#and defying destiny is boring

[kopfkino-o]

So you’re telling me we were given “mates aren’t always right for one another” and “mating bonds can be rejected” and “what if the cauldron is wrong” just to get…

Mates actually always being right for one another. No mating bond ever rejected. And freewill not existing because, whoops sorry, the Cauldron actually does know best and there’s no choice in this world sorry!

NO THANK YOU, MA’AM! I SAID NO THANK YOU.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a Yandere Demon Lord. This is Part 1.

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon Lord x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero

TW: Voyeurism, stalking, Somniaphilia, dacryphillia, dark content, etc

Part 2

You were surprised to be alive after your cold fiancé pushed you into oncoming traffic when you got into an argument with him… all you had wanted was for him to show you that he loved you, but instead he killed you. Yet your life didn’t end… no. Far from it.

Rather than waking up in the supposed after life, you woke up in the Rerenth Kingdom. A fantasy kingdom in a magical world plagued with problems written in fiction novels. And the emperor explained to you, no, demanded that you to take on your role as Saintess to save them from the Demon King.

The demon king was now your enemy. Defeating him was the only way for you to go home… but did you even want to do that? In your last life and in this one, you were merely another unhappy pawn. The silk robes and dazzling abilities did nothing to shield you from the harsh reality of what your life has become once more… would you ever truly be free? Would you ever truly be happy?

The servants often spoke of the monstrous Demon King who controlled the forces of darkness that sought to destroy the light. A demonic entity none of the people in this kingdom had ever truly seen with their own eyes, but they believed him to be out there… how else were they to explain the supernatural happenings that plagued their kingdom? This entire ordeal made little sense to you since you hadn’t seen many disputes between humans and demons unless they were over territory. Vast majority of the time, it was humans that ventured into the demonic lands anyways. Was this perhaps some propaganda tactic? You didn’t know and you didn’t question it, you simply wanted to retire to a peaceful life.

It took a few weeks for you to be able to control your new holy power, but you were able to now harness it for barriers and for healing. Abilities that would be useless without a hero… a fact that the citizens soon realized so they began to devise another plan. To summon a hero!

Another few weeks passed by and they successfully summoned a valiant hero by the name of Reinhardt. His chiseled face was constantly covered by the taxidermied lion mask that adorned his face. The man was massive and intimidating, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about him. You couldn’t place a finger on who he could possibly be since you didn’t know anyone else with an imposing stature like his but that gut feeling never left you.

Reinhardt would often glance you up and down when he thought you weren’t looking. His green eyes would bore into yours until you felt as if you’d be set ablaze. He was terrifying to you. Especially now that you were on a journey with him to defeat the demon king… along with a fox beastwoman fighter and an elven mage who had joined your party due to the emperor’s order. The Emperor didn’t see you to be enough aid to the hero on this important quest.

Both adventurers were quite rude to you at first since you had no offensive abilities. They often fawned over the hero who blatantly ignored their affections to instead watch over you like a hawk. A fact the two women didn’t really enjoy, but they accepted it as the weeks melted into months. And you still didn’t know their names since they never told you (and Reinhardt never spoke).

The three of them often fought and killed monsters and demons while you protected the supplies and healed their injuries. It upset you that your party ambushed them since the enemies usually were unarmed. Majority of the time, it was a one-sided slaughter. An endless bloodbath that you had no power to stop.

You often lied to your peers about monsters hiding, unaware that your small act of kindness would lead to a snowball effect in the future. You had now caught the eye of an entity much stronger than you and the hero’s party… all because you were merciful. You were kind and sweet. A true saintess.

Your softness had made your peers joke about you being a cry baby. The elven mage and beastwoman often jabbed their elbows into your side to joke about the tears you’d cry because they thought you were scared. The dense women never realized your tears were for the innocent monsters they slaughtered on a day to day basis too. You were never scared of the demons or monsters, you were scared of them.

Yet Reinhardt nipped the subtle bullying in the bud by shoving the other two adventures away from you with his strong arms. He always made sure you were safe before he offered his body for healing… which he’d just make gesture at you with his hands rather than speak. It seemed he was fond of you, a fondness you didn’t understand since he never spoke to you.

Reinhardt would often pick you up without asking you and tuck you into the crook of his large arm. It bothered you that he never took off his mask, but he had quite an attractive jawline with the slightest bit of stubble. There was not a doubt in your mind that Reinhardt was likely an attractive man, but that didn’t matter. Since he was creepy.

Reinhardt never uttered a word to you but would always dutifully stand by your side (or carry you like some sort of damsel). He often reminded you of your ex fiancé with his stoic demeanor and his bewitching green eyes. And the staring. You swore you felt bare under his gaze even if you had multiple layers on.

And it wasn’t just his eyes you felt on you, you swore there was someone else watching you in the shadows and the possibility of you having another stalker made your skin crawl. Had you finally gone insane from having Reinhardt be around you 24/7? Or was there something sinister amiss?

Maybe that’s why Reinhardt so dutifully clung to you? Whether his protection was out of obligation or simply because he lusted for you, his presence did little to ease the extra set of eyes. In fact, he made it worse.

Wherever you were, Reinhardt was never far. He was with you when you bathed to stand guard. He was carrying you if you couldn’t keep up with him and the rest of the hero’s party. Reinhardt even began to stay in your tent with you…

He didn’t utter a word when he watched over you whenever you had nightmares. Reinhardt never woke you up from the horrific dreams of the man with pitch black hair and sharp talons pulling you into his lap and having his way with you. No, Reinhardt instead dragged his tongue down your tear stricken face in delight.

Reinhardt knew his actions were wrong, but he couldn’t help but fawn over your helpless form. You were so weak without his protection… you were a lamb sent to a slaughter that luckily had a herding dog with you. You should be grateful Reinhardt had such an intense interest in you, otherwise you could have perished earlier on at the goblin camps. Or those other two party members would have likely broken a few of your bones from rough housing. You were a frail bird that needed to be locked up at all times and Reinhardt was willing to be the one to do that! He would keep you safe, even if it took you years to understand even an ounce of his magnitude of feelings for you. He was a patient man!

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up in your tent with Reindhart’s imposing form standing over you ominously. You’d cry every single time, but he’d make no move to comfort you. Only stare.

Over the last four weeks, you begin to receive little trinkets in your tent on the daily. Delicacies that Reinhardt would immediately pitch once he saw them, but it filled you with anxiety that he was not the one slipping you those gifts… who on earth could be gifting you such pretty rocks and wild flowers?

You were flattered, just the tiniest bit, by the small, temporary gifts. They were much more welcomed than the iron grip of Reinhardt’s arms. Even though the sender made you anxious, it was nice to know that someone took you into consideration. It was a small action that filled you with hope. Perhaps you would be saved from this fate?

Shame you didn’t understand just how much those tiny gifts upset the hero. Your eyes should only be on him. Your entire purpose should revolve around him. Reinhardt wanted to find the individual who sent you these gifts so he could rip them limb from limb. You belonged to him and he would show you that you had no way of escaping him. You were going to be his bride! Whether you liked it or not, the hero had chosen you as his destined one!

Recently, you’d wake up to him laying beside you in your tent with his large arms wrapped around you. His Roman nose buried into the crook of your neck. This was far worse than him lingering in your tent since he had become so physical.

And your peers did nothing about his harassment of you. To them, it was cute that the hero was so ‘enamored’ with the Saintess! You’ve even heard whispers of how the emperor will no doubt arrange a marriage between the two of you once the four of you eliminated the demon king. It terrified you even more because you knew you’d have little say in the matter… your life was spiraling out of your own control once more. This time, into the arms of some brute with attachment issues. You didn’t want to marry another emotionally constipated man! You wanted to have freedom!

You often cried yourself to sleep which only made Reinhardt even more overbearing. He now would press kisses to your cheeks and cuddle his body into yours. Even in your dreams, you couldn’t escape this massive man. If only you could be saved…

And when you drifted off into an unnaturally heavy sleep, your barriers deactivated. An action that allowed the Demon King to finally slip into your party’s camp and take what he wanted. You.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

[dunebrat]

THE PEOPLES PRINCESS

Reader x feyd rautha smut

Summary: you get married off by your father to secure alliances. Despite you knowing your new husbands reputation, you finds yourself drawn to him.

➽─────────────────────❥

As you stepped onto the arid planet of Arrakis, the sun beat down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the shifting dunes. You, a princess, were escorted by your father, the ruler of your home planet, to marry the infamous Feyd Rautha. Your first encounter with Feyd was chilling. He stood tall and imposing, his eyes cold as they met yours. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

Throughout the preparations for the wedding, Feyd remained distant, barely acknowledging your presence. Amidst the bustling preparations, your father sought you out, his regal bearing softened by a look of paternal concern. He approached you with a tenderness that belied his stoic exterior, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"My dear," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with gravity, "today, you embark on a new journey, one that will shape the course of your destiny."

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions churning within you. "Father," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know not what the future holds, but I will face it with courage and grace."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grasp your hand. "You are a beacon of strength and resilience, my child," he said, his voice filled with pride. "No matter what lies ahead, remember that you are never alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you embraced him.

Your wedding gown, made from the finest silks and embellished with gorgeous lace and brilliant gems, was a vision of grandeur and elegance. Its flowing procession, glistening in the intense desert sun, followed you like a moonlit river. As you stood in the grand hall, waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that once the ceremony commenced, there would be no turning back.

But amidst the fear, there was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this union with Feyd would bring you the happiness and fulfillment you had always longed for. But you know the man that will soon be your husband is no kind man. But as you stood before him at the altar, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce determination. When he leaned in to kiss you, you felt a rush of lust.

On your wedding night, as the grandeur of the ceremony faded into the intimacy of the chambers, you found yourself alone with Feyd. The flickering candlelight casting shadows across the room, adding to your senses heightened.

Feyd, with his usual air of confidence, approached you. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the facade you tried so desperately to maintain. He noticed the tremble in your hands, the uneasiness that lingered in your of your gaze.

"You're scared," he observed, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to deny the truth of his words. "I am," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Feyd closed the distance between you, his presence startling in its intensity, his lips twisted into a knowing smile. He said, "Fear can be a powerful motivator," with an a hint of humor in his voice. "But it can also be mastered."

With a swift yet gentle motion, he reached out to cup your face, his touch surprisingly tender against your skin. His eyes bore into yours with an unwavering gaze, as if daring you to challenge him, to defy the inevitable.

Feyd's eyes raked over your body, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts.

His voice was low and husky, his words a command.

