone with the contacts, and a list of burner identities. 

They get a modest house, trying to stay under the radar. Tonkla gets therapy to deal with Dome’s death, they work on their communication; Korn apologizes a lot. He apologizes until Tonkla tells him to stop, because he's already forgiven (it takes a lot, but not as much as it probably should, because Tonkla needs Korn just as much as Korn needs him.) They get a cast, and then another one to keep the first one company.

After they've been settled for a while – decorated the house and had a frankly absurd amount of sex (no condoms, finally. Tonkla is thrilled and Korn has developed a probably unhealthy come kink as a result of that enthusiasm) – they have a discussion about what they're going to do now.

Tonkla could do the programming and design that he used to do, Korn could get a management job easily, and they could make a comfortable, quiet life. 

Only, the phone is in a lockbox in a  drawer in their closet, it's the only thing in it.

Tonkla is the one who brings it up. Korn is… not sure he can do it. He was only ever interested in the actual business part of his family business. The illegal stuff was a surprise, and he only tried so hard to make it work because of he did well and got to take over from his dad, he could finally be with Tonkla properly.

Tonkla thinks it's cute, really, how Korn thinks that he would suggest that Korn give being a criminal another shot. He was not cut out for the violence necessary to running a criminal enterprise.

But Tonkla knows he is.

Korn is very resistant to the idea, but Tonkla gets really honest and confesses that the violence makes him feel powerful. After growing up on the other side of it, being the one to enact it is liberating. He isn't exactly proud of it, but he isn't ashamed either; he was able to free himself and his brother from their father's wrath, and he was able to avenge Dome when someone with more power aimed their rage at him and took him from Tonkla. 

(He has mostly forgiven Great, felt enough remorse that he doesn't have to lie to Korn about being sorry. It helps that he knows Great was just too spineless and selfish at the time to try to help Some. It also helps that turned himself in and he's being prosecuted.)

Korn accepts his confession without question, holds him while he says his piece, and is still holding him after. Korn tells him that there's nothing he could say that would make him leave, or love him any less. And then he proves it by going to their closet, getting the lockbox with the phone, and presenting it to Tonkla with a simple “Where do you think we should start?”

They go through the phone, and figure out who's who with a little bit of Korn’s knowledge, some careful internet searching and minor hacking to confirm dirty dealings.

They decide on the legitimate business first. They need to avoid anything related to what his family used to do, but Korn is confident is his ability to run any type of company, and they decide to start with a medium sized supply operation to get established. They but a space and get up and running before they make any phone calls.

They quickly find that a lot of Korn’s family's contacts are eager for a new way to launder their money. 

They've decided that they don't want to get involved with anyone who is in a business that exploits poor people – Korn remembers Nan and her story, and he doesn't want to pay people who could do what his parent's people did to her friend. And Tonkla's enjoyment of violence only really hits when it's committed against someone who thinks they're important and powerful. 

So, they choose people who mostly fuck over other rich people. Businessmen who manufacture subpar products that the wealthy love to buy to show off their wealth, construction companies who use legal loopholes to shirk responsibilities to their investors, and the like. They do a lot of corporate scavenging and acquisition, taking good fronts from bad people and scooping up their related criminal empires in the deal. Tonkla likes cleaning house after, getting rid of employees on either end who don't fall in line with their “company policy”.

Korn is in fact very good at running a company, and Tonkla enjoys the occasional opportunity for murder that presents itself. Sometimes, they hire someone that they know is going to fuck up, just because Tonkla can feel the itch for it (his first cat still appears to him sometimes, and so he tells Korn, who finds him someone despicable to deal with.)

Their business grows – both the legal one and the illegal one. The more upstanding criminals like working with them because they keep their hands relatively clean, and also because they occasionally take out their competition in the business or criminal world.

They're an even better team than they thought they'd be. Korn is respected and feared in the business world, and Tonkla is feared and respected in the criminal underworld. 

Once, some rich asshole whose daddy let them run a business negotiation tried to screw them over, and then made the mistake of threatening Korn with a fancy gun that he barely knew how to hold. Tonkla has his hand skewered to the conference table with a knife before he can aim it properly, and he leaves with one less finger and a signed contract that heavily favors Korn’s business interests.

He's even generous enough to let him take him the finger with him, since he was so agreeable after he stopped screaming. 

It isn't the last time it happens, but it doesn't happen often. 

Korn finds his motivation for violence when Tonkla gets shot. 

Tonkla was visiting one of their warehouses, checking on operations and inspecting a shipment when an employee who they later discovered had been bribed attacked Tonkla. They struggled with the gun, and in the struggle a bullet hit Tonkla's arm.

Korn has been waiting in the car, as it was meant to be a quick visit – he still didn't have the stomach for the more creative violence that Tonkla gets up to, but he does love watching him intimidate and occasionally beat someone up, but this was supposed to take twenty minutes, tops – after twenty five minutes have passed, he gets a weird feeling and goes to see what's holding him up, only to arrive just as the gun goes off.

He registers the crack of the gun. He registers Tonkla falling to the ground. He registers blood.

The next thing he registers is Tonkla's hand on his shoulder, and his voice telling him “You can stop now, baby”. He realizes very quickly that he is straddling the other man’s legs, and that his hands are covered in blood. The man is still and unrecognizable under the damage Korn has done. His hands are shaking.

Tonkla is looking at him with a look that absolutely should not be on his face while they're both covered in blood, but makes Korn feel an answering spark nonetheless. They fall into a filthy kiss, and it isn't until Tonkla goes to wrap his arms around Korn and his wound screams that either of them realize what they're doing. 

Korn freaks out while Tonkla reassures him over and over that he's fine, it's barely a graze, but Korn takes them immediately to their personal doctor. Tonkla makes arrangements to take care of the body on the way, they hold hands the whole drive.

They do a very careful revaluation of all their people after. 

Korn does reconnect with Great, it's awkward, at first, to have family dinner with Great and Tyme and him and Tonkla, but they all avoid taking about the less than legal things that their involved in, even though Korn has been honest about what they're doing, and it's honestly better than it used to be when their parents were around. 

They get properly married – well, their game identities do – and it feels like Korn has finally fulfilled his promise from all those years ago.

Their marriage is celebrated by their legal business associates, and somehow makes their reputation in the criminal underworld more terrifying, but mostly it makes them very, very happy.

----

I am still very obsessed with this idea, please continue to yell about it with me.

Read on ao3 here

[princesssmars]

sub! stiles with witch!reader... 18+

this could be read as a tie-in to either of my stiles and witch!reader works, but im just so obsessed with the idea of a more subby stiles. as much as i love the fics with a more dominant version of him i just cant get over him being the submissive in your relationship.

when he meets you and thinks you're so cool and crazy powerful and insanely hot, and you just have this way of making people do what you want that he admires.

