#or memories worth reliving ^^

[snailtaco]

bottom text

[iwonderwh0]

Just two androids partaking in an ancient ritual of TCP handshaking, invented in the 1970’s

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #27

July 12-19 2024

President Biden announced the cancellation of $1.2 billion dollars worth of student loan debt. This will cancel the debt of 35,000 public service workers, such as teachers, nurses, and firefighters. This brings the total number of people who've had their student debt relived under the Biden Administration to 4.8 million or one out of every ten people with student loan debt, for a total of $168.5 billion in debt forgiven. This came after the Supreme Court threw out an earlier more wide ranging student debt relief plan forcing the administration to undertake a slower more piecemeal process for forgiving debt. President Biden announced a new plan in the spring that will hopefully be finalized by fall that will forgive an additional 30 million people's student loan debt.

President Biden announced actions to lower housing coasts, make more housing available and called on Congress to prevent rent hikes. President Biden's plan calls for landlords who raise the rent by more than 5% a year to face losing major important tax befits, the average rent has gone up by 21% since 2021. The President has also instructed the federal government, the largest land owner in the country, to examine how unused property can be used for housing. The Bureau of Land Management plans on building 15,000 affordable housing units on public land in southern Nevada, the USPS is examining 8,500 unused properties across America to be repurposed for housing, HHS is finalizing a new rule to make it easier to use federal property to house the homeless, and the Administration is calling on state, local, and tribal governments to use their own unused property for housing, which could create approximately 1.9 million units nationwide.

The Department of Transportation announced $5 billion to replace or restore major bridges across the country. The money will go to 13 significant bridges in 16 states. Some bridges are suffering from years of neglect others are nearly 100 years old and no longer fit for modern demands. Some of the projects include the I-5 bridge over the Columbia River which connects Portland Oregon to Vancouver Washington, replacing the Sagamore Bridge which connects Cape Cod to the mainland built in 1933, replacing the I- 83 South Bridge in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Cape Fear Memorial Bridge Replacement Project in Wilmington, North Carolina, among others.

President Biden signed an Executive Order aimed at boosting Latino college attendance. The order established the White House Initiative on Advancing Educational Equity, Excellence, and Economic Opportunity through Hispanic-Serving Institutions. Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs) are defined as colleges with 25% or above Hispanic/Latino enrollment, currently 55% of Hispanic college students are enrolled in an HSI. The initiative seeks to stream line the relationship between the federal government and HSIs to allow them to more easily take advantage of federal programs and expand their reach to better serve students and boost Hispanic enrollment nationwide.

HUD announced $325 million in grants for housing and community development in 7 cities. the cities in Tennessee, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Nevada, New York and New Jersey, have collectively pledged to develop over 6,500 new mixed-income units, including the one-for-one replacement of 2,677 severely distressed public housing units. The 7 collectively will invest $2.65 billion in additional resources within the Choice Neighborhood area – so that every $1 in HUD funds will generate $8.65 in additional resources.

President Biden took extensive new actions on immigration. On June 18th The President announced a new policy that would allow the foreign born spouses and step children of American citizens who don't have legal status to apply for it without having to leave the country, this would effect about half a million spouses and 50,000 children. This week Biden announced that people can start applying on August 19, 2024. Also in June President Biden announced an easing of Visa rules that will allow Dreamers, Americans brought to the country as children without legal status, to finally get work visas to give them legal status and a path way to citizenship. This week the Biden Administration announced a new rule to expand the federal TRIO program to cover Dreamers. TRIO is a program that aims to support low income students and those who would be the first in their families to go to college transition from high school to college, the change would support 50,000 more students each year. The Administration also plans to double the number of free immigration lawyers available to those going through immigration court.

The EPA announced $160 million in grants to support Clean U.S. Manufacturing of Steel and Other Construction Materials. The EPA estimates that the manufacturing of construction materials, such as concrete, asphalt, steel, and glass, accounts for 15% of the  annual global greenhouse gas emissions. The EPA is supporting 38 projects aimed at measuring and combatting the environmental impact of construction materials.

The US announced $203 million in humanitarian assistance for the people of Sudan. Sudan's out of control civil war has caused the largest refugee crisis in the world with 11 million Sudanese having fled their homes in the face of violence. The war is also causing the gravest food crisis in the world, with a record setting 25 million people facing acute food insecurity, and fears that nearly a million will face famine in the next months. This aid brings the total aid the US has given Sudan since September 2023 to $1.6 billion, making America the single largest donor to Sudan.

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau put forward a new rule that would better regulate popular paycheck advance products. 2/3rds of workers are payed every two weeks or once a month and since 2020 the number of short term loans that allow employees to receive their paycheck days before it’s scheduled to hit their account has grown by 90%. the CFPB says that many of these programs are decided with employers not employees and millions of Americans are paying fees they didn't know about before signing up. The new rule would require lenders to tell costumers up front about any and all fees and charges, as well as cracking down on deceptive "tipping" options.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!!) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR HUSBAND!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (extra credit fic for prof geto series) (can be read as a standalone!!)

✧ summary: you visit your family at home, spending the night in your childhood room, and after teasing suguru all morning, your husband decides he can't wait a moment longer to have you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader was a grad student (now a professor), but age is vague, childhood room sex, semi-exhibitionism, fingering (f! receiving) sex (p in v), creampie, discussion of having kids, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / polariae

✧ w/c: 2,395

“So this is your childhood room?” Suguru enters your room, glancing around, lips curling at the plushes and posters lining your shelves and walls, a collection of memories of a you he didn’t know, but one that grew into the person that he loved. He could see the pieces of you scattered about the room — and his eyes found the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. 

“Yeah we’ll be staying here during our visit,” you sigh, setting down your bag, before sitting on the edge of the bed, “they set up the air mattress for you but I think we can share my twin bed,” 

He tilted his head, “I suppose if I don’t mind curling up or letting my feet dangle,” and you press yourself to his side. 

“But it’s all worth it to have your wife by your side right?” His lips can’t help but curl widely at the title 

“I feel I have to remind you that you have been my wife for two years now and you can’t keep using that card,” and yet his arms slip around your middle, “but I can’t complain when I have such a pretty wife,” 

“Just pretty?” You’re climbing onto his lap, not missing the way his body tensed deliciously at your weight,  a slight pout on your lips, “come on, Professor, you can do better than that,” 

“You’re right,” his hand drag down your sides, squeezing at your hips, “beautiful,” he kisses the swell of your cheek, “ethereal,” his lips trail to the tip of your nose, “brilliant,” his lips chart a course down your jaw, “achingly desirable,” and you’re cupping his cheek. 

“Sure you’re not describing yourself?” And he’s snorting, right as you press a kiss to his lips, and you realize it’s been far too long since you’ve kissed him last, almost two hours in fact from the time the two of you had sat down to dinner with your family — and that was an eternity you didn’t want to relive. 

And neither did he from the way he kissed you again and again and again. 

“I’d never describe anyone but my wife like that,” he murmurs, “and how can you compare me, a mere human, to a goddess?” 

And your laugh is swallowed by his lips again, until he’s retreating his kisses down your jaw and neck, “and how do you plan to please your goddess?” 

His teeth graze the soft skin of your neck, drawing a small gasp from your lips, his fingers slipping under the t-shirt you had stolen from him this morning to wear on the ride over, “Oh the way I always do,” a rumble rasp of a voice that makes heat spread from his touch, “by worshiping every inch of her, offering my praises on my knees, and giving myself to her at the altar,” 

“We already had our business done at the altar,” and he laughs, shaking his head, fingers finding yours to lace with his. 

“Every day I’ll marry you over and over, Princess, if that means you’ll be mine,” 

“I think I was yours from the moment you told me I was late,” 

“If that means I was the object of your hatred,” and you chuckle, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder, as you lean closer to him, noses bumping. 

“Well, some say hatred is a thin line to love,” 

“Then ours might as well have been non-existent,” and his lips find yours again, eroding your quick reply with the warmth of his touch flooding your every sense. Hands slide down your sides, squeezing teasingly, as his lips curl as he muffle your delightful noises, “because I think I was in love with you from the moment I saw you too,” he parts your lips only to speak, and to see the ruins he had left your perfect lips in, puffy and bitten red. 

“Even when I pestered you with questions about my papers,” he drags his thumb down your lips, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Especially then,” and it’s not a second before your lips find his again, sliding against his own, and he’s becoming unsatisfied with only your kisses, even he wants to have every inch of you — as he always does. 

He’s pressing you against your creaky mattress, springs groaning under your combined weight, and nearly screaming as the two of you shifted into place, “Sugu, we can’t,” you murmur, “someone could hear us,” 

And it was late at this point — a late dinner needed after they got in after 11:00 PM, and everyone had gone to bed, but still, the other rooms were only a door or two down. But still his lips are insistent, peppering kisses along your collarbone, as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. 

“We can be quiet,” he murmurs, in your ear, “I’ll go slow, no one will hear,” and he didn’t hide his need well, not that he was trying to — he had desperate for you since you had stolen that shirt of his, so much so that the two of you nearly ended up leaving late, since he had pinned you to the entryway wall right beside the door. You had convinced him to wait, slipping from his grasp, despite your already crumbling defenses to the hot embrace of his need. 

And you were far too gone by the dulcet words murmured in your ear, erasing all forms of logical thoughts from your brain, “fuck,” you murmur under your breath, “if we get caught—“ 

And his fingers are already slipping under your shirt, a gasp parting with lips as he finds bare skin underneath, warming you with his touch, as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “what will happen if we get caught? Will you punish me sweetheart?” His words are hot against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear, before pressing a sweet kiss against the soft spot behind it, “I’d like that, so would it be much of a punishment at all?” And he squeezes at your soft flesh before dragging his hand downwards to the button of your jeans. 

“Sugu—“ you warn, and he’s undoing the button of your jeans deftly, tugging them down around your ankles, and it’s only a moment before his thumb teases you through your drenched fabric, “ngh, don’t tease me—“ 

“How can I not when it’s so easy to do, sweetheart?” And his other palm drags down your waist to the swell of your hip and tugs at the elastic of your lacy panties snapping it against your skin, another yelp escaping your lips, “you always make such pretty noises, wife,” and the term makes your cunt ache for him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed, lips pressed to your neck curling in a smirk, “like it when I call you my wife? Because you are. My perfect, pretty wife,” 

And he presses closer to you, hips flush against your ass, as you feel his bulge rub against you through the fabric of his slacks, “I need more,” you whine, and his chuckle makes you shiver. 

“So eager, as always,” his fingers drag your underwear down to join your pants, “even when I’m about to fuck you in your childhood bed,” he circles  he sinks a finger into your needy cunt, swallowing it whole as he swallows the moan that leaves you with his lips, “can’t be too eager baby, I have to loosen you up first,” 

He slowly finger fucks you, the wet squelch so loud in the quiet silence of your bedroom, you would beg him to stop if you didn’t want more — and from the way your juices dripped down his knuckles to his wrists, your cunt wanted more too. 

“Such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs, “I think your parents really like me, the model son-in-law,” he adds another finger, but your walls only beg him to stay as he pumps them in and out, “but what would they think if they heard me fuck you open like this?” 

And he only wishes he could see your face, he knows from the telltale flutter of your walls, you’re growing close to release, and he could see your lovely lips parted for him, eyes blown out in pleasure or squeezed shut, and your face the epitome of ecstasy — but the soft pants that left your lips were good enough. 

“Sugu, I’m close—“ and you’re only whining louder when he pulls his fingers from you, your body arching into his, desparate for his touch, for friction, for anything — but he only licks his fingers clean with a pop, “fuck, please—“ 

You hear fabric rustle until you feel him tease your dripping entrance with the tip of his leaking cock, “Want it that bad, sweetheart? Need to cum?” And you know his lips are curled in that annoyingly smug smirk of his, “a little frustrated?” 

And you know he was toying you, if only to repay you for this morning with this delicious torture — your husband was a brilliant man, but as cruel with his touch as he was with his red pen. 

“Baby,” you cry, and he’s clicking his tongue, “please—“ 

“Don’t be so loud, someone could hear us, remember?” And your cunt is begging, warmth trying to welcome him even as he pulls his tip away, “would you like that? Can you be quiet for me?” And you’re nodding, a whimper leaving your throat, and finally he sinks into you, inch by inch as his fingers drag down your tongue, “good girl,”

“Sugu,” he filled you so well, stretching your cunt with his girth and sending delicious pleasure up your spine, pulsing inside as it dragged inside your sweet walls, “need more—“ 

And he begins to rock into you, bed squeaking traitorously as his hands drag down your front, as the slaps of your skin filled the silence of the room, and your eyes squeezed shut as if that would help you keep this dirty secret in the midst of the night. 