"Strip." The word hung in the air like an order, leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation. You hesitated briefly before complying with Feyd's demand. You unbuttoned your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Underneath you wore nothing but lace underwear and stockings that accentuated every curve on your body.

Feyd's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I want you to know that I am not a man who will be gentle with you," he said in an even tone as if it were simply stating the obvious.

"I will take what I want, and you are to do as I say." The words hung in the air like a threat.

His gaze was intense, his voice commanding. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the way he spoke to you. The words were harsh and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what he had just said. The weight of his words hung heavy on the air between us and for a moment | felt trapped by them.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I will do as you say." The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's hand was on the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding.

He pulled you closer to him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. His tongue invaded your mouth with an almost brutal forcefulness as he claimed it for himself.

His other hand found its way to your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting the nipple until you gasped in pain.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it also sent a strange rush of pleasure through you. You found yourself responding to his touch in ways that surprised even you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice as if he were mapping out a territory. He pulled you closer to him until his hardness was pressed against the soft folds of your sex.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his desire for you palpable. His hands moved down to your hips and he lifted you up so that only the tip of his cock was inside you.

He held you there, teasingly close to the edge of pleasure. "Do you want this?" he asked in a low voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want me to take what I need from you?" The words were a command, not a question. The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's grip on you tightened and he thrust into you with a force that left you gasping for air. He fucks you hard and fast, his hips slamming into you with a force that left your body trembling. The pain was intense but it only seemed to fuel the fire of desire burning within him as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, a testament to how turned on you were by his rough treatment.

His hands roamed over your body, leaving bruises and marks that would be a reminder of this night for days to come.

Days passed after the wedding night, and you found yourself adjusting to life as the wife of Feyd Rautha. One evening, as you sat alone in the grand hall of the palace, Feyd approached you with a quietly. His usual stoic demeanor softened slightly as he took a seat beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“May I join you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface.

You nodded, surprised by his sudden display of openness. "Of course," you replied, unable to hide the shyness in your voice.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of activity within the palace walls. And then, with a hesitant sigh, Feyd spoke, his words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I know I am not what you expected," he began, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. "I am not known for my warmth or compassion, but know that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe from harm."

"I believe you husband," you replied softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

[imaginesforfandom]

A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

[deadbydad]

"OH, GOD OF WAR 2018 AND RAGNAROK SUCK BC KRATOS ISNT EVEN THE GOD OF WAR" "KRATOS ISNT AS COOL BC HES NOT MURDERING PEOPLE ANYMORE OR KILLING ANY GODS)

That's....The fucking point?

The whole point of 2018 and Ragnarok is that Kratos doesn't wanna be the God of War anymore, he's tired of war and being manipulated and used by other gods, and he's tired of killing in general.

It's called character development....If Kratos was the same old guy back in the Greece days he would be so boring now.

And he only killed Baldur, Heimdall, Modi and Magni. Those are the only God's he's killed but that was because they attacked first or were gonna kill or hurt Atreus.

But even then, Kratos gave them a second chance to change.

Odin killed Thor and Sindri killed Odin, not Kratos.

The whole theme of these two games is defying destiny, changing one's self not only for the others around them but for themselves as well. It's about family as well and how blood doesn't make a family it's who you choose to have in your family. It's about second chances and that you are not your failures and that you can be better than who you were.

Ragnarok has so many themes to it that I will make a separate post about it, but saying that Kratos or the game in general sucks just because Kratos isn't the same character he was in the first three games means that you missed the whole point of the Norse games.

[ae-neon]

Nesta Vs ACOSF, a rambling rant

TW: mentions of sexual assault and abuse

Besides the "love" story that read like a quiet descent into domestic horror, ACOSF has one element that keeps me from being able to pick it up even just to sift through for Nesta gems: sex.

Here me out, I'm not a prude and I think we could have gotten a smutty romance but...

At her core, Nesta has always been a proud and modest person.

To be clear, with pride, I mean that her sense of self - her famous steel spine - has kept her together and unbroken even during harrowing circumstances. It's vital to her. It's so ingrained in her that - given we have no other explanation - we can assume it's what shields her mind from literal magic. However, like any trait, her pride can also be a thing that comes off as negative in the wrong situations.

With modesty, she was raised to keep a certain ideology that based her value on sex, beauty, marriage etc but it's important to understand that Nesta applied those standards inwards, at herself. (Eg In acotar, she brings up Feyre and Isaac in defence of her and Tomas, in acomaf, she is mostly upset about not hearing from Feyre or being notified that Feyre has switched courts - not about Feyre sleeping with Tamlin and then Rhys)

Now, I don't think Nesta's modesty makes her better than Feyre, in fact I was happy to get the representation of two different types of views on sex

But what I didn't consider at the time was that SJM was painting this out to be a negative trait.

In retrospect it seems obvious even though Nesta has defied her narrative destiny and become a sort of icon, at the end of the day she was still supposed to be written in a negative contrast to Feyre.

It seems funny but imagine you consumed the book the way Sarah intended, the way so many in the fandom have. The old Sarah Says rule, for my long time mutuals.

For example:

The dinner in acomaf - it's obvious Nesta is upset that she hasn't heard from Feyre only to have her come through not only as a whole Fae but bringing others and endangering their entire family.

But imagine it as a one dimensional reading and suddenly the "I fuck" dialogue is a girlboss moment of feminism giving a fuck you to the strict patriarchy of the "mortal lands" let's ignore how the Fae are actually more patriarchal and the Illyrians even more so than that

So understand that Nesta's modesty is being directly contrasted with Feyre's sexual freedom. The reader - at least from sjm's perspective - is supposed to agree with Feyre and disagree with Nesta in a sort of win/lose, yes/no, black/white dichotomy.

And because sjm is consistent and boring and a self-inset author, this dynamic doesn't change even when the protagonist does.

Only now sjm and her feminism has changed from fuck-whoever-I-want girlboss to kinky-but-only-with-my-husband tradwife

So Nesta can't be prudish and cut off because 1) it's not as conducive to the breakdown of self and buildup of a dependent and abusive relationship and 2) it's not in direct contrast with Feyre's current monogamous, traditional family values character.

So Nesta starts drinking and sleeping around and it's not because we're going to explore the unraveling of the pride and modesty at the core of the character as part of her transformation or as a result of her trauma

But because it's supposed to be a bad look, degrading, it shows she's failed, it makes her a loser

All of that is already insane. And even more so when taken with the context of her assault by Tomas and the sex centred relationship she has with Cassian

Now add to that the fact that in the book, Nesta is an object of desire for 2 villains and undergoes assault and drowning AGAIN

Sjm literally gives less than 2 fucks about SA, that much is obvious even from the way she inflicts and then disregards the experience of both Feyre and Rhysand respectively. It's a tool for her, a quirky story element

But to have Nesta experience such a similar thing - especially when the experience of being Made can be read as a sort of rape allegory on its own - and all for the sake of "romance" fantasy??

Even Nesta's reading habits are sexualised, to be clear I don't think there's anything wrong with reading smut, but the scope of her intellect and reading is narrowed down when we're suddenly made to believe most of the books she reads are smut.

This is someone who likely taught herself economics and investment within months in order to not just pay off the debt, upgrade her whole family's way of life but also rebuild the family fortune. Someone who, having stopped schooling at around 14/15, did the math needed to calculate the feasibility of the evacuation of a small country.

Someone who's verbally stated life goal was to see what a woman could make of herself in the world.

Even her love of reading is used as a stepping stone for how horny she is, instead of it being a result of her deeply ingrained need for escapism

She reads smut because the only thing she has in common with Cassian and the IC is sex. Because sjm thought one of the core elements of a friendship between 2 SA survivors and a disabled woman from a culture that mutilated her for being born a woman would be their desire to fantasise about men.

All the while the male love interest treats her like garbage.

We could have had a smutty book filled with sex where each scene could have been the growth of Nesta's trust and love of Cassian through intimacy. It could have been a sexual relationship that involved and explored kink - which explored vulnerability and the negative impact of how Nesta's pride became a source of stress and strain.

It could have been an exploration about the complicated relationship with desire and oppressors that many survivors have. But it isn't.

It's hahaha horny, so RELATABLE

Even when it comes to the abusive situation Nesta grew up in, it's just hung up like decoration on the character. Not explored, let alone healed. I don't wanna hear that sjm explained or explored Nesta's abuse when we don't even get her mother or her grandmother's names

We don't get

The complexity of being a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman

Or the complexity of a dysfunctional family

Or even the journey of recovery from addiction and self-harming behaviour

Now, not every aspect of Nesta or any survivors lives have to boil down to how it relates to their experiences but SJM is praised for her "recovery" and so much of this book is about sex and abuse but has no depth

It could have been a less-deep, fun experience of sex and desire and kink. But no

Nesta has sex with many faceless men because sjm is condemning her as a failure. Sex is her punishment, it makes her dirty and unworthy and cheap.

Then, through her "healing", she becomes a sex doll for the right guy. Sex is her reward, it makes her hot and useful and appealing.

Sjm writes not just like a man but like a particularly talented misogynist so it's the way sex is used that really puts me off

Edit: ultimately I think the sex and romance should have interacted with and evolved her pride, modesty and past experiences, rather than those things being demolished to turn her into a sex doll

[emadarkblog]

lust (4)𖤐 wednesday addams

𖤐 wednesday addams x vampire!reader (she/her - but imagine any pronouns you want) 𖤐 reader realising what she feels for wednesday, bloodlust 𖤐

underneath the pale glow of the moon, a clandestine encounter unfolded between wednesday addams and y/n. the night air was laced with a sense of forbidden longing, and the two found themselves drawn together by an irresistible force.

with trepidation and anticipation swirling in the air, wednesday and y/n found themselves standing in the shadowed embrace of garden of the Nevermore Academy. the moon cast an ethereal light upon their faces, illuminating the unspoken desire that had ignited between them.

y/n's heart raced as she dared to break the invisible barrier that had kept them apart. their eyes locked, and in that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the magnetic pull between them. a shared understanding passed between wednesday and y/n, a recognition of the emotions that had silently unfolded.

in the hushed silence, y/n reached out, her hand trembling ever so slightly, and cupped wednesday's cheek, the coolness of her skin sending shivers down their spine. wednesday's dark eyes glimmered with a mix of vulnerability and longing, mirroring the emotions that y/n had so desperately tried to deny.

the tension between them escalated, their bodies drawn closer by an unseen gravitational force. in that suspended moment, their lips finally met — a collision of conflicting emotions and suppressed desires.

the kiss was soft and gentle, a meeting of souls hidden beneath layers of animosity. the moon bore witness as their lips moved in perfect synchrony, an unspoken confession of the feelings they had both tried to bury. the world seemed to stand still, allowing them to immerse themselves in this stolen moment of passion and vulnerability.

as their lips parted, a breathless silence settled between them, their gazes locked once more. in that lingering moment, the weight of their unspoken truths hung in the air, mingling with the tender affection that had blossomed between wednesday and y/n.

the moonlight continued to bathe them, casting a spell upon their intertwined destinies. it was a moment that defied logic, a forbidden connection that defied the boundaries of their worlds. they both knew that this encounter would forever alter the course of their lives, setting in motion a path fraught with challenges, but brimming with the promise of an extraordinary love, and…

*beep* *beep*

y/n woke up from her dream in utter shock, not knowing what happened or if it was real. that is until flashbacks come crashing at her.