(at first, he wondered if it had something to do with your powers affecting how people reacted to you, but when he found out that no, you're just able to get people to listen to you because it's you, incredibly smart and convincing you, he swears he falls a little in love with you.)

but yeah. and his friends don't but they also do understand it. there's you, a powerful but kind of scary ally always dressed in black and other dark colors who doesn't talk much and sometimes brings her black cat that hisses at everyone. and then there's him, a ball of chaotic energy that's always dressed in those corny t-shirts he loves and his beat-up converse and more beat-up jeep. so obviously the first time he introduces you to them they think it's some kind of prank, until later on when he tells a bad joke and the room is entirely silent until you fail to cover up a snort. then they get it

so, he has this amazing and cool girlfriend so why wouldn't he want to just. do everything you say? it doesn't take long for him to let you take the reins. the first few make-outs before you slept together he tried to keep some semblance of dominance, using his hands to rock you down over him on his lap until you would slowly grab his hands in yours and push them above his head. if you ever bring it up he denies it but the first time you did it he came in his pants.

after that its so easy to dominate him even more, not even just in a sexual setting. if he's ever rambling you brush some hair away from his face and remind him to take a breath and drink the specialty tea brew you made for him. you wake him up with polite good morning texts that start nonchalantly but always end with a quote from some poetry or literature book you read that makes him giggle and wanna kick his feet in the hair. don't even get him started on how when you're both hanging out with the others in someone's house you'll sometimes pull the arm move and drag his body into yours. scott pointed out how the first time he saw it stiles had a lovestruck smile on his face and he also vehemently denied this.

but in the bedroom, it's heightened to the maximum, and there's rarely a day where he isn't begging for your touch, sometimes even begging for your attention. if there's one thing you love to do its tease him, occasionally leading him on for a week with touches and looks and whispers into his skin. and as torturous as it is when you do its oh so worth it when you sit with your legs spread, his back pressing into your chest as he whines and moans while you move your palm up and down his dick.

and he is so excited when he realizes that you can bring your powers into the equation. a basic floating spell turns into the best night of his damn life.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Haven

I am back with my BS AGAIN :D @spotaus You know the drill friend come over :D I can not be stopped. I have grown too powerful!! (just played dnd. Checked the chapter to upload tomorrow for my main au and i wrote a bit on a new story. I AM POWERFUL!) <- says the woman who will probably crash in under an hour lmao.

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We got no beta and no editing as we just go! maybe that is why these drabbles for going so well. me just kinda going and not worrying too much about the in between bits or mistakes or grammar. I just write and say that is done.. huh... writing lesson i guess. ANYWAY! back to the family :3

*---------------------*

Cross hums as he finishes cutting another wood board in the right size. He puts it with the others on the pile before checking the list he made before hand.

Cross nods as he looks towards the house "Got them all ready for the downstairs!" Cross grins as he takes a moment to just look at the house. Their house!

When Horror had returned with the news their new acquaintances had secured them a house they had all been sceptic at best, Dust had been downright suspicious.

But it was the truth! aparently they had managed to build up a good enough reputation that they had been trying to figure out a solution. An empty and abandoned farm and ground? That was too small for most to do anything with? hidden mostly by a forest?

Perfect for them!

They had gone to check it out and it is amazing! It is secure and easily to defend! Sure it is an old building but Cross and Horror can fix up the house easily enough! Dust had handed Nightmare over to Killer and had started looking around the house to inspect it.

long story short? He thinks he can fix most things.

With a hopeful plan they spend the inspection day also cleaning. That had been yesterday.

today? They took most of the old construction wood Crop and Straw had stored away and they got to work. Dust is cleaning and fixing what he can while Horror and Cross himself did contruction work.

Killer is on Nightmare watching duty. Mostly because Killer doesn't have nay skills in construction. Neither of them mind as they had been exploring their new area and territory together. Hoenstly it was adorable to see Killer walk by with Nightmare on his shoulders.

Horror walks out of the house as he takes the planks "Thanks. Walls?"

Cross grins proudly "All of them. Including the walls and the new banisters for the roof."

Horror blinks before grinning "great. thanks Oreo." nad he chuckles as Cross sputters.

May be because horror isn't wearing a shirt. Which kinda makes sense! Becuase horror is pulling a lot of old wood away and rebuilding stuff. the chances of him ripping his few good shirts is rather high. Still Cross is trying very hard to just focus on his face and skull. it is fine! No one notices!

Cross turns back to the pile he still has. it has been reduced quickly which sucks. He looks through it with a frown.

Crop stops by him with a knowing smile "Hey Cross!" he grins wider "Getting heated?"

Cross glares at him "Well the late autumn sun is rather warm!" and he goes back to shifting through his pile.

Crop nods "It is it is..." then the grin falls and he frowns "You guys already that low?"

Cross shifts through it more "Yeah but it is okay! I can probably use this to make the cabinets for the kitchen still..." still they will need to get more materials for everything else.

Crop frowns and must have made the same conclusion "Hopefully Straw gets back soon with more stuff."

Cross rubs his neck "You guys really didn't need to help this much... we already own you big time..."

Crop shrugs "That is how a community works Cross. We all help each other. We will eventually pay it back with helping them back." he smiles "We are only a tiny town and only have ourselves to count on. You heard how the deal with the repair service from the big city went. People are quick to think off us as dumb or naive. We gotta stuck together."

Cross shoots him a grin "We will try to ffigure something out... eventually." he groans "we don't even know what type of farm to make yet!"

Crop shrugs "You guys will have to test some stuff. See what works for you and your land..." he grins again "I don't think a diary farm fits you guys though."

Cross glares at him "Not funny. I swear Betty knew she freaked me uot."

Crop nods "Oh absolutely! Cows are really smart."

Just makes them more terrifying in Cross's opinion and he has no doubt that thought is clear on his face.

Crop laughs but a honk of a car pulls them out of their conversation. and. That is a giant truck. much bigger than Straw and Crop's truck.

Crop blinks "Dani and Ellie?" he raises to his feet and waves.

The truck stops and Ellie leans out "Hello! Your lovely neighborhood lesbians have brought you." she puts ahand under her chin and wiggles her eye brows "the wood."

Dani chuckles as she jumps out "Straw told everyone around town. Most people are grabbing their stuff but this was all stuff we were planning on giving to the community anyway." she shrugs "tree farmers after all."

Ellie grins as she waves them over "Come! lets see what you need! We have all types of trunks with us. They will still need some work and treatment but Dani is amazing with her magic!"

Dani grins as she gives a thumbs up "figure out how to treat wood with magic instead of the slow treatment. Most still want the traditional work but i figured you guys would be okay with this help."

Cross is unsure how to react. People don't just help them. People hate them and what they do. Tehy hadn't expected this much help and it is overwhelming "I... I... I don't know how to... We don't have money?" he is lost.

Dani shrugs again as Ellie smiles "Hey. We have been where you guys have been... well not exactly but people werent'exactly welcoming of us either... as soon as we graduated we grbabed my old car and just left. we foudn thsi place and people were nice enough to take a chance on us." she grins "We now pay that forwards. We are doing this!" she grins and winks "Will just have to invite us over for a prime tour of the farm once you guys are all done!"

Dani nods as she starts untying the many trunks "What Ellie said. the Danielle's are at your service. Now what do you need?"

Cross is still lost when Horror joins them curiously. no doubt hearing all the noise. He pauses as he takes in the sight before tilting his skull "What?"

Cross just kidna waves at the two "We... euh.. got help? And thinks? Do you know what we need?" his mind is in shambles at the moment.

Hroror sees it and smiles as he walks past. patting his shoulder before going over to the dog and bunny and having a short conversation. Horror hears their whole speech and smiles. he thanks them and explains what they need for what. The two woman listen closely before nodding and starting to organise the brought materials with practised ease.

Horror joins his side again and grabs Cross's lists. He takes a pencil and writes some tree names by a few of the items before handing them back "They will help prepare the materials. They are nice." and he disappears back inside.

Welp!! If Horror says that that means they are nice and most likely trustworthy! They get over to him and Cross explains the system he had and what they had calculated to need for each area. The two monsters nod and ask if they should start on the porch while cross continues preparing stuff for horror. Which Cross thanks them and agrees wiht.

They are hard at work when Killer nad Nightmare return. Killer laughs "Criss Cross! you are not going to believe this! The like east area just has a tiny field at the edge of the forest and part of that forest is still in our little area! better yet that means some of the forest animals are like right there!" then he notices the guests and grows quiet "oh... hello." His hold on Nightmare's leg tightens.

Ngihtmare tilts his tiny skull at the two monsters "Dani and Ellie... right?"

