#OUT OF ALL GAMES I WISH I COULD FORGET AND REPLAY

[skoulsons]

am i experiencing real sadness bc I’ll never relive GoT completely blind again and I’ll never hear certain lines that ripped my soul out of me for the first time ever again and I won’t get to fully experience the tradgedy of it all for the first time? yes

[gothcsz]

Dangerous Woman | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~9k wc | Part 2 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Javier does something that warrants a second visit.

Tags: stalking, lots of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (we're taking it raw), some plot snuck into the porn (sorry not sorry), spanking, light slapping, slight breeding kink..., some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, we're altering canon timeline just a bit, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: primas (gn), we're back to being delusional! thanks so so so much for all the lovin the boy is mine got like i'm on my knees for each and every one of u fr 🧎🏽‍♀️ hehe i do plan on posting a final part to wrap this up btw. love the dynamic between these two 🖤 did javi match your freak?! did he match your nasty?!

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

You quit going to his apartment entirely. He expects you to meet him there again, and while the urge to return and take things all the way is enticing as hell; you keep yourself from doing so.

Well, technically, you did go by one time and that visit was the reason why you swore the rest of them off.

You watched from the front seat of your car, further down on the other side of the street, as he rested his forearms against the railing; a lit cigarette between his lips while he stared off into the distance.

Your handsome man who somehow looked sexier under distress. Even from how far away you were you could see those defined, prominent wrinkles between his brows.

He was waiting for you. Looking out into the city and wishing that you were prancing your way back to him.

You wondered then if that was a new ritual of his. If he stood out on his balcony every night in hopes of seeing you again. It made your heart soar and goosebumps to erupt along your skin. 

But you want to drive him crazy with your absence, to have him question if what happened that night in his bedroom was as real as it felt. Gaslighting himself into believing it was all just a dream, something his conscience had made up to relieve him temporarily of the hardships of his job.

Part of the sick enjoyment you get comes from your cat and mouse game, with you being the gamemaster. The one who sets the rules and decides when plays are allowed to be made.

You want him to be vigilant, to shine a light against every shadow that crosses his path in hopes that it’s you, the sexy little thing that’s been preying on him for longer than he knows. 

You want to edge him with the anticipation of your next move.

This move won’t happen until further down the line. Things have been tense in the circumstances that overlap both of your careers. Government distrust grows more and more by the day, the drug traffickers get richer by the second.

You just haven’t had the time to follow him as thoroughly as you have been.

Which is why you sunk your claws into someone in his inner circle, a Neil Stoddard that works directly beneath your agent. It had taken you a few tries, causally bumping into him at the market or during a morning jog, until enough rapport was built and you finally convinced him to feed you information on DEA operations.

He was hesitant at first, but you’ve been told that you can be very persuasive; always knowing exactly what to say, which cadence to use and how to shift your body language to match the conversation. Showcasing your skill, you manage to get just about every little detail that you can from the younger agent before anyone else.

It benefits you both in your career and in your efforts to keep tabs on him.

You wonder if he thinks about you in the same way you do him. Does he constantly replay that rainy night in his head? Does he fuck his fist and close his eyes to think of you, the mysterious woman who broke into his apartment just to get on her knees for him? Swallowed his soul in its entirety and then disappeared off into the night?

Fuck, you hope so, because with each day that passes–– you fall deeper in love with Javier Peña.

You’re walking home from work one day, an extra pep in your step at the good news that one of your projects from graduate school is being looked at by some big name publishers back stateside. The excitement of getting your work published by a well known and reputable paper further inflates your ego and the passion that you have for your career.

So you decide to buy something nice for yourself, a materialized pat on the back for being so good at what you do. You enter a quaint antique store that’s nestled in the small plaza a few blocks from your apartment building, eyeing some of the merchandise they have on display.

You’re contemplating whether you want to purchase a set of stained glass table lamps when a distinct glint catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

You turn to see a beautiful engagement ring on display behind the glass counter, its shimmer immediately drawing you to it. You set the lamps down carefully, walking over to the counter to get a better look at the piece of jewelry.

The ring’s silver band is elegantly slender. Intricate filigree work adorns the outer surface with delicate patterns of vines and tiny flowers that spiral gracefully around it. 

At the center sits a stunning marquise cut diamond, its facets catching the light in a soft, romantic sparkle.

You stare at it in awe, imagining it around your finger after he slips it on, still on one knee, while those captivating brown eyes of his stare up at you in nothing but pure love and adoration.

His fiancée. His wife.

Calling the attendant over, she happily lets you try it on incase it needs to be resized.

It doesn’t. It fits just right, making your hand look very lovely. You wriggle your fingers, giggling as it catches the light.

You purchase it, obviously, having her place it in a small, velvety box that you slide into your bag as you thank her for her help; leaving the shop just to walk a few stores down to where they sell lingerie.

There, you buy a new outfit–– this one much more risque than the leather dress that’s neatly tucked away in your closet.

With a small dent in your account, your career on the path of blossoming, and your delusions for him reaching another peak; you go home and plan your next move.

Stoddard tells you about the raid planned to capture Miguel Rodríguez and the fake out involved, since the last time they had targeted him–– bureaucratic bullshit had gotten in the way and prevented the arrest. Something involving the man hiding in the walls and a DEA agent using a sledgehammer to get him out.

Apparently there’s a mole within the Colombian government that’s making it hard to bring the narcos to justice. What’s new? Amidst all this, he mentions how the boss is going to stay behind while everyone else in the department travels to Cali.

This bit of information piques your interest but you keep your reaction neutral. The velvet box in your bag is burning a hole through the leather, reminding you of its existence. You haven’t worn the ring since you tried it on, saving it for the perfect moment.

Like the one that’s just manifested itself.

You get the details of this operation, specifically paying attention to the times so you know at what pace you’ll have to work with.

If your calculations are correct, he’d be all alone in the office well into the night.

You’re an adrenaline junky, clearly, since the idea of sneaking into a government building just to seek pleasure from the DEA attaché has your entire body crackling with electricity.

You thank him as you go your separate ways. The raid is in two days, which will give you more than enough time to get prepared.

Getting ready mellows you out entirely, the only nerves you feel are those of excitement at the prospect of seeing your agent tonight. You’re currently in the bath, your favorite candle lit and on your second glass of wine.

It’d be a massive win for him if they’re able to follow through with the plan. Two of the head honchos in cuffs and behind bars, even if it was the lax walls of a Colombian prison.

Surely it warrants some kind of reward. You did tell him that he’d see you again whenever he did something that was worth your presence. Worth your body.

It could have come sooner, but between the disappearance of Guillermo Pallomari, Christina Jurado’s kidnapping and then Franklin Jurado’s death; fate had other plans.

He just couldn’t catch a break. For his sake, you hope they’re able to get that motherfucker tonight.

Finishing up in the bath, your skin is smooth like the delicate petals of a flower and you smell like a candy shop, all hydrated and plump and ready to be ravaged.

You go through the motions of doing your hair and makeup, this time aiming for a bolder look.

Sharp cat eye liner, classic red lip, thick lashes. You want to mimic the sultry models you see in the high-end magazines.

Dolling yourself up for him is part of your foreplay. You enjoy watching your own transformation, going from a steadfast journalist to a seductive minx at the wave of a makeup brush.

Would he find you attractive? Not your feline alter ego but the real you. The one that camps out in her car more often than not to stalk him, fast food wrappers littering the seats. The woman who broke into his apartment and masturbated using his pillows. The woman using his subordinate to get information about him and his highly classified work operations.

Would the illusion break after so many encounters? Would the allure of your salacious activities dim until that fire is completely smothered with the reality of what you’ve been doing?

Would he even want you if he knew the truth?

You stare at your reflection in the vanity mirror, not even realizing your eyes have glazed over with tears at these thoughts. Your heart aches at the nonexistent rejection.

No, snap out of it. Now is not the time to be thinking of this shit.

Shaking your head, you swiftly get your act together and change into your outfit for the night.

The lingerie set is the epitome of classic elegance with a sexy edge. It consists of a bra, panties, and a garter belt, each piece meticulously designed to celebrate your natural curves and skin tone.

The bra is a balconette style, the cups a luxurious black lace with intricate floral patterns, sheer enough to tease yet opaque enough to leave some things to the imagination. The underwire provides a gentle lift, enhancing the shape of your breasts, while the straps, adorned with tiny satin bows, add a touch of femininity.

The matching panties are a cheeky bikini cut. The front panel is made from the same black lace as the bra, with a subtle scalloped edge that sits gently against your hips. The back is a sheer mesh, offering a tantalizing glimpse of skin with a small satin bow at the waistband. Your ass looks so good.

The garter belt is the pièce de résistance, tying the entire set together. It sits high on your waist, cinching in to create an hourglass silhouette. Four straps extend down, each finished with satin ribbon accents to hold up your thigh-high stockings securely.

You add the accessories: diamond earrings gifted to you by your grandmother, your simple black stilettos and finally–– the ring you purchased at the antique store.

Now in front of a full length mirror, you can’t help but run your hands all over your body. Fuck looking like the high end models from Vogue–– you resemble a god damn Playboy star; sexy enough to warrant your very own centerfold in the magazine.

Maybe you should invest in some bunny ears. Try and be a conejita for one night.

This is what you’d wear on your wedding night, you think, eyes not leaving your reflection as the ring twinkles beneath your bedroom lights. You wouldn’t even wear it in white, the black lace an homage to the erotic start of your relationship with the DEA agent. Your husband.

Your cat mask sits on the bed, right next to your polaroid camera. After you finish eye fucking yourself, you crawl onto the matress and slip it on; obscuring your face in the sexiest way possible.

With all the fuckery he’s had to deal with as of late, you decided you were going to leave some souvenirs behind. A few visuals for him to look at during lonely nights instead of lolling around on his balcony like a neglected puppy.

You begin taking the photos, contorting your body into different erotic positions, getting the best angles. It all comes to you naturally, you’re good behind and in front of the camera.

After a dozen or so snaps of your tits, your ass, your thighs and some cheeky ones of your pretty cunt, you let them develop and take the mask off, putting on a basic satin slip dress to hide your lingerie. 

You were going to be out in a more public space, you didn’t want to risk something happening and for that to leave you basically naked in the streets of Bogotá.

Tossing your belongings into your bag, you drive to the embassy, parking around the back to keep your vehicle hidden from any prying eyes. How ironic. 

The familiar trench coat sits on your shoulders, tied close to keep your naughty outfit out of sight. Your bag hangs from the curve of the inside of your elbow, the kitten mask nestled at the bottom, just waiting for you to don it once more.

In this moment, you feel like one of those cliché romance tropes: surprising your husband at work with skimpy clothes under a fucking coat.

You snort at the realization, but you’re kind of loving this.

When you push open the door to the building, you notice how quiet and empty it is. At the large front desk, an older officer straightens his posture at your entrance.

“Identificación, por favor.”

You bite your lip, praying to god that this works, and dig into your bag to pull out your press lanyard. It has your name on it, what paper you work for along with a photograph that was taken your first day on the job.

You hand it over and he eyes it then you suspiciously, taking in your done up appearance.

“I’ve got some photographs developing in the lab here. Lost track of time at the office which is why I’m stopping by so late. I’ll just be in and out, no worries.” You explain in English with a gentle lilt, hoping that your status as an American will sway him into letting you up.

He hands you back your lanyard. “I’m not supposed to let anyone who isn't employed here in after a certain time. Lo siento, señorita. Regresa mañana.”

Your eye twitches in annoyance at the denial, your skin prickling with frustration.

You have to see him tonight. No matter what. This senile idiot isn’t going to stop you.

“I didn’t want to do this…” You begin with a sigh, leaning forward against the desk and your coat opens up just enough for him to get a good look down your cleavage, “But I’m also here to visit my fiancé, mi prometido.” You bring your left hand up for him to see the ring that adorns your finger, “He’s been having some tough days and I wanted to surprise him. I’m sure you know him. Javier Peña.”

Now this gets his attention, snapping his gaze from ogling your cleavage to meet your eyes.

“Ah, si, Javier Peña. El jefe de la DEA.”

You nod, seeing his resolve dissipating, and he lazily waves his hand, signaling that you’re good to go up.

“Muchas gracias señor, que tenga buena noche.”

Fuck. Yes. Your nerves morph into excitement as you step into the elevator, hitting the button that goes to his floor.

Pretending to be his to a complete stranger has put you further into a mood, feeling your pulse quickening at the idea of doing it again. Of deceiving the world, warping reality to play into your delusions of being happily engaged to a man who doesn’t even know what you look like.

The elevator comes to a stop, the silver doors opening up to a narrow hallway with various rooms and offices on either side. If you recall correctly, his is further down the hall which is perfect because you need to set your belongings down before making your grand entrance.

You find a place for your things behind the stairwell door, knowing that’s how you’re going to make your escape tonight. You didn’t want to walk past the security guard again and you didn’t want to give him enough time to chase you down into the elevator.

You strip the satin dress, stuffing it into your bag and leaving you just in your undergarments. The polaroids you took are nestled into an envelope and put into the pocket of your trench coat once you have it back on, pulling out your mask and gently bringing it over your face. You apply one final stroke of red lipstick and slip the mesh gloves over your fingers before sneaking your way down the hall.

You press your back against the wall, the tap of your heels muted due to the carpeted floor. Fluttering your eyes close, you force your brain to focus on sound— trying to discern if he is here alone or if he has company.

After a few minutes of listening, you come to the conclusion that he is alone so you just barely poke your head around the corner, eyes scanning the dark room.

It looks like a typical office. Desks sprawled about, a bigger one at the front which you assume to be the secretary’s. The usual fluorescents are dimmed, bathing the room in a transparent darkness.

Across the space is his personal office. It looks like a giant fishbowl at the end of the room, giant windows lining every wall. The blinds are open, giving you a good view of him sitting at the edge of his desk, the phone pressed up to his ear while his large hand nurses a glass of his favorite amber liquor, the familiar cigarette hanging from pointer and middle finger.

You hum diligently. How is he always so fucking handsome?

With catlike suaveness, you move across the room and closer to his office, noticing that the door is ajar, giving you the opportunity to listen in on the call.

Your eyes flit up to the analog clock that hangs on the opposite wall. They’re about to move in on Miguel. 

The tension of this moment, the pure suspense does nothing but aid you and your sexual desires. Whatever news he gets, whether it’s good or bad, you’ll be here to console him… with open arms, and open legs, and an open mouth.

Now that you’re closer, you get a better look at him in his typical work outfit. Rolled up white button up, midnight blue slacks and a loose tie. You wonder if he took off the jacket recently or if he’s been walking around like this for a few hours.

Small details like that matter to you. 

You can’t make out the garbling coming from the phone, but you do see the way he exhales and how his shoulders drop. He closes his eyes letting his wispy lashes fan across his skin. Tension rolls off his body in pure relief as he hears that Miguel Rodríguez has finally been arrested and Salcedo was able to get his family safe. 

He returns the phone to the receiver after a few moments, his thick fingers dragging along the plastic and the simple action has a puddle gathering in your panties.

Standing, he makes his way to the large window that overlooks the downtown area of the capitol, the bustling nightlife illuminating the black night sky.

His back is to you, much like the first time you did this dance, smoke from his cigarette curling around him as he takes lengthy drags in self reflection.

You just watch him, once more under his spell while you remain crouched in the shadows.

He’s been through so much, you know this. All the shit with Escobar, getting into bed with drug dealers and murderers just to catch him, only to be taken off right at the end then returning to finish off Cali. 

God that must have been so… depressing. You wish you would have known him then, before the job molded him into more of a cynic.

You just want to comfort and hold him. To love him with every molecule of your existence. 