“i think there's some tension between you and wednesday"

“romantic tension”

”there's a certain energy between you”

“there's also this spark of attraction”

“you two have been hiding your feelings”

“spark”

“feelings”

“tension”

“romantic tension”

“wait but- i can’t-“ y/n stopped, air leaving her lungs not allowing her to continue.

goosebumps ran over her body, her fangs weren’t much helping, creating a toothache.

confusion and turmoil consumed y/n as she grappled with her conflicting emotions. how could she harbor affection for someone she had long considered their nemesis? her once rock-solid convictions began to crumble, and a new truth emerged — she were falling for wednesday addams.

fangs now fully out, y/n didn’t know what’s happening, other than her realizing her feelings, but that wasn’t important right now.

she couldn’t express what she was feeling right now because of the pain that was leaving her entire body in numbness.

her eyes turning red, her own saliva filling her mouth as she smelled a prey in the distance, so she ran as fast as she could so no one could see her or hear her. she was faster than the light, sound or anything else in this existence.

she knew she couldn't feed on humans, but the temptation was sometimes too strong to resist. now, she found herself on the brink of losing it until…

as wednesday stood against the wall, her usual composure faltered for a moment. she could sense an intense presence approaching, an alluring force that she couldn't resist. it was y/n, consumed by her bloodlust and drawn to wednesday's unique essence.

as y/n pressed wednesday against the wall, her fangs bared, a mixture of desire and hunger danced in her eyes. but in that crucial moment, something unexpected happened. wednesday's piercing gaze met the y/n's intense stare, and a flicker of realization crossed the vampire's face.

a surge of conflicting emotions rushed through y/n's veins, battling against the primal urge to feed. the familiar darkness inside her collided with a newfound spark of humanity. images of the addams family's unwavering loyalty and peculiar charm flashed in her mind, challenging the nature of her existence.

in that brief pause, wednesday, never one to shy away from danger, placed a hand against y/n's cheek. the touch was gentle yet grounding, reminding the vampire of a forgotten sense of connection. their eyes locked, sharing a silent understanding.

with each passing moment, y/n's bloodlust waned, replaced by a profound curiosity and a yearning for something beyond hunger. she realized that in this vulnerable state, she had nearly succumbed to her primal instincts, ready to harm someone who had unexpectedly captivated her heart.

reluctantly, y/n released her grip, stepping back to regain control over her impulses. wednesday, always intrigued by the unknown, tilted her head slightly. she noticed the inner struggle the vampire faced, sensing a bond formed in that intense encounter.

“i nearly killed you.” y/n said in utter shock. she always dreamed of killing wednesday, but from now on, she would rather be pierced by thousands of wooden stick than existing without wednesday breathing.

“i apologize for my bad actions, i wasn’t planning on doing this and i would very much appreciate keeping this just between us,” y/n said and wednesday was surprised by the vampire’s words. she never talked like that. why does she sound so mature?

“i accept your apology. i will keep this scenario a secret.” wednesday continued, “but if you do this again, i guarantee you, i will grab the nearest thing and stick it into your heart repeatedly.”

y/n smiled, relief washing over her.

if it brings you joy, i would let you stab me millions of times only to see you smile for the first time.

but y/n never said that out loud.

[kte-alxxndr]

Voiceless | Threads of Eternity

Tommy Shelby x Reader

The True End

In the tranquil moments that followed, the Shelby family embraced the serenity of their newfound life. The twins, mischief dancing in their eyes, grew up amidst the rhythm of sewing machines and the warmth of a loving home. Y/N, ever the creative soul, found solace in her craft, designing intricate patterns that mirrored the tapestry of their family's journey.

As the Shelby legacy expanded, so did the bonds that tied them together. The twins, each with a unique spark inherited from their parents, ventured into their own paths, leaving imprints of the Shelby resilience in every endeavor.

The echoes of the past, though softened by time, lingered in the Shelby family's collective memory. They bore witness to a love that defied odds, a tale of redemption, and the resilience that defined the Shelby name.

Tommy, now a patriarch with a mantle of wisdom, navigated the challenges of the legitimate world with the same cunning that once ruled the streets of Small Heath. His gaze, however, always returned to Y/N, the woman whose love had transformed the trajectory of his life.In the dimly lit corners of the sewing shop, Y/N continued to weave dreams into reality. Her hands, seasoned by time and marked by the stitches of countless tales, crafted garments that whispered stories of love, loss, and triumph.

The Shelby family, their journey etched into the fabric of time, stood as a testament to the enduring power of love. As the sun set on Small Heath, casting golden hues upon the cobbled streets, the Shelby's found comfort in the threads of eternity that bound them together.

And so, in the tapestry of life, the Shelby saga continued – a tale woven with threads of resilience, love, and the indomitable spirit that defined the legacy of the Peaky Blinders.

Voiceless: Threads of Eternity Masterlist

A glimpse of Y/N and Tommy's earlier life.

A Chance Encounter

Woven Destinies

Faded Unwoven Threads

The Entwined Threads of Destiny

The True and Final End: A Shelby Tale

Voiceless Masterlist | Previous Chapter

[violetduchess]

Muzan with a horrifically scarred reader? the reader's parents were overbearing, cruel and uncaring to reader, and when they put reader in a arranged marriage with Muzan for profit, reader tries to stand up for themselves... but ends up getting acid thrown in their face and body, making them wear a mask & long clothes to hide the permanent scars. Muzan doesn't know the treatment reader was given until reader fesses up when they first talk alone.

Scars to your Beautiful

Character: Muzan x reader

CW: angst, mentioned abuse, terrible parents, arranged marriage?

Note: I'm sorry it took so longs for me to get to this

In a world consumed by darkness and the allure of power, you, the reader, bore the visible remnants of a painful past. Your body, once unblemished, now carried scars that told a story of survival and strength. The world had not been kind to you, but you refused to let it define you.

You were born into a family plagued by cruelty and indifference. Your parents, driven solely by profit and social status, had arranged a marriage between you and Muzan. Their motives were selfish, for they sought to exploit Muzan's power for their own gain. You were nothing more than a pawn in their game.

But you, brave and determined, refused to succumb to their plans. You stood up for yourself, ready to defy their expectations and claim your own destiny. However, your defiance only fueled their anger. In a fit of rage and desperation, they resorted to an unspeakable act.

Acid was thrown upon your delicate flesh, searing your body and leaving behind permanent scars. The pain was excruciating, both physically and emotionally. Your once flawless visage was marred, and you became a prisoner of your own disfigurement.

As fate would have it, you found yourself face to face with Muzan. Trembling with both fear and vulnerability, you hesitated to reveal the truth of your past. Would he see you as damaged, tainted by your scars? Would he turn away in disgust?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the dimly lit chamber of Muzan's grand estate, you stood before him, your body concealed beneath layers of clothing and a mask shielding your face. Deep scars marred your once smooth skin, a painful reminder of the cruelty you had endured in your past. Your heart raced as you gathered the courage to reveal your truth.

"Muzan," you began, your voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and vulnerability. "There is something I need to tell you."

Muzan, who had always exuded an air of power and control, looked at you with curiosity and a hint of concern in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a low, commanding rumble.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "These scars," you gestured to your covered body, "they are not the result of some accident. They were deliberately inflicted upon me."

Confusion flickered across Muzan's face, followed by a flicker of anger. "Who did this to you?" he growled, his voice laced with a cold fury.

"It was my own parents," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "They were cruel, controlling, and saw me only as a tool for their profit. When I tried to stand up for myself, they threw acid at me, leaving me scarred for life."

Muzan's expression darkened, a storm brewing within his gaze. His fists clenched, betraying his simmering anger. "They dared touch what's mine?" he seethed, his voice laced with venom. He looked seconds away from finding them and ripping them to shreds.

You took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm to calm his rising rage. "It's in the past now," you assured him, your voice filled with a mix of resignation and determination. "But I wanted you to know the truth because...because I trust you."

Muzan's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his anger slowly subsiding. His eyes seemed to contemplate something, as if weighing the possibilities. A silence hung between you, thick with anticipation, as he processed your words.

After a moment, Muzan's expression changed, and he wore a thoughtful look. His features softened, revealing a surprising vulnerability. "You trust me," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper with a slight edge of dark amusement. "Despite all I've done, you still trust me?"

You nodded, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I do," you affirmed, your voice filled with sincerity.

A mixture of emotions flickered across Muzan's face, an internal battle raging within him. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he made his decision. "Then, if you truly trust me, I offer you a choice," he said, his voice tinged with both certainty and determination. "You have the chance to become a demon, to gain immortality and power beyond human comprehension."

Your eyes widened, surprised by the unexpected offer. Becoming a demon was not a decision to be taken lightly, but it held the allure of leaving your painful past behind.

You took a moment to consider his words, weighing the risks and rewards that came with accepting his offer. The scars of your past had shaped you, but now, you had the chance to embrace a new existence, alongside the one who understood and cared for you.

"I accept your offer."

All rights reserved @violetduchess. All works of fanfiction belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my express permission. Thank you.~☆

[nomadomar]

The Awakening of Destiny

Chapter 3: The Encounter

The sands of time shifted once more, and the horizon of your world blurred and folded, bringing forth a figure from an era long past. My arrival in 2024 was not a mere coincidence; it was a significant event orchestrated by forces beyond your comprehension. I, Sayyid Hassan al-Fatimi, an indomitable figure from history, had crossed the boundaries of time with a singular purpose—to guide you, Omar, in your transformation.

When our paths finally crossed, it was in a setting where the ancient and modern worlds collided—a dramatic, almost surreal landscape where the echoes of my time intertwined with the realities of yours. The moment was charged with an energy that could only be described as otherworldly. You stood there, a young man whose life had just begun to take shape under the influence of the Arabization movement, and I stood before you, a figure from a time long forgotten, yet ever present in the currents of history.