Ellie coos as Dani grins "Good memory. I can't imagine remembering all the new faces you meet only once is easy." and she finishes her spell on a piece of wood which Ellie pulls over to cut.

Nightmare shrugs as he hugs Killer's skull "good memory..."

KIller nods as he glances at Cross "Sooooo... Hello Lovely ladies!" he grins "What brings you here?"

Dani raises a piece of wood "Neighborhoodly friendliness." and she continues with her task.

Killer stares at him and Cross grins "They brough over some wood" he ignores the eye brow wigglign "after they heard from STraw that we are getting the house fixed up. aparently it is a community thing that everyone helps everyone." he shrugs at the doubting look "Don't look at me. it is new for me too. Horror said it is fine though."

Killer blinks "I mean... if Horror said it is fine..." he looks at Nightmare "What do you think tiny boss?"

Nightamre shrugs and hugs his skull.

Killer nods "notion accepted. Got it." he grins at them "We are going to look at some of the other stuff Straw and Crop brought along. See what is in there."

Cross nods "Good idea!" and he watches Killer walk off with Nightmare.

Dani chuckles and looks over "Not good at construction?"

Cross groans loudly "Killer is good at a lot of things... not construction." he shrugs "It is fine. We don't want Nightmare near this stuff anyway." he is too small to lift everything and could too easily get hurt. it doesn't matter he is technically a god he is not going to have to work. They don't agree with child labor.

Dani nods "I get that. best to have a child safe corner for them to sit in." she turns back to the next trunk and gets to work as Ellie cuts pieces.

They work for a long time and the sun is well past midday when more people come by. They deliver some older looking furniture and more tools and items for them to use.

Most don't stay for long aside from dropping things off or asking if they needed anything specific. Some brought over some premade food for them and other snacks because aparently 'breaks are important!'.

Crop and Straw, when he returned, work on clearing the road betweent eh main road and the farm and getting some clear markers on where to go.

Dani and Ellie leave later in the afternoon and by the end of the day their group of skeletons looks back at their progress. They aren't done yet but it starts to look more like a house than an actual falling apart piece of junk.

Dust is covered in ashes and when they look at him he just says 'fireplace' which probably means he found a challenge of somekind. Then again Cross thinks he spotted Dust on the roof once or twice but each time he had looked back to check he hadn't been there.

They are packing up when Killer and Nightmare return. Killer looking very proud and Ngihtmare looking a bit more nervous as he fidgets.

Horror and him share alook as Horror looks at them, now once again fully dressed "yes?"

Killer grins "Remember how we were told most farms have a name?"

Cross give shim a look "We are aware. we also agreed we would take time to think about it."

Killer grins "True. But! Nightmare thought of one and I figured it was perfect and fine!" Ngihtmare shoots him a glare and crosses his tiny arms.

Dust tils his skull "fact. Waht is the name?"

Cross wants to disagree but also if nightamre wants to clal it something specific he is fine with it. Nightmare never complains about them deciding stuff so why would they complain about this.

Nightmare mutters something but when he sees everyone looking and waiting he speaks louder "It was just an idea... Killer got excited..." still staring and he rubs his arm looking embarresed "It is silly... I thought... I figured Haven would fit. Haven Farm."

Cross stares at Nightmare and feels a bit of tears try to form as the meaning sinks in and what it implies and means. He can't stop it as he picks nightmar eup and hugs him close. Purring much too loud as he speaks "I agree it is perfect!" their home. their safe place. their hide out. their haven.

Killer grins wider and nods "Which i agreed with. So!" he pulls out a board from behind his back.

It is a name plate. It spells Haven but the letters are a bit croaked and nailed to the backboard. it are all different sizes and different colours nad Cross fucking loves it!

Killer grins "We made it together." he rolls his eye lights "don't worry i did the cutting and nailed it all together. Ngihtmare was my supervisor."

Dust looks appeased as he nods "Seems good."

Horror nods as he takes the plate and puts it by the door, too hang later "Will need a bigger one for the gate at the enterance."

Cross grins as he feels ngihtamre relax at the approval and start to purr himself. Cros sjust nuzzles the babybones.

They still have a lot of work ahead of them but that is fine. It will be all so very much worth it once it is done and they have their house to finally just be them.

*--------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[jaymari-lyn]

warning⚠️: spoilers for Agatha All Along epsiode 5 ahead, so continue at your own risk

Okay after episode 5 I kinda had this idea about the witches trials

So I'm going to be totally honest, I think there is something more going on than this being just a regular trial. It's felt very different than the others and I think that there's a lot of possible reasons for that, but for the sake of this theory, I'm just going to use what we've been shown and assume that this was an actual trial by the road and not an illusion or vision.

So just like WandaVision, the episodes have kinda gone through a couple decades, the first trial being the 60s (it feels the least in your face, but the clothing style and suburban aesthetic of the whole house give me 1960s vibes), the second being 70s, and the third being 80s.

I think it's really interesting that these are all settings of Episodes of WandaVision. Maybe it's because Agatha is there and she lived in the hex but it's sort of odd to me that the road is creating entire trials around these decades when none of the coven witches really have any ties to them. I'd also like to add that they feel distinctly different than the ones in WandaVision. Those felt like sitcoms pulled straight from that time, while these don't have that same feel. They feel like they're inspired by the actual time period not television from those eras.

However, while none of the coven witches have any ties to these decades, there is still someone on the road who does, and that would be none other than Billy Maximoff (Aka Teen).

The big reveal at the end of the episode left us with SO many questions about Teen/Billy, but the conformation that he is, in fact, Wanda's son also could explain a lot.

Billy Maximoff grew up through these decades (especially the 80s, which is also the epsiode that he gets revealed as Wanda's son). He was convieced in the 60s, born in the 70s, and grew up in the 80s (obviously he lives through the 90s and 2000s as well, but since we're only on our 3rd trial, we havent gotten there yet). Another interesting thing to note is the absence of any 1950s themed trial, which also happens to be the only WandaVision episode where he isn't there (I know he was like a fetus in episode 2, but it still had Wanda reveal she was pregnant by the end, while epsiode 1 had no hint or mention of him and Tommy).

And since he actually grew up in each of these decades, he doesn't associate them with sitcoms like Wanda does, since she grew up in the 90's/2000's, which would explain why the sitcom element isn't there, but the time period shift is. It also explains why each of them feel a little too modern to be the actual points in time (that might just be me, but its just feels like theres tiny modern twist in each one). It's because it's a mix between Billy Maximoff and Billy Kaplan's childhoods.

I'm not sure whether it's consciously or unconsciously, but I think Billy is influencing the road, and not just in the most recent epsiode like a lot of people think. It very well could be subconsciously, kind of like how Wanda was doing at first in WandaVision, or he could be totally aware of what he's doing, but it all depend on how much he knows about himself, his history, and his powers. It also could be the road just changing to conform to Billy, and his magic has no affect on it.

I just think that this is a really interesting detail that could tell us a lot about the trials in futures episodes. If you have nay thoughts on it please let me know!!

[creepy-friday]

Ok ok hear me out 👀

What if, instead of fem! Proxy, we got a fem! Human maid 👀👀👀

Like the Slenderman chose her to take care of the mansions needs such as: cleanliness, general functioning (like electrical management, house repair, etc...), food management, etc...

But she isn't a demon nor proxy, but a human dragged into this life (The Operator is a cruel silly guy)

The Proxies have to watch over her so other residents don't mess with her, and also so she doesn't run away.