Don’t worry, mi amor, I’m right here.

With that, you make your appearance, slowly standing and opening the door further.

The shift in the air at your presence has the hairs on the back of his neck standing and he turns his head to the side, catching your silhouette from his peripheral.

“Hola, gatita.”

His voice is smooth and it drips straight to your clit.

“Hey handsome.” 

You close the door behind you, leaning against it as he fully faces you. His brown eyes scan you from head to toe before he moves to sit in the large chair behind his desk, stubbing out his cigarette against the overfilled ashtray.

“You know…” He grunts out, resting his forearm atop of his head lazily as he leans back, “I prayed tonight’s operation would play out as planned. Not because of the metaphorical nail in Cali’s coffin, but in hopes that the win would lure you out.”

“Is that so?” Your heart is racing at his words and his evident craving for you. You try not falter as you slowly make your way around his office, shutting the blinds as you go.

There’s six windows. You’ve got five more to go.

“Mhm,” he hums, glossy eyes following you around the small space, “I just got confirmation that Miguel is in cuffs. On his way to Bogotá. And not even a few minutes later… well, here you are.”

“Here I am…” you flirt, moving on to the next window.

Then the fourth… third…

“How did you know?”

Only two more until you’re secluded in a little bubble of privacy.

“Call it a woman's intuition.”

His jaw ticks, not liking the answer but also not making a fuss out of it. Yet. He wants to enjoy you tonight, to become the keeper of time so he can drag out the hours and devote himself wholly to you. 

He’s missed you entirely too much. It’s a different feeling, this yearning that nips at him. Hardly ever does he think twice about the women he sleeps with.

But there’s something about you and how you popped up in his life so suddenly. How you turned his world on its head.

A kitten size hole has been left in his heart since you left him on his bedroom floor like a toy you weren’t interested in playing with anymore. 

You finish shutting the blinds, turning to face him as he manspreads himself out on his leather chair, rubbing his palm along his clothed thigh. It makes you want to pounce on it, to rub your wet pussy all over him in the same way you had gotten yourself off on his pillow.

You can practically feel his muscles contracting, the slight flex snapping a sharp orgasm out of you. 

“How are you going to thank me tonight, gatita?” His demeanor is vastly different than last time; he’s exuberating some of that dominance you know he possesses.

You remain silent, your gloved hand digging in the pocket of your coat as you pull out the envelope with your pictures in it, bringing it up to teasingly wave around.

His name is neatly written in cursive against the paper and his brows raise in surprise. He hadn’t expected an actual, tangible token of appreciation.

“This is for all your troubles. I know how hard it’s been in your world recently.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. Granted, anyone can observe that his job is fucking difficult without knowing the specifics.

But it’s the way you said it, as if you know more than what you should.

You place the envelope in between your teeth, some of your red lipstick smudging against it as your gaze remains locked on his. Your hands make work of the belt that’s kept your trench coat closed, tugging at it until it’s undone. 

The air is charged in pure lustful electricity as the fabric falls from your shoulders and pools around your feet.

“Congratulations on your arrest, agente.”

The grip on his whiskey glass tightens, golden eyes turning an onyx color as he drinks in your scandalous appearance like a man who’s been denied the basic necessity of water his entire life.

“You’re killing me here, bebita.”

You giggle, scrunching your nose beneath the mask and the sound of your flirty laugh has his lips pulling up into a small smile. 

“Come closer. Let me get a better look at you.”

You comply obediently, placing one foot in front of the other before he abruptly stops you.

“Gatea como lo hiciste la última vez.”

Oh shit, your legs turn into jello at the command and immediately you fall to your knees, feeling the scratchy carpet through your stockings. 

“Good girl. Me encanta cuando haces caso.” He praises and you moan softly, crawling towards him on your hands and knees, the envelope still between your teeth.

He takes a sip of his drink, still lounging and keeping a cool demeanor, yet not relenting with the heavy stare he’s laying on you.

His eyes make out every curve of your body, how the shimmer from your lotion makes you glimmer like a shooting star. If he could close his eyes and make a wish right now, he’d wish to know who you really are.

You stop once you’re in between his legs and he stares at you for a good long minute before leaning forward, finishing off whatever was left of his whiskey and setting the empty glass aside.

His thumb and index fingers pinch your chin, moving your jaw to tilt upward so he can look down into your lovely eyes. The pair he sees every time he closes his own.

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

He pulls the envelope from your mouth, your saliva leaving it damp but he doesn’t give a damn.

He opens it up, eyebrows quirking at the sight of the polaroid photos as he carefully analyzes each and every single one.

You’re hanging on to every reaction he gives, the way his eyes map every inch of your figure and how you photographed yourself for him.

It’s there, in the pictures, that he sees it. The ring. His brows pull together in confusion, his gaze flickering down to your hands that are resting on your thighs.

“Let me see your left hand, baby.”

The statement has a warmth blossoming in your stomach. You’re certain he can see your heartbeat pounding against your chest.

Tentatively you bring your hand up, resting it on his knee. 

He sets the photos on his desk then delicately removes the glove, calloused fingers taking your hand in his as he eyes the beautiful ring.

“This wasn’t here last time… ¿te comprometiste, gatita? Been giving that dirty mouth and pussy to someone else, hmm?” He places a kiss on the diamond, his dark eyes now boring into you.

Your thighs clench together at the intensity of the moment and you shake your head earnestly, wanting to dispel those thoughts from his mind entirely.

There is no one else. Just you.

“No. It’s all for you Javi. I just—” Your words get jumbled up, lost on your tongue as the sexy facade slips for a moment while you try and find the right words to explain your possessive, matrimonial fantasy to him.

“All for me, huh?” He’s getting a kick out of your nervous state, dropping your hand and motioning for you to give him the other as he takes the glove off of it too.

“All for you. I’m yours.” You say in a shaky breath, “This ring… it’s my way of pretending that it’s all real… that you’re mine too.” That you want me the same way I want you.

Silence cloaks the both of you, his face set in an unreadable expression.

“You don’t have to pretend, gatita. It can be real. Just let me see you.” He goes to unmask you again but you turn your head to the side to keep him from doing so.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It won’t be fun anymore.” Translation: I’m fucking scared that you’re not going to want the real me.

“So? We could have so much more fun without all this.” His pointer finger traces the lacey cat ears, “Not that I mind this. It’s sexy as hell.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity in his stare but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

“No,” you repeat, a little harsher, “And if you try to take it off again I will disappear and you will never see me again.” 

You rise from the floor, trying to regain some of the control that’s slipped from your grasp. His jaw sets, hands coming up to grip your waist, pulling your body to him until his curved nose runs along your belly.

You gasp softly.

“Tan mala mi gatita bella. Luckily for you I like to work for it.”

He begins to place open mouthed kisses all over your midriff, biting the garter belt and pulling on it so it snaps back onto your skin with a delicious sting.

Your head falls onto your shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his lips. You bring your fingers down to run through his hair, enjoying how silken it is.

His strong hands move from your waist around to your ass, digging his nails into the supple skin while he kneads it, groaning at how soft you are. 

“Didn’t get to touch on this pretty body last time. M’not gonna make that mistake again. Bend over the desk, muñequita. Ahora.” He slaps your ass harshly and you squeal, feeling a fresh wave of wetness soaking your folds.

He relinquishes his hold on you, rolling his chair back to give you room to situate yourself in the position he wants to see you in.

You bend at the waist, your heels making the posture look extra sensual as your breasts press against the wooden surface. 

You hold your breath, anticipating what he does next. 

He gets up from the chair, his touch light as a feather as he traces from the top of your spine down to where the arch in your back is. His hands then go to grip your wrists, moving them so they’re pinned at your lower back.

“Gonna have to keep those pretty pictures on me at all times, gatita. Can’t risk someone else seeing what’s mine. I’d have to kill them.”

His possessiveness further turns you on, and now you want for those pictures to fall in the wrong hands. Just to see how he’d react.

He leans over you, placing kisses on the back of your shoulders, moving your hair to the side to expose more of your flushed skin to him. You turn your head, resting your cheek against the desk as you briefly make eye contact with him.

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” You reply and he smirks, kissing the corner of your mouth.

His lips trail down the same path he just traced, working his way down until he’s kneeled behind you, his breath fanning over your sopping pussy.

Your hips twitch instinctively, the pressure between your legs becoming unbearable. You need to feel him on you, whether it’s that sinful mouth of his or those deliciously thick fingers. Something, anything.

As if reading your mind, he brings his hand up to grope your backside enticingly, running his fingers beneath the band of your stockings, your skin feeling like melting butter beneath his touch.

“Been thinking about this since you left me last time. I should have kept you from leaving, should have buried myself in between your pretty legs instead.”

You lick your lips, “Then stop talking and do it.”

He wastes no time in landing a harsh slap against your ass, the skin rippling beneath the touch and you yelp out in both surprise and excitement.

“Eres una gatita tan traviesa. Voy a tener que domesticarté nena.”

Another harsh slap, then another, then another. With each sting you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm which is a bit pathetic since he hasn’t even touched you like that and you’re already a buzzing, dripping fucking mess.

Each mewl that falls from your lips urges him to continue until he’s satisfied with the flush on each of your cheeks.

His fingers then move to fist the flimsy material of your panties, harshly tugging it until the thin fabric disappears in between your folds and the slight burn from it digging into your sensitive flesh does wonders for the throbbing at your core.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, bebita, just like I knew it’d be. Look at her, all wet for me. You like getting spanked, don’t you?”

You moan loudly, completely at a loss for words as you nod your head, cheek still pressed to the desk.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Had so much to say last time.” His palm connects with your ass again, coaxing a verbal reply from you.

“Yes Javi, fuck I love being spanked. Love feeling your hands all over me.”

He hums in content, slowly pulling down the ruined underwear off your legs until you’re fully exposed to him. “Since you won’t let me see your gorgeous face, I want you to show off this sweet cunt of yours. Spread her open for me, gatita.”

Exhaling shakily, you move your hands from your lower back until you've got a good grip on your own body, spreading your pussy open so he can see all of you.

For a split second you feel self conscious, not being able to see his reaction as you lay open and vulnerable to him.

That dissipates quickly, however, when you hear his satisfied keen then feel his nose skimming against the plush skin of the back of your thighs, kissing your wrist.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” He repeats your own words back to you, his voice low and deep and fuck are you in love with this man.

His hot, wet tongue licks the length of your slit and you can’t control the noise that you make, sighing his name out. Your skin erupts in chills when he does it again, the coarse hairs of his mustache prickling against your swollen cunt.

“Tan dulce. Dunno how you’re going to pull me off of her.”

And with that, he fully immerses himself in your pussy. He’s desperate, licking every inch of you that he can, savoring the tangy taste of your sex. He sucks onto your folds before hardening his tongue and rapidly flicking the tip against your clit. This has you struggling to keep yourself spread open for him, writhing at his ministrations.

“Oh my fucking god Javier your tongue, holy shit…” You babble, absolutely blissed out as his strong nose nuzzles against your entrance, the tip of it inside of you.

He groans, absolutely pussy drunk, rendering him a scrambled mess as he further buries his face into you, his big strong hands working your thighs, this time actually ripping your stockings.

Making out with your pussy passionately, your arousal drips from his mouth and down his jaw. He pulls back, a stringy glob of your fluids following like a cut open aloe vera plant. His thumb brushes against your clit as he spits onto your cunt, smearing his saliva all over before he slips two fingers inside you.

You clench immediately, crying out his name as his digits stretch you open. “So fucking tight gatita. You gonna squeeze my dick like this?”

Your knees just about give out at the promise of feeling his impressive girth inside of you. You hadn’t planned to actually fuck him tonight, not wanting to spoil the erotic nature of your visits by just giving him your pussy.

But now, as he’s ravishing and fingering you with such vigor and your vision beginning to blur as a sign of your incoming orgasm, you’re back tracking on that decision entirely.

You need him to fuck you. You might just die if he doesn’t.

He curls his fingers at your lack of response, the tips of them brushing up against that spot that makes you jolt, your chest rising from the desk while your thighs tighten.

“Stay put and answer the fucking question,” His free hand moves to roughly push you back down, his mouth joining his fingers on your pussy.

“Fuck yes baby. Gonna squeeze you til I milk every single drop out of that fat fucking cock.” You whimper like you’re in an X rated film, rocking your hips back against him as your stomach tightens. You’re so close.

Content with your answer, he slips in a third finger and harshly sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth, moving his head side to side. That’s enough to have you spill all over him, your body trembling while a mixture of moans and sobs and cries of his name echo out of you like a cock-obsessed woman that needs to be sedated.

Your acrylics dig into the skin of your ass, leaving crescent shaped marks on the flesh.

He continues his relentless assault on your cunt, eating you out through your orgasm. The blood rushing in your ears keeps you from hearing all the filthy things he’s chanting against your skin.

The ring looks so beautiful next to your spent pussy, querida. All mine.

Pulling his fingers from you once you’ve come down from your high, he places a final, more gentle kiss against your clit and you twitch from the oversensitivity.

“Did so good muñeca.” He rises from his kneeled position, the soft sounds of his joints popping having you blink away some of the haziness from your eyes, your body completely limp against his desk.

His hands run along the length of your body before he’s tenderly flipping you over so you’re on your back, the edge of the desk uncomfortably digging into your waist.

Noticing this, he clears some space to make room then lifts you until you’re fully sprawled out on his desk looking absolutely wrecked.

His mustache is damp with your release, lips swollen from him losing himself in the taste of you and drinking all that you have to offer him. Brown eyes remain dark, gaze swimming with longing.

“So handsome…” you mutter dreamily as he hovers over you, his thumb gently caressing the part of your cheek that isn’t covered by the mask.

“I wish you would let me get a good look at you, gatita.” He leans in, kissing your chin then your jaw until he’s trailing down onto the soft skin of your neck.

“Javi…” you sigh out, not only because his lips feel fucking divine but also because you don’t want to have this conversation again.

“I know, I know. You’ll disappear and I’ll never see you again. I got it the first time.”

He cups your breasts in his hands, gently kneading them as he licks down your sternum. He snakes a hand behind you and you arch your back, letting him expertly undo your bra.

The straps are delicately pulled down your shoulder until the garment is completely off, your nipples pebbling as the cool air of his office nips at them.

He wastes no time in wrapping his pouty lips around the sensitive peak and suckling softly. His tongue traces around your areola, grazing his teeth against your nipple which causes you to whine and bring your fingers to entangle in his hair, pressing your chest deeper onto his face.

Repeating the action on the other, he lavishes your breasts with attention from his skilled muscle. His facial hair is an added stimulant to your pleasure and your clit pulsates, body ready to have him inside of you.

You roll your hips, feeling his erection brush up against your naked pussy and your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s then that you realize that he’s still fully clothed while you’re practically naked. The only things that adorn your body are your ripped stockings and the garter belt along with your heels.

Tugging him away from your tits, you bring his face up to yours, noses brushing against each other. You can smell your sex on his lips, so you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself and moaning.

“I need you to fuck me, agent.” Your lips brush against his as you speak, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to you.

His chest rumbles at your request, hands antsy as he caresses and gropes; memorizing all your curves and the feel of your body.

“S’that what my gatita wants? For me to fuck her sweet little pussy?” 

Your answer comes in the form of another passionate kiss with a nod, your tongue intertwining with his then sucking on it softly.  He’s such a good fucking kisser, you could make out with him until your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls back, quickly beginning to unbutton his shirt in which you assist him, your french tipped nails taking over while he makes work of getting his pants undone and off.

Sliding his shirt off his broad shoulders, you pull him back down to you, lips quickly kissing all over the freshly exposed skin, savoring the warmth radiating off him.