As our eyes met, I saw the questions, the doubts, and the curiosity that swirled within you. My presence was overwhelming, a force that seemed to defy the very fabric of the world you knew. Yet, within that overwhelming presence, there was something more—something familiar, something that resonated deeply within your soul.

I began to speak, my voice carrying the weight of centuries, filled with the wisdom and experience of countless generations. Each word I uttered seemed to reverberate through you, solidifying the path you had begun to tread. I spoke to you of the movement that had already started to reshape your identity, of the power that lay within the name you now bore—Omar. I revealed to you the true nature of the Arabization movement, a force that had silently expanded its influence across time and space, and your role within it.

As I spoke, you felt a fire ignite within you—a fire of purpose that burned brighter with each passing moment. The doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a sense of clarity and determination. It was as if your purpose and my mission were intertwined, bound together by the invisible threads of fate.

I could see it in your eyes, Omar—the deep connection you felt to me, to the movement, to the destiny that now awaited you. This was no longer just a journey of self-discovery; it was a calling, a responsibility that you could not, and would not, turn away from.

In that moment, you understood that your transformation was not just about adopting new practices or beliefs; it was about becoming a leader, a guide for others who would follow in your footsteps. The fire of purpose that I had ignited within you would continue to burn, driving you forward, shaping you into the man you were destined to become.

Our encounter marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life, Omar. The ancient wisdom I imparted to you would be the foundation upon which you would build your future, and the future of the movement. Together, we would continue to reshape the world, one step at a time, one soul at a time, until the vision of Arabization was fully realized. And so, with our paths now intertwined, you and I would walk forward into the unknown, guided by the fire of purpose, driven by the power of the name you now bore. The encounter had set the stage for the next phase of your transformation, and there was no turning back. You were no longer just a boy; you were Omar, and the world would soon know your name.

Prologue Chapter 1: The Awakening of Omar Chapter 2: The Silent Transformation Chapter 3: The Encounter Chapter 4: The Test of Faith Chapter 5: The Transformation Chapter 6: The Final Reckoning

[mononijikayu]

love wins all ━ geto suguru.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history. Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken.

note: this is the story 'to build a home' from suguru's perspective!!! i wanted to get it out much early for his birthday but i was hungover from uni night!!! anyway, enjoy this little gift!!! happy birthday, my beloved suguru!!!

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: love wins all by iu

WHEN HE WOKE UP THAT MORNING, GETO SUGURU WONDERED WHAT WOULD COME. As the first light of day filtered through the window, its gentle glow fell upon his squinting eyes, coaxing him reluctantly into wakefulness. Despite the beckoning of dawn, he found himself unwilling to rise from the comfort of his bed. A petulant expression settled upon his face, a silent protest against the intrusion of consciousness into the sanctuary of sleep. Memories, long buried or so he thought, resurfaced in his mind, clouding his thoughts like a thick mist refusing to dissipate.

Each detail of the dream remained vivid, etched into his consciousness as he lay beneath the guileless gaze of the ceiling. With an almost desperate longing, his hand reached towards the blank expanse above him, as if attempting to project the fleeting images onto its unimaginative surface. Dreams of them, recurring like a haunting melody, stirred his heart with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill of reality. He welcomed their ghostly presence, for in those ephemeral moments, they were all he had, all he desired.

In the relentless march of time, Geto Suguru found himself ensnared by a persistent yearning, an ache that defied the finality of separation. Despite the temporal chasm that had grown between them, the specter of a love once vibrant and all-encompassing lingered in the recesses of his being. It was a love that had etched its indelible mark deep within his soul, an intricate tapestry woven with threads of shared moments and intertwined destinies.

The memory of tender hands, the warmth of fingers interlocked with his own, resonated within him like an echo of a bygone melody. The captivating hue of mischievous eyes, pools of depth and mystery, still held him captive in the realm of nostalgia. Those lips, once orchestrators of joy that painted color onto the canvas of his world, now lived on in the corridors of his mind, their ghostly kisses a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

This longing, profound and relentless, manifested as a bittersweet symphony within his consciousness. Each note played with the delicate precision of cherished recollections, harmonizing the echoes of laughter, the soft caress of shared glances, and the sweet cadence of whispered confessions. The symphony was at once an ode to the beauty of their connection and a requiem for the irretrievable moments that slipped through the hourglass of time.

In the tapestry of his dreams, their shared moments became vivid landscapes, painted with the hues of emotions that transcended the boundaries of reality. These dreams, so palpable and alive, became sanctuaries where the boundaries between the corporeal and the ethereal blurred. In the realm of slumber, he could almost reach out and touch the contours of a love that once enveloped him, a love that refused to be relegated to the annals of the past.

These dreams, though ephemeral, became pillars of solace in the stark absence of their physical presence. They were a fragile bridge between the realms of memory and waking life, offering respite from the harsh reality that they were no longer intertwined in the dance of existence. Each night, as his consciousness surrendered to the realm of dreams, he willingly embraced the illusion, allowing it to weave its enchantment around his senses.

As he traversed the waking world, the yearning persisted, an ever-present companion whispering in the recesses of his mind. It was a testament to the enduring power of a love that, even in its absence, refused to be extinguished. And so, Geto Suguru found himself caught between the echoes of a cherished past and the uncharted territories of a future that beckoned with both uncertainty and promise.

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly relinquished his grip on the dreams that bound him to the past. The bed, once a sanctuary, now felt unyielding beneath his weight, its surface as unforgiving as his thoughts. Yet, still he lingered, clinging to the remnants of a love that refused to fade. Slowly, he rose from his prone position, strands of raven hair swaying with his movements, a silent testament to the weight of his burden.

Geto Suguru stood in front of the mirror, his reflection a stark reminder of the responsibilities he bore. The smooth fabric of his robes felt heavy against his skin, a tangible weight that matched the burden of his obligations. As he straightened his collar, his thoughts drifted to her—the one he loved, the one he could never have.

He remembered their stolen moments together, fleeting and forbidden. The warmth of her touch lingered in his memory, a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. He had made his choice long ago, committing himself to a life of service and sacrifice. But with each passing day, the ache in his heart only grew deeper, gnawing at his resolve.

The tolling of the church bell echoed once more, pulling him back to the present moment. With a resigned sigh, Suguru steeled himself for another day cloaked in duty and devotion. As he made his way towards the sanctuary, he whispered a silent prayer, seeking solace in the divine presence he longed to feel.

But deep down, he knew that his true salvation lay elsewhere—in the tender embrace of the one he loved, a love that could never be spoken aloud, a love condemned by the very vows he had sworn to uphold.

Yet still, he carried on, a solitary figure in a world colored by shades of longing and regret. For Geto Suguru, this was the price of loving someone—a price he paid willingly, even as it weighed heavily upon his soul. And so, with each step forward, he embraced his fate, walking the narrow path laid out before him, guided by the flickering light of a love that could never be extinguished.

Suguru knew that he sins against God often.

But God also knew the truth of all his vows.

God knew he would never abandon him now.

For he made sure that love, even now, wins all.

IT WAS JUST LIKE YESTERDAY WHEN HE WAS TOLD THAT THE CAR CRASH HAPPENED TO HIS LOVER. Everything about that day had played into his mind as though it was from the pictures. They reeled in a loop over and over ever so raw, burning his head into grief. Geto Suguru felt like the air was sucked from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. The sunflowers he had saved up to buy wrestling against his tight touch. He ran like a madman, he really did. Suguru couldn’t even care about the cars rushing here and there in the narrow streets, nearly killing him from the force. He knew he had to get to his lover. 

When he took his first steps into the hospital halls, petals of the sunflower clustered into a mess. Almost as though the sun itself has been torn apart. A distressed look passed his face, chest tightening as he huffed for air. Nothing was making him feel relieved. He was shattered at the sight of his lover, eyes closed, full of bruises and cuts. His lover lay motionless, almost as though there was no life in them. Everything was in a haze. He drops the sunflowers as he tries to get closer. Tears streamed down his face like a sudden downpour, blurring his vision and leaving him stumbling blindly.

His legs gave way beneath him, buckling as if the ground itself had turned to quicksand. He collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the sterile hospital room. His lover’s mother looked at him, clearly as distraught as him. Her hand wrapped against his back, telling him to be strong, that it would be alright. Tears clouded his vision, obscuring the sight of crisp white coats and polished floors that overwhelmed him. It was the worst news of Suguru’s life, a blow that left me reeling and broken.

He does not remember how he managed to stand, to even fathom to gather himself from the wreckage of my despair. He was told that there was doubt whether or not his beloved would ever wake. Those words echoed in his head. He could not fathom it. His beloved was fine when they bid each other good night, wrapped in those fits of laughter in between of those greedy kisses. Suguru shook as he wiped the tears from his face. 

It was pathetic. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even do anything to prevent this from happening. He could feel the weight of guilt in all the world. If he had not left the night before, if he had not let himself go out early by himself to pick up those damn sunflowers. His hands curl into a fist. Suguru squeezes and squeezes until his knuckles turn white.

With trembling steps, the dragon eyed young man curtailed to her bedside. There they were, my love, laying on the bed as though they were mere corpses rather than one with the living. The sight of them filled Suguru with a bittersweet ache. The memories composed of happier times spent together fractured at the sight of his worst nightmare come to pass. He could not help but bring his hand on top of their own, his weary hand resting on his lover’s colder one. 

Tears threatened to spill once more, but he gathered all his strength and fought to hold them back. The memories in his head were no comfort to him. His grief shadowing the happier ghost, all of it fading into the recesses of time like wisps of smoke. Suguru wished that his joy was not ruined, shattered by the thought of bitter goodbye. He longed to hold onto them, to freeze time and relive those precious moments again and again. To make more and more memories once more. To live together, to love each other till they were old and gray. 

He traced the lines of their face with trembling fingers, committing every curve and contour to memory. The bruises and cuts stood out starkly against their pale skin, a cruel testament to the violence of the accident that had torn them from him. Suguru's heart clenched with each shallow breath they took, a painful reminder of their struggle for life.

His mind raced with a torrent of emotions—guilt, regret, despair. If only he had been there, if only he had never left their side. The weight of his choices bore down on him like a heavy burden, threatening to crush him under its unforgiving weight. He squeezed their hand tighter, as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment, to this fragile connection that bound them together.

But amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained. Hope that they would wake, that they would open their eyes and smile at him once more. Suguru clung to that hope with all his might, refusing to let go even as the darkness threatened to consume him.

Time seemed to stand still as he sat by their bedside, lost in his thoughts and prayers. The steady rhythm of their heartbeat was a comfort to him, a reassurance that they were still fighting, still holding on. And so, with a silent vow, Geto Suguru resolved to stay by their side, to weather this storm together, no matter what the future held.