THE POWER DYNAMIC WOULD BE THROUGH THE ROOF 😭

YOU'RE BACK<3 this prompt is interesting ngl👀👀 I included more characters for the spice

Creepypasta x Maid!Reader

Characters Included: Proxy focused

Warnings: suggestive/NSFW themes,non-con/dub-con mentions,violence,misogyny,drugs and mental illness references

The difference between the power dynamics between you and the other residents are catastrophically huge

Once Slenderman took you in,he made sure that you understand what your role is from the start.It was a cruel time for him to make the decision to bring an innocent human in a manor full of deranged people,but in his mind he took the right decision

The first sick people who viewed you as a fuck toy would be Masky and Jeff

Since you're in the care of proxies,you are somwhat lucky,the others would mostly keep their hands to themselves

Maybe except Ben who has no restrictions by being a literal ghost,so I can totally see him messing with you for a while

The fact that you are a maid might give the others the opportunity to discover a new kink btw

Masky would slap your ass as you clean the windows "good job,get that body moving"

He's a whiny little bitch.He would scream at you if you missed a spot,if you were late to cook dinner by a minute or if he simply needs your assistance with whatever bullshit he makes up

He even called you to prepare him a bath and harassed you in the bathroom,even threating to drown you for his sick entertainment

The way you look up to him makes his dick hard,he doesn't care if the others find gross that he gets off on the power imbalance,he feels good about it

The only good thing he does is not letting the others fuck with you it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Sure,he might threaten to punish you by letting Jeff has his way with you,but we all know his pride won't let him to let you get fucked by another man yeah,once more,it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Right after a bloody mission he would bring you to his room and make you suck him off "How's it feel to have the dirty work done?Right where you belong"

Washing the blood off of their clothes it's a nightmare.Sometimes,the white masked man would try to scare you by saying all the messed up things he did to get them this red

Toby was happy he can look after a girl ngl.After seeing how scared and lost you are,he decided to make himself your safe space

But even then,he saw you as an opportunity to break himself into,it was a selfish tought,but he really craved to be your "knight in shining armor"

He actually started to stand his ground whenever Masky would start to harass him in front of you,and even if he would get beat up and would shame retreat in his shell for a few days,this boy doesn't give up

I can see him letting you escape in the forest if you pull the right strings,but the fear of what Slenderman would do to both yourself and him made Toby to get you back crying

INSTEAD,he goes on walks with you in the forest whenever you are free,just to give you that false sense of freedom

Even if it's just your job to clean,cook and do household chores,he views them as more intimate and might get romantic feelings towards you he has no self respect

Hoodie would play a lot of mind games with you,sometimes he would make you think he's your ally,sometimes he would give the impression that he's just another wolf from the hungry pack

He actually let you run free in the forest for a few minutes and waited for you to get your hopes up until he would show up from behind and get you back

"Gothca" he said,tackling you to the ground as one of his hands rested on your waist and the other one on the back of your head "let's get you back,shall we?awwwh,don't cry now,you know I wouldn't hurt you!Now I can't say the same about the others if they knew you got this far..so let's keep this between the two of us,what do ya' say?"

The son of a bitch would also blackmail you into having sex with him so that he can "protect you" or so that "he wouldn't snitch about your plans of running away"

Even if your plans would be top tier,he would know about them and would make sure to tear them down as slow as the light in your eyes fade away

If you're feisty he wouldn't feel the need to fight with you,but would rather keep him interested into bringing you down

But if you're on the docile side he would still take it as a challenge to himself,to see in how much time he can make you his loyal puppy

The manor is huge,four floors with large windows where a lot of dust piles up,especially on the inhibited last floor where The Operator works

I can see Masky making you work naked at a busy hour of the day, just for his fucked up entertainment,throwing some nasty comments while burning cigarette buts on your soft skin

EJ would watch from a distance,mercy and guilt piling up in his chest.Altough he doesn't see you as prey,he would certainly think of you as a safe resort to call when his heats/bloodlust appears

Jane would nod her head and advert her eyes,often even asking you if you're okay,just trying to make you feel..a little cared for

Natalie would argue a lot about you with Masky,but after all she's just a resident and Tim is still a proxy at the end of the day.She can't do anything about it.

All in all,your life in the mansion would be assured to be a long one,and depending on your behaviour you can make it a less traumatizing pressuring experience

[pianokantzart]

The Line of Fire

Luigi seems to be the only one who notices that the "Mario" wandering around The Mushroom Kingdom isn't really Mario. To make things worse, whoever the imposter is seems fully aware of Luigi's position, and is intent on doing whatever is necessary to threaten him into silence.

Another work based on the body swap concept from @elitadream. It has a firm grip on my brain and won't let go. Take care to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Word Count: 4307

Also available on Ao3: X

____________

It was late in the afternoon when Luigi finally made it home. He tried to look natural as he walked up the front steps of his little cottage on the outskirts of town, carrying a large bag of groceries in each arm, squeezing them tightly to himself every time his sensitive nerves picked up in the slightest little rustle of the grass or shadow cast by the clouds overhead. Glancing nervously over each shoulder he stepped to the front door, then– like a nervous animal– rushed across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him.

In the familiar confines of his house, he felt no safer. He hurried into the kitchen and tried to ease himself with his usual tasks of putting away groceries and sweeping the floors, but it was no good. Whenever he successfully buried his fear, an equally powerful sense of guilt took its place. Here he was, going about his business like usual, as though his brother’s location and well-being weren’t a morbid mystery. Like something cruel and terrible hadn’t stolen him away and taken his place… Luigi set the broom aside and rubbed his temples, trying to think of what more he could do that he had not already done. What attempt he could make that wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives? It was crucial to tread carefully, but it didn’t help that he barely even understood what was going on in the first place.

This thing that had taken his brother’s place… the “Not-Mario” he had come to call it… was, from what he could tell, a near-perfect imitation of his brother in appearance and abilities. Luigi had a few theories: some sort of shapeshifter, a facsimile created from magic, or something had stolen Mario’s body directly, and was now puppeting it for their own devices. He suspected the latter and was half-certain of the culprit. There was a startling familiarity to that hellish glint in what used to be his brother’s eyes, but he didn’t dare yet call the thing masquerading as Mario “Bowser.” It felt far too early to make assumptions. He only knew a few things for certain: Mario was in terrible trouble, there was something pretending to be Mario, the Not-Mario knew that he knew the truth, and nobody else seemed to see through the ruse. The doppelganger had assured him that the real Mario was still alive. It was implied in equal measure that Mario’s survival would be determined by whether or not the truth got out. He also threatened Princess Peach, the neighboring toads, and everyone else he could use as leverage, knowing Luigi had no desire to test whether or not he was bluffing.

Uncertainty and doubt knotted Luigi’s heart, endless questions eating away at him when he was steadily pulled from his thoughts by a spot of red appearing in the corner of his eye.

He turned and let out a yelp of surprise. There stood Mario’s body, void of Mario’s spirit, leaning against the doorway of their kitchen, glaring at him with those strange eyes. When did he come in? How long had he been in here? Why had he come here?

Throughout this entire ordeal, one of the few kindnesses Not-Mario had granted him was staying away from their home. This was a selfish comfort, of course, “Mario”’s absence merely meant that he was too busy doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Luigi nervously reexamined his brother’s face, hoping to find some faint glimmer of the man he’d grown up with, but if anything it had only gotten stranger since he had last seen it… sunken and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Before Luigi could ask, Mario’s voice interrupted with a simple command: “Living room. Now.” “What?… Why can’t we talk here?” Not-Mario gave no response, he simply walked off, leaving Luigi feeling stupid for so much as posing the question. Of course not. Where they talked was not the point, the point was establishing at every opportunity who was in control.

Luigi anxiously stepped into the living room, and at once found himself being approached aggressively by his brother’s body, boxing him toward the back of the room where a couch and an easy chair sat in a small half-circle around a television set. “Where were you today?” Not-Mario Growled. Luigi braced himself against the arm of the couch. “I went to the marketplace. You know, to get groceries?” Not-Mario was unswayed. “Where else?”