You feel his naked cock pressing against your wet slit and your head cants back, a breathless whimper pushing past your lips while he lets out a deep groan.

“You make such pretty noises, muñeca. Wanna hear them all the time.”

He rubs his plush head against the length of your sopping pussy, collecting the wetness of your arousal.

“Gonna let me fuck this pussy raw, gatita? For all I know you’ve been spreading your legs for half the fuckin’ city.”

Your head spins, body overstimulated by his touch and the words that leave him. 

“Need to feel all of you, Javi. I think about it all the time. No one else. Just you.” You whisper out, once more clenching your thighs around his hips and rolling your own to entice him into slipping inside your tight and needy heat.

He curses, his teasing finally getting to him as he slowly sinks his thick, hard cock inside of you.

You both sigh out in pleasure in unison, your fleshy walls contracting around his length and swallowing him in, almost in the same manner in which your throat had all those nights ago. 

Every part of your body is eager to feel him somehow, your obsession and insatiable craving convoluting your being into nothing more than just something to bring him pleasure.

“Goddamn nena te sientes tan rica. Este cuerpecito está hecho para mí.”

He still hasn’t bottomed out and you feel so incredibly full. Your wet dreams have nothing against the real thing. 

“Javiiii, I need you to move. To fuck me hard and fast.” While you know having him rock into you slowly and sensually would feel better than winning the fucking lottery, you need to drop your own self respect and have him take you like the whores he’s so fond of.

He bares his teeth, straightening his posture so he’s no longer hovering over you. He readjusts your legs to sit higher on his waist.

“Was goin’ slow to give you the chance to get used to me baby pero la gatita quiere mas and I can’t help but spoil you, hermosa.”

Without warning, he snaps his hips into yours and you gasp loudly, the burn of him stretching you out adds vicious heat to your already hot cunt.

“Oh just like that Javi please…” you sob as he begins to fuck you just as you asked. Hard and fast. 

“Pobrecita. Can’t even take what she’s asking for.” He fucking pouts, mocking you and you’re certain that you’ve died and gone straight to horny heaven.

The desk moves with every thrust; pens, papers and other items hitting the floor. 

He roughly takes ahold of your bouncing tits, using them as leverage to keep splitting you open on his cock, your arousal leaving a creamy ring against his flesh and the sight has him going feral.

“Fuck this is the best pussy I’ve ever fucked, querida. So tight and fucking perfect. Bet you’ve never been fucked like this before, huh? S’probably why you came to me. Knew I would take good care of you.”

Your hands grip the edge of the desk, knuckles flushed, to keep you from falling off. The scratchy hairs on the base of his cock brush against your sensitive clit, having you shut your eyes out of pure ecstasy.

You never want this to end.

“Abre esos ojos gatita, you’re already denying me so much by not letting me see your lovely face. At least let me look into those beautiful eyes while I fuck you.” One of his hands leaves your breast, lightly slapping you to get your attention back on him.

As if it ever wavered.

Your eyes blink open, the slight sting across your cheek only bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“D-Do that again.” You plead with a small smirk, squeezing your walls around him and he grunts, slapping your face again.

You moan and he matches your smirk, basking in your reaction.

“Ay nena, eres mi dream girl. Where the fuck have you been all my life?”

His praise paired with the harsh snap of his hips driving his cock deeper is enough to have stars blinding your eyesight as your pussy tightens and your orgasm begins to shoot up your spine.

“Aqui, Javi. I’m right here baby.” Your words slur, absolutely cock drunk.

His torso looks perfectly fucking sculpted, like a god walking amongst men. Different muscles tense and jolt at his movements; you want to bite into his triceps and lick all over his prominent collarbone.

He shifts again, this time throwing your legs over his shoulders and the change in angle has you moaning out like a seasoned pornstar. He places gentle kisses against the inside of your knee, trailing his tongue against the nylon of your stockings before doing the same on the other leg.

This has your pussy feeling tighter and you watch as his own orgasm begins to overtake him.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

Your left hand trails down the length of your torso until it’s at your pulsating clit, the tips of your fingers beginning to rub small circles against the pearl.

His dark eyes fall onto your movements, his tongue running along his teeth slowly.

“Tan hermosa, nena. Look at how that ring looks against your pussy. Do you touch yourself pretending it’s me, tu esposo, gatita?”

You nod, no longer feeling shy about your perverse delusion of belonging to him in a matrimonial sense. “Si, all the time. Think about you coming home to our house and fucking me on our bed. Ay, Javi I’m about to cum.”

His balls clench, jaw ticking as he too begins to slip into this fantasy of yours. “I’d take such good care of you baby. Make sure all of your needs are, fucking christ,” his thrusts stutter, “met. I’d do anything for you.”

And just like that, your orgasm topples over and your back archs off the desk at the intensity of it. Your vision spots, ears ringing as you douse his cock with your cum.

He fucks you through it, muffled words of praise not reaching you since you’re trying to focus on not passing out from pure bliss.

His cock twitches inside of you, feeling you come undone pulling euphoria out of him too.

“Where do you want it, gatita. You better tell me before I cum in this pussy and make you a mamita.”

Oh fuck, while the offer sounds enticing as hell, you know you need to think with a somewhat clear head so you just say, “Cum all over my clit, please.”

You don’t need to tell him twice, he pulls out just enough for the hot ribbons of his spend to messily land on your exposed clit, some of it getting on your knuckles and ring as you lazily rub it in.

He’s cursing up a storm, a tight grip on your thigh as he empties his balls all over your flesh. 

You both are left panting, his cum dripping down your fingers and pussy onto his desk. Blinking slowly, you meet his gaze and bring your digits up to your mouth, sucking them in and humming in content at the taste of your mixed release.

“Sucia,” he spits out before falling to his knees again, giving you no time to fucking react as he buries his face in your freshly used cunt.

“Javier!” You shout, literally shout, as he eats your cum and his out of your sweet pussy. Your fingers shoot down to tangle in his mussed hair, yanking on it without caring if it pains him or not. 

You don’t even realize it but you’re actually crying. The tears falling from the corners of your eyes beneath the mask and onto your cheek.

You’ve never felt this good. Never had a man, or anyone else for that manner, make you feel as sexy and wanted as the agent that’s currently in between your legs. 

When he finally stands, you’re left an incoherent mess and all he does is smirk.

“We taste good, muñeca.”

You whimper, not knowing how the fuck you’re going to recover from this and if you’ll even make it down the flight of stairs that awaits you for your departure.

Javier’s after care consists of placing soft kisses all over you, whispering sweet words to help bring you back to him. He caresses you again, this time being mindful of your over sensitivity.

He kisses along your thighs and tummy then moves up to each breast. His fingers graze along your skin and when he’s finally at your mouth, your lips meet in a kiss that surpasses any of the other ones you’ve shared with him.

Your mask makes it a little awkward at first but neither of you seem to care, too lost in the feeling of the other. It’s sensual and slow, all the unspoken things felt between the two of you being relayed during this interlock.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against the lace and plastic of your kitten mask. Your red lipstick is smeared all over his handsome face.

The lust in his brown eyes has now been replaced with something else that you can’t quite put your finger on, and that’s enough to snap you out of your trance and you gently push at his chest.

“I have to go.”

He scoffs, not moving from over you, “You don’t.”

“I do, Javi.” You say, a little more forcefully, which gets him to pull away.

Your panties and bra are on the other side of the room and you slide from the desk to retrieve them, wobbling as you go.

You’re going to be feeling him for days.

“How many more times are we going to do this? What’s the endgame here?”

You pull your underwear up your legs, cringing at how uncomfortable the damp material feels against your swollen core.

“There is no endgame. We’re just messing around.”

With your bra back on, you move to retrieve your trench coat which means you have to face him now.

He’s leaning against his desk like he had been when you first arrived, pants undone but up on his hips again.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to sneak in whenever you need a good fuck?”

You laugh dryly, crossing the room to get your coat but he grabs you by the forearm once you pass him; halting you in your spot.

“Javier,” You warn.

“You’re breaking my fucking heart, baby.”

You stare at him, wanting nothing more than to rip the mask off and confess to him how much he means to you despite this being anything but a conventional relationship.

As delusional as you’ve tended to be as of late, you know he’s way out of your league. He doesn’t go after girls like you.

Girls that are easy to dismiss and forget in the pouring rain.

“Same rules as last time: you’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

He tightens his grip on your arm and you narrow your eyes.

“Are we clear?”

He’s silent but finally lets go and you don’t hesitate to grab and put on your coat.

You’re so eager to leave that you don’t notice your press lanyard has slipped out of your pocket as you’re making your way to the door.

He stands from his seated position and you brace yourself for yet another attempt at him trying to change your mind.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, you hear the flick of a lighter and that’s enough to get you to turn the doorknob and leave without another word. 

Javier smokes the entire cigarette to calm his racing heart before he lazily begins to clean up the mess you two made in his office.

He’s lost in his thoughts, all consisting of you, until he spots the lanyard in the corner.

Picking it up, he looks at it quizzically before flipping it over. His jaw tightens once he sees your face, the familiarity of your lips and eyes luring him in.

He’s got a clear view now and it strikes him entirely, heart fluttering as he takes in your appearance. 

He reads your name, as if tasting it on his tongue, and the outlet you work for out loud. He recognizes you from somewhere but he just can’t remember where.

This is going to pick at him like an unhealed scab. But at least Javier knows who you are now.

Of course she’s a reporter. Things are starting to make more sense.

Translations:

Identificación, por favor - Identification please

Lo siento, señorita. Regresa mañana - I'm sorry ma’am. Come back tomorrow

El jefe de la DEA - The head of the DEA

Muchas gracias señor, que tenga buena noche - Thank you very much sir, have a good night

Gatea como lo hiciste la última vez - Crawl like you did last time

bebita - baby girl

agente - agent

muñeca - doll

Me encanta cuando haces caso.

¿te comprometiste, gatita? - Are you engaged, kitten?

Tan mala mi gatita bella. - My beautiful kitten is so bad

Eres una gatita tan traviesa. Voy a tener que domesticarté nena. - You are such a naughty kitten. I'm going to have to tame you baby.

Tan dulce. - So sweet

Goddamn nena te sientes tan rica. Este cuerpecito está hecho para mí. - Goddamn baby you feel so good. This little body is made for me.

pero la gatita quiere mas - but the kitten wants more

Abre esos ojos gatita - open those eyes

esposo - husband

sucia - dirty

[xcherricutie]

🌺 drift away 🌺

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 1.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic (I can't help myself)]

[Notes: My first Hazbin Hotel one shot. Still new to Tumblr, and new to writing one shots, I'm used to writing longer form. Hope this post is up to the standard. It's like, 1 in the morning and I have work tomorrow morning, enjoy. I will hopefully get out a part that's kinda like a prequel, I wanna do Other Friends lol. Obvs inspired by Steven Universe.]

Let’s go in the garden, 

You’ll find something waiting, 

Right there where you left it, 

Lying upside down...

Excitement shot through your system, your feet dragging along the ground as a giggle bubbled from within you. You paused every few seconds as the man before you looked back, a single brow raised at your antics. He took a few steps forward, the sounds of your feet tapping as you followed along filling the air. He sighed, turning around. His eyes, golden sclera and deep red irises, landed on your own, though unfocused. Almost as if looking straight through you. 

He’d tried to keep you here, to stop you from following. He knew you were only doing what you were meant to do. You were made for him. An angel born purely to keep Lucifer in check, to keep him happy. You loved being by his side, you loved spending time with him on Earth, in the garden. You thought he loved it too. You thought he loved you. 

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer forced a smile for you. His wings softly flapped behind him, lifting him off the ground, raising him to be just above your face level. His finger tapped your nose, his enchanting voice coming through. “Here in the garden, let’s play a game, I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

“Here in the garden, stand very still,” His hands on your shoulders, you looked up at him with a beaming smile, happy to spend time with your love. 

“This’ll be so much fun,” Your voice, soft and delicate spoke, earning a smile from him. Your heart fluttered at his smile, his cheeks crinkling slightly as his eyes closed, appearing relaxed. At least to you. But appearances weren’t all what they seemed. 

“And then he smiled, that’s what I’m after,” You clenched a fist, pressing it to your chest, trying to calm your fast beating heart. You could feel the eyes of the demon behind you on you, the very demon that came from him. “The smile in his eyes, the sound of his laughter.” 

You could see the scene replaying before you all over again. You could even hear the soft chuckle that had once escaped his lips, his hands softly squeezing your shoulders. You knew she could see it too, but you didn’t want to acknowledge the memories that had begun to rush back to you, memories from long ago. Memories you’d wished you could forget. 

“Happy to listen, happy to play, happily watching him drift away...” 

Lucifer’s grip loosened on your shoulders, his wings flapping as he pulled away, leaving you to your little game. You watched him fly into the bright sky, disappearing in the light of the sun with another. But you didn’t think anything of it, because he loved you. He was playing with you, spending time with you. 

The girl behind you could only watch in silence, her throat squeezing closed as she tried to keep her inner turmoil to herself. She knew exactly where she was, exactly where you had taken her. The wilted bushes, the out-of-control bramble, the spiraling roots through the grass. This was the long-abandoned Garden of Eden. This was where it all began. Where Charlie’s father, Lucifer, had started humanity’s spiral into chaos, starting with you. 

“Happily waiting, all on my own, under the endless sky...” You glanced up to the stars dotting the night sky. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. You never wanted anyone to see this, you never even wanted to see it again yourself. Yet, here you were, sharing your vulnerability with the person you’d come down to Hell to kill. The princess of Hell herself, and Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie. You had let her in, showing her your memories. “Counting the seconds, standing alone, as thousands of years go by...” 

The roots had begun to cling to your still form, your body aching, your wings begging to be spread once more. Your hair, once something you had been proud of, now in shambles, grown out nearly to your feet. Deep bags had sunk into the skin under your eyes, a telling sign of your exhaustion. For how much longer must this game go on, you wondered, but never dared voice it. You were meant to make him happy, right? 

“Happily wondering, night after night, is this how it works? Am I doing it right?” Your fists clenched, unable to bear looking at your old self any longer, watching as your sickened form disappeared, turning into speckles of gold in the wind. You stepped forward into the place where you had once showed Charlie your older memories, resuming the familiar stance you had been in for over ten thousand years. “Happy to listen, happy to stay, happily watching him drift away...” 

A cool breeze blew through your hair, reminding you of the countless nights you took solace in the feeling, the only thing that reminded you that you were still alive, still conscious. Your eyes met Charlie’s, a faint smile on her face as you spotted the tears welling in her eyes. You turned away with the breeze, taking a step in the opposite direction of Charlie, startling her as she was quick to follow. 

“You keep on turning pages, for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you,” 

You walked along the edge of a pond, legs brushing against the soft petals of the flowers surrounding the pond. The breeze pulled along the flowers, a long dead water lily being ripped from the ground. Grasping the weakened petals of the flower in your hand, you turned to Charlie with a soft smile, placing the flower in her blonde hair that felt just the same as his. Just as you pulled your hand away, turning your attention to the water, the flower crumpled in her hair, falling apart. 

“And still, it takes you ages, to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, everyone’s gone on without you...” Your eyes drifted back to the spot you had become a part of for so long. The spot you thought would one day claim you and set you free from the pain that he’d left behind in you. Charlie’s eyes followed, her eyes widening to see more of your memories, more of what her father had caused. 

“Finally, something.” 

The two seraphims, Sera and Emily, stood before you, fear and sorrow written across their faces. Emily ripped roots that had grown to hold you down tightly off, while Sera ran her fingers through your broken hair, tears streaming down her face. 

“Finally, news, about how the story ends.” 