For in that moment, as he gazed upon the face of his beloved, he knew that love was stronger than any tragedy, stronger even than death itself. And though the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty and pain, he would walk it with unwavering determination, fueled by the boundless power of his love.

He wishes he could give them his life.

He wishes that they wouldn’t suffer anymore.

Geto Suguru wished that fate would be kind.

He wishes that fate would let love win it all.

THE RAIN HAD KEPT POURING THROUGH THE WEEKS THAT PASSED. Misery has become him, one with the sky with the tears he had shed till his eyes were red. Until his there were no tears left to shed, until everything had become swollen with grief. As Geto Suguru stood in front of the towering wooden doors of the church, a sense of solemnity washed over him, mingling with the tears shed by the heavens. The rain fell in a steady rhythm, its soft patter echoing the turmoil in his heart. He took a deep breath, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him like a heavy burden.

As the rain continued to fall, mingling with his tears, Suguru closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer to the heavens. He prayed for strength, for courage, for the wisdom to navigate the tumultuous waters of his heart.

The wide wooden doors of the church creaked open as Geto Suguru stepped inside, the dim light filtering through stained glass casting colorful patterns on the ancient stone walls. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace as he made his way down the aisle, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

The ancient stones of the church embraced him as he stepped inside, the hallowed air wrapping around him like a familiar cloak. The scent of polished wood and aged hymnals filled his senses, a poignant reminder of the solace he once sought within these walls. The flickering candles on the altar cast dancing shadows, and the dim light played on the arches and stained glass windows, creating an ethereal atmosphere.

Suguru's heart echoed with wants and desires in the silent chamber. The teachings ingrained in him from childhood whispered in the recesses of his mind, urging him to find refuge in prayer and divine guidance. The echoes of hymns sung by generations before him seemed to linger in the air, inviting him to return to the fold of tradition and the comfort of familiar rituals.

Yet, as he stood before the altar, the image of his beloved flashed in his mind—their laughter, their touch, the profound connection that transcended the boundaries of his faith. The pull of his love was relentless, an undeniable force that demanded his allegiance, even if it meant deviating from the path he had been raised to follow.

Suguru felt the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders, a burden he willingly bore for the sake of love. His humanity, with all its complexities and emotions, now took precedence over the structured teachings of the church. The internal conflict simmered within him, a storm raging in the sanctuary of his soul.

He closed his eyes, seeking a moment of inner peace amidst the turmoil. The hushed whispers of his prayers mingled with the quiet echoes of the sacred space. In that moment of vulnerability, he admitted to himself that, while a part of him longed for divine reassurance, the deeper recesses of his heart yearned for relief.

As Suguru opened his eyes, a sense of resolve hardened in his gaze. The silent sanctuary bore witness to his decision. He would navigate the uncharted waters of his heart, where the currents of love clashed with the tides of tradition. Whatever trials lay ahead, he would face them with the strength drawn from his love, embracing the complexities of his humanity with an unwavering spirit. And so, within the sacred walls that had once been a refuge, Suguru embarked on a journey that would test the boundaries of faith, love, and the intricate dance between the two.

With each step, his heart beat louder in his chest, a frantic rhythm matching the desperation in his soul. He approached the altar, where candles flickered and cast dancing shadows across the marble floor. Dropping to his knees before the crucifix, Suguru clasped his hands together in prayer, his voice trembling with emotion.

And as he opened his eyes once more, a sense of determination settled over him like a cloak. For he knew that his love was worth fighting for, worth sacrificing everything for. And no matter the obstacles that stood in his way, he would persevere, driven by the unwavering power of his love. Even at the cost of his suffering, he would do it all. As long as there is mercy on his grievous soul. As long as his beloved lived.

"God, please," he whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "I beg of you, spare their life. I would do anything, anything at all, to see them open their eyes again, to feel their touch, to hear their voice."

Tears streamed down his face unchecked as he poured out his heart to the heavens, his words a desperate plea for mercy. He recounted every moment they had shared, every laugh, every touch, every whispered word of love. He promised to devote his life to serving others, to spreading kindness and compassion in their name, if only they would be granted another chance at life.

"Take me instead," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "Let me bear their suffering, their pain. Just please, don't take them from me. I cannot bear to live in a world without them."

His anguished cries echoed off the stone walls, only to be swallowed by the oppressive stillness that surrounded him. The weight of his despair pressed down on him like a physical force, threatening to crush him under its unbearable burden.

The ancient tapestries that adorned the walls seemed to hang motionless, their once-vibrant colors muted by the somber atmosphere of the sacred space. The flickering candles on the altar cast dancing shadows that danced across the floor, but even their gentle movements failed to break the oppressive silence that enveloped Suguru like a shroud.

He bowed his head in resignation, his heart heavy with grief as he awaited any sign, any glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness. His breath came in shallow gasps, the sound barely audible in the quietude of the church.

In the absence of any response, Suguru's mind raced with doubt and fear. Was he truly alone in his suffering? Had his prayers fallen on deaf ears, unheard and unanswered by the divine presence he had once believed in so fervently?

Desperation clawed at his chest as he searched for some semblance of comfort, some sign that he was not abandoned in his hour of need. But the silence remained unbroken, stretching on endlessly like a vast expanse of emptiness.

And yet, amidst the despair that threatened to consume him, Suguru clung to a fragile thread of hope. He refused to surrender to the darkness that threatened to engulf him, determined to find solace in the faint whisper of his own breath and the gentle rustle of the church's ancient tapestries.

For in the depths of his despair, he knew that even the smallest glimmer of hope could illuminate the darkest corners of his soul, guiding him through the shadows and leading him towards the light. And so, with a heavy heart and a steadfast resolve, Suguru bowed his head and continued to wait, praying for the strength to endure and the courage to persevere in the face of adversity.

Grief clung so desperately for hours and hours.

When he left, he was told of the good news.

Yet, when he came back to the church, he knew.

All good things, even love, come with a price.

SUGURU HAD NEVER CRIED SO MUCH IN HIS LIFE. But he was sure his beloved cried even more than him.The room exuded an aura of scarred intimacy, illuminated by the gentle flicker of candlelight that danced across the walls, painting them in hues of warm amber and soft gold. The soft glow cast a serene ambiance, enveloping the space in a cocoon of tranquility, yet beneath its soothing facade lay an undercurrent of tension that crackled in the air like static electricity. 

The silence hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating, wrapping around Geto Suguru and his beloved like a vice. It was not the comforting silence of a peaceful night, but rather a haunting void that seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Everything about this moment felt like a ripple of harsh waves crashing against the two of them over and over again. Yet they knew they couldn't do much about it. 

Each passing moment only served to amplify the eerie stillness that permeated the room, casting a pall of unease over the space. It felt as though time itself had frozen, leaving Suguru and his beloved suspended in a limbo of uncertainty and apprehension. 

The bitter taste of silence lingered on Suguru's tongue, a bitter reminder of the words left unsaid and the emotions left unexpressed. It was a silence that felt cruel in its relentless grip, refusing to yield even as the tension between them threatened to suffocate them both.

As they sat in the suffocating stillness, Suguru's heart ached with the weight of the unspoken, the words trapped within him like caged birds desperate to be set free. But the silence held them captive, binding them in its icy embrace and leaving them to grapple with the bitter reality of their unvoiced fears and unacknowledged desires.

In the midst of this oppressive silence, Suguru and his beloved found themselves adrift in a sea of uncertainty, their hearts heavy with the burden of what could have been, what should have been, but was not. And as they struggled to navigate the treacherous waters of their shared silence, they could only cling to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of their intertwined hands amidst the bitter chill of the eerie stillness that enveloped them.

Geto Suguru sat across from his beloved, their hands intertwined in a tight embrace, fingers laced together in a silent resignation. The flickering shadows cast by the candles danced across the room, their movements reflecting the depth of the turmoil that churned within Suguru's heart. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, each breath laden with unspoken words and unvoiced fears. The palpable sense of unease hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud, casting a shadow over the room despite the warmth of the candlelight.

Suguru's gaze never wavered from his beloved's face, his eyes searching theirs for any sign of understanding, any flicker of acceptance. But beneath the surface, he could sense the tumult of emotions that roiled within them, a storm of uncertainty and apprehension that mirrored his own inner turmoil. His beloved’s eyes were red from crying, swollen with grief as they made sense of the words uttered. What does it all mean, they wanted to ask. What does parting mean?

The air between them crackled with tension, a silent barrier that seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment. Suguru felt the weight of their shared silence pressing down on him, a suffocating presence that threatened to choke the words from his throat. And yet, despite the heaviness that hung between them, Suguru clung to the fragile thread of hope that lingered in the air. Hope that there would still be love, that there would be understanding. Even if he has to leave, leave the person he loved dearest, that love still wins. 

In the soft glow of the candlelight, amidst the flickering shadows and the palpable tension that filled the room, Suguru and his beloved sat together in a silent embrace, their hands clasped tightly as they braced themselves to make sense of the world that now was birthed with his words. Suguru took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew would change everything. His heart raced in his chest as he met his lover's gaze, the warmth of their eyes like a balm to his troubled soul.

"I know this is hard to accept." Suguru began, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But I have to. I have to leave. I need to.”

His lover's eyes widened in shock, their grip on his hand tightening almost imperceptibly. "But why?" they whispered, brows furrowing into sorrow. "Why now? What about us?"

Suguru's heart ached at the pain in their voice, the anguish written plainly on their face. "I love you," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than anything in this world. But I….”

"But you love God," his lover countered, their words heavy with resignation. "More than you love me."

Tears welled in Suguru's eyes as he shook his head, his heart breaking at the accusation in their words. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "That's not true. I love you with every fiber of my being. But this is something I need to do. I need to. Not because I…..”

His lover's shoulders slumped in defeat, tears glistening in their eyes as they looked away. Suguru reached out, gently cupping their face in his hands, willing them to understand.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I'm sorry for the pain this will cause you. But please know that my love for you will never waver. It will always be a part of me, no matter where life takes me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head, his lips lingering against their hair. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I love you more than words can express."

And in that moment, as they sat together in the dimly lit room, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the weight of unspoken words, Suguru held his lover close, praying silently that they would find solace in the depth of his love, even as he embarked on a journey that would take him away from them.

When the morning came, he was already gone.

By the afternoon, he looked at the altar once more.

By night, he surrendered to the heavy priestly robes.

Love wins all, even the dawn of all the heartbreak.