“Wonder if you ever thought you’d fuck your husband on this bed one day,” he kisses your neck, drawing the back of your fingers against your cheek, as his dick missed placed he only wished he could reach with his tongue, wet warmth beckoning him deeper and deeper, “if we’d make a baby in the very bed you spent growing up into the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” and fuck, he wasn’t making it easier to stay quiet, loud whimpers and moans muffled against his fingers that your spit dripped down of. 

And then you hear a door creak nearby, and he freezes, the moan of the floorboards as someone walked by making you tense, your pussy a vice grip around his cock, and he couldn’t resist fucking you. His hips piston against you harshly, and you nearly bite his fingers as a gasp works your way from your leaping chest. 

“Careful, baby, someone might hear us, hear you whining and begging for me to fuck you harder, and how would that look? A wife so needy for her husband’s cock?” And he’s snapping his hips rougher making it nearly impossible for you to stay quiet as he no longer cares who hears — as long as he can make you both cum. 

You’re pulling his fingers from your mouth, “s’close, Sugu, I can’t—“ and god, it’s nearly enough for him to cum then and there, but no, no, he has to make you cum first — need to feel your juices drench his cock before he cums inside. 

He’s reaching down, right where his cock is thrusting inside to rub at your needy clit, “cum on my cock, sweetheart, need to feel your pretty pussy cum—“ 

And you do as he says with a cry of his name that he muffled with his lips, fucking you hard through your orgasm, the sounds white noise to you both now — the wet squelch of your cunt was too much, too good, and his balls tense, all too ready to cum. 

You part from his lips only to whisper between gasps, “Cum inside, Suguru, fill me, please,” and your words send over the edge with you, notching his cock deep, as he finally comes undone, hot release painting your walls white, as he moans your name in your ear. 

He’s fucking his cum deeper as his hips stutter against you, slowing, as he finally stills, the bed ceasing its groaning as both of your quiet pants fill the silence. Bodies sticky, he pulls out of you, groaning as he watches his cum spill from inside you, as he grabs a towel from his nearby suitcase to clean the both of you up. 

He presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you okay baby?” 

And he knows you’re pouting even before you start speaking, “If anything heard us, I’ll—“ 

He laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “You’ll what? You love me too much to hurt me,” 

“I do, but I can tease you myself, as you know, far better than you can,” you turn to face him, your lips ghosting over his jaw while your fingers drew circles on his chest, “student has far surpassed her teacher on that front,” 

“On every front,” and you roll your eyes, “I mean it, Princess,” 

“I know you do,” you murmur, “which is why I guess you’re so desperate to have a baby with me,” and he flushes, and not from exertion, gaze shying away, “but lucky for you, I am too,” and his eyes snap to yours. 

“You—“ 

“We’ve discussed it before, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jaw, nuzzling his cheek, “we’re settled in our careers now, we bought our house. We’ve been married for two years now — do you want to?” 

His eyes shine impossibly, even in the dim moonlight filtering in from the window, “there’s nothing I want more than to have kids with you, Princess, but are you sure? It’s a much bigger decision for you than for me, it’s your body,” 

“But it’s our child,” you smile, “and I know you’ll be making it up to me for the rest of our lives,” 

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to ever make it up to you for everything you do for me,” Suguru presses his forehead to yours, “but I’ll spend my whole life trying.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh i've teased this fic for so long, it makes me so happy to write this!!! honestly i've had horrible writer's block and writing these two are always so easy and such a joy for me :). i hope you guys enjoy <3

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03 , @sugurora

[sugucide]

Satoru Gojo has made it out of the grave.

In another life, he sits under the sun in the evenings and lazes for the hell of it, not for a ten minute break from the chaos. He enjoys the silence, unlittered by curses and fighting and white burning static. He smiles now and then, when he wants to and never to prove himself to be okay when he isn't.

In another life, there are still dark days. And when the nights are cold and memories of friends never forgotten become haunting, he is free to cry. He finds comfort in his peers, never judgement, and lets himself be sad until the sun rises and his slate is once again clean.

In another life, Satoru Gojo doesn’t have to learn to love his name and the weight it holds. He learns to love his body, his scars, his memories both good and bad. He learns that it’s okay to love, and its okay to fear loss- he learns how to share his meal time with others and accept compliments with one in return rather than a faux over-confidence.

In another life he finds a soulmate. You’re kind and strong and not with him for his name or glory. He doesn’t have to worry himself over protecting you because in another life there is nothing out to get him. You have loving sex each night and can’t keep your hands off each other the morning after either. He learns your body like it’s his own and treats it with the reverence that so many have given the Gojo name—though without the gory weight of responsibility.

Maybe, in another life, he has kids. Probably girls, but maybe a boy or two as well. He isn't a perfect dad, never will be, but he's one that stays and loves and leads by example, not by empty threat and misplaced anger and the expectation of power and greatness. He teaches his daughters what love a man should show his spouse through his affections towards to you. Teaches his son how to love himself before trying to lean on another for love. He raises a family, not a clan.

In another life, he buys a house with a garden. He commits to watching his garden grow, tends to the weeds when they become unruly after he's put it off a little too long. He stays in one place, doesn't feel an urge to move around and stay on edge. He builds a shed and turns it into his space: teaches his kids a secret knock to let him know they're in trouble with you for abandoning their chores and want to hide from the gentle wrath of your loving discipline.

In another life, Suguru comes to visit every weekend. He’s Uncle Suguru to his kids and they sit on the porch and talk over a drink as the sun sets. He doesn’t have to worry about his friend because they speak rather than act. Satoru isn’t so focused on himself. Suguru isn’t so reluctant to ask for help.

In another life, he enjoys the quiet of domesticity. He’s not facing death each day—not shaping students up to kill and exorcise. He eats good, and lots, and thanks you for every meal by doing the dishes wrong and growing confused when you take over yourself to do it right.

In another life, he keeps photo albums. They're off in some box in the attic he has to strain his back to find, and they're worn out and dusty and some of the faces he used to see every day are seen for the first time in years when he pulls them out to show the grandkids. They show interest in his stories, albeit half-feigned and more interested in giggling at how cute his friends were back in the day. He laughs along with them.

In another life, he’s old and gray and still makes the effort to dance with you in the living room to the old music he loves. He kisses you goodnight before bed and good morning when you wake him for breakfast. You go on date nights, because he’s never too busy fighting curses to be with his one love. He feels like a teenager in love every day, even well into his senior years.

In another life, all is well: he lays down in his grave with a smile, having lived a hard life, but one worth reliving over and over and over again. He does first, because he couldn’t bear to lose you, and he dies happy.

But thats in another life—one where he wasn’t doomed from the day he was born. Maybe his next life, if he’s so lucky.

[cyberclouddream]

Where You Feel Protective & Nostalgic

Cancer/Moon in the First House

your nurturing persona is often a shield to protect your sensitive self from getting hurt

tend to cling to a specific image of yourself, idealizing your past to avoid confronting who you are now

quick to build walls around your heart because you fear vulnerability

take criticism personally, reacting to any perceived threat defensively

Cancer/Moon in the Second House

place unrealistic value on family or sentimental items, which can lead to hoarding

hold onto old values and traditions that provide comfort

panic at the thought of losing what you have, whether it's possessions or relationships

you resist reassessing your values or beliefs about worth

you can fear taking risks with your money

Cancer/Moon in the Third House

often bring up memories that make you or others emotional

guard your ideas fiercely, reacting defensively when others challenge your opinions or beliefs

romanticize past conversations, often wishing to relive them

get too wrapped up in other people's drama, using it as shield against dealing with your own issues

Cancer/Moon in the Fourth House

prioritize family above all, which can make you blind to toxic dynamics that need to change

smother loved ones because of your desire to shield them, which can lead to resentment instead of gratitude

carry the weight of family issues, letting them define your present relationships and home life

protective instincts can turn your home (house, town, country) into a prison where you're afraid to leave

Cancer/Moon in the Fifth House

fiercely guard your hobbies and passions, fearing others may not appreciate them as much as you do

clingy in relationships when you get attached quickly, which can come from idealizing love or relationships

fear rejection which can hold you back from genuine connections

hold onto hobbies or interests that evoke fond memories, even if they no longer bring you joy

overprotective over children, suffocating their independence in your quest to keep them safe

Cancer/Moon in the Sixth House

take on the emotional baggage of your coworkers

cling to outdated health habits because they feel familiar and safe

romanticize or long for past work experiences

fear any change in your work life, no matter how stale it gets

Cancer/Moon in the Seventh House

smother partners with loyalty in a way that comes off as needy and desperate

lose yourself in the issues of your partner

obsess over the fear of abandonment

get stuck thinking about exes

outdated idea of what commitment means

Cancer/Moon in the Eighth House

get paranoid about betrayal that you won't share anything real with anyone, isolating yourself

cling to old wounds, letting them dictate your emotional landscape instead of healing

scared of new intimate connections

obsess over past loves

Cancer/Moon in the Ninth House

defensive over beliefs, shutting out criticism or new ideas that challenge you

daydream or romanticize about past adventures, in a way that can make current experiences feel disappointing in comparison

resist exploring different cultures

idealize schooling or past lessons, letting them cloud your judgment about current learning opportunities

Cancer/Moon in the Tenth House

overly concerned with others see you (reputation), letting it dictate your actions and decisions

dwell on former career successes

let family legacies dictate career choices

idolize past mentors or authority figures

Cancer/Moon in the Eleventh House

treat your friendships like possessions, suffocating them with your need for closeness

hard to let go of past friendships, yearning for times that are long gone

romanticize past group experiences

defensive when anyone challenges your views on causes you're passionate about

Cancer/Moon in the Twelfth House

hide your feelings or true self from the world

wallow in your emotional scars, protecting them like trophies

idealize solitude, thinking it's safer than connecting with others

retreat into daydreams and fantasies to avoid dealing with real issues

[wednesdaynn]

nightmares and dreams

KINKTOBER 2024

A/N: day 2 has only begun and i'm already feeling like i'm behind in this challenge... hoping to finish day 3 today and make a start at day 4 but who knows... enjoy (also yes, weirder ones are going to come)

summary: bucky's mind has been plagued with nightmares for years, his mind is his biggest enemy. the only remedy is a good dream, especially one with you in it.

warnings: everything really, unprotected sex, p in v, cunnilingus, daydreaming, etc...

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

kinktober: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

As of late, every night seems to be the same for Bucky. He finds himself wandering through the corridors of the headquarters. carrying his, what feels like, weightless body towards the kitchen. Late at night when the moon is bright and the stars shine. His nightmares plague him constantly. 

the memories of the past, his past. reliving every waking moment. Friends, foe’s and sometimes he can’t even tell which is which. They all feel the same. reckless and deafening, the screams that he hears, the things the winter soldier did, the things he did. 

His routine is always the same. The nightmares wake him, he screams, he wakes up breathless. panting like crazy he tries to assess the situation around him. counting five red things, 4 pieces of furniture, 3 things he should clean, 2 items of clothing, and 1 thing that reminds him of his current life. It's what his therapist taught him. 

he tries to ground himself back to reality. and when he feels calmed enough he throws the blanket off of him and wakes his way to his dresses, putting on some clothes.

walking into the kitchen, goes to pull out a stool at the kitchen-island and sits down. The eeriness of the still kitchen calms him down. steel and slate. but a noise in the distance makes him turn his head towards the entrance of the kitchen. soft padding of feet and rustling of clothes. He hears quiet breaths and sweet humming.

walking into the kitchen is you, with fuzzy socks on your feet. 

adorable. 

you hadn't noticed his presence in the kitchen, unlike him, you weren’t that good at hearing noises. too tired to pay attention to your surroundings, your pounding headache distracting you from anything happening around you. but the moment you enter the kitchen, you hear a rough sounding cough. looking up, you’re met with bucky, a shirtless bucky. 

hot. 

It came to no one's surprise that you had a slight crush on the super soldier, on slightly. The man was built by the gods, handcrafted to be perfected. His chest was toned, his thighs were thicker than a tree trunk and big biceps you’d love to squeeze. He doesn’t like hearing it, but that metal arm, god damn, gave you butterflies in your stomach. 

He was a sweetheart and a gentleman to anyone he met, or at, everyone he liked. Polite to men, charming to women and hilariously clumsy but sweet to kids, making them laugh.  

This little crush on him you had developed didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend, your support and confidant, Sam. This man teased you until you were a blubbering mess, all hot cheeks and stuttering words. short breaths and embarrassed smiles. due to Sam being no to subtle about his teasing, this puts you in rather uncomfortable situations. 

And though he swore he only did to make you confess to the super soldier, telling you that it was worth a try seeing as, according to him, Bucky also had a crush on you. you couldn’t quite believe him, your insecurities getting the best of you. you were skeptical, the signs were there but choosing to ignore them was easier than getting your hopes up. 

He’d stare at you for long periods of time, looking away when your gazes met. He'd go out of his way to make sure he talks to you everyday. always secures a spot next to you at outings, or makes sure you're in the same car. trying his best to always hang out with you. and in those moments, a fleeting feeling came, of him maybe seeing you in the same way. 