Sera rambled on and on about everything you had missed. About how humanity had progressed. About the angels that had replaced you in society. Everybody thought you were dead, at the hands of the Devil. You didn’t understand any of it, not until she explained just what had happened, why you were even standing here, playing this game. 

“He isn’t an angel anymore, fallen long ago, leaving you for Lilith, and his brand-new daughter...” 

“Isn’t that lovely?” 

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as she watched your younger self burst into tears, sobbing violently into Sera’s chest as she hugged you tightly, muttering useless apologies over and over. You cried and screamed, telling her to stop lying and to bring you to Lucifer, to end this game already. You begged and pleaded, telling her that it wasn’t like that, that he loved you, he asked you to stay and play with him. He couldn’t abandon you. You were his angel, his love. 

“Isn’t that cool?” 

You ignored the pain that squeezed your heart, watching as your memories faded in those familiar golden glimmers, begging that this would be the final time you’d have to see them. You ignored the hot tears that dripped down your cheeks, your emotions leaking through, escaping the tight hold you’d kept them in for so many years. 

“And isn’t that cruel? And aren’t I a fool to have happily listened, happy to stay, happily watching him drift, drift...” 

You squeezed a fist to your chest, your heart slowing down finally as you sighed deeply. This was the end. This garden, where everything had begun, would finally see the end of the story. Where you would finally let go of the memories that haunted you for ten thousand years, and move on with your life, putting an end to his little game. 

“Drift away...” 

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon drifts deeper into a dream of perfect moments, struggling to separate longing from reality as everything he feels is watched closely.

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WARNINGS: angst, intense emotions, dub con/noncon voyeurism

[MASTERLIST][PREVIOUS][NEXT]

Leon drifted off, just like he had been every other night for the past few weeks. The hazy realm between sleep and awake beckoned to him so easily. He barely put up much of a fight rather letting it guide him than him actually protesting sleep.

No longer when he reached for the other side of the bed did he find a bitter cold. He found the warmth of your hand in his, fingers steady and pressure just the same. His heart raced, rhythm too fast, too sharp, like a drum out of sync with reality. Kind of like the one he just abandoned for this.

But nothing compared to this. Nothing.

Leon knew his heart was a place filled with regrets and unrelenting, unfulfilled desires. Not to mention, the now ever-present sharp, aching hole where you should've been. Every time he woke up he tried to convince himself to stop this, stop chasing ghosts…yet, here he was, every night. Every touch, every word shared with you felt like a desperate echo of what he couldn't have. What he couldn't reach in his waking life.

He'd tried to capture it. A way to cope with what he was experiencing in his head but more tangible, something he could touch. They were small, fleeting distractions. Women who vaguely resembled you in some way—-maybe their eyes, the curve of their lips, or the warmth of their skin. But it never compared. Didn't feel like enough. But for a brief,—very, very brief moment, it made this newfound ache that sat like a rock in his chest go away. It made the visions of you, the dreams, the memories—whatever they were…go away so he could breathe again.

It made him feel like himself before all this, the man who learned to hide it all, push his feelings aside and put on the mask of a man who was okay on the surface. But who was he kidding? This is exactly what it is. A game. A distraction.

They didn't matter. Because they weren't you.

Nameless, faceless women with empty words and empty touches.

He stared blankly to the ceiling as he sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey half-empty beside him. A lovely habit he picked up during training. It only granted him temporary respite. A harsh, flicking neon light casts a dull, sickly glow on the room. His eyes wandered down to the glass in front of him, maybe if he stared into the bottom of it hard enough, he'd find something there.

Some of the previous nights, where he didn't want to fall victim to the hold of sleep so quickly lingered in his mind. Nights he'd wish he could forget, the faint touches of skin, laughter in his ears. None of them you. They were someone else.

His mind had wandered, back to you—the vivid, soul-piercing moments that felt more real than anything in his real life. The way you'd touched him, your hands soft as they ran through his hair, the gentle way you kissed him. Everything about you had been seared into him like a brand, burning him with its intensity that left him wanting more.

But it's not real. He knew it. He knew she wasn't real.

Leon shook his head, a frustration building in him that threatened to drive him to the brink of insanity. The solace of temporary pleasure only made him more desperate, left him hollow.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He muttered to himself, pacing around the dimly lit kitchen.

He should find you…the real you. He knew it was stupid to even think the government would let him do that. It was hard enough to see Sherry, what made him think they'd let him see you? Fear and uncertainty plagued him at every point—haunting thoughts that'd he already lost you—-kept him from taking that step.

So, here he was. Chasing a ghost, a vision, an illusion….a memory.

Leon closed his eyes, lulled by the sound of the TV to sleep. This time, it wasn't to forget, but to remember. He replayed the dream—the way you looked at him, held him, kissed him as though nothing else mattered. He longed for that pathetically. He longed for you desperately.

"I’m here,” you whispered, your voice softer now, like the wind itself was stealing your words.

His grip tightened, desperation welling in his chest. “Don’t go.”

Your face blurred. His pulse slowed, the warmth of your hand grew cold. He blinked, but the image of you faded, dissolving into a swirl of colors. A buzzing sound filled the space where your laughter had been.

In a sterile room far from where he sat sleeping, a monitor beeped in rhythm with Leon’s brainwaves.

“NeuroSync is holding,” a voice said calmly, devoid of emotion. A shadowed figure leaned closer to the glowing screen, eyes scanning the peaks and troughs of neural signals dancing across the display.

Splashed across different screens, Leon's apartment sat in clear view of the scientists. But the main one that they focused their attention was Leon as he lay in his bed. Every twitch, every breath, everything laid bare for their viewing pleasure. And they weren't just hearing Leon's contentment, they were seeing it.

“Subject Kennedy’s engagement has deepened. Increased attachment to the fabricated stimuli.” Another figure adjusted the feed, altering the algorithm that controlled the dream sequence. “Introduce another stimulus. Let’s push his emotional capacity further.”

A panel lit up, showing the projection of Leon’s subconscious—a simulated reality crafted from fragments of his memories, designed to feel more real than life itself. Each sensation, each longing kiss, meticulously coded.

Medical records, photos, reports all laid out on a nearby table. You, their subject of interest, in every detail of your life all cleanly noted across this table. Alongside Leon's information, no detail left to chance.

How had they managed this? Managed to get the government's top asset wrapped up in this? Oh, they'd hold that close to their chest. They couldn't let anyone else take the credit.

Still, they had to admit….Mr. Kennedy was a fascinating subject.

Most of Umbrella's enemies were just that…enemies. Nameless opposition to their main objective. But soon they became names, faces, people. People like Leon Kennedy. Chris Redfield. Jill Valentine. Many more to count.

Who forced them into the shadows. In hindsight, this was only fair.

Dr. Erickson, Dr. Morales, and an assistant Thompson huddled close together, speaking in hushed tones as their eyes scanned the screens.

"What exactly is the purpose of this? Mr. Kennedy seems to almost be…enjoying the dream presented to him," Dr. Morales pointed out just as Leon, within his dream, pulled you closer to whisper in your ear. His heart rate spiked, brain activity lighting up like a Christmas tree from just a small, intimate act. Quiet moments interlaced with sweet, tender, and increasingly passionate in nature.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Thompson asked, clearly puzzled. "I mean, he’s still vulnerable to the program’s control, right? He’s still part of the experiment. He’s just... well, living in a distorted version of reality." Both the scientists seemed to disregard the assistant's words.

"It's only been a few days and he's—he's fully immersed already. And we haven't even introduced any other aspects to this…dream," Dr. Erickson, the head scientist, explained. His face scrunched in confusion as they stared at the man on their screen. A man completely unaware of anything beyond the realm of this dream. A happy man. For Leon, it was only….you. "Let's get some more info on this Y/N," he instructed.

Leon had become addicted—for lack of a better term. Well, no, that was the best term.

His eyes would glaze over at his desk, the words of his computer screen blurring together to create their own mishmash of words. Yet, he was nothing if not professional with his work.

The waking world had become more dull than he could ever recall it being. Colors muted and lifeless. His mind already seeking ways to disconnect from this world—the missions, the government orders, the endless cycle from disaster to disaster. Despite his best efforts to put on the usual front of nonchalance, he could never escape Hunnigan's watchful eye.

He stood at the coffee machine, hoping a cup of coffee would rouse him back into the paperwork he had left to finish. Still, his mind still gave him brief visions—moments—that kept from completely being tethered to this reality. He saw you in almost crystal clear clarity leaning against the counter, a teasing smile painted on your lips, "You still drink that burnt shit?"

He glanced down at the cup of black coffee, and just before he almost slipped to answer you like you were really there. Hunnigan tapped him on his shoulder.

"Everything good, Kennedy?" She asked, curiosity in her expression. "Looks like you're trying to find all the world's answers in that cup."

Shit. He's more obvious than he thought. Get it together, Kennedy.

Leon gave her a small smile, the corner of his mouth barely moving. "Just tired. The usual."

"The usual?" Hunnigan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "The usual for you doesn't usually involve getting coffee at…" she looked at her watch,"…at three in the afternoon. What's bothering you?"

Jesus Christ, he can't hide anything from this woman. Did he want to tell her? Hunnigan had experienced quite the ordeal with him from Spain and he certainly trusted her more than any other handlers in this place. But, still, he didn't have to tell her. This was his cross to bear, so to speak. In many ways, he was a modern man but on this, his old-fashioned father came to mind, "It's impolite to burden people with your problems."

"It's nothing, really. Just had an off night is all," His voice dipped, lower and quieter, hoping that would stop her questioning for now.

Hunnigan nodded in understanding, "Alright, fair enough. I'll let you get back to your coffee then."

Leon watched as she left, a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn't over. Now all he'd managed to do is pique Hunnigan's never-ending curiosity. Great.

For once, Leon was glad when the work day was over. And even better, the weekend was coming up. Two whole days where no one would give a rat's ass what he'd be doing, except now probably Hunnigan.

He pulled on his jacket, not looking back to his office for even a moment longer than he needed. Tonight, Leon decided to grab some takeout. The cold as he walked to his usual spot was piercing his skin like needles but he pushed through.

Upon entering the diner, he was greeted with mixing scents of stale coffee, grilled onions, and hot grease. A few people sat in the booths, keeping to themselves. A family with their young child, enjoying a plate of fries and shakes. A woman reading a book over some coffee. A couple huddled close together, sharing a meal, shared laughter, shared glances of affection.

Leon could see it all from the booth as he waited for his takeout. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes away from the couple, the lingering gazes and gentle touches. All so…easy.

For a moment, he saw the both of you instead. Leon huddling close to whisper something in your ear to make you laugh, seeing it so vividly and hearing your laugh—warm, comforting—as you placed your hand in his. It had to be insanity because he could even feel the pressure of your hand in his.

The dinging of the bell took him out of it. His food was ready. He quickly thanked the waitress as he made his way to leave. The couple still completely wrapped up in one another with no idea that Leon had stared so intensely.

A sense of yearning gripped at his chest like a vice.

He entered the same dreary apartment, tossing down his keys and hanging up his jacket. He wasn't too quick to touch the takeout. Instead, he did what he'd been doing the last few nights, watching TV.

His phone lit up, vibrating on the coffee table where it laid.

Chris Redfield.

He ignored it.

Usually, Leon would be happy to go meet Chris for a beer and catch up on how life had been treating them, but right now? Leon didn't want any time away from the sleep he knew was coming, where he could be with you. He knew he should probably at least tell the idiot he's alive but even that was a chore right now.

So, he watched the screen light up one more time before it stopped.

Chris will just have to understand.

In his dream, Leon was once again with you, the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the soft glow of the evening light. Spilling through the curtains in their shared apartment.

An euphoria washed over him, an intoxicating haze that could've lasted forever.

He again watched you as you guided him to cook a new recipe, scents of garlic and fresh herbs hanging in the air as you moved gracefully through the space. He had never been much of a cook before, but with you, it was easy. Your presence made everything feel effortless—your hands guiding his as he chopped vegetables.

Your laughter filled the spaces between their movements.

The soft crackle of an old vinyl played in the background, a tune from the '70s that was vaguely familiar to him. It only added to the atmosphere making it nostalgic and intimate. The melody wrapped around him like a warm hug, a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

You turned to him, eyes filled with mischief. "You sure you can handle this?" You teased, voice playful yet tender.

Leon chuckled, warm and full of affection. "Well, a fire hasn't started yet, so that's always a good sign, right?" He asked, giving you a lopsided grin.

You smiled back, still holding a familiar glint of love and tenderness in your eyes, and for a moment, nothing outside this kitchen existed. Just them, together in this near perfect, domestic bliss.

As you reached over to stir the pot on the stove, Leon couldn't help noticing how your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way the light coming from above the stove made your skin glow like nothing else. He moved closer, hands running down your arms in a gentle motion. You don't pull away, instead locking eyes with him and still offering that soft smile.

Leon, not wanting a moment like this to pass, took your hand in his, pulling you gently into him. The sensation was intoxicating—a rush, a high that was exhilarating and equal parts comforting. He couldn't help but to breathe you in, the beat of your heart syncing with his.

"Take a break?" He asked, voice barely a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, still holding that playful twinkle in your eyes. "Now you're just trying to get out of cooking," you teased but you didn't stop him as he led you across the room.

As you both swayed gently, moving in rhythm to the music, the press of you against was enough to make him feel dizzy. The heat of your skin and softness of your breath as you laid your cheek against his chest.

All of his senses for the briefest moment told him this was real…you're real. No longer held back by the world of impossibilities.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you and just savoring you. He had so much he wanted to say but all it was incondite—inadequate and not all encompassing of how he felt. But as always, you'd say the same thing, from your perspective, Leon had never acted so strangely in your shared space.

Your eyes are soft, almost knowing. "You are being so strange, Leon." Your hand rested on his chest, he'd hoped you feel the beat of his heart underneath.

Instead of words, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. Kiss slow and tender as he tasted you, the sweetness, the warmth. Lost in you.

He pulled away, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead and responded with a chuckle, "I don't care. I don't care if I'm being strange, I just want this. You."

Your fingers traced his jaw, smiling. "Well, lucky for you, you've got the real thing right in front of you," you said with a wink.

The bliss, pure unadulterated bliss of it all was fleeting just as it had been every other day. The truth seeped in quicker than he expected this time. This is not real. She wasn't here. This place wasn't theirs.

Still, Leon held onto it for as long as he could, unwilling to let go of the dream—if only a few more moments despite the edges of reality caving into this one.

[lelengerine]

pairing. chenle x reader

synopsis. the one where chenle wishes he was the reason you’d stay up till three, that he was more than just someone you’d walk by

genre. friends to ?? au (this is very much an open ending), one sided pining, mentions of being intoxicated (just a teensy bit… pls drink responsibly), chenle sits in his thoughts a lot in this, lmk if there’s anything that was missed!

wc. 0.8k words

notes. here's a little something while i write for renjun hehe anw! i love lele's cover for drunk texts by henry moodie like it literally lives in my mind rent free all year round… and to that, collectively we all say thank u lee mujin service 😁😁

m.list

november 5th.

it’s a chilly night. the kind where the air feels electric, and everything is heightened—the sky, the city lights, and the tension sitting heavily between you and chenle.

you’d been walking home together, like you always did after your weekly meetups with friends. the laughter from earlier had faded into a comfortable silence, but there was something about tonight, something in the way the silence stretched, the cool air wrapping around you both, that made chenle’s heart race for reasons he couldn’t name.

he snuck a glance at you, your eyes fixed on the stars, a soft smile playing on your lips. it was then he almost said it—those three words that bore the weight of all his feelings—almost.

the words were right there, tauntingly hanging on the tip of his tongue, heavy and ready to fall out, but then you began to laugh at something in the distance—a couple setting off fireworks, sparks shooting into the sky—and the moment slipped away before he could even get hold of it.

chenle swallowed the words and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. forget it, he thought, heart sinking further with every second that passed. he wasn’t ready to risk everything. not yet.