Luigi gripped his arm and averted his eyes. No way. He was certain he’d been careful. He’d made sure he wasn’t followed. He knew the toad he handed the letter to, made him promise to keep it a secret. He’d done everything right! “N-nowhere else! I mean, I did take a little walk before making my way home.” “A walk? Did your little detour happen to bring you near Peach’s castle?” Luigi felt his heart drop as Not-Mario pulled a familiar envelope from his overall pocket. He held it up and stared daggers; a taunting, hateful grin spreading across his face. “It’s embarrassing, really. Don’t you know the palace guards have better things to do than deliver your mail for you?…”

On impulse, Luigi lept to snatch the envelope, but his opponent proved too quick, immediately catching him by the shirt collar and thrusting him backward, sending him toppling over into his old recliner with such force that he could feel the chair springs snap under him. “Sit down .” The demand was sharp and booming, the undercurrent of rage Not-Mario had carried with him since he first appeared bubbling to the surface. Luigi stayed seated, watching with held breath and a pounding heart as the thing with his brother's face tore open the sealed envelope, and read aloud the letter enclosed:

“Princess Peach, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like nothing more than to explain the situation in person, but I am in no position to do so without endangering your safety. Be wary of Mario, he is not who he seems to be. Keep one eye open at all times, and take care you aren’t left alone under any circumstances. I will do my best to find out what’s happening. I’ll contact you again once I have a better grasp of what to do. Until then, for the sake of The Mushroom Kingdom, remain vigilant.

Dutifully yours, – Luigi”

As he finished reading the letter, he turned his focus to the author, gauging his response. Luigi stayed where he was, putting on a poor performance of remaining calm as sweat trickled down his face and his chest pounded. 

Not-Mario sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope. 

“You should be thankful this never made it into Peach’s hands. The moment she starts getting suspicious, I’ll have to start taking drastic measures.”

“H-how did you get that?” Luigi finally managed, clutching his knees in an attempt to hide the way his hands shook.

“You gambled the lives of your loved ones so you can play ‘hero,’ and you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

With a flick of the wrist, the man in red ignited firebrand and rendered the envelope to ashes. Luigi watched the pieces scatter across the living room, catching one of them in his hands as though a part of him hoped his failed attempt to find help could be somehow pieced back together. “You know,” Mario’s voice continued, “there’s a rumor that you’re in the middle of some sort of nervous breakdown. Though I suppose it was only a matter of time… you aren’t exactly known for your mental fortitude, and your recent head injury hasn’t helped things either.”

“Head injury?” Luigi barely managed the question when saw Mario’s form rushing toward him, hardly giving him time to even register what was happening before a gloved hand gripped his face with enough force to rattle his teeth, tore him from his seat, and threw him across the room with unprecedented power. Luigi’s body crashed like a rag doll into the TV set, his back bruising on the edge of the console, his skull shattering the screen. He lay there for a moment on the heap of cracked wood and glass, struggling to lift himself up, the world spinning around him as his vision turned white with pain. A laugh filled the air, such a horrible laugh, clashing with a voice of warm familiarity to create something grotesque and alien. “Nobody in this kingdom believes in you. Your only redeeming quality is that you live under the same roof as I do.” It sneered. “Tell me, do you ever wonder how often Mario took solace in your little neighbors? Finally able to speak plainly about how hard it is being followed around by his quivering imbecile of a brother?” Luigi didn’t answer. His sibling’s stolen voice was laced with poison, but he refused to swallow. He owed Mario at least that small dignity. The voice prattled on. “We seem to be on pretty cozy terms… I’ve apparently earned their unwavering faith. That is not something I intend to squander.” These words made Luigi’s blood run cold. He scrambled to a standing position despite the pain that still rattled his skull. Seeing Mario’s body walking toward the exit, he called out. “What are you going to do?” The question was ignored, and all at once Luigi felt more terrified of seeing the imposter leave than he was of his presence. If this was Bowser, as he suspected, surely a minor concussion wouldn’t be the only consequence of his attempt to seek help. What of the toad guard he had given the letter to? What of the princess herself? What about The Mushroom Kingdom, too safe and cozy to even install locks on their doors? blissfully unaware of the monster that wandered amongst them?

“Wait!” Luigi called again, taking a few stumbling steps after the body of his brother. “I need to know you won’t hurt anyone!”

At this, Not-Mario stopped just short of gripping the handle and turned to Luigi with his brows raised. “First you demand answers, now you want me to make promises?”

“Yes! Swear you won’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, I’ll… I’ll…” Luigi stumbled over his words. He wrung his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat, gathering together what little courage he could scrounge from the growing pit in his stomach. What would Mario do? What would Mario do? Pull yourself together, do what Mario would do! He released a heavy breath as he sank into a fighting stance, a crackle of electricity rolling along the fingers of his gloves, the hair beneath his cap fluttering with static. “... I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

It was a wild gambit, but all he wished to do was relay a message. Yes, he was weak, yes, he was terrified, but he was just strong enough and brave enough to get in the way. There was still one hero left in The Mushroom Kingdom, and whoever this imposter was, he couldn’t just wander around and do whatever he wished.

This time, Luigi was prepared when Not-Mario rushed at him, and he met the attack with a blast of bright blue electricity. 

He had no intention of causing serious damage– if this was his brother’s body, he was going to need it back in the best condition possible– but he did hope to incapacitate him. If luck was on his side, perhaps he could get enough of an upper hand to restrain him. Then what? He didn’t know if any of the toads would believe him, but perhaps if he could just get Princess Peach to see the imposter– ask him questions, look into his eyes, confirm for the sake of everyone that he wasn’t Mario– they could figure out a plan to get the real Mario back! Mario’s body seized up under the shock but didn’t fall, and though the muscles of his face stiffened his expression showed no hint of pain. Barely perturbed, he barreled into Luigi with full force, knocking him flat on his back. Before Luigi could recover he felt the full weight of the man bearing down on top of him, and two large powerful hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Mario was strong, stronger than Luigi remembered, which was certainly saying something. Luigi knew his brother always held back whenever they sparred– fun, playful fights meant to do nothing more than hone their skills– but the strength he possessed now almost didn’t make sense. It felt more akin to the motions of an unwavering machine than that of a man. It pushed forward with reckless abandon, shrugging off Luigi’s struggles and blows with the resilience of a brick wall. Gasping for air, Luigi sent another charge into Mario’s body, feeling the current surge through his arms back into his own throat, and yet these efforts only seemed to tighten the grip around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked on with agonizing slowness, his struggles became more mindless and desperate as his mind clouded, his vision darkening, the electricity flashing from his hands fading into faint sparks as the adrenaline of battle turned into an animalistic fight for consciousness.

He didn’t want to die here. Luigi was not ignorant of his own mortality, but he wanted to go out in a way that would’ve made Mario proud. If he had only successfully delivered the letter, had alerted the citizens of what was happening… even just put up enough of a fight to put the doppelganger in his place… he wanted to have gone down doing something– anything of use. He’d failed at every turn, and now he was going to die, strangled to death by the very hands that carried him when he was injured, held him close when he was scared, and dragged him repeatedly out of the jaws of danger. Luigi’s last coherent thought was a prayer that Mario would be okay, before every sensation thinned out into nothingness, and the whole world turned black.

“Well, that was a waste of my time .”