WHEN HE SAW THEM AGAIN, HE KNEW HE WOULD BE BREAKING HIS HEART OVER AND OVER AGAIN. But as Father Suguru Geto looked into his lover – how they lived and how they have aged so beautifully, he couldn't help but feel no regret at breaking his heart once again. They still look the same, so wondrous. It was as though they were the beckoning stars watching over them. His heart pounded against his chest, bursting with yearning and grief, over a life already lost. His love for his beloved continued to persist, to win it all – at the expense of his beloved standing before him, living a life beyond him. 

“Long time no see," Suguru whispered, the words escaping his lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.  Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken. 

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them. Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit hard at their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them. He could see their despair in their orbs. He could feel himself wishing he could rush to them, to wrap his arms around them once again. To comfort them. To give them the warmth of the world, to keep them safe—beside him. Yet he knew more than anyone that this was better. This distance was better. 

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh, heavy with the burden of unspoken regrets and heartfelt apologies, escaped Suguru's lips, its fragile tendrils weaving through the quiet air like wisps of smoke seeking release from the confines of his troubled soul. Each breath seemed to carry with it the weight of a thousand moments left unsaid, a silent lament for the words left unspoken and the emotions left unexpressed.

In that fleeting exhale, Suguru released the pent-up tension that had coiled within him like a tightly wound spring, allowing the weight of his regrets to spill forth into the quiet space between them. It was a sound that spoke volumes, a poignant expression of the complex emotions that churned within him—a mixture of remorse, longing, and the profound ache of a heart burdened by the weight of its own unfulfilled desires.

As the sigh dissipated into the stillness of the room, it left behind a palpable sense of vulnerability, a raw honesty that hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to be acknowledged. Suguru's gaze, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs, seeking solace in the silent communion of shared pain and unspoken truths.

In that fragile exhale, Suguru bared his soul, offering a silent apology for the wounds he had inflicted, both intentionally and unintentionally. It was a gesture of humility, a recognition of his own fallibility and the impact of his choices on those he held dear. And though his words remained unspoken, their presence lingered in the air like a whispered prayer, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetlamp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint. Yet he no doubt knows that his lover knew him better than that. His eyes tell every story ever so easily. Only his beloved would know how to see the universe in his eyes. Yet he knew that his beloved wouldn’t dare. He knew that they would not want to break even more than they already have. It was the right thing to do. Suguru was certain that he would let the tears flow, to let his eyes reflect the sufferings of his own heart in full view.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, their movements tentative as if navigating the treacherous terrain of an emotional battlefield. Each footfall seemed to echo in the silent space between them, a solemn cadence that resonated with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

With each step, they inched closer, their gaze fixed on Suguru's face as if seeking reassurance in the depths of his eyes. It was a gesture fraught with uncertainty, a silent plea for understanding in a moment fraught with tension and apprehension.

As they bridged the distance between them, it was as though they were traversing an invisible barrier that separated their hearts, a boundary erected by the complexities of their shared history and the weight of unspoken truths. The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable sense of unease hanging heavy in the space between them like a shroud.

Their movements were cautious, deliberate, as if treading on fragile ground that threatened to give way beneath their feet. Each step forward carried with it the weight of their shared past, a delicate dance of vulnerability and courage as they navigated the uncharted territory of their emotions.

And yet, despite the uncertainty that hung in the air like a veil, there was a palpable sense of determination in their movements, a silent resolve to confront the barriers that stood between them and the possibility of reconciliation. With each hesitant step, they drew closer to Suguru, their hearts yearning for the connection they had lost but never forgotten.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs in a poignant exchange that spoke volumes without the need for words. In the depths of his gaze, they glimpsed the echoes of their shared past, a tapestry woven with the threads of laughter and tears, joy and sorrow.

There was a vulnerability in Suguru's eyes, a rawness that betrayed the weight of his unspoken regrets and the ache of missed opportunities. In that moment of silent communion, they felt the weight of their shared history pressing down upon them, a burden too heavy to bear yet impossible to ignore.

And yet, beneath the veil of sadness that shrouded Suguru's gaze, there lingered a flicker of hope—a glimmer of possibility that danced on the edges of their shared sorrow. It was a fleeting moment, a fragile ember amidst the ashes of their broken dreams, but it was enough to kindle a spark of longing within their hearts.

As they stood locked in a silent exchange, each searching the other for traces of the love they had lost, they found themselves teetering on the precipice of a decision that would shape the course of their shared future. In the depths of Suguru's haunted eyes, they saw a reflection of their own yearning, a silent plea for a second chance at the love that had eluded them.

And in that moment, as the weight of their unspoken desires hung heavy in the air, they knew that they stood at a crossroads—a fleeting moment suspended in time where the possibility of reconciliation hung in the balance, waiting to be seized or lost forever.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure. They struggled against the truth of their feelings yet soon enough, they spilled the truth as easily as one would notice a river flowed into the stream. His beloved looked down, almost besotted with the nostalgia of a love still overflowing. They would never escape the thought of loving one another. Not in this lifetime and nor the next. Their love for one another would win all, even this distance wrought with sacrifice and tears. 

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them like a silent lament for what once was. The weight of their unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the wounds that time had failed to fully heal.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom as he gazed into their eyes, searching for traces of the love they had lost. The truth echoed through the hallowed space between them, resonating with the bittersweet melody of their shared history.

The night embraced them, its silent embrace a testament to the intricacies of their intertwined destinies. Beneath the flickering street lamp, they stood as silent witnesses to the fragile beauty of a love both tender and tormented, its echoes reverberating through the quiet air like a haunting melody.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words a whispered confession that hung in the cool night air like a delicate promise, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, offering a tender smile that belied the depths of his own sorrow, whispered back, "It'll pass," his voice a gentle reassurance in the face of their shared pain.

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had weathered the storms of love and loss, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain with a quiet resignation that spoke volumes of their resilience and strength.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who are still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

As if propelled by some unseen force, a cosmic hand guiding their movements, they both turned away from each other, their hearts pulling them in opposite directions, toward separate destinies. Yet, they remained tethered to the past by the fragile threads of memories and regrets, lingering in the shadows of what could have been, their souls yearning for closure that might forever elude them.

Suguru, standing before the grandeur of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, faced the far-reaching expanse with a heavy heart. His demeanor, usually composed and stoic, betrayed the turmoil within as tears welled in his eyes, threatening to shatter the carefully crafted facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed softly, his voice barely audible above the hushed whisper of the night, the words a whispered goodbye that hung in the air like a solemn vow, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

With a heavy silence enveloping them like a suffocating shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step they took echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the intricate tapestry of life's ever-unfolding narrative.

They will be fine.

They will live together.

They will continue to love.

Love will forever win all.

[crystallineillusion]

𝒞𝓇𝓎𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈

In the halls of crystal and shade, where souls and shadows intertwine,

Stood Tanisha, of immortal kin, with powers that defy the divine.

Born of lineage steeped in strife, where clans and spirits intertwine,

She bore the weight of legacy, a destiny both cruel and kind.

From Kagamino's hidden manor, to Karakura's bustling streets,

Her father's wisdom, a guiding light, revealed her soul's true beats.

A prodigy in Reiatsu's dance, she mastered Fullbring's intricate prance,

With Shitai Asobi, life's essence bent, in crystalline embrace.

In Kyōraku's shadow, she found her path, a pupil of the Gotei's wrath,

Kidō's mistress, a teacher's grace, in Shin'ō Academy's hallowed space.

Saikyō No Josei, her title sung, the strongest of the era's run,

Yet in stoic gaze and icy mien, her heart and soul hid from the sun.

Warden of Muken, where shadows play, with Aizen's gaze, her plans arrayed,

Nineteen keys of destiny's twist, unlocking truths 'neath Soul Society's mist.

Through days of vigil and nights of storm, their bond grew deep, against the norm,

Aizen's charm, Tanisha's steel, a liberation, fate's grand reveal.

Eloping to their hidden estate, in Kagamino's realm they contemplate,

Children three, with eyes aglow, inheritors of Kyoka Suigetsu's show.

Saimin Saikuru, their legacy writ, in crystals' grasp, illusions flit,

A family forged in love and strife, amidst the clash of death and life.

Her Zanpakuto, Kurisutaru no Hōyō, crystalline essence, power to bestow,

From Shikai's grace to Bankai's might, Kesshō Korosu Hakai, breaking night.

With whip and sword, Hakuda's grace, a strategist's mind, in battle's chase,

Reflecting truths in crystal shards, Tanisha's spirit, unyielding guard.

From Chōdhori's scorn, her path was hewn, in Soul Society's moonlit tune,

A genius mind, creations spun, from Mon No Gādian to Hōkai Saisei's run.

Gyaku No Kanzen Saimin's light, defying Aizen's hypnotic might,

In battle's heat and strategy's game, Tanisha's soul, forever flame.

So stands Tanisha, of crystal heart, a guardian, lover, from end to start,

In Kagamino's city's quiet breeze, her legacy echoes through centuries' seas.

A woman of power, grace, and art, with onyx eyes, a soul apart,

Tanisha Chōdhori, immortal queen, in crystal's embrace, destiny's serene.

[by-ethan-fox]

So I saw Gundam Seed FREEDOM...

... and honestly it defies analysis.

I will avoid spoilers for major plot elements in this write-up.

I'm a huge Gundam fan. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who has followed my work for a long time, as I frequently bring it up, even in entirely inapplicable situations.

But even though I've been a fan since the late 90s, I'd never had a chance to see any of it in the cinema - so when AllTheAnime organised a special short run of the movie for UK theatres, I jumped at the chance.

What I saw surprised me.

To clarify, I'm not one of those Gundam fans who hates SEED. Sure, I love the UC, but I'm not gonna lie, Wing was my genesis within the fandom so I'm as likely to watch G-Gundam as 08th MS Team, though I do lean towards the grittier side of the franchise, with War in the Pocket being my favourite entry.

But most relevant to this is that while I enjoyed SEED, I've always been critical of Destiny for some really bizarre plotting that, frankly, kinda left the CE timeline in a mess. Like many fans, with the show having been off the air for nearly two decades, I gave up on the idea the movie might exist literally years ago.

With all that out of the way...

The movie does exist. Finally. And is it good? Bad?

The weird thing is I don't know what to say, and that's weird for a writer.

It's awesome. It's terrible. It's goofy. It's clever. It's idiotic. It's bizarre.

But it's over 2 hours long and, honestly, I was never bored, which I guess is a success?

Perhaps most surprisingly, the movie expends ZERO ENERGY on helping you if you haven't seen the near-100-episodes of CE anime which came before this. Like, if you haven't seen SEED and or Destiny, you are just utterly fucked. The show wheels characters and plot-beats from the prior material in-and-out in a manner I could best call aggressive. I last watched Destiny about ~7 years ago, and I'm a self-admitted Gundam nerd; but even I had to look up a few things on my phone afterwards.