“did you see that?” you asked, still staring above, and he can see the colorful bursts in the sky start to dance in your eyes.

a smile instinctively formed on his lips, though his chest ached with everything he couldn’t find the courage to say. “yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. “breathtaking.”

you assumed he was talking about the fireworks and flashed him a bright grin of agreement, but he was never talking about the fleeting lights in the sky to begin with. 

ʚɞ

april 7th.

five months later, and nothing has changed.

if anything, it’s only gotten worse—this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’re around, the way he finds himself thinking about you at odd hours of the night, replaying every moment in his head. the problem is, you have no idea. you treat him the same as always—like your best friend. like nothing’s different.

and that’s the hardest part.

chenle taps his phone screen again, staring at the half-written text he’s been drafting under your contact for what felt like hours. he’s had a couple drinks earlier in the night with his friends, just enough to loosen the tight grip on his inhibitions, just enough to make him feel bold enough to actually type his feelings out—as incoherent as they were.

his finger hovers over the send button. he knows he should delete it, he knows he’s playing a dangerous game. one wrong move and he could ruin everything—what you have, the friendship that meant more to him than anything else, but the thought to act impulsively for once lingers in his system more than it should.

what if you felt the same way? what if you’ve been waiting for him to say something all this time, too?

chenle shakes his head, cursing under his breath as he deletes the message. he’s not brave enough. not tonight. instead, he flops back on his bed with a faint grunt, phone still in his grip, wondering if you’re thinking about him right now; wondering if you were wide awake, just like him, waiting for a message that will never come despite any plea.

ʚɞ

the days stretch on, and he sees you as often as ever—movie nights, study sessions, spontaneous coffee runs. it wasn’t like he could have avoided you anyways. you were always together, and yet there’s always a gap between you, a line neither of you is willing to cross.

sometimes, when he catches you laughing at one of his dumb jokes or notices the way you glance at him when you think he’s not looking, he wonders if there’s something there. something more than friendship, something you’re both too afraid to say out loud.

but then, just as quickly, the moment fades, and the fear creeps back in.

what if i tell you the truth? what will i lose?

and soon enough, he finds himself under the serene glow of the moon yet again, the clock in his room striking midnight.

chenle stares at his phone, the same familiar ache settling in his chest like an unwelcome guest. his thumb hovers over your name in his contacts. he can’t help but wonder how things would be different if he had confessed all those months ago when he first realized his silly crush, if he hadn’t been so scared of what you might say—or worse, what you wouldn’t say.

the what-ifs were beginning to drive him crazy, and in a moment of reckless frustration, chenle starts typing, not bothering to overthink it this time. he hits send before he can regret it, leaving the consequences for his future self to handle in his stead. his heart pounds in his chest, and the minutes tick by in agonizing silence.

what if i ruined everything?

but then, his phone faintly buzzes, and a message flashes on the screen—one from you. he hesitates before opening it, stomach twisting like a bundle of nerves.

i was waiting for you to say something.

the breath he didn’t realize he was holding escapes in a rush. it wasn’t exactly a confession, not yet, but it’s enough. enough to give him hope.

and maybe—just maybe—he’s not the only one who’s been waiting.

[katelynnwrites]

imgonnagetyouback | laura freigang

warnings: somewhat of a friends with benefits and angst

word count: 367

summary: laura turns up on your doorstep after frankfurt gets knocked out of the dfb pokal semifinals because she doesn't know where else to go

a/n: the sixth installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

you wish you could say you were surprised there’s knocking on your door.

one could even say you were expecting it…and the blonde on the other side.

‘what are you doing here laura?’ you whisper, even though you already know.

the blonde’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes rimmed with red, clear evidence of her crying.

‘make me forget. please.’

‘lau no…we said that we won’t do this anymore. that the last time would be the last time. it’s not healthy.’ you try.

she might not be yours anymore but her pain is still your pain.

the striker swallows hard, her blue grey eyes welling with fresh tears as she replays her missed penalty over in her mind.

you know her well enough to realise what she’s doing. you’d watched the game too, frankfurt’s harsh loss of the dfb pokal semifinals being the reason why you anticipated the german woman’s presence in the first place.

‘if i ever meant anything to you, if you ever really loved me, you would give me this. please i-i’m begging.’

you wince, ‘that’s not fair.’

‘i’m not trying to be.’ your former girlfriend murmurs.

there’s a flicker of guilt within her but she pushes it down.

she’s hurt you she knows that and she knows that some part of you must resent her for it.

and it’s true.

you told your friends that you hate her but you love her just the same.

the two of you might have broken all the pieces of your relationship but the german woman still wants to play the game.

such is the hold she's always had over you that you indulge her each and every time. she can take the upper hand and touch your body.

now is no different.

with a quiet sigh, you let her into your apartment. into your bed where she quickly has you moaning her name, in between cries of ‘don’t stop!’

when dawn comes and laura leaves your apartment, the thought crosses her mind, 'i'm gonna get you back.'

it simply isn't necessary on her part because she’s made you think twice. you are beginning to find that despite your mutual break up, you were never not hers.

[saltofmercury]

"Games"

Pairing: König x reader

A/N: jesus what is up with you guys and angst? Can König and the reader just live in peace and love and fluff!?

Summary: You act on your "situationship" with König.

"Games"

He was a tall kid, a big baby. Attention surrounded him. He remembers the first form of attention was going into kindergarten being confused for a 2nd grader.

“No sweetheart, this is for the younger levels, I think you’re lost” teachers would say.

“But…” he said, “I’m only 5.” 

The teachers couldn’t believe it. What were they feeding this kid?

He still remembers how awful the kids were at his school. Kids who were clearly smaller than him, intimidated by his height. 

“Goliath” 

“Yeti” 

Making friends was something truly difficult. Lunch time was not his favorite because nobody would sit with him. He would sit on the end of the table chewing slowly so that when it was time for playtime, he would have the excuse of "I'm still eating.” When other kids had birthday parties in class, he struggled to wish them happy birthday because of how big the crowd was surrounding the birthday kid. When it was any other event, kids would hover away from him, forget his valentine, his goody bag. It seemed so daunting trying to make a friend, until a little girl helped him out in class one day.

She was the only person with enough kindness and patience for him. When the teacher called on him in class to answer the question she would quietly whisper to him the answer because he was too busy fixating on how he could make a friend today, then realizing it was his name that was called, then turning red, realizing his face was probably super red, then fumbling about how to respond to the teacher. 

“Four-teen” she said quietly so only he could hear. 

He struggled with his thoughts connecting to his tongue in order for him to say the word aloud.

“F….fourteen” he responded.

“Thank you” The teacher smiled back.

So when it came down to him giving her the card he had worked so hard for and the mini handmade chocolate teddy bear he had worked on, he wasn’t so nervous. His grandma had praised him thousands of times. 

“She’ll like it! — no, she’s going to love it. It's a thoughtful gesture.”

He approached her before school had even started. He remembers the cold morning and how many times he rehearsed in his head. “Thank you for being my friend.” He clumsily gave her the card and dropped the chocolate bear wrapped in parchment paper. 

“Here..” he said quietly. Shoving the small presents into her hand so nobody could see. “Thank you for being my friend.”

The little girl beamed. She could hug him, but nobody else hugged him at school. 

They entered the classroom and immediately one of the kids snickered.

“So the giant has a girlfriend huh?” All the kids proceeded to laugh.

König felt sick. This wasn’t a proclamation of love, this was him attempting to be a friend. 

“I bet you she has to stand on a bench to kiss him” all the kids proceeded to laugh again and this time towards the girl.

The girl, sitting at her desk now, was mortified. On the verge of tears. She quietly stood up, walked to the trash bin, and dropped the card there. She returned to her desk wiping away tears.

König was humiliated. “She’s not my girlfriend, she was just my friend...” he repeated mentally to himself.

“Maybe not even that.” He thought to himself.

The rest of the day he remained quiet. When the teacher called in him he simply put his head down. He didn’t want to speak to anyone.

He didn’t want to be here.

He walked home replaying the events that happened. He had a friend, he lost a friend. He had one friend, now he had none. Valentine’s Day was a stupid holiday.

*

Valentine’s Day was approaching and you quietly pondered what to do. Valentine’s Day was the one holiday where all couples lovey dovey went crazy for one another.

What position were you in now? You and König had some sort of “relationship.”

You couldn’t really call it a relationship because for one, you’ve never seen his face completely. He was always hiding under turtlenecks or face masks.You could’ve sworn you saw his face once but that was a dream.

Secondly, you couldn’t remember if you ever you never got around to really feeling his skin, other than in a sort of platonic way. The man wore long sleeves and gloves around you. You got around to holding his covered hands, bursting with some sort of affection and physical touch, but that’s where he drew a boundary. Just hands.

Third and lastly, you’ve never kissed in person. How are you supposed to approach kissing anyone when there isn’t a form of body language for you to read in order to make the first move? There were times that he had caught you staring so deeply into him and seeing you suck on your bottom lip scooting closer to him. He had shifted a little further down the couch he already took so much part of. 

He was a quiet, secluded, and private man.

This wasn’t to say he hadn’t tried with you. The first few months of your “relationship” (more so friendship) you guys texted for hours. It took a while for him to open up to you but you guys could talk about anything and everything. 

But sometimes that wasn’t enough for you.

You remember calling your board game night a “date” and him quickly dismissing that idea saying he wanted to be your friend first and foremost. 

It stung. 

You sheepishly smiled at him and said “yes, you are my friend.” You saw the crinkles on the corner of his eyes when you called him your friend. But friends don't do what you two do.

After a while though, there was clearly more happening than just a friendship.

The subtle way he would grab your hand during a movie and rub his thumb over it.

How he had stocked up on your favorite brand of coffee and creamer whenever you came over at night for your talks and board games. 

How he ordered a little extra of the favorite take out you liked just so you can have some for lunch the next day. 

Sometimes he would even play with the ends of your hair and rub your back when you fell asleep on him after a movie. 

And of course, you guys shared a bed together, you guys slept together, kissed and made love in the dark, but vulnerability was left in the dark.

What was the subtle way of saying hey I clearly like you, you might like me, let’s just make it official?

*

At the store, you look at cards. None of them said that. You picked up the card with the puzzle piece heart on it missing a piece that read “you complete me”. Too cheesy.

The next one you pick up, a pizza shaped card with an arrow in the middle. Phrases like “you can’t be topped!” And “you’re the big cheese” surrounding it. You open the card inside that reads “any way you slice it, you’re awesome! Happy Valentine’s Day.” Too friendly.

You settle on one card that’s covered in little candy hearts labeled “xoxo” “cutie” “hugs” and “be mine” inside of the card was blank. You decided the best way to describe what you’re feeling was to write it out.

You get home and start to write out how you’ve been feeling. If there was one way you were going to tell him, it would be through a letter.

You read your feelings over and over again in the card, and decided to just go for it.

*

The day before Valentine’s day you came to his house, ready for another night of board games you two endlessly went through. König bought dinner and you brought the games.

As he opened the door, he stared at you. “Schatz….” his voice was full of longing. It had been almost a week of not seeing each other. Butterflies always bloomed in your stomach.

“Hi babe.” you responded and he moved aside to let you in. Once settled, he picked you up and embraced you. He was always one for hugs.

After about the 4th round in Sorry!, you called it quits. König laughed. 

“This is a child’s game, why didn’t you bring Monopoly again?”

You threw a pillow at him. “Because, you’ve never played it and it seemed pretty good to teach you this game, but of course, your competitive spirit.” You shook your head in disbelief. König was good and picked up the rules of any stupid game quickly.

He stretched, put the game aside, and laid back on the end of the couch. 

“Come” he extended his hand towards you.

You climbed up on him, laid on his chest.

He whispered in your ear, “i’m sorry you’re a sore loser”

“König!” you look up at him.

“Okay okay,” he says softly, then smirks, “I might have shuffled in my favor, but this is a kids game.”

“I thought I was playing with a kid.” you say, still on his chest. It earns you a playful smack on your bottom. He continues laying there with you, rubbing your back and hair. 

“I have something for you.” You lift yourself off of him. You reach in your bag for the card. Gosh, a wind of nerves picks up inside your stomach and you’re ready to just forget the whole thing. You should’ve waited to give it to him when you left.

You peek back at him. He’s turned back looking at you, motioning with his hand to “give it.”

You put the red card in his hand.

“A letter?” He says in a sarcastic shock, but smiles through his face mask.

He tears open the envelope, and eyes widen when he sees the front of the card. The colorful hearts surrounding it. He seems uneasy, but you’re anxious.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask. You swear you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. This is embarrassing. A long silence between you two.

“No,” he finally speaks. He puts the card back into the envelope. “Maybe I can read this later.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You start cursing yourself out mentally. This was a stupid idea. There’s heat surrounding your face, you can feel the embarrassment closing in. You could be anywhere right now and not here.

“Maybe I’ll just go home then.” you say.

“No schatz, come on wait.”

But it’s kind of too late. You’re already drowning in embarrassment. You pick up your bag, and head towards the door.

“It’s not like that, come on, don’t be embarrassed.” he pulls at one of your arms.

It’s with those words that you’re set on really leaving. Don't be embarrassed?

You turn to him,

“Don't be embarrassed? You opened my card and then suggested reading it later. I read the whole thing on your face.” you spit out. You’re not embarrassed anymore, you’re humiliated and hurt.

He cocks his head to the side, “I just meant for - I’m not going to fight with you now, come please.”

“Just let me go home, I’ve suffered enough embarrassment for the both of us.”

You just need space. You need anything so that you’re not holding onto your tears anymore.

Friends. Friends. Friends. Is all that plays in your head.

He sighs, “this is childish and you’re being childish.” He steps aside and opens the door for you. If there’s one thing König can do is give you space.

[mollywog]

What are your thoughts on Possibility of Peeta in Canon feeling guilt over a perception that he forced Katniss into the Star crossed lovers?

Oooo -Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this.

One of Peeta’s main survival tactics is his ability to read people and situations…. And he’s pretty good at it (which probably was helpful to him far before the arena with a volatile mother but that’s maybe more the stuff of HCs so moving on)

With that in mind:

One of the first things Peeta says to Katniss upon her discovering him in the arena is:

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Even in his fevered state, Peeta is aware that this is an act (at least on Katniss’s side)

Later - when he’s trying to convince Katniss not to go to the feast and she claims that she isn’t, he says:

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

‘I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going.’ -> all moments he (accurately) clocked where Katniss wasn’t being 100% honest if not outright lying

The ‘I don’t know how you’ve survived this long’ part is particularly interesting to me but I digress.

So then fast forward to after the feast where Katniss risked her life to save him:

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who ... who worries about ... what it would be like if ..."

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread

"If what, Katniss?" he says softly.

I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he's probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me.

In this moment Katniss inwardly acknowledges that she has real feeling beyond the act and Peeta, again, reads those feelings correctly.

This is the turning point for him.

So, then imagine his surprise on the train tracks (and all the self doubt):

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

(Just picture Peeta replaying the games in his head and trying to figure out where he missed the tell.)

We often joke about Peeta being oblivious to Katniss’s feelings for him in Catching Fire, but really: He’s been burned by ‘misinterpreting’ her before and he’s trying not to make the same ‘mistake’ again.

In a way

“You love me. Real or not real?

Is a remnant of that doubt.

Anyways - back you your original question:

There wasn't a single person in Panem expecting the Gamemakers to allow for two winners prior to the rule change... 73 years of one Victor: It's unprecedented.