And maybe for once Sam was right. 

so when he looks up and meets your eyes, heat runs through your body. burning up your cheeks. your gaze drops down to his half dressed figure, his bare chest with his dogs tags hanging from his neck, resting right on his pecks. there's a sheen on his skin, left from sweat. It doesn’t take much for you to figure out why he’s up in the middle of the night again. You want to make a comment about it, concerned for him, but when you looked up at his face again, he was smirking at you. having caught you staring at him.

Bucky on the other hand has no shame in checking you out. The baggy sleep shirt that you’re wearing barely reaches your mid thigh, showing off your soft legs. The cold wind in the room makes goosebumps rise up on your skin. Your perky breast showing through the thin material and your nipples hardened through it. 

the more he paid attention to your sleeping attire, he noticed that the shirt didn’t belong to you, but sam. he inhales sharply, jealousy taking him over. there's a burning in the back of his mind. he knows he shouldn’t be, you and Sam were like siblings, havin’ taken care of each other for years. 

He just wished that shirt would be replaced with his, and not Sam's. that instead of borrowing one of his when you get too cold, you’d reach for him in the middle of the night. warming up with his body heat. He knows how cold you get in at night and he always runs warm with the serum. that in the morning you’d walk around the bed, naked, and pick his shirt up off of the floor, to wear around the compound. showing everybody what you had done the night before. 

That you had been panting and chanting. shouting his name for hours on end. how you were lying beneath him, your eyes rolling back from the pleasure being given to you. reaching for anything that could stabilize you, help you stay grounded. gripping the sheets beneath you, holding tight onto his biceps, leaving scratches behind on his back, your hands crawling into his hair and fisting it tightly. that you’d be covered in the bite marks he left on you that night. they’d know you’re his.

he speaks up eventually, asking you about why you’re up this late in the night. or early in the morning you could almost say. asking about how you’re doing, snapping back to reality when you groan out loud. He almost misses the way you mutter “bad headache…” barely paying attention to what’s coming out of your mouth. He's focused on your soft lips and the way they move when you talk. when you lick them afterwards. 

god

He wishes he could kiss those lips senseless. he would kiss you for hours and hours on end, both of your teeth clashing against each other with each rough movement. tongue’s tangling in every way, exploring your mouth and tasting you. soft pants coming out of both your mouths, you’d be breathless and hungry for more. He'd bite down on your lips, soft whines leaving your lips at his administration. pulling him back by the back of his neck. a hazy look set in your eyes, they’d be dilated fully, black taking over your colour filled with lust. He'd pull back and admire the state he’d leave you in. red and swollen lips, a string of saliva attaching you to each other.

His kisses would trail down to your jawline, leaving you pulling at him for more, covering yourself in him. up to your ear and sucking right on your sweet spot, making you gasp out loud. 

he’d pull away and admire you, the redness covering your neck and jaw, glistening from him. a dopey smile on your face. your breathing is uneven and your eyes looking at him with love. He reaches for your pajama shirt, pulling it over your arms and head, only to get it stuck, making you let out a soft giggle. the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. 

It had been so long for him since he last saw or even undressed a woman, and while his charm was still there and certain things you don’t unlearn, he felt slightly clumsy with his actions. He felt desperate for you. He'd attach his mouth back to your neck and kiss his way towards your clavicle bones, nipping at the skin and marking you up. he’d move down to your breast. he lets out a disgruntled groan, fumbling with the clasp of your bra on your back, impatient. 

it takes him a few seconds to get it off of you, your hands helping him and he throws you a sheepish smile, he knows he wouldn’t know how to take off these modern contraptions. he’d throw your bra god knows where in the room, leaving it for tomorrow to find. 

he’d throw all of his attention back on you and your soft breasts. gazing at your hardened nipples and the way they perk up due to the cold. and goosebumps cover the rest of your body, almost completely bare in front of him. he’d nip at the skin surrounding your nipples, and knead the other breast in his hand. 

he moves towards your nipple giving it a quick flick of his tongue, wetting it and making it shine with his spit. grazing his teeth over the sensitive nub. softly sucking on it, between his lips, occasionally nipping at it, making you arch your back at the painful but pleasurable feeling. the other nipple wouldn’t be left behind, he’d twist it between his forefinger and middle finger, twisting it and rolling it with his thumb. 

“please.” you’d whine beneath him, feeling your chest going up and down. but bucky isn’t that easy, he wants you to tell him exactly what you want. make you vocalize your wants. He wants you to tell him how to make you feel good. 

“that’s not enough, darling, tell me exactly what you need from me.” he blows onto your breast, the cold air making you lean into him more. another whine comes out of your mouth and you take a deep breath.

“i want you to fuck me, James. Please, need it so bad.” and god damn did you know how to beg for him, make him melt just with your words. He couldn’t keep someone as sweet as you waiting, maybe another time. He waited too long for this. 

he detaches his mouth from your breasts and kisses down your soft tummy, rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs. making his way down towards your mound where his stubble tickles your skin. He'd look up at you from this position, making you feel heated all over. your neck feels like it’s burning and the feeling moves its way down towards your spine and to your core. 

he gets off on this, the way you look at him all needy. your eyes meeting his and you look so darling. the state you're in makes his dick harder than possible. you’re vulnerable in this state, but oh so trusting of him and he’d make sure it’s not in vain. 

he bites at the skin at the edge of your panties, before pulling them down ever so slightly with his teeth. He pulls them further down your legs with his hands, the cold metal of his arm gliding against your warm skin. a nice contrast. your panties are added to the slowly building pile of clothes in the room, joining your shirt and bra. 

He runs his nose along the crease where your thigh meets your mound, smelling your sweet skin, vanilla and linen, your body wash. He pushes your knees up and hooks them over his shoulder, your bare pussy spread open in front of him. He lets out a low moan at the smell, wanting, no needing, to completely devour you. 

his thumbs spread your lips to the side. ‘so pretty.” he licks a long stripe up to your clit. circling around it with his tongue. your body jerks with the sensation. grabbing a fistfull of his hair. He sucks on your clit, and drags a finger through the wetness, gathering it up and slipping one finger inside.

and oh god, you are so tight around his finger. you’re just so perfect. He'd start to slowly thrust his finger inside of you, while licking your clit. “God, baby, you’re so wet… s’all for me?” he hymns and it sends shudders all throughout your body. you respond to him with a desperate nod and push him deeper into your cunt. he adds another finger, spreading you open wider and scissoring his finger to prep you. 

he moans around your clit, sending vibrations up your whole body. “please, bucky.” he chuckles and adds a third finger and it makes your whole body jerk back. “God yes.” you thrust your hips forward yearning for more. and he lets you. driving his fingers into you harder, and you think you can see stars and he’s only using his fingers yet. 

he takes his mouth off of your pussy and moves upwards, leaning over you. He completely cages you in with his metal arm resting next to your body. 

Bucky admires your face. your eyes are all hooded as you stare up at him through your lashes. a sweet smile adornes your face as soft moans leave your lips, in rhythm with his fingers thrusting in and out of you. 

god, if you already feel so good from just his fingers you can’t imagine how his cock must feel. your eyes follow along his body down to his lower abs where the waist of his sweatpants start. he dick outlined clearly, probably not wearing any boxers

And dear god, he’s big.

You’re not sure how he’s supposed to fit but Bucky notices the hesitation on your face, his free hand rests itself on your hip. "I'll make it fit, babe." Giving it a reassuring squeeze. you bite your lip in response, nodding. he presses his lips to yours, fitting perfectly. your moans spilled into his mouth and a stuttered gasp left your mouth when he curled his finger hitting you right where you needed him to. 

He pushes and pushes. He curls his finger again and again. And then… he pulls away, completely. you look up at him confused at his actions and he just kisses you on your mouth. a soft peck, reassuring. his hands go to his sweatpants and he sits back up and stands at the edge of the bed, taking his sweatpants off in one go. 

before you even have time to admire his physique, he’s back on you. nosing at your neck and muttering sweet things into your neck. 

“I need you so badly.” and you know he means it. he’d take care of you so well. He'd worship you. He hooks your legs around his waist as he drags his hard cock through your folds, coating both of you in a mix of slick and pre-cum. 

"You ready?” you whisper a soft yes into his ear. He finds your whole and slowly pushes in. inch by inch. slowly but surely he’s filling you up. His eyes constantly look up at your face to make sure you’re still feeling okay. He makes sure to rest for a few minutes when he bottoms out inside of you, as difficult as it is for him. 

but when you push your feet into his lower back, pushing him into you completely, he slowly starts to move in and out. slowly, getting you used to the feeling of him filling you up.  He feels so content, here with you. 

both vulnerable in each other arms and-

“bucky? Are you okay?” your voice pulls him back to reality. to the kitchen, you in Sam's shirt. him sitting at the island. and a blush coats his cheek as he slowly pushes the stool further beneath the counter, blocking his hardness from your view. 

“yeah… I'm okay.” he mutters softly.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

beneath the moonlight

"are you cold? come here."

zayne x fem!reader

⤿ part of snow angel series : )

⤿ cw: MDNI, pre-marriage timeline, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, reader in on birth control, reader & zayne's first time having sex

⤿ word count: 4.6k

⤿ synopsis: you and zayne have been dating for a while now, as you spent most of your day at the amusement park, you sure will be spending the rest of the night tangled in his sheets.

ao3.

The sound of your footsteps echoed as you made your way inside Zayne’s house. His house was warm and inviting, a contrast to the cool evening air outside. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, likely from the candles he always kept around. You glanced back at him as he set the bag of plushies down on the couch, his smile soft yet triumphant as if reliving every mini-game he dominated to win them for you.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” Zayne said, his voice low but filled with affection. “I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You nodded and made your way to the couch, your fingers grazing over the bag of plushies. Each one brought back a specific memory from earlier: the laughing fits on the bumper cars, the way you insisted him on riding the carousel with you because you’d never be too old for it, and his focused determination when trying to win the biggest plush at the ring toss.

As he returned, his sleeves are already rolled up and he’s holding two glasses of your favorite drink, he handed one to you before sitting down beside you. The space between you felt insignificant as his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Think they’ll fit on your shelf?” he teased, nodding toward the bag. You chuckled, taking a sip. “I might need to start a second shelf at this rate. You’re spoiling me.”

“And I’ll keep spoiling you,” he replied, leaning back, his gaze locking onto yours. “Seeing you happy makes it all worth it.”

“See? You’re the reason why my whole apartment is going to turn into a plushie stockroom.” You joked and he chuckled, you placed the glass on the coffee table before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Can I cook?” You asked him and you felt him press a soft kiss on your head, “Of course love, why not?” He responded, “What do you want to cook? I will help you prepare the ingredients and of course with the cooking.” 

“Hmm, I’ve been craving for pasta.” You said before lifting your head to face him, “Do you have any ingredients?” 

“I have some marinara sauce at the pantry, as well as the pastas, you can choose whether you would like spaghetti ones or penne.” He said as he gently brushed your hair before tucking the strand of hair behind your ear.

“If that’s so, I’ll get started then?” You said as you smiled at him, “Alright love, let’s go?” He said as he stood up and offered his hand, you smiled at him before placing your hand above his. Your fingers interlocked as you both made your way to the kitchen to prepare your dinner.

***

The penne pasta is already cooked and you set them aside, you’re currently stirring the pot of marinara sauce you made. Zayne left for a while a few minutes ago, since there was a sudden call from work. 

As you stirred the sauce, you gracefully hum a song to yourself and didn’t even notice Zayne leaning at the door frame as he watched you cooking while wearing an apron, hair tied up, and the sleeves of your shirt rolled up. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling upon seeing you, then he couldn’t take it anymore and he decided to close the distance between you two.

You froze momentarily, the spoon in your hand pausing mid-stir as Zayne’s familiar warmth pressed against your back. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Did I scare you?” he murmured, his deep voice laced with amusement, his breath tickling your ear. You let out a small laugh, your heartbeat slowly settling. “A little. You could’ve warned me, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His eyes drifted to the pot of sauce you’d been stirring. “Smells amazing. What’s the secret ingredient?”

“You mean besides my amazing culinary skills?” you quipped, turning your head slightly to glance at him. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Of course. That’s a given.”

You rolled your eyes playfully before responding, “It’s a touch of honey. Balances the acidity.” Zayne hummed in approval, his hold on you not loosening in the slightest. “How’d I get so lucky? My girlfriend who cooks, hums, and looks this cute doing it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to focus on the task at hand, but with him so close, his warmth and words made it almost impossible.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, though there was no real annoyance in your tone. 