Bowser let out a tired huff as he looked down at the unconscious body of his enemy’s brother. Luigi lay perfectly still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, his bruised throat making a slight wheezing sound with every inhale and exhale. Satisfied that his opponent was down for the count, Bowser took the time to examine the damage that had been done to his own body. Pulling up his sleeves he found red burns, shaped like tree branches, stretching along his forearms up to his shoulders. Bowser flexed his limbs, confirming they worked the same as usual, though he knew they would likely hurt a great deal if he was in a position to feel pain. He was thankful the markings didn’t extend any further than they did. So long as he wore his usual long-sleeved shirt, nobody would see the injuries or ask questions. He rolled his sleeves back up and knelt beside Luigi, paying especially close attention to the darkening marks appearing along his throat. He felt a powerful urge to once again wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and finish the job, not because of the threat he posed, or the insolence he had displayed, but the idea of delivering the corpse to the real Mario… seeing the look on his face… was just too delicious not to revel in. But no, right now the threat Luigi posed to his plans did not compare with the suspicion it’d elicit if he disappeared. Despite Bowser’s claims, the surrounding Toads were already inquiring about Luigi’s absence and well-being. Just today, a wrinkled old codger named Enoki approached him to ask whether Luigi would be able to play cards with him that weekend. Bowser had done his best to imitate Mario’s intonations when he explained Luigi was “not feeling well” with feigned concern, so forced he felt on the verge of biting off his own tongue. Thankfully, Enoki bought the claim wholeheartedly, and even gave him a bag of loose-leaf tea to take home “for his brother's nerves.” Bowser accepted with a feigned thankfulness and threw the gift into the nearest garbage once he was out of the old man’s line of sight.

At length, Luigi’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing his brother’s form standing over him, his gaze widened. He shuddered under a fresh wave of fear, and little bolts of electricity sparked across his skin. Bowser huffed. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re not dead?” Luigi didn’t speak. He clutched his throat with one hand and tried to push himself upright with the other, head lowered and eyes shut in apparent expectation of another attack.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Bowser continued “You’d be far more of an inconvenience dead than alive. A nobody creates far less stir than the corpse of a nobody. But you did just try to attack me. What do you think I should do about that?”

Again, Luigi said nothing. While Bowser had initially enjoyed his fear-stricken silence, it began to feel more like defiance than submission. Seeing the plumber attempt to get to his feet, Bowser knocked the hat from his head with a sharp kick to the back of his skull and grabbed a fistful of hair. Forgetting his own shortness of stature, Bowser tried to lift Luigi all the way off the ground by his scalp. When all he could manage was to drag him halfway to his knees, he chose instead to twist his head at a purposefully painful angle.

“Answer me.” Luigi winced. His lip quivered as though he was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a pathetic squeak. Bowser leaned in closer to his “brother,” his lips unsettlingly close to his ear as he asked in a low growl: “Maybe if you’re so intent on imitating your sibling, I should bring you a little piece of him for inspiration? A few fingers, perhaps? Or better yet, one of his eyes…” This was a bluff, of course. The real Mario was imprisoned deep within The Darklands, chained up inside the hulking body Bowser used to inhabit. Though the thought of carrying out the threat was tantalizing, there could come a point where he’d need his old body back, and if Mario felt as disconnected from that body as he felt in this one, then mutilating him would be a waste. But Luigi didn’t know that. That was made clear by his reaction.

“No!” A hoarse plea finally burst from the man’s mouth. He clasped the hand that gripped his hair to ease the pain but didn’t dare struggle beyond that. “Please don’t! I’m sorry.”

Bowser tugged Luigi’s head back to better examine his face. Tears were already forming in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Disgusting. He’d forgotten this one was a cryer. It was easy to forget, for he had never known anyone of worth who cried. Junior was an exception, of course, but he was a still child– new to the world and his own emotions. Luigi was a grown man, a hero, allegedly, and yet he whimpered and sniffled as though it would garner any sort of pity. “You’re what?” Bowser growled. “Say that again.” “I’m sor-”

Bowser interrupted the second attempt at an apology by slamming his knee into Luigi’s stomach. He released him then, allowing him to crumble back to the floor at his feet. “Huh, I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

Luigi’s whole body shivered, trying its best to cling to consciousness in its renewed struggle for air. “I’m… s-sorry.”

“Again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” Luigi’s voice steadily rose in pitch and volume as his breath returned to him, the tears in his throat and the bruises on his windpipe cracking his speech. “I’m sorry!”

The shrieky tone elicited a chuckle of genuine amusement from Bowser. After the stress of masquerading in his hated enemy's body for so long, seeing someone regard him with the fear and deference he deserved was a long-awaited bit of gratification. Taking advantage of the situation, Bowser made a little game of seeing how many times he could elicit an apology, and, of course, a crucial element of the fun was seeing to it Luigi stayed on the floor at his feet. Whenever the plumber tried to stand or crawl away, a sharp kick to the ribs or a stomp planted into the square of his back would send him back down to the ground.

But by “I’m sorry” number fifty-eight, Bowser grew bored. 

So, with confident idleness, he abandoned Luigi in order to look around his nemesis’ home in search of fresh inspiration for what was to be done. Funny as the groveling was, there was a chance Luigi’s change of behavior wouldn’t last long. He didn’t trust him not to delude himself into attempting another “heroic” stunt once left to his own devices. It was crucial to get the message through. It didn’t take long for Bowser to find the staircase. The upper story was a bigger disappointment than the lower one, made up of only a shared bedroom and a bathroom, connected by a narrow hallway. Their cottage as a whole was far too small and simple for his liking, even when he was as physically diminutive as Mario. After all he had done for The Mushroom Kingdom, he should’ve at least been granted a small castle of his own.

Bowser entered the bedroom and looked around, wondering if there was anything there of value or information to be gleaned. No good, everything was trivial: comics and fantasy novels on the shelf, posters for small local bands hanging on the wall, multiple pairs of the same stupid overalls hanging in the closet. Atop the little table between matching red and green beds, there were a number of paper crafts. They were shoddily made… no doubt gifts by the local children. In a moment of impulse, Bowser ignited firebrand and released a little red flame to crawl across the corner of one of the paper stars. Finding a strange comfort in the sight, he allowed the fire to steadily spread to the other origami structures, and when its light began to fade he reinvigorated it with the flick of his hand. He ignited two more fires for good measure, one on the corner of Mario’s bed, another on the corner of Luigi’s, where the flames eagerly climbed up the downy quilts, swallowing the vibrant colors and filling the air with smoke.

He neither noticed nor cared when Luigi raced up the stairs. By the time the man in green had arrived, the fire had spread to the walls and the carpet, the rising flames painting little black spots on the ceiling.

“Looks like I was a little careless.” Bowser shrugged, watching the room burn with perfect calmness, “you may want to do something about this if you want to save your house.” Once Luigi overcame the paralysis of horror and disbelief, he disappeared back down the stairs. He was only gone for a few moments before he returned, armed with a fire extinguisher. Bowser stepped aside, allowing him to dive into the room and spray it down with a thick layer of white foam. When the smoke cleared and the heat died down, Bowser got a better look at his handiwork. The framework of the house still stood strong, but there was not a thing in the bedroom that the fire hadn’t marred, the vibrant reds and greens dulled and charred from the blaze, every furnishing and appurtenance disfigured. In the middle of it all was Luigi, holding the now empty fire extinguisher. He was making a valiant attempt to hide that he was crying again, harder than before, wiping at his face with his sleeve, airborne ash mingling with his tears, streaking his cheeks with soot. Bowser rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d better get to work fixing this. Given your mental state, a project this big should help you occupy your troubled mind.” He nudged Luigi’s shoulder with a mocking friendliness, reveling in the way he tensed beneath his hand. “It’s probably best that you stay at home, anyway. And you will be staying home from now on, right?”

Luigi’s arms tightened around the fire extinguisher. Bowser readied himself, just in case the plumber suffered another flash of impulsive bravery and tried to swing it at him. But Luigi pulled no such stunt… he simply lowered his head and nodded.

Satisfied, Bowser left without another word. Heading down the stairs and crossing through the shattered remains of the living room, he shut the door firmly behind him before he hurried down the steps of “his” home, and headed back down the road toward the glimmering pink castle in the distance.