The star-crossed lovers strategy, under normal game circumstances,

Benefits them both. The romance makes them both fan favorites to sponsors. But, at the end of the day, there can only be one Victor. So when one were to die, public sympathy would swing sponsors towards the broken hearted other.

Relied very little on Katniss; she didn't have to opportunity to state her feelings for Peeta to the audience after the interview and in the arena, up until the rule change, she barely saw him. Had he died before the (unprecedented) rule change, there wouldn’t be much for her to do but appear sad. The star-crossed lover but is eventually just a sound bite.

No one could have predicted that both Katniss and Peeta would be crowned victors and have to maintain the strategy indefinitely.

So yes, on top of believing he mistook Katniss’s feelings for him in the arena, he then discovered they’d have to maintain the pretense of lovers for the rest of their lives… I’m sure he felt all sorts of miserable ways about that.

[rainynightmoonlight]

Omg a event that has song reqs?!!🤯🤯 I HAVE THE PERFECT SONG THAT HAS BOTH ANGST AND FLUFF POTENTIAL!!

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Characters: Silver Kalim Rook

Type: Normal, Romantic fluff. Not established relationship? Yeah idk about that.

Song: Da Capo from Honkai impact 3rd. Its a game.

I may send in another req with the same song for angst. Cause the potential i tell you.

.·:🎼¨༺ Songs from the heart ༻¨🎼:·. | Da Capo

Characters: Kalim, Rook, Silver

Song: Da Capo from Honkai Impact 3rd

Warnings: None

A/U: Self aware Twisted Wonderland Au

KALIM AL ASIM

Kalim was excited while you were using him to finish up the exams for your weekly missions. He was one of your mains, and it brought so much joy to his already joyful heart. This time however, you were choosing the moves and not autoing the battles. Your attention on him made him so happy. While doing the daily exams, Kalims's ears picked up such a beautiful song playing in the background.

“When good old friends are going away, Will you wish them to remember your name?”

You seemed so somber when listening to the song. As if your heart weighed heavy with something but you still chose to smile. Kalim liked it when you smiled, especially when he was the cause of it. There was something off about that one lyric. There was a certain sadness in your eyes.

Did people forget you? His heart swelled with empathy at the notion that you were forgotten amongst peers within your world. How badly Kalim wished to whisk you away and into Scarabia. All of his dorm mates would treat you with such adoration and not a single soul would go on without remembering your name. You were the creator after all.

Kalim made sure that when the last exam ended, he was the one on the victory screen. He said his coded line but when he asked if the opponent was okay, it was more directed towards you. Your gaze lingered on the victory screen. Kalim urgently answered your question. His words didn't reach you but the sentiment was still there.

“Of course I would! And I'll remember yours too, creator!”

ROOK HUNT

Rook had his usual smile on his face, one that never revealed his true inner feelings. He was the only one in the guest room wandering around. You watched with entertainment while trying to decide what item to craft and add to the concoction of furniture within the room. Rook sat down in one of the plush chairs provided in the guest room humming the tune playing in the background. One lyric caught the hunter's attention, however.

“May you, the beauty of this world always shine.”

Rook's eyes widened at the sudden lyric. Shock flooded through his system but it wasn't evident over the screen. His chibi in the guest room froze on the chair it was sitting on. You recognized his beauty. Shock soon turned into amazement at the notion of what you said.

Rook was often used to being the pervaior of beauty, but having you call out his beauty made him so happy. His lips spread across his face. A smile from cheek to cheek was evident. He hummed in amusement, leaning back in the excellently crafted chair. He wanted to pay you back for the excellent song.

His beauty was mostly for you. He dedicated so much to represent himself the best he could. Even before his transition into Pomefiore. Rook looked at you from the other side with such adoration. His beauty didn't rival yours.

“You're the reason I always shine, creator.”

SILVER

Silver was dozing off, much to his dismay, while you looked at one of his cards. His chibi form was on display while you were looking at one of his cards' stats. He was very grateful that you were paying so much attention to him. Music played in the background as you decided what to level up on the card. It was calming enough to put Silver right to sleep.

“When good old days are passing away Will you promise your heart remains the same?”

Silver immediately awoke with his drowsiness now gone. He looked at your calming features. That one lyric replayed in his mind as if it were meant for him. The song continued to play, but that one lyric swarmed his thoughts. Does he dare answer you?

He so badly wanted to. Even if the question was just a song. Even if he was reading too much into it. Silver could have been dreaming it for all he knew. He didn't care; he wanted to express that he wouldn't ever change. 

At least he wouldn't change much. Silver was overwhelmed with happiness that you liked him so much that you didn't want him to change. He was sure you still would even if he did. After some thinking, Silver made his mind up. His little chibi made eye contact with you once more.

“With you watching over me, I can promise I won't ever change.”

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[dreamsy990]

so, re:chain of memories, huh?

warning! its been a little while since i played through recom, so the game isnt as fresh in my mind as some others. sorry for any innacuracies!

spoiler alert, this is my second favorite kingdom hearts game. at least of the ones i've played so far. i get that this isn't like. a POPULAR opinion but fuck you i have almost nothing but positives to say about it.

let's start with the easy stuff first. recom introduced a new card-based combat system. i cant compare it to the gba version, since i didn't play that, but i can say that for what its worth i DID enjoy the combat. recom is by far the hardest game so far (at least for me) and almost every boss took multiple days for me to beat, even with my hp maxed out. it took me a while to get the combat system, but id honestly love to replay the game now that i have a better understanding of how it works. the card system requires a lot of quick thinking and i get that it isnt everyones taste but its CERTAINLY mine. every fight is difficult and feels genuinely rewarding when you win. the movement, like kh1, can use a lot of work, but i wouldnt call it terrible. just kinda sluggish. i think my favorite boss fight was larxene. shes a pain in the ass but i love her.

i think riku's side dropping the deck building mechanic isnt terrible, but i wish i could reorder his deck at the very least. and the lack of healing cards is. not fun. basically any damage you take is permanent unless you HAPPEN to get mickey and its simply Not a fun time. im not very good at games okay.

i have a lot less to say about the worlds than the combat. they're definitely the worst aspect of the game, though. the idea of making worlds with cards is fine! it just leads to kind of repetitive world design. the stories are forgettable, so forgettable that i literally forgot them. and i could make a point about how thats the idea its a game all about forgetting things!! but honestly that just making excuses for it. the worlds couldve kept the idea of forgetting things without literally making them forgettable. i say this about every world, except for one. because DESTINY ISLANDS

destiny islands is just. so fucking good in recom. its the climax of both sora and rikus stories and i think theyre both amazing. id have to say i prefer rikus, soley because of the visual storytelling you get from his side of it, and thats not to say soras is bad at all. but something about zexion telling riku that its his fault his home was destroyed, as riku sees a version of himself turning into a literal monster? thats just good okay. its really good.

i ADORE the characters in this game too. everything we get from them is sooo good. it's the introduction to the organization and all of them (except lexaeus who did literally nothing) are a treat. axels my favorite ofc, but larxene is such a fun villain, you love to hate her. shes really the star of the org cast in this game. sure, axels may have said its his show now, but larxene stole the spotlight.

its namines introduction, too, and i love her. on one hand, shes just really kind. she wants a friend, she wants someone to talk to, she wants to meet sora. on the other, shes just a little bit fucked up actually. sure, shes honest with sora, but shes the tiniest little bit guilt trippy and i LOVE THAT. her response to sora saying he wants to get back his own memories and forget her is "oh okay. you want to remember your REAL friends, huh? theyre the ones who REALLY matter to you? yeah anyone would want that. no friends for namine i guess." like shes just a bit salty and we love that for her. i want slightly guilt tripping and salty namine back nomura.

but ofc one of my favorite new characters in this game HAS to be repliku. god i ADORE repliku. his hatred for riku is sooo fun and the way he fights with sora is great too. like in soras side i thought he was a neat villain but rikus side? hes amazing omfg. one of the only villains i liked in rikus story (sorry lexaeus, you werent good until days)

over all, this game certainly isnt everyones cup of tea, but its DEFINITELY mine. it's the game im most excited to replay at some point, mostly because of the amazing boss fights. 9/10. its got issues, but the story and characters are so good that i genuinely could not care less about like. most of them.

[feelingdozy]

The Nightmares Return

Finnick Odair x Reader

Hunger Games Masterlist

Summary: long after the games and the quarter quell, you're still having nightmares about them and Finnick is the only one able to keep them away.

Warnings: talk of death, talk of killing,talk of blood, nightmares, swearing, crying, yelling, screaming, insecure thoughts/self blame, knife mentions

It's always the same. the nightmares always find ways to return. Your dreams feel like reality, replaying the same horrible events you dread and hate with all of your body.

"y/n!" "Y/n!" "Hurry up!"

Running. Faster than you thought your legs could ever go. Your lungs were exhausted and your tongue deprived of water. You looked back up at your district partner. You felt bad. The knife that struck their stomach didn't help, as the fresh blood splattered on your face covering most of it because they were in such close distance to you.

You ran again. And again. And again and again. you felt bad. You didn't even get their name and they'd already paid death a visit, now a permanent stay. They were so young. So beautiful. So deserving of life unlike you.

You were a loner, even from district 4 a career district, you had no such skills to survive. So you got your way there by sacrifices. human sacrifices. But not on purpose. The first was your unlucky district partner with a knife to the torso with the splatter staining your face.

The next was a random career tribute from 1 or 2- at this point you didn't remember because the only thing you did remember was their excruciating death and the pain they'd gone through by accidentally saving you. How did it come to that? Another career. It's always your 'alliances' til they declare you're not good enough and worthy of their team efforts.

The next wasn't a sacrifice for you, but the deaths to win the horrible games. They thought no one else was alive except for them, battling it out in the arena until they both got each other in the chest with an axe and the other a knife. Injured and bruised, you watched the blood splatter on the ground.

That forever stained your eyes, your brain, your memory. You could never, ever forget what went down those days. You'd never killed anyone, but they showed up asking for your mercy.

"don't kill me y/n. Don't make me die again. It's all your fault."

"I thought you'd help me, y/n? Didn't we have an alliance? You should've saved me from those careers."

But instead you'd sit back and watch. You were the disappointment of your district. How could you just sit back and watch everyone else do the work as a career? The winning tour or whatever it was named, didn't help the fresh nightmares either.

The parents stared into your eyes. You couldn't take it. You couldn't take the looks they gave you. The pain on their faces. Especially the two you were allies with. Their faces were nothing but anger and pain towards you, their eyes dark and wishing death upon you. But what could you do?

You knew it would've been better if you'd died out there and had the other tribute from district 4 win, or anyone else that just wasn't you.

It wasn't worth it.

You only found your meaning in life after the victory tours, in a man close to your age at the time. You had been 16 in those games, and him one year ahead of you making him 17. He was more knowledgeable than you, deserving of his young win and you looked up to his charming and amazing qualities.

By the time you both were somewhat in your 20's and had been mentoring kids for a few years, you knew you couldn't live without each other.

Then the quarter quell came. The greatest thing to tear you apart. Ruin what had been built. Tear years of friendship and love down in a matter of seconds.

Only 1 come out alive in a pool full of victors? It had been the death you had been looking for, desiring, hoping for, if only it had come earlier.

One night prior to the quarter quell, you couldn't sleep. Nothing could put you to sleep as the bad memories flashed through your mind with no remorse. You had cradled into a ball so tight your body ached, the air flow was tight, and your tears pooled up beneath you. At that point your cries grew louder and louder, you thought you had been secretive but most of the peacekeepers could hear your despair through the doors

Your cries muffled your hearing and your mind, so when someone put their arms around you, you jumped and accidentally smacked whoever it was in the face out of survival instinct.

"oh shit"

You said between sniffles, your crying now paused to apologize to however came to comfort you.

"I'm so fucking sorry oh my go-"

They held you closer, and at that point without a word said to each other you knew who it was.

"are you ok Finnick? That was a hard fucking hit"

You laughed, staying cautious because you didn't know if he was actually ok. You heard his contagious laugh after yours, it calmed you down a bit, making you forget about the wet tears down your cheeks.

"I think I should be asking you if you're ok. A little hit gets me a little.. more into the game?"

You both laughed at that, knowing he'd tease you for it later.

"but really y/n, do you need me to stay here? I don't need you missing out on your sleep the day before the games. You at least need to be energized."

He always tried to take your attention away from the bad things when you were upset, getting you to pay more attention to the positives.

"you're not gonna be able to help me when we're in the games y'know-"

"I can help you wherever you need me to y/n, you know that. I've been here for you since I met you and I'm not leaving now."

He said as he planted a kiss on your lips, leaving you suddenly longing for more.

Your eyes widened and guilt dawned on you. He was always so good to you, why couldn't you be the positive one comforting him? He had to get tired of this by now, you guys were in your fucking 20's! How could he not? Years and years and he hasn't once doubted your relationship? Bullshit.

"I don't know why you stay"

You mumbled under your breath before a big sigh. You were moving underneath the blankets as his hand grabbed your arm and held you still for a second, bringing you closer after you looked into his eyes.

"I stay because I love you y/n. No matter how many times you doubt yourself, or hate yourself, or whatever you choose to do. I stay because I love who you are."

You were tearing up again, your tear stained cheeks becoming obvious on your skin as you felt more drop in their place.

"you can't look me straight in the eyes and say that to me before we go into an arena where we're destined to die Finnick. You know I'm not making it out of there alive, you have better chances with someone else!-"

He was quickly towering over your form, hands to the sides of your head. Raising your chin with his soft hand that caressed your cheek ever so softly, you'd think you were already in heaven.

"there's nobody I want to spend my last moments with but you y/n."

He went in for another kiss, you deepening it this time as whenever he touched you, the whole world would disappear and all that was left would be you and him.

It had been years since that, and you both had stayed the same. Finnick ever so persistent with his love for you, and you had become more bold in your words as well. But there's something that had never changed, no matter how long it had been.

The nightmares.

They came in all different forms, sometimes they'd chase you til you awake in a cold sweat or just stand over you and threaten your life until you woke up screaming. His arms always wrapped around you knowing how it felt because sometimes you'd be the one to comfort him and his nightmares, as he had the same problems as you.

You both didn't know what you'd do without each other. Your arms comforted each other, sweet voices reassuring one another you were ok and there were no games anymore.

When would it end? You both never knew, but you knew that you'd always have each other.

[blckbrrybasket]

Say 1,000 words, moan 1,000 more

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: gender neutral reader, voice kink, teasing, anal (r receiving), mild hurt/comfort, aftercare, Gaz and the reader argue but it’s mainly pent up horniness, brief mention of Gaz being the reader’s sergeant

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: somehow I completely forgot I wrote this a while ago whoops

It had never been an issue until Gaz bent down once to whisper in your ear, his hand resting on the small of your back. His warmth easily seeped through every layer of your clothes and you couldn’t help wishing it was his calloused hand sliding against your bare skin. The thoughts couldn’t fully flesh out before you realized what he had asked. Thankfully Gaz hadn’t seemed to notice the way your eyes darted away…or the subtle squeeze of your thighs. Up until then you could cover up the attraction to his voice, until he noticed.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you Gaz had noticed the change in your demeanor. He wasn’t entirely sure what did it though, so next time he was around you he slid his palm onto your back again. Under his watchful eye you shifted, but didn’t have the same reaction as before. Gaz tried to wrack his brain to figure out what it was. He replayed the moment over again in his head. Suddenly the realization dawned on him, the whisper. His whisper.