“And you’re making it really hard not to kiss you right now,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

For a moment, time seemed to pause, the sauce forgotten as you melted into the quiet intimacy of the moment, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you in his presence. You tried to ignore how his lips are pressed on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest, his heavy breathing and how his grip on your waist tightened. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as the atmosphere shifted. His closeness was intoxicating, his every movement sending a shiver down your spine. The soft press of his lips against your neck wasn’t helping, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“Zayne,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm?” he hummed, his warm breath fanning against your skin. His hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you felt him smile against your neck.“The sauce,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s going to burn.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “The sauce can wait,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. “You’re far more important.” Then the next thing you heard is the sound of the stove being turned off and when you faced him, his lips immediately crashed to yours. 

His lips were warm, urgent, and impossibly soft as they claimed yours, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his kiss and the way his hands slid up to cradle your face, holding you as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. His kiss was filled with passion yet somehow gentle, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t stand it any longer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and both of you were breathing heavily. His dark eyes searched yours, his gaze intense yet tender. You smiled at him before encircling your arms around his neck and you kissed him once more. 

Then suddenly he lifted you up as if you weigh nothing and placed you on top of the kitchen counter, his arm propped onto the kitchen counter for support while the other hooked at your waist. You rested your palms on both sides of his cheeks as you responded to his kisses.

His kisses suddenly went to your jaw and down to your neck. You tilted your head to give him further access, the feeling of his lips feels hot against your skin which is why you couldn’t help yourself. “Z-Zayne..” You whimpered as you felt him nipped at your neck and your hand found his hair and gave it a gentle tug.

However, that tug somehow signaled Zayne. He immediately stopped and he felt like he was doused with cold water as he stared at your half-lidded eyes. “Zayne? What’s wrong?” You asked as he gently shook his head before resting it on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with the moment and I–“ He inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around you. Zayne’s voice was soft, almost pained, as he whispered against your shoulder, “I didn’t mean to rush things. I just..”

You felt his arms tighten around you, his embrace grounding yet filled with a vulnerability he rarely showed. His heart beat against yours, its steady rhythm betraying the storm of emotions he was trying to rein in.

“Zayne,” you said gently, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not upset.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice firm but laced with tenderness. “You’re too important to me for that.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “You didn’t. I promise. I trust you, Zayne.” You said as you leaned your forehead against his, before leaning down to kiss him once again. It was slow and passionate, as if you’re letting him know about what you want to happen. 

When you pulled away, he looked straight into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, “Yes, I am.” you responded as you nodded at him. He hesitated for a moment but when he looked into your eyes, it’s as if gravity is pulling him back to you.

His lips met yours once again, this time it was intense and full of lust. You felt his tongue at your lips, clearly asking for permission in which you quickly allowed. His tongue entered your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan and you felt his lips curled up into a smile. 

“Lets kiss move kiss to kiss my kiss room kiss” You hummed in between his kisses as you encircled your arms around his neck as he lifted you up the counter, and then you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist as he made his way to his bedroom.

When the two of you stepped inside, his strides toward the bed were long and purposeful. He gently placed you down, breaking the kiss as both of your chests heaved from the breathless passion of the moment. His eyes roamed over your face, illuminated by the faint glow of the dim lights—your hair splayed across his bed, your half-lidded eyes, and your swollen lips.

Your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every detail. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words and palpable tension. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and sincere. His admission sends a shiver down your spine as his hand trails down to rest against your cheek. His thumb gently grazes your lips, his touch soft yet electrifying. Your breath hitches, and your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes lock onto yours, filled with something deeper than desire.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop anytime if you ever feel uncomfortable.” He asked you once again with such gentleness at his voice as he caressed your cheek. “Yes, I want to do this with you, Zayne.” 

He nodded and smiled softly, “Okay, just let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable okay?” You nodded at him before his lips met yours once again, this time it was slow and tender. As if he’s savoring this intimate moment with you. Then his hands began to trace at your curves, and is now resting at your waist. 

“Z-Zayne..” His lips traveled down your neck and he sucked on it, and you’re definitely sure that it will leave a mark but you’d probably worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all of you want is to cherish this moment with your boyfriend. 

He placed hot wet kisses onto your collarbone before he gently unbuttoned your shirt. You suddenly felt a wave of nervousness and tension wash over you as he finished unbuttoning, leaving you on your bra. Your breathing hitched, and your hands instinctively gripped the fabric beneath you, unsure of what to do next. 

Zayne immediately noticed and he looked at you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he noticed how you breathing got erratic and how you clutched on his sheets. “I-I’m just nervous.” 

He gently took your hands in his, bringing them to rest on his chest. “Feel that?” he murmured, his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. “I’m right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

His reassurance was tender, and the warmth of his touch began to melt away some of your anxiety. You nodded at him and he gave you a soft smile, “Undress me as well.” he said as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

With shaky hands, you began to unbutton his shirt. He noticed your trembling fingers and he immediately place his hands above yours as he mumbled I’m right here. You continued to unbutton his shirt while his gaze remained on your face. Once you’re finished, it revealed his toned chest and there were a few scars on his stomach.

He brought your hand on his bare chest where you can feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump beneath your palm grounded you, his warmth and presence slowly easing out your nerves. You couldn’t help but smile at the warm and comforting feeling of his heartbeat against your palm.

“There, that’s my girl.” He whispered as he brought your hands to his lips and he gave it a gentle kiss. “Just relax and allow me to make love to you.” 

Then he quickly discarded his shirt and tossed it somewhere in the room. You also did the same, then you took his hand and guided it at the hook of your bra. He unclasped it and he pulled down the straps and tossed it as well.

His breath hitched at the sight of you, “You’re so perfect.” He lowered his head before he took one nipple to his mouth while his other hand is fondling with your left breast. You arched your back at the sensation. 

“Z-Zayne..Mhm..” You moaned as you felt him lightly bit your nipple, you tugged on his hair which elicited a groan from him which sent vibrations to your breast. He let go of your right nipple with a pop sound and he latched onto the other. 

As he busied his mouth on your breast, his hand wandered down your body, he reached your skirt and with his skillful hands, he unbuttoned it and pulled the zipper. Then, he grabbed it and pulled it down your legs, the sudden action caused you to yelp. 

He met your gaze as he let go of your nipple, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips before he looked at your breast wherein both nipples are swollen, thanks to him. You giggled at him, “What?” he chuckled. “Nothing.” you answered before kissing him in the lips once again. 

He trailed kisses from your neck down your stomach, his fingers are now hooked at the waistband of your panties. He looked at you once again, asking for your consent and you nodded at him. He used his thumb to lightly press it against your clothed pussy. The sudden pressure caused you to moan.

“Damn you’re soaked.” He cursed as he slid your underwear aside to reveal your glistening pussy due to your arousal. “Fuck.” he mumbled before placing a gentle kiss on it. Then a ripping sound was heard and you immediately used your elbow to prop yourself up, “Zayne!” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He chuckled before pressing a kiss onto your clit. The sudden sensation made you fall back to the bed once again. 

“Mhmm..Zayne…” you moaned as you felt his tongue licked up your slit. He continued to lap on your pussy, followed by his fingers who’s gently rubbing your clit. “Z-Zayne..” 

You gasped as you felt his fingers at your entrance. You arched your back as you felt him insert two of his fingers and pumped it in and out of your pussy as he continued to eat you out. “Gonna prep you so it wouldn’t hurt that much.” he mumbled and you really couldn’t take much of what he’s saying since you’re already lost in the pleasure that’s building up your core. 

He curled his fingers inside which made you moan a bit louder. “Do you feel good?” he asked you, “Y-yes.. Gods, yes.” you panted as you felt him fasten his pace. “Good, because that’s my plan for tonight. To make you feel good.” 

As he continued the relentless pace of his fingers inside you and the continuous lapping of his mouth against your pussy. You felt your orgasm approaching and you began to tremble.

“Z-Zayne…’m gonna come..” you mumbled as you continued to shake. “Let go for me my love..” he answered and after a few more pumps, you released your orgasm. 

You’re breathing heavily as he removed his fingers inside, you looked down at him and saw how he placed his fingers soaked with your juices inside his mouth. 

Then, he began to unbuckle his pants. You gulped when his hard length sprung free, you’re kinda nervous whether it will fit or not. He then positioned himself between your legs and he leaned down to rest your forehead against his, “Ready?” he asked and you gave him a nod a silent yes. 

With your answer, he slowly inserted himself inside. Due to his size, you couldn’t help but to wince at the pain and stinging sensation. “Love, hey, look at me.” He cupped both sides of your cheeks so that you could meet his gaze, “It’s alright, I’ll let you adjust for a bit okay. We’ll stay like this for a while, hm?” he whispered as he caressed your cheeks.

After a few moments, he felt the tension of your body disappeared and it’s now fully relaxed. “I’m okay now.” you said as you looked at him, “Okay, I love you.” he whispered as he placed a kiss onto your forehead before fully inserting himself inside of you.

“Mhmm…Zayne.” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first. 

“Zayne...” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first.

Zayne groaned softly as he felt your tight, wet heat enveloping his hard cock. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. "Love... you feel incredible," he rasped, voice low and husky with desire.

He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. His hips rocked in a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing him deeper, stretching you wider. One hand slid up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them.

“Ohh..Zayne mhmm..” you moaned, "Tell me how it feels, Love," Zayne murmured against your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Describe it to me. I want to hear you say it." His hips picked up pace, thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts intertwining in a erotic symphony.

“Zayne.. ohhh mhmm..” you moaned as you clawed at his back due to the building pleasure. He hooked your left leg at his waist which made his cock go deeper inside your pussy. “That’s right love, I want to hear you say my name.” He whispered against your ear as you felt him licked your earlobe and he sucked the sensitive spot on your neck. 

Zayne could feel the heat building between your bodies, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. But he didn't let up, driven by a primal need to bring you both to the peak of ecstasy. “Z-Zayne..” You called out to him breathlessly, he immediately lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“What is it my love? Hmm, tell me what you need.” He whispered to you as he continued his thrusts inside your pussy. “K-Kiss me..” 

His lips curled into a smile as he stared at your lips, “Your wish is my command..” His lips found yours in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his cock was claiming your pussy. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, feeding off them, spurring him on. 

Zayne drank in every moan and whimper that spilled from your lips, each sound spurring him to take you with greater fervor. His hand tangled in your hair, gripping it gently as his tongue dominated your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, leaving no part of you untouched.

He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his hard length as he drove into you again and again. You were close, so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you fall, to have you shatter in his arms.

Zayne broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck where he bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to leave his mark on you. "That's it, my love," he panted against your throat, hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "Let it go. Give yourself to me. I want to feel you."

His hand, still intertwined with yours, squeezed your fingers tightly as he felt your body begin to quake beneath him. He knew you were teetering on the brink, ready to tumble into oblivion. And he wanted to be right there with you, to catch you as you fell.

"Come on, my love," Zayne urged, voice low and intense.  You were a moaning mess as you felt your orgasm nearing, you arched your back causing your breasts to make contact with his chest. The sudden friction intensified your pleasure, you scraped your fingers on his hair and slid down to hold on his arms. 

After a few more thrusts, you came but he didn’t stop. His thrusts are now becoming sloppy and faster than his previous ones. Due to the overstimulation you could feel another orgasm building on your core. 

“I’m near my love..” He whispered against your neck, “Where do you want me?” he asked softly, his breath is hot against your skin. 

“Inside..I want to feel you, Zayne.” You whimpered. 

Zayne's heart raced at your needy whimper, desire coursing through his veins like wildfire. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, feeling your walls clench desperately around his throbbing length. "Inside, are you sure?" he asked again huskily, voice dripping with lust. "Yes, I’m on birth control." 

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his passion, all his longing into the heated meeting of mouths. At the same time, his hands gripped your thighs, lifting your leg to place in on his shoulder while the other remained hooked on his waist, his hard length nestled between your slick folds.

He began to move, hips rocking in a steady, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed him impossibly deeper, stretching you exquisitely around his thick girth. The new angle allowed him to hit that secret spot inside you with every drive of his hips, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine.

"Fuck," Zayne groaned, forehead pressed against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. You were made for me." He whispered, then his breath became heavy as he feels his orgasm approaching him.

After a few more thrusts you felt his hot seed filling you up, alongside with your third orgasm. Your chests heaving as you chased your breaths, “You okay?” he asked as he cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, I’m okay..” you chuckled at him, Zayne smiled softly at your chuckle, forehead still resting gently against yours. He brushed a few damp tendrils of hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. "I'm glad," he murmured, hazel eyes warm and tender as they gazed into yours. "I would never forgive myself if I hurt you."

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. The movement caused his softening length to slip out of you, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he simply held you, one hand stroking up and down your back in a soothing, comforting gesture.

Zayne pressed a tender kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. "That was... incredible," he whispered, voice low and sated. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too..” you whispered softly. He could feel the sticky evidence of your joining cooling between your thighs, but he knew from experience that it would soon dry. For now, he just wanted to hold you, to bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“Zayne?” you called out to him because you were suddenly reminded of something, “What about our pasta?” 

Zayne chuckled softly at your question, amused by your sudden concern for the abandoned dinner. "Don't worry about that," he reassured you, hand stroking your arm soothingly. "After we get cleaned up, just relax here alright? I’ll heat up the sauce and grab some servings for the two of us."