The first order of business would be to go into town and make sure whatever toads had seen the smoke were reassured that everything was under control; that the fire didn’t do much damage, and was “more smoke than flames.” Then, he would meet with the squadron of Koopas he had successfully snuck behind the palace walls. After exchanging intel, he would select a few to watch the outside of Mario’s house and ensure Luigi honored the agreement.

Halfway back to his destination, Bowser rolled up his sleeves slightly to reexamine the electric burns on his arms. He frowned, wondering if he had been too lenient. Luigi was no Mario, but the fact that he tried defying him at all was worthy of concern. Bowser decided then that at the next hint of insolence, the very slightest sign of defiance, Luigi would officially no longer be worth the trouble of keeping around.

In the meantime, however, he was at the very least entertaining.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Training (Ch.3)

Summary: Their first training did not go as planned. Logan screws up, but hey, what's new, right?

Content Warning: hurt, pain, angst

Author's note: I know Logan isn't the nicest, but I promise he gets better in the next chapter :)

Tags: @danicl25 @mxrtiaxv @ayamenimthiriel @jinndesu

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came with isolation. Eva sat beneath her favorite tree, the wide oak that overlooked the lake just beyond the safe house. Its branches stretched overhead like open arms, the leaves whispering softly in the night breeze. Above her, the sky was a sea of stars, pinpricks of light scattered across the black canvas. They seemed so distant, so unreachable, yet comforting in their constancy.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her head back against the tree trunk. Tomorrow was the first training session with Logan. The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of dread and uncertainty. Logan was intimidating in a way she hadn’t expected. His silence was heavy, his presence like an immovable force. And though she knew Charles trusted him with her training, she still wondered if he saw her as more than just… a weapon.

Her fingers dug into the cool earth beneath her as her mind wandered back to the past, to the experiments that had shaped so much of her life. She could still feel the cold metal restraints around her wrists, the sterile smell of the labs, and the emotionless voices of the scientists who saw her only as a tool. A vessel for power. They never asked how she felt about her abilities, never cared about the toll they took on her. They’d just wanted results, and when she couldn’t give them what they wanted, they’d punished her. Pain had become her constant companion, a reminder of her failure to live up to their expectations.

A soft shudder ran through her as she remembered the procedures, the needles, the electric shocks, and worst of all, the isolation. They’d kept her alone for so long, deprived of human touch, only to push her back into the fray when they needed something from her. And every time she tried to heal, every time she used her powers, she felt herself breaking a little more inside. Absorbing the pain of others, the physical and emotional scars they carried, until she could barely distinguish their suffering from her own.

Logan didn’t know any of this, of course. She hadn’t told him, hadn’t told anyone the full extent of it. She wasn’t sure she ever could. What would he think of her if he knew? He already seemed to view her with a guarded, wary sort of respect, but also as something dangerous—someone dangerous. Maybe that’s all she was to him, a potential threat. She wondered if she would ever be able to show him that she was more than that. That she wasn’t just a weapon, or a vessel for destruction.

She sighed, looking up at the stars again, trying to push the thoughts away. The stars were the only thing that had remained unchanged throughout her life. When she had been trapped, experimented on, and broken down, they had been there. She had often stared at them through the barred windows of her cell, wishing she could be as far away as they were, unreachable by the people who wanted to use her.

Now, she was free—at least more than she had ever been. Sitting beneath this tree, feeling the cool night air on her skin, listening to the quiet sounds of nature all around her—it was something she had once believed she would never experience again. And yet, even with this freedom, there was still a part of her that felt caged. Her own powers kept her shackled to the past, to the memories of the lab and the knowledge that no matter how far she ran, she could never escape what had been done to her.

She let out a breath, long and slow, watching it curl in the cool night air. Would Logan see that part of her? Or would he only see the girl with dangerous powers that needed to be controlled? She wasn’t sure what she feared more—his pity or his distrust.

The training would be hard. She knew that much. Logan didn’t seem like the kind of person to go easy on anyone, least of all someone like her. And deep down, she didn’t want him to. She needed to learn how to control her abilities, how to keep them from hurting anyone else. She didn’t want to be the danger everyone feared.

But there was also a part of her, a small, fragile part, that wanted something else. She wanted Logan to see her for who she truly was, not the broken girl she had been, not the weapon they had tried to make her into, but the person she could be. She wanted to prove—to him, to herself—that she was more than just the sum of her past, that she could have a future beyond the pain and fear.

The stars above twinkled faintly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope.

Eva stretched her legs out, her boots pressing into the grass. She could hear the soft rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, and the gentle ripple of the lake as it lapped against the shore. These small, peaceful moments were what kept her grounded, what reminded her that she wasn’t in that lab anymore. She had a chance now. A chance to learn, to grow, to heal. But it was going to be a long road, and Logan… well, Logan wasn’t going to make it easy.

She smiled faintly at the thought. Maybe that’s what she needed—someone who wouldn’t coddle her, who wouldn’t see her as fragile. Logan had his own scars, his own burdens, and maybe, just maybe, they could understand each other in a way no one else could.

Tomorrow would be the first step. The first real step toward taking control of her life, of her powers. It terrified her, but it also filled her with something else—a quiet determination. She wasn’t the same girl who had been sold and experimented on. She was something else now. She was Eva. And maybe, just maybe, she could be strong enough to face whatever came next.

With that thought, she stood up, brushing the dirt from her hands, and cast one last glance at the sky. The stars were still there, shining down on her, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so far away from them.

***

The sun had set behind the trees, casting long shadows across the grounds of the safe house. Logan leaned against the railing of the balcony, eyes fixed on the fading light, but his mind was elsewhere. The revelation that Charles had chosen *him* to train Eva gnawed at him, a slow-burning frustration he couldn’t shake. The girl was fragile, her powers dangerous, and he wasn’t exactly known for his finesse. He was the guy you called to fight, to take out threats—not to babysit or guide someone struggling with themselves.

The door behind him creaked open softly, and Logan didn’t need to turn to know it was Hank. His heavy but graceful steps were as familiar as the sound of the wind through the trees.

"Logan," Hank greeted, voice calm, like the steady presence he always brought with him. He walked up beside Logan, leaning his large frame against the balcony rail, looking out at the same sky. "I hear you’ve been given quite the responsibility."

Logan grunted, jaw clenched tight. "Responsibility ain’t exactly the word I’d use."

Hank glanced over at him, but Logan kept his eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. "Charles told me you’ll be working with Eva. Helping her control her powers."

Logan’s lip curled slightly. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled about it." He let out a low growl, his frustration surfacing in his voice. "She’s dangerous, Hank. You saw what she did. She’s a walkin’ time bomb. I don’t know what Charles is thinkin’."

Hank was silent for a moment, letting the weight of Logan’s words hang between them. Then, with the careful patience that only Hank possessed, he spoke, "Eva is dangerous. That much is true. But she’s also...lost."

Logan shot him a glance, brow furrowing. "Lost?"

Hank nodded slowly, his gaze still on the horizon. "She’s spent her entire life being used, shaped into a weapon by people who didn’t care for her well-being, only her abilities. You know what that feels like." Hank’s words were quiet but piercing. "You’ve been there yourself, Logan. And I think, on some level, Charles chose you because of that."

Logan’s scowl deepened. "I ain’t her. I don’t have time to tiptoe around her feelings. If she’s gonna be trained, she needs to get control of her powers—*fast.*"

Hank turned his head slightly, looking at Logan with that steady, knowing gaze. "And do you think pushing her to her limits, right out of the gate, will accomplish that?"

Logan bristled, the simmering frustration flaring up again. "I don’t know, Hank. But I do know that if she doesn’t get control, people are gonna get hurt. Hell, *she’s* gonna get hurt."