It would be too obvious to test it immediately so your interactions played by normally until you two were walking behind everyone in the hall. “Whaddya figure we’re havin’ for lunch?” Gaz’s voice came from nowhere, his breath fanning across your neck. Your body went rigid quickly to Gaz’s enjoyment. “You okay?” “Uh yeah yeah.” You cleared your throat and forced a step forward. Gaz watched you speed up with a triumphant smirk. He had you now.

From then on it only became more apparent what his game was. The moment people were looking away he’d find any reason to mutter something into your ear. Sometimes it was meaningful, most the time is was something stupid while his voice teetered on being a grumble. It began to snowball when he thought people were being too close to you and he began draping himself over you and whispering to you in front of them. They got the message.

All of it came to a head though on a mission when he had yanked you behind a crate and growled at you to stay low. His lips being too close to your ear to be professional had become second nature at that point. In the culmination of his antics and this finally being when he first fully rumbled into your ear you glared at him. “Shut up!” You hissed quietly, arousal building in your veins. Not now, this wasn’t the right time.

“What?” Gaz’s voice cut through the tense air, steely and steady. Your heart dropped to your feet at the sound. He leaned forward, forcing you to slide down to accommodate him. “I think you forget who’s in charge, yeah?” A snap shattered the atmosphere and as soon as it started it was over. Gaz darted up, shooting at the less than hidden targets. Not a single miss. Instantly he walked around the crate, stalking off somewhere else. You needed to learn, but not here in danger. The frustration built back up within you, unaware of the path Gaz was shooting to be free for you. Even if he was pissed he wouldn’t let you get hurt.

Walking off the tarmac to an empty room after a shitty mission was always the worst. This time the absence of Gaz clinging to you caused you to walk away faster. The moment you reached your room you slammed the door shut behind you. Closing your eyes, you turned to press your forehead to the cool door. A beat or two passed before you pressed off and stripped your shirt off, your back to the room.

“Already stripping for me? Didn’t know you were a slag.” Shit. Gaz had a wolfish grin when you whirled around to face him. His head was tilted to the side while his eyes scanned you. “Nothing to say now?” “How’d you get in here? The barracks shouldn’t be open to just anybody.” You countered. Gaz let the attitude slide for now. “Not why? Thought that’d be interesting.” Gaz nonchalantly leaned back on his hands like he hadn’t broken into your room.

“Pretty sure you could get in trouble for this.” He clicked his tongue and looked at you darkly. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t do that to me love. Nah, I think ya like me to much.” There was no refusal on your end. It would be pointless to lie. “I’ll answer anyways,” Gaz continued. “I’m here to teach you that lesson.” He smoothed your sheets before getting up to circle you, zeroing in. “If you don’t want it tell me. Tell me and I’ll leave right now.” Gaz whispered into your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine at the faint contact of his lips on the shell of your ear. “Please…” His smirk returned. “Please what?” “Please fuck me.” You swore you could feel the shudder of satisfaction from his chest. His hand moved to grip your ass, the muscle spilling between his fingers, blocked by the fabric of your uniform.

Gaz kept his grip on you, walking you forward till your knees hit the bed, threatening to bend and tip you over onto it. “Can you handle it?” He taunted. “Gaz,“ “Kyle.” A weight settled on your shoulder and you realized one of his hands moved to hold onto you. All of your thoughts left at his offered name.

“Kyle…” You breathed out. It was all you could really do. “Yes?” Amusement laced his sultry tone, “Are you done?” You bit back hollowly, “Fuck off.” A real chuckle escaped his lips, the lips that grazed the nape of your neck. “I’d much rather fuck you.” His hands still holding your ass and shoulder gave him the perfect grip to grind into your ass.

The feeling of his hard on under his pants pressed into you. Gaz squeezed his fingers on your shoulder before moving his hand to tug on your hair, pulling your head back. He was always confusing with you, except for now. Now, his intentions were crystal clear. “You thought you were so funny huh?” Gaz could handle what happened earlier and get over it, but with you he wanted to show you that he was the only one you needed. So he’d show you what happens when you talk to him like that.

Gaz’s lips crashed yours together at a slightly awkward angle. It was sloppy, but exactly what he wanted. Teeth clashed while spit swapped and your lips quickly became soaked and swollen. Gaz licked up into your mouth feeling your tongue tremble when it hit his. The feeling had him smirking against your mouth, moving his tongue to slide along yours, drawing a moan from your throat. A groan that rivaled yours came from his own mouth.

Panting, Gaz came up for air. His hand still held onto your hair keeping you against his swelling lips. “Gotta teach you a fucking lesson.” Gaz’s hips ground into your ass again. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted into your ear, losing the battle of holding himself together.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You begged unabashedly. Shame was nowhere near to being in your thoughts. Your hips rolled back into his and Gaz sucked a breath in. His bottom lip was sucked under his teeth, biting down on it. “Keep fuckin’ teasing me.” Gaz huffed and removed his hands from you. Your needy whine didn’t miss his ears but he quickly pushed his pants down anyways. “Can’t fuckin’ wait anymore. Waited so long.”

He pressed his body against yours, feeling the warmth radiate between you, his dick nestling between your cheeks. His hand slid down to grip your ass, giving it a firm squeeze, before he tugged you closer. Gaz thumbed at your waistband, letting it snap back with a grin. At your gasp he feigned remorse. “Oh I’m sorry love, I’ll make it up to you.” His body guided you to bend over and he slid his hands under your waistband.

Gaz didn’t hesitate anymore, turning his hands over and slowly sliding your fatigues off your hips. It seemed his limited patience only extended to him revealing you like a precious gift. He stepped back, distracted by the sight of your ass in front of him he blurted out, “Lube. Where’s-“ You cut him off hastily, “Dresser, first drawer to the left.”

Gaz momentarily pulled off of you to rummage through your drawer. He was hasty, a man on a mission and grabbed the bottle quickly. Gaz made his way back immediately and popped open the top. “Gotta loosen you up.” He muttered and smeared lube on his fingers before leaning in and whispering in your ear. “Have to make sure you can handle my cock.”

Gaz coated himself with the lube that was smeared on his fingers. “I can handle it,” you protested quickly. “Oh can you?” He responded casually. He pumped his hand up and down slowly, making sure to thoroughly cover his cock. When he was done Gaz kept the lube soaking his fingers to help him circle the rim of your asshole. He pressed his thumb in gently and watched the pad of it disappear into you while you moaned.

A breath he didn’t know he had been holding escaped and he bit his lip. Gaz immediately wanted to pound into you but instead he let his thumb hang heavy, pushing his index finger in, to the knuckle with no resistance. Your low moan only fuel the raging fire in his gut. “That feel good?” Gaz egged you on with a smirk.

He looked down at his finger easily reaching deep inside of you before he pulled it back out. A second later two slick fingers penetrated again. Gaz took his time, curling them to scissoring them until he could slide in a third finger. He hummed appreciatively in the back of his throat. It was torturously slow and clearly a punishment for your outburst earlier.

“Gaz I swear-“ Once again you were cut off with a firm reminder. “I said call me Kyle.” You swallowed thickly and opened your mouth. Gaz thrust his fingers in harshly causing you to cut yourself off with a moan. “What was that?” He challenged.

Your mouth hung open, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure. “Kyle please just fuck me already.” In an instant his fingers were gone making you slump against the bed, ass up for him. “Do you think you deserve it?” You heard his grumble over a rustling. “I’ve been good!” You retorted in a less than steady voice.

“I guess you have.” Gaz tutted. He looked down at what he had been doing. His precum had steadily leaked down and dropped onto his thigh from where his dick hung against it. Gaz scooped it up and smeared it back onto his dick before letting out a fake sigh. “We don’t have enough lube..”

“What? Yes I do!” You knew he was fucking with you but you didn’t know what he was aiming for. “Haven’t even fucked you and you’re already gone. So needy.” You supposed now that he was only messing around to use your reaction against. However, he wasn’t entirely cruel.

Gaz shuffled forward to grip the tops of your thighs, his thumbs coming up to spread your ass. “You ready?” He leaned to the side to see your dazed expression. “Mm yeah.” Gaz smiled at your response and slowly pressed in. His fat tip breached your entrance and he paused when it made a small ‘pop’, resting in it’s new home. He slowly pressed forward inch by inch listening intently to the moans spilling from your lips.

His throat bobbed when he groaned at your sounds. “You sound so fuckin’ good, feel so fuckin’ good.” Gaz watched your tight asshole take him to the base where he bottomed out. He held one arm under your waist, the other grabbing onto your hip. Your face scrunched up at the stretch but slowly relaxed when you adjusted to the intrusion.

A whine bubbled in your throat when he experimentally rolled his hips. “Yeah, you’ll take it well, darling.” He murmured mainly to himself. “Won’t you?” Gaz’s voice instantly switched to a sweet tone contrasting his previous timbre. He pulled out until the head of his cock was the only thing in your asshole, pausing then thrusting back in. “Yeah you’ll do nicely.”

You eagerly nodded your head at his husky words. Who wouldn’t do good for him? Gaz chewed his bottom lip in concentration building up to a steady rhythm. He slammed his hips back and forth, angling it differently little by little until he hit the spot that had you keening. “You want me, don't ya, love? You're fucking begging for it.” Gaz's voice was thick with desire. He merely laughed when you looked back with a cock drunk expression.

“Don’t worry I know darling, I know.” Gaz reached up from your hip to cradle your cheek. “Feels good don’t it? Being fucked on your Sergeant’s cock?” “Mhm!” The way you responded could barely be classified as a response, but he understood all the same. Your velvety walls welcomed every punishing thrusts that hit deep within you.

Gaz could hardly keep still as he trailed his hand to your shoulder and gripped it for purchase before speeding up. His dark eyes watched the ripple of your ass every time his hips slammed into you. The tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, focused on slamming into you over and over and over.

It wasn’t long before you were choking on air and grasping at the sheets, complete bent over the bed now. “‘M gonna-!” Gaz chuckled triumphantly and continued at his brutal pace. “Yeah yeah, you gonna come for me? Do it.” The encouragement was all you needed for you go cum, dripping onto your sheets. Gaz didn’t stop pounding into you while you came, wanting to prolong your orgasm.

A pornographic moan ripped itself from your mouth while you arched your back into the bed. “Yes yes yes! Kyle!” Your eyes rolled back, drooling onto the ruined covers, ropes of his come filling you up. Gaz leaned over you, only slowing down once he worked himself through his high.

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and fought to catch his breath. Gaz sighed wistfully and pressed a chaste kiss there. “Perfect.” You whined and he looked up to see you looking at him. A smile parted his lips, “You were everything and more.” He studied your blissful expression and swiped a drop of sweat off your forehead with his thumb. You began to sit up when he gently guided you to stay still. “‘S okay, you don’t gotta do anything.”

Gaz pulled out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. His hands massaged the globes of your ass soothingly before he stood up fully to tuck himself back into his fatigues. Gaz helped you turn over, walking to your dresser to grab a rag. He came back to discover you staring at the ceiling and he smiled. “Anything interesting up there?” Gaz craned his neck. When he didn’t respond he laughed and began tenderly cleaning you up.

“Kyle..?” Gaz raised his eyebrows and looked down at you, not expecting you to speak up. “Yeah love?” Your nervous expression easily made him worried and he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your jaw. “Can this happen again? Or is it a one time thing?” Gaz sighed in relief at your question and leaned forward. “We’ll do it as many times as you want.”

At your satisfied smiled he pecked your lips. “Now get some rest, I’ll wash your blankets later.” He grabbed the soiled blankets and tossed it to the side, letting you slide under the covers with him copying your movements.

Gaz rolled onto his side to see your peaceful expression, on the brink of sleep. The smile on his face was incapable of faltering when this was his view. He exhaled quietly and pulled your head to rest on his chest while he fluttered his eyes shut. No, it wouldn’t be a one time thing.

[ibuprofinator]

alright I beat veilguard, here are my thoughts. light spoilers but I'm avoiding anything explicit.

TLDR: worth it if you can get it on sale and can make peace with some cringe writing, lore changes, and lack of meaningful reactivity based on the race you choose. A major thing going for it is that it feels 100% complete and fully realized before release, which is more than what I can say for a lot of games. I had a lot of fun with it at the end of the day even if I doubt I'll replay it all the way through again any time soon.

Gameplay

The combat is very fun, and it's kind of incredible how different your experience of the game can be depending on your class (on a mechanical level). I've tried both mage and warrior, and their base mechanics are VASTLY different to the point where it feels like I might as well be playing a different game with some similar mechanics. I've talked to my friend who beat the game as a rogue, and even their mechanics seem very different from what I experienced from the other two classes.

The bad side of that is that they reuse the mechanics of a lot of enemies. It's not noticeable right away, but once you fight a few mages or two of the seven or so dragons you can fight in the game it gets very repetitive. The dragon mechanics barely changing depending on the type of dragon was especially annoying. Also, if you reach the max level (50) just know that enemies stop scaling after level 45 and things won't feel like a challenge anymore once you reach that threshold. For context I beat the game on the second hardest difficulty.

I still would've rather they changed around a few things so we could bring 3 companions with us like in previous games. I also wish they had more automatic skill use from our companions since I always forget to get them to use any of their skills. I heavily relied on some of the skill upgrades that had them use it automatically.

Exploration/Level Design

The world exploration is fine. I find that it's a bit too hand-holdy at times, and seems to rely heavily on giving you a shiny thing (chests) in order to keep you engaged which makes it feel cheap (in addition to all the chests/collectables being marked on the mini-map. again, a bit too hand-holdy for me).

That being said, I like how relatively limited the world is. Especially in comparison to Inquisition where there was just WAY too much. The areas aren't absurdly huge, but I felt like I was getting a good baseline for the vibe of whatever country I was in. In some ways, it felt like a more streamlined and higher quality version of the areas in Origins/DA2.

The areas are obviously very well thought out and designed, and I really enjoy the stark difference between areas you see both before and after your first major choice. I've seen people critique that choice being too early in the game, and I kind of disagree. My gripes with it are how it was handled after the change, but I'm not going to go into a tangent about that here.

The one thing that irks me to no end is the teleport beacon system. You always have a designated "respawn point" when you die. What this means in practice is that every single time you load a save that isn't in the middle of a cutscene, you'll spawn at whatever teleport beacon is set as your spawn point instead of where you physically were when you saved.

I hate this. To me it contributes to the cheap feeling of the game and also throws me off because every single time I loaded a save I didn't know what the fuck I was doing since often times I was far away from the actual thing I was in the middle of before I quit the game for the day. It's okay-ish if you're just tracking a quest, but there's actual world exploration in this game without markers.

Alright, now the actual writing of the game.

It's cringe too much of the time. It assumes you're not paying attention to anything most of the time. I hate the "next time on..." narration after the quests that sometimes outright spoil you for the next thing that's going to happen. I hate that you get the resolution to mysteries that have existed since Origins before you're even fully out of the intro to the game without giving any of it time to breathe.

Meanwhile, it seems unwilling to engage in anything that might potentially be vaguely "problematic". The companions don't argue, or if they do it's resolved almost immediately. Any tension between the companions is caused by one person having concerns about another person, and then the other person is like "yeah I get why you're concerned we're cool" (both in banter and in scenes at your base).

The world feels devoid of basic elements of previous games, like elven oppression, beyond a few non-specific references about "elves having it hard. In addition, they seem to be adding NPCs of different races to the background of the world seemingly at random. No, I don't think that there'd be this many vashoth or tal-vashoth shop-keepers in this part of Antiva, or this many elves casually intermingling with humans in Minrathous or all these veil jumpers that aren't elven much less Dalish.