“Mhm, okay..” you smiled at him, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“But for now, let me just hold you for a while.” You leaned into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing and grounding. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet bubble of comfort.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your arm, lulling you further into a state of contentment.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Zayne chuckled again, his breath warm against your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, neither of you in any hurry to move. Eventually, he shifted slightly, pressing another kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Alright, let’s get cleaned up.”

You giggled when he gently scooped you up in his arms as he made his way to the bathroom for the both of you to have a nice warm bath. Afterwards, he helped you get dressed in his shirt and he changed the sheets of his bed.

Then, when you’re nice and settled on his bed, he pressed a kiss on your lips, soft and lingering, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “I won’t be long,” he promised, his voice low and gentle, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stood.

You watched as he walked to the door, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Just before stepping out, he glanced back at you, his lips curling into that familiar, comforting smile that made your heart flutter.

“Stay cozy, alright?” he said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone who cared deeply.

You nodded, the comfort of the blankets and the faint scent of him enveloping you. As he disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps faded, leaving you in the quiet, peaceful haven of his room.

You smiled softly to yourself, feeling grateful for the little moments like this—the ones that made everything else fade away.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[astaroth1357]

Curtain Call:

Asmodeus: All good things have to come to an end, hun… It's alright if you want to cry!

Beelzebub: Because sadness isn’t something you should swallow on its own.

Belphegor: It can get so hard to move on from the past… but it’s worth it in the end.

Simeon: You may have found us first in darkness, but you chose use us to bring back the light.

Diavolo: And we've been honored to inspire such joy…

Luke: J-just know if you ever need us, we're not too far away!

Solomon: Because the memories we've made together will stay with you always…

Barbatos: And should you choose to relive them, we'll be right by your side.

Satan: We've always been just as much a part of you as you’ve been to all of us...

Leviathan: So remember, you NEVER have to let go of your favs!

Mammon: And I better not hear you blabberin’ on about goodbyes!!

Lucifer: My dear… from my brothers, friends, and I… Thank you deeply for bringing us so much light.

[n1daehodefender]

Kang dae-ho angst headcanons

pairing: Kang dae-ho

A/N: This is not a x reader bc i have never written full angst BUT i have a couple angst Drafts of dae ho x reader, if you want me to publish them lmk idk if their Any good tho:( anyway requests are always open!!!!

Warnings: The following headcanons contain themes of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), childhood abuse, violence, and psychological distress. Also this is how i see the character, out visions might be different! Some of these might be canon

His father’s disdain for his interests and the forced enlistment in the marines haunt Dae-ho, leading him to constantly question his own worth and choices.

Conditioned by past abuse to believe he is always at fault, he apologizes excessively, even when he has done nothing wrong, reflecting his low self-esteem.

Dae-ho frequently experiences vivid nightmares of the shooting incident during his marine service, often waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, as the memories replay in his mind.

Even in seemingly safe environments, Dae-ho remains constantly on edge, his eyes darting around, muscles tense, always anticipating potential threats due to his PTSD.

Certain sounds, like gunfire or loud bangs, trigger intense flashbacks to the traumatic events he witnessed, causing him to freeze or react defensively, reliving the moments as if they were happening again.

He avoids discussing his time in the marines, deflecting conversations or changing topics to prevent resurfacing painful memories that he struggles to suppress.

Dae-ho grapples with overwhelming guilt, questioning why he survived the shooting incident when many of his comrades did not, leading to feelings of unworthiness and self-blame.

To cope with his trauma, he often shuts down emotionally, finding it difficult to connect with others or express his feelings, creating a barrier between him and those who care about him.

Sudden movements or unexpected touches cause him to flinch or react defensively, a reflex ingrained from his time in combat and his abusive childhood.

Fearful of the nightmares that plague his sleep, Dae-ho often stays awake for days, leading to chronic exhaustion and difficulty concentrating during waking hours.

Believing he is a burden due to his trauma, he distances himself from friends and family, preferring solitude over the risk of causing them distress or facing their pity.

In high-stress situations, Dae-ho experiences debilitating panic attacks, characterized by shortness of breath, chest pain, and a sense of impending doom, leaving him feeling powerless.

Trust Issues: Betrayals and loss have made it difficult for him to trust others, always questioning their motives and fearing abandonment or further hurt.

Physical closeness triggers memories of past abuse, causing him to shy away from affectionate gestures, even when he craves connection and comfort.

To mask his insecurities and trauma, Dae-ho often overcompensates by displaying excessive confidence or bravado, hiding his vulnerabilities behind a facade.

In an attempt to numb his pain and silence his thoughts, he occasionally turns to alcohol or medication, leading to moments of dependency and further self-loathing.

During periods of extreme stress or sleep deprivation, Dae-ho experiences hallucinations of his deceased comrades, blurring the lines between reality and memory.

Due to his father’s authoritarian nature and strict military superiors, Dae-ho harbors an ingrained fear of authority, leading to anxiety in hierarchical settings.

Confined spaces remind him of traumatic situations, triggering intense claustrophobia and panic, making it difficult for him to use elevators or small rooms.

Fearing loss, Dae-ho becomes overly protective of those he cares about, sometimes to the point of being overbearing, driven by the need to prevent further trauma.

Stress-induced dissociation leads to gaps in his memory, causing him to forget important conversations or events, adding to his frustration and sense of helplessness.

In an attempt to regain control over his life, Dae-ho becomes obsessively perfectionistic, setting unattainable standards for himself and berating himself when he falls short.

Past experiences have instilled a deep-seated fear of failure, causing him to avoid new opportunities or challenges, believing he is destined to fail.

Bottled-up emotions occasionally erupt uncontrollably, leading to angry or tearful outbursts over seemingly minor issues, surprising those around him.

During moments of severe stress, Dae-ho feels disconnected from his surroundings, as if observing his life from outside his body, a dissociative coping mechanism.

Deep down, Dae-ho believes he is unlovable due to his trauma, leading him to sabotage relationships to avoid the pain of potential rejection.

Accustomed to suppressing his feelings, he struggles to articulate his emotions, often resorting to silence or dismissive remarks.

Despite self-isolating, Dae-ho yearns for companionship, battling the paradox of craving connection while fearing the vulnerability it requires.

[ryttu3k]

Speculating on why Astarion doesn't seem to remember his mortal life. Some of the other spawn clearly do (Leon knows who Victoria is, Dalyria remembers being a doctor), and Dalyria had a high-up position, so it's entirely possible she was over a hundred when she was turned. Maybe Astarion's memory loss is due to his age when he was turned?

Elves in Forgotten Realms have an interesting relationship with memory. All FR elves reincarnate. Initially, when they trance, they basically just relive their past lives; in their second or third decades (teenage years or twenties), they experience First Reflection, and they start incorporating memories of their current lives into their reverie. This is basically… part reflection, part reinforcement of what they learn in their waking/active hours, so it sounds like it's pretty important to turn short-term memories into long-term ones. Over the next several decades, they dream of their past lives less and less, and eventually go through a fairly traumatic event called Drawing of the Veil, at about a century old. After that, they're considered, culturally, to be adults. After the Drawing of the Veil, the memories worked through in trance are entirely of their current existence.

(Source: Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes. It's a 5e book published in 2018, so it could have been a source for BG3, I suspect. The game doesn't agree entirely with the book - it says elves stop visibly aging at about thirty, and Astarion, Halsin, and Minthara all look older - but they could have definitely taken notes from it.)

Drawing of the Veil could indicate that an elf's memory centres of their brain are now fully developed and 'attuned' to their current life. So, what happens if the process is interrupted? Astarion was turned at thirty-nine, well before the Drawing of the Veil. I wonder if this interrupted the usual reinforcement of memories, or damaged the memory centres of his brain? He's had, at most, thirty years of a potential ninety years of memory centre development, so he does remember bits and pieces, but the vast majority he missed.

It might not have been instantaneous, ie. waking up in his coffin without any memories at all. But over time, without being able to sort through those mortal memories in reverie, they just start fading away and can't be written into long-term memory. If Dalyria had already experienced Drawing of the Veil, her memory centres wouldn't have had the same damage, so she'd be able to keep working through her mortal memories in trance; Astarion, who was turned younger, can't work over them and so they just… end up forgotten.

Also worth noting that Astarion also doesn't trance exclusively, too - he actually sleeps at times. Most surface elves never true sleep unless they're badly injured, ill, or exhausted (drow sleep more). We do see Astarion trancing, but we also see him sleeping a few times - he sleeps and has a nightmare in his Origin run, and he's sleeping during that scene with a Dark Urge who's romanced him. If he can't access his past lives or mortal life when he trances, then literally all he has access to is… his life under Cazador's rule. Dreaming might be weird and scary and uncomfortable and risky, but it's also a possible escape from not reliving two centuries of shit.

There isn't really anything to confirm one way or another in-game, but I did wonder why Astarion doesn't remember his mortal life, and Dalyria appears to do so. Astarion was young for an elf when he was turned, so I wonder if that could be the reason why, interrupting that memory formation development.

(Side note: I do consider Astarion to have been an adult when he was turned in almost all ways, including physically, mentally, and in Faerûnian society. He just wouldn't have been considered an adult when he was turned in elven culture, due to not having undergone Drawing of the Veil. He was a Baldurian elf, considred to have the rights and responsibilities of any other adult. If he had been raised in, say, Evereska, that'd be another matter entirely, but Baldur's Gate is mixed, and majority human. A great analogy I saw once is that Drawing of the Veil is analogous to having your b'nai mitzvah - of course a thirteen-year-old isn't an adult in broader society, but within the community, a b'nai mitzvah is expected to be held accountable for their actions, know Jewish law, participate in things like fasting for Yom Kippur, count towards minyan, etc. It's a specific cultural standpoint of maturity, even if it's not a broader societal standpoint; with the theory above, it would also have a biological component with memory formation, similar to how b'nai mitzvah most often coincides with puberty. Anyway, even without Drawing of the Veil, 39 is still painfully, tragically young for someone that could have potentially lived to 750.)

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: A year has passed since Hannah and Beth's disappearance after the prank and Josh has invited everyone back to the lodge to relive old memories. But when you and Mike take a detour to the cabin, the night spirals into a nightmare beyond anything you imagined. Now, you're thrust into a desperate fight for survival as a vengeful Wendigo prowls the mountain, hungry for flesh and revenge.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Takes place during the events of the game. Mike and Emily/Jess are not together in this. No use of Y/N. Mike and the reader are now together. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex. More plot than porn. Lots of characters deaths, some more explicit but nothing too graphic. Happy ending?

Part 2 of 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔡𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥. The chapters that i focused on are chapter 1-3-4-7-8-10 to anyone interested <3. When you see long spaces it means that we are moving to the next chapter. I hope nothing is too confusing, i tried my best.

Words count: 12000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

The sky is tinged with fading sunlight, casting a warm glow over the snow-covered mountains.

The place is quieter than usual. With just you, Mike and Ashley here so far, it feels almost peaceful.

Josh is nowhere to be seen, likely off searching for a way to enter the lodge, and Mike is beside you, his arm wrapped lazily around your waist as he takes a look at the place.

You're leaning on one of the woody rail nearby, hand playing with the snow there.

"You’re excited to see Chris again?" You asked Ashley quietly, leaning against Mike and feeling a warmth settle in your chest at the sight of her expression.

She looks up from her phone and a slight blush spreads across her cheeks "Well... he's always excited to be here, right? I mean, we're all friends."

"That's why you've checked your phone about a hundred times in the last ten minutes?"

She bites her lip, a flustered laugh escaping her as she glances away. "I was just... you know, checking the time, that's all."

"Of course," you reply, letting your voice carry the full weight of your teasing. "You two would be great together, though. You know that?"

"Thanks," she murmurs, glancing up at you with a look of gratitude before looking down at her phone.

You feel Mike shift beside you, and his hand finds yours, his fingers intertwined with yours in a gentle, familiar way that sends a pleasant warmth up your arm.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers something just for you to hear. "What do you say, handsome?" he murmurs. "Think we could sneak off for a bit? Just you, me, and a cozy little spot out back?" His hand drifts lower behind your back to playfully squeeze your butt. "I know a lot of ways to warm you up. Want to experience them yourself?"

You snort, rolling your eyes as a flush creeps up your cheeks. "I'm not doing that out here in the cold. You'll have to wait."

"You're worth waiting for," he grumbles, flashing that grin again to you.

"I'm going to check if Sam and Chris are here yet," you say, glancing up at him and kissing his lips quickly . "Be back soon."

Mike raises a hand in a lazy wave as he watched you walking away. "I'll be here, waiting patiently... or impatiently, whatever comes first."