Then, fan-service. Of both kinds. All sorts of things get pulled out of cold storage for the movie... But it works. Though that also stands as a testament to how this is, in the truest sense, a 2004 anime throwback. I actually heard some people in the cinema groaning at some of the Gainax Bouncing going on; but then given the jiggly silhouette in EVERY OPENING TO SEED, frankly it would've been stranger if it had been absent.

I think the movie has loads of problems. Even by CE standards, some of the storytelling was really goofy and dare-I-say-it, "cringe". It recycles probably too much and certainly doesn't stand on its own as a piece of media (though that's not so much a failing as a clear, conscious choice).

Also... It has that "anime movie" thing where the plot feels a bit filler. The first time you have this new guy on the scene with shock-white hair, being all edgelord as he talks about war and destiny and fencing or some other weird metaphor you kinda see the entire movie unfurl before you. If you're a longtime anime fan this isn't so much your first rodeo as your daily commute.

From there, the story takes numerous predictable turns, dips liberally into melodrama, sets up some great Mobile Suit fights, with relatively few surprises (note, however, I'm not saying "no surprises", as there are some, and also, I'm not suggesting it's tedious).

And yet...

It's fun.

It's really, really fun.

That's the crux of all this. That's what really matters. And honestly, when that new theme comes out of the speakers, sounding in perfect key with the types of music that ran through SEED's run, and Kira's onscreen, and he's locking onto a dozen targets and beams are spamming everywhere and everything's exploding in that weird pink way that things in SEED explode...

Have you ever tried to play a videogame from the 90s that you haven't played in years? And do you know how touch-and-go that is?

Gundam Seed FREEDOM is, if I'm to compare it to anything, like that.

But thankfully, it's one of the times when your memories might have been optimistic, but they're not wrong. That game may be a bit crude, a bit rough around the edges, and have more boob and ass jiggle than you recall... But it's good. So good that you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of your console, grinning like an absolute loon, until it's 2am and you can no longer feel your feet.

If you have fond memories of the SEED era of the Gundam franchise, don't miss it.

[aifanfictions]

Write a story about (y/n), who is a ninja on the run and she runs into Itachi Uchiha, who sees potential in her skills so he takes her to the Akatsuki meeting to introduce her and suggest recruiting her. After she is aproved and recruited, she becomes Itachi's and Kisame's teammate and Itachi slowly starts falling in love with her.

Shadows of Fate

In the clandestine world of shinobi, where chaos and deception ruled, (Y/N) was a ninja on the run—a phantom whose name sent shivers down the spines of those who dared cross her path. Her past was veiled in secrecy, and her skills were unmatched, making her a formidable force on her own. Little did she know that her journey would take an unpredictable turn when she crossed paths with none other than Itachi Uchiha, a member of the notorious Akatsuki.

The fateful meeting occurred in the heart of a forest shrouded in eerie mist. As (Y/N) sprinted through the dense underbrush, the whispers of her mysterious pursuers haunted her every step. The forest seemed to close in on her, leaving her with a creeping sensation that she was being watched. Her instincts were on high alert.

Just when the pursuit seemed endless, a figure emerged from the shadows—an enigmatic figure known as Itachi Uchiha. His Sharingan eyes bore into (Y/N), and an unspoken understanding passed between them. In this silent exchange, Itachi saw not just a talented ninja on the run but an opportunity—an unpredictable and exciting twist in the web of destiny.

Itachi was known for his legendary prowess, and as an Akatsuki member, he was no stranger to the unconventional. Without revealing his true intentions, he offered (Y/N) an alliance, a chance to prove her worth. His words were cryptic, and the air was thick with tension, but (Y/N) sensed that this was a path she couldn't ignore.

Transported to the hidden Akatsuki lair, (Y/N) was thrust into the midst of chaos and unpredictability. The Akatsuki members, each shrouded in their unique mysteries and ambitions, welcomed her with varying degrees of skepticism and curiosity. Her skills were put to the test, and after a series of trials, the members unanimously approved her induction.

Her role in the Akatsuki was unlike anything she could have imagined. Itachi, known for his stoic demeanor, and Kisame Hoshigaki, a towering figure with shark-like features, became her teammates. The dynamic between them was nothing short of madcap and unpredictable. Kisame's boisterous nature clashed with Itachi's enigmatic aura, and (Y/N) found herself caught in the middle.

In the midst of daring missions, epic battles, and unforeseeable betrayals, (Y/N) spent more time alongside Itachi. They trained together, shared secrets, and, amidst the chaos, discovered an unlikely bond that neither had expected. Itachi's layers slowly peeled away, revealing an emotional depth and a past fraught with secrets.

Itachi, a man of contradictions, found himself drawn to (Y/N) in ways he couldn't explain. Her resilience, her unwavering spirit, and her ability to adapt to the unpredictable world of the Akatsuki fascinated him. Their shared moments grew precious, and as they navigated the tumultuous life of rogue shinobi, their connection deepened.

The Akatsuki was not just a group of criminals; it was a tapestry of complex individuals, each bearing their own scars and secrets. And amidst this chaotic tapestry, the love story of Itachi and (Y/N) blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

Their love defied the unpredictability of their world—a world of treachery and unforeseen challenges. Itachi, burdened by his past and loyalty to the Akatsuki, found solace in (Y/N)'s presence. Their love was a force of nature, wild and unpredictable, and together, they rewrote the rules of their world.

As they continued their journey through the unpredictable realm of the Akatsuki, Itachi and (Y/N) showed that love could flourish even in the midst of chaos, secrecy, and danger. Theirs was a love story destined to be written in the annals of the shinobi world, an epic tale of unpredictability, passion, and enduring affection.

In the heart of chaos and danger, where shadows played tricks and the future was uncertain, Itachi and (Y/N) found love, their love—an unpredictable force that defied all odds, a love that rewrote their destinies. As they embarked on new adventures, their love story was a testament to the power of the human heart to find solace and affection even in the darkest of circumstances.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[gabsforjustyuris]

Your first mission with Kafka.

The nights were boring and long. When the sun disappeared over the horizon, giving way to the stars, a tired sigh escaped your lips, relieving the weight of your body. The refreshing breeze brought comfort after the scorching midday heat, reframing the events of the past few hours.

The sunset painted the sky with warm tones before surrendering to cold darkness. At these times, living beings are looking for safe shelter to rest, the weight of the day falls on their backs, taking advantage of peaceful rest. As time passed, the vigilance lost its strength, the guards dispersed in the stillness of an emotionless dawn with heavy eyes. 

And with that in mind, it was a predicted point to act. The webs of possibilities for the future were so many that no conclusion could be reached; The future, by nature, is not premeditated, but when it becomes privileged knowledge, planned actions become destiny. To keep the pieces in place, the Stellaron hunters had to take big risks, after all, following Elio's script didn't mean that the laws had to be followed. 

All you had to do was get used to the risks and delve into the depths of your consciousness, thus unlocking any blocks that prevented you from convincing yourself otherwise. Elio was the key, the guide of the rules; Without it, destiny would be a mystery, decisions would inevitably be more difficult, and the answer might never come.

Gifts of this magnitude conflicted with other people's morals. No one would understand what Stellaron's hunters truly are, as they defy common sense, break paradigms, dare to go against a universal law in favor of a destiny that only they know. And you, like everyone else, wouldn't understand if you weren't involved. 

Currently your ship was located near a particular planet, recognized for philosophical debates and majority varieties of representatives of the great modern intelligence. Eluthia, “the planet of the spoiled,” said one of its partners, Silver Wolf.

The goal was simple this time. There are some authorities that must be killed, valuable artifacts that must be cloned, and although these are not words spoken by Elio, Silver Wolf also wanted a recently released device to “fulfill services more efficiently.” Deep down you knew it was about playing those nerdy games, but you didn't mind the thought.

Anyway, you, Kafka and Silver Wolf took care of the work. As for Blade and Firefly, they were busy with their personal matters as usual. The script didn't necessarily need them for this scheme anyway.

For the veteran hunters it was just another mission; for you it was a new world, a new life in which industrial air filled your nostrils and your eyes reflected all the brightness from below. His former home planet was directly linked to this one, bringing painful wounds as it was his first mission. It was not in vain that his lips dried at the sight or his breath hitched in an internal conflict. But if that was indeed fate, then in that case, facing old traditions would be inevitable.

“The princess of the exo-planet became a criminal?”

“Traitor.”

“Although there were rumors about a conspiracy against our government, I’m not surprised they succumbed to their own karma.”

The memories were still fresh, the sounds of war and the smell of blood. But before you know it, they start to disperse more and more when a voice takes your eyes off a fixed point on the splendid view from the terrace. The buildings, ships, gliding cars and arrogant statues filled the capital with class. People were well dressed, the streets were clean and drones in the appearance of bees circulated in flocks from one side to the other.

Until then, you were watching together in silence, until the sound of her voice entered your ears, humming some song that you didn't know how to recognize.

– It's going to be a great night, darling. – The voice of the woman next door appears in her daydreams. Making your eyes blink to return to reality more clearly.

You turned to Kafka, illuminated by the dazzling lights of the tech city. His cape was flapping in the wind, as was his hair tied up in large locks. Their expression seemed light as they both enjoyed the silence to admire the natives of the region. His bangs almost covered his eyes, and his fingers were close to the scabbard of his sword. With cherry lips, she noticed your curious look and turned to you, making a small smile and analyzing your expression.

– Imagine a lucky city stopping everything it's doing to put your face on billboards. All people forget their problems for a moment to recognize your name. – She turns her attention to the streets below, extending one of her hands as if they were covering every corner in the blink of an eye, reflecting a sparkle in her eyes that highlights her excitement. 

– So many petals will be shed for us today. Great art is about to happen. – She inhaled the polluted air and then let it out so lightly.  – You have luck.

– Lucky to be a criminal? – You asked with a touch of sarcasm, attracting a discreet laugh from her.

– No. – He placed one of his feet on the edge of the terrace with his sword in hand, turning his attention to the city. – Lucky your first mission isn't that boring. 

– You like generalized chaos, don’t you? – you commented, crossing your arms and lifting the corner of your lips in a soft smile.

His eyes captured the details of her, from her stoic serenity to the way her hair blows in the wind. In response, Kafka gives him a warm smile, a charming contrast to the coldness of the night. Moving your fingers to comb your hair and eyes meeting yours again; but before the magenta-haired woman can say anything, the moment is abruptly broken by someone's presence.