"Logan," Hank’s voice softened, and there was something almost pleading in his tone. "She’s been hurt her entire life. Pain is all she knows. If you want her to control her powers, she needs to understand who she is *without* them first. She needs to find herself, not just the weapon those people made her into."

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his muscles coiling tighter. "So, what—you think I should just hold her hand, sing her a lullaby, and hope for the best?"

Hank shook his head gently, his expression thoughtful. "I’m not saying you should coddle her. You’re right to want her to learn control. But she can’t do that if she’s constantly on the defensive, constantly afraid. If she believes all she is is a danger...a burden...then no amount of training will help."

Logan was silent, jaw tightening as Hank’s words sank in. He hated to admit it, but there was truth there—buried beneath his own anger, his own frustration. He had seen that fear in Eva’s eyes, the way she shrank into herself when people got too close, the way her body braced like she was waiting for the next blow to fall. It stirred something in him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You’re askin’ a lot of me, Hank," Logan muttered, his voice rough. "I’m not built for this kind of thing."

"I know," Hank said, his voice calm. "But neither is Eva. She’s not built for the role she’s been forced into. Maybe you two have more in common than you think."

Logan let out a sharp breath, turning away from the railing to face Hank fully for the first time. His eyes were hard, but there was a flicker of uncertainty behind them. "What if I can’t help her?"

Hank met his gaze, unwavering. "You’re not expected to have all the answers, Logan. But you can offer her something no one else can. Understanding. Experience. And, perhaps most importantly, patience."

Logan laughed bitterly. "Patience ain't exactly my strong suit, Hank."

"No," Hank agreed with a faint smile. "But neither was being a leader, and look how far you’ve come with that."

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Charles really does expect miracles, huh?"

"Perhaps. But maybe...this time, he’s not so far off." Hank’s voice softened. "Eva doesn’t just need a teacher, Logan. She needs someone who won’t give up on her, even when she gives up on herself. Someone who sees her as more than just her powers."

Logan’s gaze flickered, something unreadable crossing his expression. He didn’t respond, but the weight of Hank’s words settled over him, heavy and unavoidable.

"You’ve been there, Logan," Hank added quietly, stepping away from the railing. "You know what it’s like to fight your demons. Maybe you can help her fight hers."

Logan didn’t say anything as Hank walked back inside, the door closing softly behind him. For a long time, he stood alone on the balcony, staring out at the darkened sky.

In the silence, he couldn’t shake the truth of Hank’s words, no matter how much he wanted to.

***

The morning air was cool and crisp, the sky tinged with a faint pink as dawn began to break over the training grounds. Logan stood near the center of the field, arms crossed, his expression shadowed by the remnants of frustration from the night before. The conversation with Hank lingered in the back of his mind, like a low hum he couldn’t ignore. 

She needs to find herself first...

He could still hear Hank’s voice, his calm, measured words echoing in his head. Logan wanted to help—he really did—but that didn’t mean it would be easy. Patience was never something he prided himself on, and with Eva’s fragility, it felt like he was walking on a tightrope. One wrong move, one wrong word, and she could shatter.

Eva appeared at the edge of the training field, her figure small and hesitant against the expanse of open space. She hugged her arms around herself, as if trying to shield herself from something far colder than the morning breeze. Her steps were slow, almost reluctant, but there was a resolve in her eyes that Logan couldn’t ignore. She was scared—he could see that plain as day—but she was here.

He admired that. It wasn’t easy to show up when you were terrified of what you might become.

"You're late," Logan grunted as she approached, not making eye contact. His tone wasn’t as harsh as usual, but the words came out clipped, brimming with unspent tension.

Eva looked at him, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. She simply stood there, shifting her weight nervously, clearly unsure of what to expect. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

"Sorry," she finally murmured, voice soft but steady. She looked down at the ground, avoiding his gaze.

Logan let out a long breath, shaking his head. "Look, this ain't gonna be easy, alright?" he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. "If you’re gonna train, you need to be ready to push yourself—hard. No holdin' back."

Eva’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, and she nodded, though the doubt in her expression was unmistakable. 

Logan gritted his teeth, remembering Hank’s words again. Don’t push her too hard. She’s already carrying enough weight.

He hated this—hated not knowing how to handle her. The truth was, he felt like he was drowning in this task. He knew how to break things, how to fight, how to survive—but teaching someone like Eva? It felt like trying to carve delicate patterns with a sledgehammer.

"Alright," he said, trying to soften his approach, though his natural gruffness still crept into his voice. "We're gonna start simple. I want you to focus on that sense you have—the one that picks up on danger." He paused, eyeing her. "That force repulsion thing you did when we found you—that’s gonna be your first line of defense. You need to get control over that."

Eva looked up at him, her brows knitting together. She took a breath, like she was steeling herself, and nodded again.

Logan paced a few steps back, giving her some space. "We’re gonna start small," he said. "I’m gonna move toward you, slowly at first. Your job is to sense the threat and stop me before I get too close." He rolled his shoulders, preparing for the exercise. "Don’t think—just react."

Eva stood there, fidgeting, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. Logan could see the fear creeping in, but he pushed it aside. She needed this, needed to learn how to defend herself if things went south. He had to make sure she was ready.

“Ready?” Logan asked, voice gruff.

She nodded, though the hesitation in her eyes didn’t escape him.

Logan started to move, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. He kept his eyes fixed on her, gauging her reactions, waiting for her to respond. At first, nothing happened. She stood there, stiff and frozen, like she wasn’t sure when to act.

“C’mon, Eva,” Logan urged, his voice sharper than he intended. “Don’t wait till it’s too late.”

Her breathing quickened, and she took a step back, but still, no force repulsion came.

Logan growled under his breath, annoyed at himself as much as her. “You gotta sense it! Feel it building before it’s too close.”

He stepped closer, faster now, closing the distance with purpose. Eva flinched, her hand going up instinctively, but still, the repulsion didn’t come. 

“Dammit, girl, stop holding back!” Logan snapped, his frustration boiling over. “If this were real, you’d be dead by now!”

Eva’s eyes widened, her breath coming faster, and Logan saw the fear flash across her face. She tried again, her hands shaking, but nothing happened. She was slipping further into herself, shutting down.

Logan stopped in front of her, his fists clenched. He could feel his own anger bubbling over, but this time it wasn’t just directed at her—it was at himself. At this whole situation. He was screwing this up, pushing her too hard, just like Hank had warned him not to.

But the anger—his anger—wasn’t listening.

“What’s the matter with you?” he growled, louder than he meant to. “You’ve got all this power and you’re doing nothing with it! You wanna keep being a victim, or do you wanna fight back?!”

Eva flinched as if his words had physically struck her, and Logan immediately regretted them. Her face crumpled, her posture shrinking in on itself. She looked like she was about to break into pieces right in front of him.

“I-I’m trying,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with hurt. “I don’t know how to...I can’t...” 

Logan’s chest tightened at the sight of her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He was angry, angry at everything—and she was standing there, fragile, unsure, and he was the one pushing her over the edge. 

"Try harder," Logan snapped, though his voice cracked under the weight of his own frustration. He hated this—hated seeing her like this. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

Eva swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back, her shoulders shaking.

Something twisted in Logan's gut at the sight of her like this—broken, fragile, afraid. He’d been there before, felt that same helplessness, that same fear. And now he was the one causing it.

"Dammit," Logan muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm inside him. He’d pushed her too far, too soon. 

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Eva standing there alone in the middle of the training field. The weight of his failure, of his anger, pressed down on him as he disappeared into the shadows, trying to escape the guilt gnawing at his bones.

And behind him, Eva stood frozen, eyes wide with confusion, hurt, and something that looked a lot like despair.