You've started to run down the path for fun, the snow crunching beneath your boots. Memories of your year with Mike drift through your mind, one after another. The excitement and nervousness of your first date, that late-night drive to a quiet lookout. The countless messages he'd send daily, even when he was busy, letting you know he was thinking about you or the way he looks at you like you're the only person who matters. The cold seems to fade, replaced by a warmth that fills you from head to toe.

The anniversary of those memories is just around the corner, and the thought of spending it with him brings a grin to your face.

Soon enough, you see two familiar faces behind a closed door. You rushed there in time and pressed the button to open it.

Sam's face lights up as she pulls you into a tight hug. "It's been ages! How's it been?” she says, her voice full of genuine happiness.

You chuckle, patting her shoulder as you step back. "Good! Life's good. And you? How's everything been?"

She shrugs, a wry smile on her face. "Nothing that exciting to know. I hope everything will go well this weekend" her face shifted for a second as she glanced back at the lodge far ahead.

Chris steps forward, his smile wide as he gives you a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Hey, man. Glad you could make it. I saw all the stories and posts Mike put on his socials. Someone gave you a little push in the right direction, eh?"

You nod, feeling a smile spread across your face. "Yeah, we are. He's... well, he's pretty amazing. Guess he hasn’t figured out how weird I am yet. Finger crossed for another year of him tolerating me"

Chris laughed loudly together with you. "Damn, look at that! I knew my matchmaking skills were top-notch." He gestures to himself with a mock bow. Sam stifles a laugh, giving you a knowing smile.

"Oh yeah, because you totally did all the work," she teases, nudging him with her elbow.

You can't help the fondness that fills you as you open your arms and pull both of them into a spontaneous group hug. "Missed my besties," you say, squeezing them both.

Chris groans playfully, though he leans in, and Sam laughs, wrapping her arms around you, warmth flooding through the three of you.

Sam pulls back a little, looking up at you with a thoughtful smile. "So, wanna do some hiking trip this weekend? Or are you too busy with... boyfriend things?"

You laugh, nodding eagerly. "Of course, I'll make time for it. Want to add some climbing as well?" You glance over at Chris, adding with a grin, "I think Ashley's been looking forward to seeing you, too”

Chris freezes, his face paling slightly as he stares at you with wide eyes. "Wait, what did you tell her?"

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What do you mean? I just mentioned a few things. Gave her a heads-up that you were excited to see her."

Sam bites back a laugh, watching Chris squirm with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. "Relax, Chris. It's not like she doesn't already know. You're kind of obvious, you know?"

Chris groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is going to be a nightmare," he mutters, but there's a small, almost shy smile on his face, like he's secretly looking forward to it.

The three of you head back up toward the lodge, chatting and catching up as you walk, the snow crunching underfoot as the familiar outline of the building comes into view.

You see Mike leaning against the wall. His eyes light up when he sees you and he pushes off the wall, making his way over.

“You made me wait way too long” he teases, slipping an arm around your waist as he pulls you close.

You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. "Please. You'd have followed me down if I took any longer."

"Damn right I would have," he replies, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. "Can't let my favorite guy get too far out of sight."

All four of you catch up on everything you missed out on each others in this days.

Josh, fighting with the frozen handle, calls Chris over for some help. Chris nods toward him and you went to follow to help and get the chance to talk with Josh after all this time

The decision you made a year ago, involving Hannah, still haunted you. It only grew worse with each passing day after her and Beth’s disappearance. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with him without the crushing weight of guilt for what had happened to his sisters.

He doesn't look up right away, his shoulders tense, jaw set. For a moment, he's just staring at the door, like he's somewhere far away. Finally, he turns, his face relaxing into a grin.

Chris, concern evident in his voice, asks, "You doing okay?"

Josh nods, though there's a hesitation there, something unspoken. "Yeah. Just past it now, you know? Ready for a weekend with my friends. Let's make it memorable."

Josh then turns to look at you with an unexpected question, almost casually asking, "Let’s say you’re in a life-or-death situation. Who do you save? The person you’ve got a crush on or Chris, your best friend?"

The question catches you off guard. Chris blinks, staring at Josh in confusion while you feel your own stomach twist in discomfort. You laugh it off at first but Josh doesn't drop it, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Answer honestly. It would mean reaffirming the loyalty and depth of your friendship, showing that friendship holds a unique importance to you, separate from romantic affection.

Deflect with humor. Joking about the choice would ease the tension. Chris might laugh it off and Josh's curiosity would go unsatisfied. However it would hint that maybe you're avoiding vulnerability.

Answer honestly

You rest a hand on Chris's shoulder, meeting Josh's gaze with a steady look. "I'd save Chris," you say, your voice calm but sincere. "A crush isn't enough to put a friend's life at risk or, you know, my own life. In that case you would cover me up, right?" You winked at Chris at the last part, hoping to ease the tension that Josh brought. Chris's expression shifts, softening, his eyes reflecting a gratitude that goes unspoken. A flicker of recognition passes through his gaze, something understood as he analyzed your words carefully.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"So that means you'd pick me over Mike?" he teases, his voice light and a grin present on his face.

You laugh, nudging him lightly. "That’s a different story! Especially now that I've been together with him for almost a year. If a psycho for some reason forces me to make a choice between you two, I'll probably just throw myself off a cliff or something"

The snow crunched beneath your feet as you followed Mike, your breaths visible in the chill mountain air. Ahead, the small cabin came into view, a hidden little nook away from the lodge where Mike said he wanted to take you to.

On the way there, you came across a small and old looking building where Mike strode over, walking inside through the missing door. You waited, your curiosity piqued as you heard the sounds of him rummaging around.

A moment later, he reappeared, holding a mask, rusty and all black. He slipped it on, the mask completely covering his face.

"C'mere, gimme a kiss" he teased, his voice muffled behind the mask. He leaned forward, the masked face inching closer, but you recoiled, scrunching your nose in mock disgust.

“Mike, that thing probably had more mouths on it than a barstool"

He pauses, considering your words, then yanks it off, wincing in disgust. "Fair point."

He tosses the mask aside and wrapped his arm around you as you continue walking.

An horrible sound echoed from a distance, followed by a scream of pain from an deer. You soon enough spotted one lying off the path breathing heavily, its body twisted at an unnatural angle. A large gash along its neck. You glance at Mike, who steps forward and tries to think of what to do.

Put an End to Its Suffering. The deer's labored breaths shudder through the cold air. He could end it now, spare the creature further pain, the mercy quick and final.

Comfort the Deer. The creature lies there, its body trembling from pain and fear. He could try to soothe it, offer it a few last moments of peace, a kindness amidst the cruelty of the wilderness.

He takes a slow breath, crouching down, his hand reaching out and he makes his choice.

Put an end to it’s suffering

There's a serious look in his eyes as he kneels beside it, placing a steady hand on the deer to calm it. "You, uh... might want to look away."

But you don't. You watch as he tries to do the humane thing and took a step forward to try and help him out but he moves his hands, trying to get a solid grip and with an unexpected crunch, the wound worsens and the deer's head comes off in his hands.

Mike recoils, eyes wide, dropping the head immediately. "Oh, holy-!" he takes a shaky step back, brushing his hands on his jeans with a horrified expression.

You're just as stunned, your own eyes wide as you take in the surreal sight but something rustles nearby and snatch the deer's body, dragging it off into the woods with surprising speed

“Run!" Mike grabs your hand, the fear and adrenaline sending you both flying back toward the chalet. Snow kicks up in clouds beneath your boots as you sprint, your heart pounding with the thrill and terror of whatever that creature was. The wind cuts cold against your face but you barely feel it as you focus on Mike's hand holding yours pulling you forward.

"Don't let go!" he calls, glancing back every few steps to make sure you're right there beside him.

The cabin looms ahead and as soon as you reach the door, he shoves it open, practically pulling you inside before slamming it shut behind you. Both of you stand there, breathing hard, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you process what just happened.

“Maybe it was a bear?” Mike tried to make sense of the situation you experienced.

“I didn’t see or hear a bear, though” there is a drop of sweat already present on your forehead.

“Don’t think about it. Whatever animal it was, it can’t come here inside”

You sank into the couch, the air inside the cabin was carrying a faint scent of cedar and something earthy. You glanced over at Mike who plopped down right next to you, his body pressing close.

He leaned back, casually draping an arm over the back of the couch. His hand found its way to your thigh, his fingers settling there naturally, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"You know," he said, his voice low and filled with a familiar warmth, I may have asked Josh if we could stay here tonight. Just us, in this cozy little love shack." He turned to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint that made your heart skip a beat.

"Didn't expect to be sweating out here with you for saving my life," you replied, a playful tone in your voice.

He let out a soft laugh, his fingers giving a light squeeze on your thigh.“If you think this heat is something, wait until we really turn it up.” he teased back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Something catches his attention and he gets up from the couch. Mike's eyes narrow playfully as he raises his chin in a mock proud stance, grabbing a old rifle from its spot by the wall and lifting it.

"Look. I'd make an amazing hunter, don’t you think?" he boasts, posing with the rifle as if he were an expert marksman. "Picture it: me coming back every day with something new for you. Deer, elk, maybe even a bear if I'm feeling ambitious."

You snicker, crossing your arms as you lean back. "Right. And we’ll celebrate the collection by starting with the head of that deer with something written on it like: 'Local Hero Mike Munroe terrorized by Bambi’"

"Oh, you're hilarious," he mutters, setting the rifle aside as he strides over to you. "Keep that up and see what it gets you." He tossed his jacket aside as he felt the heat from the run catching up to him, remaining in a simple white tank top despite the weather outside.

"Oh, really?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow as you edge off the couch to toss your jacket on the table.

“If you're gonna make fun of me, you'd better be ready to back it up."

Before you knew it, he was lunging toward you, and you darted off, laughing as you escaped successfully around the other side of the couch, watching as he straightened up.

He raises an eyebrow, moving a few steps closer, his gaze playful but intense. He tilts his head, letting his gaze drift over you in a way that makes you feel hot inside. "Are you ready to lose?"

He lunges forward, his movements quick, almost catching you by surprise again, but you dart around him in time, laughing as you stay just out of reach.

Mike lets out a mock growl, his eyes narrowing as he starts to close the distance between you. "you're only making it worse for yourself." he says, his voice a soft, teasing murmur as he edges closer, arms wide open to catch any possible attempts you could make to slip away.

"How's that?" you challenge, keeping your distance as you hide behind the other side of the couch.

"Because when I catch you, it's going to be twice as sweet." and he lets out a playful growl, quickening his pace as he closes the distance between you and with a sudden burst of speed, he leapt over the couch, landing just in front of you. His hands wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

He leaned forward, one of his arm slipped underneath your knees and you were playfully hitting him on the shoulder to break free.

With a grunt, he managed to lift you up bridal style and dropped you on the couch.

Soon he pulled himself on top of you, hovering over your body completely, his weight keeping you trapped underneath him.

"Caught you," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you, his expression both triumphant and adoring.

"Alright, alright, you won," you whispered, feeling the heat rise in your face. But he didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his hold, tilting his head as his gaze softened, his fingers tracing slow, gentle patterns at your waist.

"Couldn't have asked for a better catch," he asked, his voice a low, teasing drawl. He leaned in, his lips brushing just barely against yours. Words got caught in your throat as he closed the distance, his mouth pressing firmly against yours, deep and insistent.

His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, a kind of hunger in the way he holds you close, like he's savoring every second.

You respond, your hands slipping around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Mike's hands slipped under your shirt, his touch firm as he dragged it over your head and tossed it aside.

He wasted no time, his lips returning to yours with fervor, his tongue pressed against yours, demanding and eager to get a taste.

His hands moved lower, undoing the button of your pants with practiced ease, and before you knew it, you were standing half-naked in front of him, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

His hands roaming over your skin, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. His body pressing against yours as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

His fingers worked at your waistband, pulling your pants down in one swift motion before he settled between your legs.

"You're so damn perfect," Mike growled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. His light beard scraped tantalizingly against your flesh with every heated kiss. His lips moved with a possessive urgency, exploring your neck, trailing down with his hands.

You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach. Mike's hunger only fueled at the sight of you like this and when he finally reached between your legs, your body arched off the bed, desperate for more

Mike's own breath was unsteady, mingling with yours in a symphony of shared pleasure. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

He wraps his hand around you firmly now, stroking you slowly as he kisses you deep. The vibration of your moans against his mouth made everything ten times better for him.

He kept stroking you and you curl into him.

Mike positioned himself in between your thighs, cock of his own throbbing through his jeans, rubbing his hardening self against your own with no remorse or embarrassment.

His hips buck up just slightly, seeking friction. You buckle his belt to pull him out of his jeans and boxers and he reaches down to help you. His mouth found yours again as his hands wrap around the both of you, rutting his leaking cock against yours, fucking into his palm.

You follow suit, hips rolling forward as you chase your high. He smirks against your lips before pulling away to look at you. "Ready?" he rasped, his voice thick with need.