It seems almost random, and more in line with modern dnd played for fun with friends or the atmosphere in the lower city in BG3 than a dragon age game. The fact that you can choose any origin regardless of your starting race is kind of insane considering the reality of some of those origins. There doesn't seem to be much, if any, intention behind it. Which makes it even more frustrating that I can count on half of one hand the amount of times it came up in any real way that I was playing as a dwarf, and lost track of the amount of times it should have considering a big part of the main plot has to do with dwarven history.

To be specific, and without giving too many spoilers, there's one scene where you find out something about the origin of modern dwarves. The "angry" dialogue option for that is for Rook to start yelling and making very good points, only for it to end with them saying that they can't dream with the same weight as everything else and it comes across as goofy as hell considering we don't know dick or all about the downsides to not dreaming in-universe. It's just something they can't do. But no, not dreaming is the same thing as your entire civilization crumbling right?

The companions themselves are written to be hard to dislike. Aside from Taash, all their hard edges have been smoothed down into something that barely manages to stay engaging. To be completely fair, I might be especially sensitive to this. I had just beaten BG3 and then DA2 before playing this game, and they're both games with a bunch of shitty people who slowly get better over time. VG, in contrast, doesn't have any tangible character arc for a lot of the characters outside of maybe one choice at the end of their quest line. Even then, it's minimal.

The game clearly has a few themes it was going for, but it either hits you over the head with them or doesn't earn them. There was one point where Rook (with no prompting from me!) said that their group had become a family. Which, yes they all get along and are working well together towards the goal of saving the world, but that didn't really feel earned at the point they said it.

Another theme I think they wanted were "a real leader takes responsibility for their actions" but we don't have any real options to either take responsibility or deny responsibility. This ties back to the issue I mentioned earlier where interpersonal problems get almost immediately resolved, and most were never even that serious in the first place.

There's a lot of explicitly telling you what the narrative themes are without following though. I've critiqued BG3 for hitting you over the head with themes, but it's NOTHING like what I've seen in VG.

They also have a very bad attempt at calling back to earlier parts of their arc/things Rook said. Forgive me for bringing up Astarion, but an example of that is Astarion saying "this is a gift, I won't forget it" both when he bites you for the first time and when he stays a spawn after killing Cazador. In Veilguard it's just people saying the same line almost verbatim about 100 times. Like I said earlier, the game assumes you're not paying attention.

And finally, I like the overarching story as a concept. Rook being forced to take responsibility for this team, in part because they feel guilty and in part because everyone else is too bogged down in their shit to do it so they HAVE to. And then working hard to build that team and the factions supporting them up in preparation to face something completely unprecedented? Then the individual plot points without having to slog through how they're written to get to the end? Love all that! Great bones to work off of!

I also really liked a lot of the arcs of the NPCs, and the one I think about constantly is Jacobus (SPOILERS IN THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH) specifically where Treviso is blighted. I'm not sure if it's different if Treviso isn't blighted, but I was so heartbroken by everything that happened to him culminating in him giving in to the taint to lead a group of darkspawn against the mayor to stop them from releasing gaatlok.

SPOILERS OVER

And that's the thing, there's so many little moments like that in the game that felt so incredibly real that it made me more and more frustrated at a noticeable amount of the game that seemed to be written by someone who read a few bullshit pop psychology articles and wanted to gloat about it by inserting a bunch of surface level mental health understanding into the game.

All that being said, and despite the fact that I don't think the game earned a lot of the character moments that came in the finale...it has, by far, the BEST end game sequence of ANY game - RPG or otherwise - that I've ever played.

I've never been hit so hard emotionally by characters I otherwise didn't give a shit about. I made one choice knowing it would result in someone specific dying (and I didn't really care because I didn't like them), but the way that person died and the way that death is talked about afterwards broke me in ways I didn't expect.

And the ending is LONG, too. It really feels like you're fighting a final battle alongside an army and the army is supporting the small group you're in so you can make it to where you need to go and kill the gods. And it feels realistic. There's no way everyone gets out unscathed, it's physically impossible in the game itself.

For a game that made me feel incredibly safe in the sense that all the companions had plot armor up until that point, it felt like a shock in a really good way. You spend all this time with your companions, learning about them and watching them interact with each other in the lighthouse and see their relationships with each other and then at the end of it there's nothing you can do to save some of them. Some don't die, but face something almost worse than death. And it's all for your benefit so you can have a small shot at pulling this off.

It's like the suicide mission in ME2 on crack in the best way possible. You learn things over the course of that long ass finale that made me look at the entire game differently and understand a lot of characters so much more.

To dial it back a bit, I think the romance in this game is pretty well done. I've only done Neve's, but it feels more realistic than other similar RPGs in the sense that y'all aren't falling over yourselves to commit to each other and there's no expectation on staying together after this. It feels like a new relationship, and she even still flirts with Lucanis which I honestly didn't mind! It, perhaps unintentionally, made it all seem that much more realistic plus it would've built up nicely to them getting together had I not romanced either of them.

It almost marketed itself as a dating sim, but really it's such a small part of your interaction with your romantic interest. I'm assuming other romances are slightly different, but I kissed Neve a grand total of one time before the finale and then there were a bunch of longing glances. I played with the idea of romancing Taash before reloading, and it feels like y'all are just incredibly casual about it even after going to have dinner with their mom. Both felt VERY realistic for the stakes of the game and the level of commitment both of y'all would be able to offer.

Do I think this is GOTY worthy? No, but I do think it's overall more fun to play than Inquisition which DID win GOTY. I think it's worth the $40 I paid for it, and I had a very good time playing it despite how much I just wish it wasn't a Dragon Age game. Unlike with Inquisition, I don't dread the idea of playing this game again. Leading up to me playing DAV, I was going to replay all the DA games, but I ended up skipping Inquisition because I did NOT want to have to slog through all of that again (I was doing completionist playthroughs).

The game is really good at cinematics and the big moments in the world, and I just wish that same love and care translated to. I don't know. The actual writing all throughout the game.

I really hope the series ends here, and they don't do something with the vague hints that have been in this game and Inquisition about some bullshit going on across the sea (the secret post-credits scene pissed me off but I'm not going to get into that).

It has a sense of finality to it, and I'm happy with this wrapping up everything I've seen this series build towards since I got Origins for Christmas when I was 13.

[ace-turned-confused]

get to know your moots

ty for tagging me @almostempty ilyyyy and i love doing these, they feel like doing surveys and if there's one thing my autistic ass loves, it's doing a survey

what's the origin of your blog title?: it's me being confused about my sexuality & identity

OTP(s) + shipname: okay my mom & i used to watch this show called major crimes, SHARON & ANDY FOR LIFE !!!!!! shandy stan until i die. i even had a fanpage for them on instagram.

favorite color: purpleeee

favorite game: rn it's INFINITY NIKKI !!! i am addicted. also replaying BOTW rn, valorant / fortnite with my cousin, oh and i'm basically becoming a professional phasmo player, also addicted to that.

song stuck in your head: baile inolvidable - bad bunny

weirdest habit/trait?: ummm i stick my tongue out when i'm concentrating? not all the way out like a weirdo, just a lil blep. i also brush my teeth in the shower.

hobbies: gamingggg, sewing, baking, vinyl records

if you work, what's your profession?: rn ya girl is unemployed :')

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: trust fund baby. i wanted to do architecture but then discovered you have to submit a portfolio when you apply and i didn't do art for matric so. rip to that dream. also nearly went into microbiology.

something you're good at: sudoku.

something you're bad at: making conversation.

something you love: night drives with my bestie <3

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: basically any game i play. you wanna know how to do a zero evidence run in phasmo? take a seat. valorant agent abilities? ask me. minecraft recipes? i got you. i often get asked "how do you remember that?" i'm autistic. i have autism.

something you hate: that i have to work to survive and pay for everything. going new places without knowing the parking situation. anything mint.

something you collect: trinkets. i love a trinket. i got a set of four tiny silver-plated brass chairs that are actually name place holders for my birthday that look amazing on my desk. i'd love to get more game merch etc but those kind of fun things don't exist much here in SA :( also lego, but i haven't got a new set in a good while now.

something you forget: to take my meds, names, events, happenings, etc etc.

what's your love language?: i yearn for physical touch but i'm touch averse :/ love some quality time.

favorite movie/show: love mamma mia that is peak cinema.

favorite food: i love pizza. i love lasagne. i love a good plate of chips.

favorite animal: I LOVE CAPYBARAS i love them so much. i have a capy plushie and he has a turtle backpack.

are you musical?: i played both violin and piano for like eight years? and i can sing if i try LOL

what were you like as a child?: anxious and shy. every teacher would love if i could participate more.

favorite subject at school?: biology & geography.

least favorite subject?: when i had to take it, history. that shit was boringgggg i'm so sorry. of the compulsory ones, probs english. i take everything at face value (autism) so hated poetry and having to analyse every fuckin sentence in a book.

what's your best character trait?: my honesty.

what's your worst character trait?: also my honesty.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?: idk make this shit more exciting probably. i'd put myself on a nice holiday.

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: a cowboy from the old west. and then he'd fall in love with me.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): okay okay i LOVE seams by @fuckyeahdindjarin <3

npt: @burntheedges @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @guiltyasdave @604to647

@sixhours @joelmillerisapunk @oonajaeadira @strang3lov3 @whocaresstillthelouvre

@mrsmando @mountainsandmayhem @sanarsi @mermaidgirl30 @sizzlingcloudmentality <3

[old-lemon-tree]

Memories and voices in the epilogue

Since I'm replaying the game, and aiming for 100% this time, I figure I'll be spending a lot of time in the epilogue.

So, here! All the old camps memories/voices I hear, I will keep this updated as I go and I will try to give links to videos of the specific scene if I find them.

Colter

Abigail "The better part of me wishes you let those poor creatures eat him"

John "Never thought I'd say this but...it's good to see you, Arthur Morgan."

Agibail "The boy wanted to see you, John." John "He's seen me now. What's left of me."

Horseshoe Overlook

Uncle, Sean and Arthur singing "Rye Whiskey/O Mollie"

Uncle, Sean, Pearson and Arthur singing "Ring Dang Doo"

Pearson and Sean singing "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah"

Sean (drunkenly) singing "The Sprig of Shillelagh"

Pearson and Sean singing "Blow The Man Down"

Arthur "If you say the boy ain't yours, what's the difference? You'll probably only run off again"

Arthur "I'm here to tell you, that money in Blackwater? Forget about it. It'll come with a noose." John "I was worried you'd say that." (This is different from how it is in game where Arthur will say "I'm here to tell you, we try to collect that money any time soon...It'll come with a noose")

Arthur "Just do one thing or another, not be two people at once, that's all I'm saying." John "It ain't that simple. You know that as well as anyone."

John "Been a tough few weeks" Hosea "Awful...but we've been through this before"

Arthur "What, you see yourself as a sheperd now?" John "Maybe..."

Clemens Point

Karen and Susan singing "Dirty Little Whore"

Cain Barking (Not sure about this one but I did spend a good 10 irl minutes searching for any other dog/fox/coyote in the area and found none)

John "Mr. Gray here was saying how he had...problems with a family... a family of degenerates."

Abigail "Guess I can't make you want something you don't." John "It ain't like that. Life ain't that simple. Not this life." Abigail "I know."

Abigail "Where is he? Where is my son? They took him, didn't they? They took my son."

John "That poor kid. We chose this life, he didn't." Arthur "I don't know, I think this life chose us."

Shady Belle

Screams (Kieran?) (could be a bug or not intended to be there since I got another memory/voiceline right after but who knows)

Abigail "You mean like a normal family?" John "Look around you, ain't nothing...normal about any of this." Abigail "It ain't that bad." (During the game, if Arthur is near, the conversation goes slightly differently)

John "Just...seems like something changed." Dutch "You’ve changed!"

Beaver's Hollow

Arthur "Get the hell out of here and be a goddamn man!" John "You're my brother." Arthur "I know...I know."

Abigail "You brought him back to me." Sadie "We told you we would."

Arthur "We ain't both gonna make it. Go...now. I'll hold them off. It would mean a lot to me...please."

NOTE II: they almost always appear in the morning. They also seem to be more frequent in Horseshoe Overlook, triggering almost all the time. Having a hard time getting them at Clemens Point specifically

[affectionatecorpse]

Alright so I replayed Shadow of the Colossus and I'm being totally normal about Dormin /s sooo I'm gonna say my opinion on the "if they are evil or not" argument.

Now before I get into my interpretation, I just wanna say, I respect everyone's opinion on the matter. That's the point of a story, to read between the lines and come to your own conclusion, to form your own thoughts on it. However you see Dormin as a character is valid. But let's keep things nice and peaceful, yeah?

Right off the bat, I don't believe Dormin is evil. Morally gray, perhaps, but they don't really do anything significantly EVIL. The most evil thing they probably do in game is order the extermination of the Colossi, which yeah, okay, fair enough, is kinda unfair. But people seem to forget that these Colossi ARE Dormin. They are all pieces of them left behind after their downfall. By killing the Colossi, you're simply returning the fragments back to where they came from; the very person who wants them back.

We don't know why Dormin was sealed away, but a common theme in human history is fearing the things that are stronger than us. From what it seems regarding Dormin's powers in life and death, Wander is not the first person to approach them for help playing with mortality. It's very likely Dormin was sealed away because of their power, or perhaps because of a bad side effect that they probably warned about beforehand.

Which brings me onto the fact Wander suffered greatly for what he did. But Dormin DID warn him. They warned him several times in fact. He chose to do it anyway, and Dormin let him make that mistake himself. After all, mistakes are important, they help us learn. But Dormin never disrespects his decision. They're sympathetic to his motivation, whereas most entities might not care about 'just another mortal'. But Dormin very clearly shows empathy towards the predicament Wander is going through, and honours that wish through and through.

In fact, they go above and beyond for Wander's efforts. The deal was to bring Mono back to life when back at full strength. But assuming the theory that the eagle is Dormin is actually true, they also keep a close eye on Wander. They watch over him. It may also be safe to assume that Dormin is the one to bring Wander back every time he collapses, as that magic is in fact theirs, which is not something they were ever obligated to do. They could've just let him find his own way back after waking up, but he's never left out in the open for too long.

Let's not forget, they also took responsibility for Wander getting hurt in the final battle. They claimed to 'borrow' his body in order to fight a fair battle, perhaps to avoid the unfair advantage they had against a group of humans. When Wander got caught up in their resealing, they could've let him die, as they go back to their life of solitude and wait for someone else to free them again. But they don't. They spend whatever power they have left to bring Wander back, something they really didn't have to do. And that's probably why he came back a baby, because they didn't have alot of time (or power) left to heal him fully.

Which is also the case with Agro. Let's be honest here, nothing could survive that fall. Not a human, and definitely not a horse. These things get all their bones broken if you so much as look at them wrong, do we seriously thing Agro just got up and walked away after that drop? Even if there was water at the bottom, that height would destroy her, or at the very least knock her out, which would again mean she drowned. Not to mention how she got back up to the top remarkably fast despite there being no clear path. So with all that in mind, it's highly likely it was actually Dormin who helped Agro. Which again, they wouldn't be obligated to do by any means.

Dormin is by no means a golden character. But I don't think they were evil. There is so, so much to take into consideration, and so many incidents that simply could not be solved without them acting selflessly. They never even blame Wander for being sealed away again, they never get mad about it at all. Any energy that could be spent on frustration, they instead use to keep Wander, Mono and Agro alive in the end.

Though don't get me wrong, I don't think there's any villain in that story. Not Wander, not Dormin, and not Lord Emon. Each person was simply doing what they felt they had to, and unfortunately, this resulted in an unresolved yet hopeful end to the story.

TL;DR: Dormin is an incredible character to read between the lines of, but any interpretation of them is valid nonetheless.