– Your conversation is cool, but whatever, let's get started, I have more to do. – Silver wolf appears next to Kafka, leaving aside his holographic screens and causing both heads to turn in his direction.

 – Oh, don't be such a killjoy. After Luofu's script I need to stretch my legs. – Kafka says to his companion, turning his eyes to you one last time. – What do you say? Will you join me?

– It depends on what fun is for you. – You respond, causing another laugh from her.

– Whoever eliminates the most soldiers wins. – She turns her back to the view, allowing her eyes to see yours clearly. – Let's see what you're capable of, princess.

She expanded her smile, opened her arms in a defiant invitation, leaned back and took a dive into the air, falling from the huge building. His eyes, although he didn't fear anything would happen, still pursued her figure for a few seconds. By instinct, you held your breath just watching his jumps and maneuvers, fascinated; and it didn't take long until he noticed a less than cautious laugh emerge from the other co-worker, catching his eye and wrinkling his eyebrows at seeing the smug expression.

– What was it? – You asked, confused, giving the shorter girl reason to hold back another laugh.

– Nothing. – She said with a smirk. Pressing some buttons on the device on your arm and, finally, before leaving the material plane and leaving you alone, leaving the implication: – Princess.

                            ______

Security alarms echoed through the white corridors filled with paintings honoring past dictators. Red every two seconds filled everything along with the screeching sound. During the rush to replace the guards, you checked the hat on your head, adjusted the formal clothes mixed with the metallic armor of the IPC employees and took a deep breath, heading the opposite way with hurried steps.

– Left… – She muttered to herself following the mental map she had memorized. – And then left again. – He entered another corridor, until he reached the main doors, barred with codes, passwords and facial scanners.

On the other side, in the security center just in front of unconscious employees, Silver wolf walked towards the main leather chair, slouching in the chair and stretching her arms while chewing her gum, forming a pink bubble. Without much ado, the experienced hacker sat down on the table and started typing with her nimble fingers on the keys, opening several tabs at once.

– Most reinforced communications center in all of Eluthia, hmm? These guys need to update themselves, I've seen better systems. – She states, forming another bubble with the gum, quickly moving her eyes with an indifferent expression on her face.

– Yeah, yeah, whatever, I know everything is so fun there, but can you open the door here, please? – You emphasize your situation through the communication line stuck in the ears of the three of you with a hand on your waist and a serious expression on your face.

With simple and precise keystrokes, processing quick information, the hacker moves one of the different tabs to the corner, pressing the virtual button, warning you: – Main room security disabled.

The lock latches click with a loud confirming sound. You take a deep breath, relieved, and move forward, stretching your hands to open the door and find yourself in a dark room. The lights come from above, focusing only on the valuable pieces protected by glass on small columns, all reflecting the brightness in a way that makes them stand out even more.

You concentrated, closing your eyes and making a symbol with your hand to conjure your power to spread icy mists throughout the room. This movement caused all the camouflaged detection lasers to reveal themselves, visibly showing all the hidden traps.

– Apparently this is going to take a while… – You say, stretching your limbs to prepare. 

The objective was to reach them one by one and copy their material fingers to form perfect replicas, but to do so, patience would have to be a virtue...

                           ______

“Security alert! Calling all guards! Kafka is here! I repeat, Kafka is here!”

All troops were directed to the expansive main hall of the museum, where the country's two politicians had been brutally mercilessly killed by the assassin sought by the entire cosmos. Several drones and employees surrounded her from every corner so she couldn't escape. Holographic banners spread throughout the city with her face, all citizens, including those who didn't know her, had the pleasure of seeing the feat.

And she didn't care about it, to be honest. Kafka just gently adjusted one of his gloves while watching everyone around with an arrogant smile on his face. Your heart accelerated slightly, a feeling of adrenaline rising through your veins every second.

– Well, well, well... if it isn't the great authorities gathered into one... place. – He snapped his fingers, half-closing his eyes and activating all the neon pink control wires blocking the troops. Soon after that, they took out their machine guns and started shooting everywhere.

He dodged blows, performed acrobatics, quick and lethal movements, throwing and drawing his sword, dealing with all the soldiers who tried to advance towards him at once, while others were able to hit each other thanks to the control of the static wires.

The three of you acted in different locations with great agility. You collected data from each piece, while Silver Wolf controlled the exits, doors, cameras and some drones. At the same time, Kafka distracted everyone with his grand spectacle. All of this running simultaneously.

– Collection completed – You tell Silver Wolf.

– Okay, preparing the exits.

Of course you wouldn't be left out of this after the attractive woman's challenging invitation. Entering the main hall, you had the privilege of being able to see her in real time in action, moving harmoniously with the chaos installed, facing several hordes as if it were nothing.

You ran and joined her, providing cover with your powers to summon spirits from your most-like silhouette. Combining powers of ice and teleportation, they constantly disappeared and reappeared, fighting with ice swords. It passed enemies through walls, cutting them in half and burying them in the ground. In addition to that, you can also participate with your two swords, completing the great slaughter.

– Thirty-seven. – She said, focused on the enemies, but soon turned to you as soon as she felt her back collide, smiling and continuing. – Thirty-nine.

The two of you couldn't move away, fighting the army in perfect sync. When one saved the other, they took the opportunity to provoke each other, transforming each moment into a dangerous and exciting dance.

– Be careful, Princess. – She said in a hoarse and breathless tone, winking at you right after shooting a bee drone that was approaching from behind. – I would hate to see these guys ruin your pretty face.

Soon after, you create ice daggers in your hands and throw them at Kafka, making the woman dodge to hit a man who approached her unprotected back. 

– And I would hate to think that this would be our last meeting. – You retort, offering an audacious smile while looking intensely into his eyes before returning to the battle.

Bullets resonated, armor was broken, disfigured limbs; The huge slaughter seemed to have no end. When everything seemed out of control, the great final blow was struck. One immense beast with intense red eyes, shining in the darkness, tormented those who were sensitive.

Robotic wasps followed coordinated tracks while the bear's claws spines shiver, tearing clothes and dismembering one of his mercilessly in an attempt to hit the impostors. He seemed invincible, impenetrable, a machine of mass destruction, capable of containing

Kafka's spontaneity, which seemed to have no choice but to express your full potential.

From the moment the alarm sounded, all the exits were reinforced, but thanks to the silver wolf, those heavy dams were slowly opening. The bear suffered significant damage no matter how resistant it was, thanks to its icy spirits and Kafka threads, devising quick strategies to hit the monster in columns that supported the place, submerging the creature beneath the rubble that fell more and more, threatening the lives of everyone trapped inside the museum.

You were already starting to feel sluggish, your body weakened as tiredness set in and your eyes became heavy. His open mouth inhaled and released all the dust with difficulty, feeling the irritation in his throat and the pain in his head throbbing along with the constant rhythm of his heart. 

Soon you felt a hand grab your wrist activating your senses causing you to turn around in an impulse to attack, but you were soon stopped with a strong grip, trapping both armed hands. His eyes meet the pink ones, abruptly blurring all the chaos in the background. 

– That's right, look at me. – It was Kafka, in an attempt to calm you down, despite the agonizing sound of soldiers and machines being crushed by the roof of the building and burning parts at the bottom emitting a toxic gas into the air.

Listen. We need to get out of here. You know who I am and you know why we are here. Just follow me and everything will be fine. 

Her words move you, as if it were a universal phrase that even on the verge of collapse you would understand. Her hand loosened its grip and reached up until it reached your face, gently stroking it.You looked into her eyes, breaking your guard, lost in her transparent pupils beneath the lens. Swallowing hard, you just nodded and let her guide you the rest of the way.

Silver Wolf had cleared a single safe route towards the base, so the two of you quickly escaped, blending into the crowd on the populated streets. The holographic bands shone in the sky, displaying the image of their faces, intensifying the urgency of the escape.

– Quick, this way. – She pulled you into a narrow alley, a tight hiding place that gave them a brief moment of respite while the army continued their relentless search.

Your bodies were practically glued together, her hands resting firmly on either side of you. She cast quick, curious glances out of the alley before looking back at you with a smile appearing on her lips.

– I told you it wouldn't be boring, hmm? – She commented, with a light tone of voice. You returned a soft smile, leaning your head against the wall and looking up at the sky.

– I don’t think I’ve ever lost my breath so much in one night. – You closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath, not bothered by the intense gaze of the woman in front of you, who seemed to study every detail of your face in a comforting silence.

– I highly doubt that. – She broke the silence with a laugh, provoking a spontaneous reaction on her part: a light pat on her shoulder.

– This is not the time for that. – You say, letting out a relaxed laugh. – You’re deluding yourself for nothing, you know that, don’t you?

– Oh? Then I think I misheard what you told me a few minutes ago.

– That was just for the moment, I wasn’t counting.

– Was it not?

– No, I was not. – You stated, giving her a few seconds to analyze your face again, giving in to another laugh, amused.

– I see.

After a moment, she displays a simplistic yet audacious smile, advancing towards you, implying that she is aiming for your lips. Your restless fingers longed to squeeze her arms and waist, or wrap your arms around your neck, but something inside you refused to give in and feed that playful ego. No, this time you wouldn't lose. Not for that husky voice that resonated in your ears, or those sweet lips attracting you like an irresistible magnet, or his fingers that, damn, just imagining…

She was so close now, the tension between the two of you was palpable, almost electric. The need to maintain control clashed with the desire that was growing in his chest. Kafka was usually so self-assured, so imposing in front of you that your legs would shake when she adopted a more serious tone. His advance was precise and direct, but for some reason, that kiss never came, dashing his hopes. 

You could feel her lips almost touching yours, her breath blowing softly against your skin. The smell of her lipstick invaded his senses, and heat inevitably rose through his body. She was so close that it seemed inevitable, but still, something stopped her. Desire pulsed between you, like a flame ready to ignite at any moment. Every fiber of your being yearned for that touch, but you knew that giving in would mean losing the control you worked so hard to maintain.

And unfortunately for you, drawing your limits with that greedy smile and your precious eyes. She positions herself, getting closer to her ear. With a light bite, she whispered seductively:

– You'll need to be more than that if you want to beat me, princess. But it was a good try.

And then, she walks away soon after, turning her back to you. Before climbing the stairs that led to the terrace, she casts a provocative look over her shoulder, leaving you with a pulsing mixture of desire and frustration.

– What are you waiting for? We still need to escape, you know. – Her voice woke him up again. Taking you from the confines of the dreams that passed through your eyes, flooding your mind with inappropriate scenes, which in a way, made a rosy tone emerge on your cheeks. 

Damn, this woman…