"Fuck! Yes pleas-" You struggle to find the words, too lost in the pleasure of his dick against yours.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with a possessive hunger that made your knees weak.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you found yourself drowning in a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel more of him.

He slid his hand between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your entrance. You could feel the anticipation building as he teased you, his touch deliberate and calculated.

Mike's fingers slid inside you slowly, stretching you open as he worked you with a steady rhythm that had you trembling beneath him.

His free hand gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place as he picked up the pace, his fingers moving in and out of you with expert precision, curling at the right spot that made you arche your back. You could feel the heat building in your core, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust of his hand.

"So perfect," Mike murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You could barely think, your mind clouded with pleasure as he continued his relentless pace.

Just as you were on the verge to fall apart, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

The head of his length is now nudging at your entrance. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he pushes forward, sinking into you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely.

Mike groans softly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him as he stretched you open.

Mike groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself to the hilt, his body trembling with restraint.

"Fuck" his voice a low growl as he began to move, setting a slow, agonizing pace that had you panting for breath.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he thrust into you, his movements steady and deliberate. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as he pushed you closer to the edge.

The small room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing, the wet slap of skin against skin as Mike drove into you, his pace relentless. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you, the pleasure building until it was almost unbearable.

"Mike," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm close."

He groaned in response, his pace quickening as he chased his own release, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing with the effort. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you harder, faster.

You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your body trembling with the need to let go. And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, pleasure washing over you in waves as you came apart beneath him.

Mike followed soon after, his body tensing as he buried himself inside you one last time, his release spilling into you as he grunted against your lips.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room the ragged gasps of your breath. Mike's body was warm and solid against yours, his hands still gripping your hips as he slowly came down from his high.

Finally, he pulled and collapsed on top of you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

Minutes passed and were spent with him relaxing against you. Each quick, playful kiss he placed on your neck ignited a flutter of joy in your heart. With every stroke of your fingers through his hair, he let out a contented sigh, leaning into your touch.

The quiet piece is shattered suddenly by the loud sound of glass breaking. Both you and Mike freeze, your smiles fading as the unexpected noise jolts you back to reality.

"What the hell was that?" Mike mutters, already standing up and moving toward the sound with a look of concern etched on his face.

You pulled your shirt back on and stood up, heart pounding as you followed him a few steps. "Stay here," he says, glancing back at you.

You hesitate, a twinge of anxiety creeping in but nod as he heads toward the other room where the sound came from. You slipped back on your jeans while moving over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer out into the night, searching for anything unusual.

Something on the snow caught your attention just outside, right here in front of the stairs.

Lean closer to Investigate. Curiosity gnaws at you, an urge to move and see for yourself. It’s right here outside. One quick look can't hurt... right?

Inform Mike about it. It hopefully won’t disappear soon despite the snow falling rapidly. You can go and inform Mike about it along with also seeing what happened with the window.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. And in a single, decisive moment, you make your choice.

Lean closer to investigate

A faint shimmer appear, the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Curiosity gets the better of you and without a second thought, you lean closer to the window. Your warm breath fog the window but not enough for it to be at the same height of your eyes.

Footsteps oddly spaced stretch from the edge of the woods toward the chalet. There's something... wrong about them, something that makes your skin crawl. The tracks don't look human, they're wider, deeper, and almost clawed. They're fresh, not yet filled in by drifting snow and tinted in red crimson blood. Whatever made these prints is close. Too close.

You turned around when you heard Mike coming back, his voice confused as he told you about something that broke the window.

You barely had time to inform him about what you saw before the glass behind you shatters and claws dig into your shoulders as you're pulled back, helpless against the force dragging you

You soon made contact with the snow as you got dragged further and further away from the cabin and into the woods.

The thing holding you is relentless, hauling you over snow and rock with an unnatural speed that makes your head spin. Fear crashes over you like a wave, cold and consuming. You thrash, trying to free yourself, your hands scraping against hard, rough skin.

You hear from not far the frantic shouts of a voice you know well. Mike. He's chasing after you, calling your name in a voice filled with fear and desperation but you can barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears.

All you can think about is survival.

Desperately, you claw at the ground, fingers scrambling for anything to slow down the creature dragging you deeper into the trees. Your hand brushes against something solid, a branch half-buried in the snow. Without a second thought, you grab it and slam it upward, striking the creature’s arm.

The creature hisses, a guttural, furious sound that shakes your bones, but its grip loosens just enough for you to tear yourself free, stumbling forward and landing face-first in the snow. Cold bites at your skin as you scramble to your feet, legs already aching from the strain, but you can't afford to stop.

Not now.

Your injuries slow you down. Blood seeps from your arms and legs, leaving a trail as you push through the forest. Every breath feels like fire in your chest, your vision blurring around the edges as you force yourself forward, stumbling over rocks and roots.

In the distance, Mike's voice reaches you, a lifeline you cling to even as fear claws at your heart. You risk a glance back, just a fleeting second, and see him from afar, rifle in hand, his eyes wide with terror as he takes in your disheveled form and the blood marking your path.

He shouts your name desperately, his voice is raw, terrified and it propels you forward with renewed urgency.

But before you can reach him, the creature catches your ankle, sending you sprawling to the ground once more. Pain jolts through you as you hit the frozen earth, your vision going dark for a split second as it kept moving forward deep inside the woods and far away from Mike until you could no longer see him.

It stopped abruptly, it’s clawed hand slashes through the air, inches from your face, before a bright flash of light erupts behind it.

A burst of flame cuts through the night, illuminating the creature's twisted form as it recoils with a screech, backing away from the intense heat. You blink, disoriented, your eyes adjusting to the sudden glow. A figure stands a few feet away, wielding a flamethrower with a practiced ease, his face covered by a mask and big glasses for the snow.

"Get up," he barks, the command cold and unyielding. "Follow me, now."

Still dazed and struggling to catch your breath, you hesitate and the stranger's moves closer, the flames licking dangerously close as he gestures again with the flamethrower.

"I said, move."

With no other option, you stagger to your feet, following him as he leads you through the trees. Blood drips down your leg, each step a painful reminder of your injuries, but fear propels you onward. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to see Mike but to not success.

From a distance, Mike watches, heart pounding as he tracks your struggling form, his pulse surging with terror and fury.

He sees you stumbling through the snow, your face pale and stricken, blood streaking your clothes and painting the ground beneath you. His stomach twists painfully. His hands tighten on the old rifle he'd grabbed from the cabin, fingers white with the grip.

His eyes flick to the figure standing near you, holding a flamethrower. Mike can't make out the man's face due to the position but he's close enough to see the way the stranger's hand grips your arm, steering you with a harsh, unyielding authority.

A surge of rage floods Mike's chest into something cold and vengeful.

He shouts, his voice cracking with a desperation he can't hide but you’re too far away for him to hear. He raises the rifle, leveling it with a single, fierce purpose. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, drowning out the sounds around him. All he can think about is protecting you, keeping you safe, stopping this man who had the nerve to lay his hands on you.

He pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens.

Mike stares at the gun, disbelief and frustration crashing over him in a sickening wave. His hands tremble as he frantically checks the rifle, but it's no use. The damn thing's too old, a relic that was never meant for anything more than decoration.

“Jammed up piece of shit” he muttered to himself as he tossed the gun on the ground but not before taking the sight off.

His fists clench, anger and self-loathing simmering just beneath the surface. If he'd only been quicker. If he'd only gotten to you sooner.

You stumble over your own feet as the stranger pulls you forward, his hand gripping your arm with an iron strength that doesn't allow for argument or hesitation. Your head throbs and a nauseating chill seeps into your bones

He's silent, his face obscured by the mask he is wearing. You're not sure whether you should be more afraid of the creature that attacked you or of this stranger.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask, your voice rough, scraping against the quiet. Panic flutters in your chest, but you keep it in check, trying to sound braver than you feel.

The stranger’s grip tightens, his voice low and cold as he finally speaks. "To the sanatorium. Only place you'll be safe."

Safe? You can't help the bitter laugh that escapes, but it sounds foreign even to your ears, tinged with the underlying fear that pulses with each beat of your heart. "And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

He doesn't respond, his silence as solid as stone. You're struck by the thought that maybe he doesn't care if you trust him at all. To him, you're just another problem to be dealt with, whether you like it or not.

You feel the blood trickling down your calf, soaking into your jeans, and you know that each step leaves a fresh trail in the snow, a trail that anything or anyone could follow.

The old building looks even more haunting up close, its windows shattered, its walls covered in a thick layer of ice and grime.

Your footsteps falter as you take it in, the realization sinking in that this terrifying ruin is where he intends to take you.

The stranger seems to sense your hesitation, and he stops, turning to you with a hard, assessing gaze. "You don't understand what's out there," he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

You square your shoulders, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you can muster. "Then tell me," you say, the words steady but quiet, a demand laced with a plea. "Tell me what's going on. What was that thing?"

He hesitates, just for a moment, deciding how much to reveal. Then, with a deep sigh, he gestures toward the sanatorium. "Inside. We're not talking out here."

You follow him through the heavy, rusted doors, wincing as they creak open, the sound echoing through the hollow halls. Inside, the air is thick with dust and stale.

The stranger leads you deeper into the building, down a winding corridor lined with cracked tiles and peeling paint. He finally stops in what might have once been a treatment room, with a few battered chairs and a broken table shoved to the side.

Two wolves appear from the dark. A black one growling at you and a white one tilting his head as he looked at you curiously.

You leaned back against the cold, damp wall, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you as the adrenaline began to fade.

With a quiet hiss of pain, you tore off a strip of fabric from your shirt, pressing it against a particularly deep scratch along your arm. The fabric was thin and already damp from the cold air, but it was all you had, and the pressure seemed to slow the bleeding. You shifted your weight, your hand shaking as you worked to tie the makeshift bandage in place, gritting your teeth against the sting that flared with each movement.

The stranger knelt down, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached into a pocket, pulling out a small roll of cloth. He hesitated, his masked face turning to you, as if silently asking for permission. You gave a slight nod, and he moved closer, crouching down to your level.

His gloved hands were surprisingly gentle as he pressed the cloth over a cut on your leg, inspecting the wound beneath. He muttered something under his breath. "Not too deep. You must be tough one to make it out here in one piece."

You managed a weak smile, though it barely masked the pain etched into your features. "I... I didn't have much of a choice. I just kept running."

"Smart," he murmured, adjusting the bandage on your arm, his fingers surprisingly steady and precise despite the thickness of his gloves. "It was all you could do in that situation. If you ever face them again, don’t move. It’s like toads. Sight is based on changes of movement in their field of vision"

He pulls out a small photograph from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. You take it, fingers trembling as you examine the image. The man in the picture is a horror to behold. His face gaunt, his cheek on the left a gruesome patchwork of scarred, missing flesh, exposing jagged teeth beneath. His eyes are milky, blind and vacant, but there's something hauntingly human about his expression, a remnant of a person buried beneath the monstrous features, a true nightmare made flesh.

You swallow hard, slipping the photo into your pocket as the man turns around to throw a bone at the wolves.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"What you saw out there wasn't just any creature. It was once human, before the curse took it."

You blink, your mind scrambling to process the words. "A... curse?"

He nods, his gaze hardening. "Wendigos. Spirits that inhabit the bodies of those who commit cannibalism. It turns them into monsters, driven by the need to feed. And once it's taken hold, there's no going back."

"So... the thing that attacked me..." you start, your voice barely a whisper, "it used to be human?"

The Stranger's gaze softens, just for a moment, and he sighs. "The Wendigo remembers parts of what it once was. People, faces, moments. Things it hated. Things it wanted. All now mixed with hunger”

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps reaches your ears, distinct and growing louder with each step. You freeze, the pulse of fear quickening in your veins. The man hears it too, his eyes narrow, his body going rigid as he listens. Without a word, he tightens his grip on your arm, helping you stand up and dragging you with him as he pulls you away from the main hallway

"Don't make a sound," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper, harsh and commanding.

You see a silhouette emerging around the corner and he starts to pull you backward, leading you out of the room, away from the figure.

The stranger led you down twisting passages until you reached an area near the entrance to the mines. He turned to you, his grip finally loosening, and gestured to a dark alcove.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice low but firm. "I'll check to make sure the rest of your friends aren't out there. When it's clear, I'll take you back to the lodge."

You nodded, exhaustion overtaking you as you sank down against the wall, your mind spinning with worry for Mike. You touched your cheek again, feeling the sting of the cut, your pulse still racing as you waited, alone, the cold stone walls pressing in around you.

Back inside, Mike watches as your figure disappears around the corner, led away by that dark, looming man and a fury unlike anything he's ever felt boils up inside him. He takes a step forward, desperate to follow, but his path is blocked by a heavy iron door separating him from the main lobby, the missing key preventing him from giving chase. He shakes the door in frustration, feeling the cold metal dig into his palms as he rattles it, cursing under his breath.

"Dammit," he mutters, his voice low and seething. The image of your face twisted in confusion and fear is burned into his mind and that only makes the anger roiling within him burn hotter. He barely notices his surroundings as he slams his fist against the door, once, twice, the sharp pain a poor substitute for the wrath and worry he feels building inside him. That bastard had hurt you, taken you, and he has no idea where or why.

The night air bites at their faces, unforgiving and cold as Mike and Chris drag Josh through the snow. Mike's hand is iron around Josh's collar, yanking him forward with an urgency that leaves no room for argument, while Chris trails close behind.

The desperation in his eyes is like a fire that's threatening to spiral out of control.

"Mike," Chris starts, his voice quiet, hesitant as he watches his friend's clenched jaw, the tightness in his grip on Josh's shirt. "Maybe we should just take a second. Think this through."

"Talk?" Mike spat, his voice a low growl. "We've been talking, Chris. And he's not saying anything because he's lying." He looked back at Josh, his gaze cold, unforgiving. "He did this. He knows where he is and he's just sitting here, laughing in our faces."

All he can see is the image of you being dragged away, hurt and vulnerable, every second stretching like an eternity, his mind racing with fears that sink into his chest like stones.

They reach the shed. Mike throws the door open and shoves Josh inside, not giving him even a moment to catch his breath.

Josh stumbles as he's shoved against a wooden support beam, his wrists still bound. Both Chris and Mike stepped forward to tie down and immobilize Josh completely against the wooden beam.

"Where is he, Josh?" he demands, each word taut with barely contained fury. "He's out there, alone and injured because of your sick little games!" Mike's voice rises, his anger spilling over as he steps even closer, his face inches from Josh's.

Chris stands to the side, a knot of worry tightening in his gut. The thought of you being hurt, or worse, out there because of this was almost too much to process. A wave of guilt rushes over him, crashing against the worry and confusion roiling inside him. He remembers every joke, every moment you'd shared and the thought that Josh might be responsible for taking that away, it's enough to make his stomach turn.

"Josh, please," Chris says, his voice soft, pleading, as he takes a step forward. "If you know anything, just tell us. We're not... we're not doing this for fun, okay? He’s a friend. Just... please."

There's a flicker of something dark in Josh's eyes, something that only Chris seems to understand. A decision, a choice that still lingers in his memory. Josh seems to notice, his smirk growing wider, almost triumphant.

"You let him talk you into thinking you were important, that you mattered, and then you turned on the only one who would've stuck with you." Josh's voice is soft, insidious, as he watches Chris's face pale. "All it took was a few words, and look at the mess you made with her. But sure, keep believing that he's your friend. Keep thinking he's anything more than just... clever with his words."

Chris’s expression stricken, the weight of the accusation settling heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the unresolved guilt he's tried to keep buried.

Josh looks between the two of them, an air of smugness creeping into his expression. "What, Mike, you think he's anything special? Can you realize that he’s not really the angel you think he is?" he mutters, a sneer curling at the edge of his mouth.

Mike feels his hands tremble with the effort to hold himself back, to keep from lunging at Josh right then and there.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," Mike hisses, his voice rough, a dangerous edge in his tone. "You don't get to say anything about him. Not after what you did."

Josh just laughs, a hollow, bitter sound that echoes through the empty shed. "You've got it bad, don't you? You'd do anything to convince yourself he's worth the risk."

Mike's fist slams into the wood beside Josh's head, sending a shower of splinters scattering to the ground. "You don't know a damn thing about what he means to me," Mike growls, his voice low, laced with a ferocity that makes Chris's breath catch. "Not a damn thing."

For the first time, there's a flicker of confusion in Josh's eyes, a hesitation that betrays the anger, the defiance in his expression.

“No... no... I don-. I’ve got a problem, Mike... I don’t remember hurting him...”

“Christ” Mike mutters to himself, looking around in disbelief at seeing how fucked up Josh’s mental health was.

“I mean, I feel like I would’ve remembered killing him, right?” Josh continued, his tone shifting from confusion to something Mike didn’t quite like. “If you were with him for a year, he must’ve had one hell of a body.” He flashed a smug grin at Mike.

Mike pulled out the gun from his jacket and pointed it at Josh, shouting with a desperation that borders on madness. “If you don't shut your fucking mouth, I swear I'll-"

"Mike!" Chris's voice trembles as he steps forward, reaching for his friend, fear evident in his eyes. "Don't do this. He's just messing with you. It's what he wants."

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the air thick with tension until Mike finally lowered the gun. He never wavered his gaze from Josh as he spoke to Chris.

“Go back to the lodge with the others” Mike told Chris as he glared down at him, his voice barely controlled, barely holding back the rage that's tearing him apart. "You sure you’re okay?" Chris whispers and Mike nods. “they’ll want to know everything’s fine up there”.

“You’re right. See you in the morning” Chris muttered, sparing a last glance at Josh before slowly making his way back to the lodge.

The lodge has grown quieter than ever, the weight of fear and exhaustion hanging heavy in the air. The night presses on, feeling endless. A loud scream echoed inside the woods and Emily soon bursts into the lodge, her face pale, her breaths coming fast and shallow. Snow clings to her hair and jacket and her eyes are wide, glazed over with a fear none of them have seen before. She's shaking, her body visibly trembling as she stands there, looking as though she's barely keeping herself upright.

"Emily?" Sam is the first to speak, her voice soft but filled with worry as her and Ashley carried her to the couch. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Emily takes a shaky breath, swallowing hard as she nods, though her expression is anything but calm. "A monster- it’s a monster!" she stammers, glancing around, her eyes darting from face to face.

“Em are you okay?” Chris asks, concerned but also curious about what happened to her.

"I’m fine. I just need to calm down. It was moving so damn fast- i just needed to get away!"

“Em, Em. You can relax... Josh was messing with us but we-“

“You’re not listening to me!” Emily swallows again, her hands shaking as she raises one to her mouth, pressing her knuckles to her lips in a nervous gesture.

The group falls silent, their faces reflecting a mix of shock and unease as Emily explains to everyone how she called for help from the tower and she found herself in the mines after it collapsed.

"I found Beth’s dead body" she whispers, her voice barely audible, but her words carry through the room, settling like stones in their chests. "I didn’t find Hannah but I found some of her things there. It seemed she was just there starving to death while we were all searching for her up here"

“Em! You made it” Mike entered the lodge breathless from running.

She got up from the couch and immediately hugged him.

“What about Matt?”

“We’re trying to figure it out...”

“And there is also this “monster” that was chasing her-“

A loud knock at the door made everyone turn. A fresh wave of panic settled over them. Mike's hand instinctively goes to his side, reaching for the gun, but he stops short, his face tense as he glances around.

"I'll check it out," he mutters, glancing at Chris, who nods, his expression equally wary.

They move toward the door cautiously, every step filled with tension. He opens the door slowly, his hand poised on the gun and there, framed in the doorway, stands a stranger, his face full in view this time. He moves with a speed that catches Mike off guard, wrenching the gun from his grip in one smooth motion.

"Easy," the stranger says, his voice a low rumble, as he lowers the gun, his gaze intense but steady. He glances over his shoulder, nodding toward the darkness outside. "It's safe. You can come in."

There's a moment of silence and then, slowly, you step into the doorway. You're limping just slightly, your clothes torn and dirty and covered up by an old jacket similar to Mike’s one, your face bruised but alive.

Mike's heart stops, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he stares at you. He can barely move, his eyes wide, unable to process what he’s seeing. For a split second, he thought that it was a dream until you take that hesitant step forward and reality crashes in. He whispers your name, his voice barely audible, filled with a raw, aching vulnerability he can't hide. And then he's there, crossing the distance in an instant, wrapping you in his arms, holding you tightly.

The warmth of his embrace floods over you, the steady weight of his arms filling you with a sense of safety you haven't felt since the night began. You return the hug, exhaustion seeping into every muscle, and you let yourself sink into his warmth, closing your eyes as you let the moment wash over you.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Mike's voice cracks, and he buries his face in your shoulder, his breath shaky as he struggles to hold back the emotion.

You reach up, brushing your hand against his cheek, and manage a tired smile. "I made it back." you whisper, your voice soft but steady.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze scanning every bruise, every cut, his fingers brushing gently over each mark. "Are you hurt? What... what did this do to you?" His voice is laced with worry, a protectiveness that's fierce, almost desperate, as he holds your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek

You reached up to cover his hand with yours. "I'm okay, don’t worry" you murmur, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Chris steps forward then, his eyes wide, relief flooding his expression as he pulls you into a hug, his grip firm, steady. "Man, you scared the hell out of us," he says, his voice thick with emotion. He pulls back, a grin breaking through the tension as he adds, "Don't ever do that again, okay?"

A small laugh escapes you, and the tension in the room begins to ease. You all follow the stranger and get to where the girls were waiting.

"Thank god you’re okay." Sam says softly, a warm smile on her face as she carefully hugged you to avoid any further pain.

Emily, still recovering from the shock she went through, gave a curt nod in your direction. "You look like you have been through hell" she mutters.

You manage a small smile, grateful for each familiar face.

The man clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him, his gaze steady, a hard look in his eyes. "I don't have time for reunions," he says, his tone firm but not unkind. "There's something you need to understand."

Everyone falls silent, their faces tense as they turn to him. Mike leads you to the couch, pulling you down beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close as you leaned against him.

The stranger begins to speak, his voice low and grave as he explains the truth of the mountain, the curse that turned the ones who commit cannibalism into unrecognizable monsters. His words hang heavy in the air, each one sinking into them like stones.

Mike's hand tightens on your waist, his gaze dark as he listens, his mind racing with the reality of what you must have endured all alone. The knowledge that you survived this and made it back to him fills him with a mixture of pride and fear that he can't shake.

When the stranger finishes, silence falls over the room, the weight of his warning settling into every corner, pressing down on each of them. Chris is the first to break the silence, his face set, determined. "So... what do we do?"

The stranger's gaze sharpens, his expression hard, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "You’re going to need to find somewhere safe to hide"

“For how long?”

“Until dawn”

They all nod, a shared understanding passing between them.

“Guys... i ran out and left Josh when i heard screaming” Mike told everyone, guilt spreading on his face at realizing what could happen to Josh.

“Your friend is already dead” the stranger spoke with unwavering certainty.

Chris steps forward. “No, no he can’t be. We were just with him a moment ago”

“A lot can happen quickly on this mountain”

"I'm gonna get him," Chris said with determination. "I’m supposed to be his best friend and i let him down"

“Then i’ll go with you” the man said, offering Chris a rifle to fight if needed.

Chris takes a deep breath, steeling himself and holding the rifle tightly to his chest as he stares at the door, the stranger next to him and ready to leave to rescue Josh. Just as he's about to turn away, he notices you and Mike standing together. Mike's arm is still around you but you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to murmur something to him. His face softens and he reluctantly lets you go, his hand lingering for a moment longer.

You walk toward Chris, your movements slow but steady, the worst of your injuries seeming to fade, the pain dulled and it gives you a chance to run again thanks to the man’s help. You hold up a hand for a high five, grinning just a bit. "Be careful out there, alright?"

Chris smirks, the familiar glint of humor in his eyes. "Hey, you know me. Careful my middle name." He claps your hand, his expression softening slightly. "We'll get through this."

Your gaze shifts to the stranger, a silent expression of gratitude in your eyes as you give him a slight nod. He meets your gaze, there's a faint hint of acknowledgment in the way he inclines his head.

Turning back, you move toward Mike. You catch sight of Ashley leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on Chris with a strange, distant expression, something that you never saw on her when together with Chris. You pause, opening your mouth to ask her if she's alright, but she steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder to help you back toward Mike.

You give her a small nod, something unsettled lingering in your mind but you let it go as she guides you back to Mike. You feel his hand slip around your waist again, steady and reassuring, his warmth grounding you as you settle beside him, leaning into his side as he guides you to the basement with the others.

The atmosphere in the basement is heavy with silence, an oppressive weight settling over everyone. You were sitting down on one of the tables there, looking at all the cameras present there together with Sam and Emily. The door creaks open, and Ashley stumbles down, followed closely by Mike. You can see immediately the way his face is drawn, his eyes hollow, a deep sadness etched into every line.

He looks at you, the pain in his gaze made you fear the worst. "Chris... he didn't make it," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath.

You feel the ground shift beneath you, the words sinking in with an ache so sharp it feels physical. Chris, your friend, is gone. Your throat tightens and the reality of the situation claws at you, an emptiness that leaves you hollow.

Ashley stands frozen, her face pale and expressionless. Emily immediately moves to her side, reaching for her hands, while Sam steps forward, her voice soft with sympathy. "Ash... I'm so sorry."

Ashley shakes her head, her jaw clenched as she stares past them, her eyes glassy with shock. "I'm fine," she insists, her voice hollow and distant, "I'm fine."

Sam's voice is soft, cautious as she looks at Mike. "What about the man with the flamethrower? Did... did he make it?"

Mike shakes his head, his voice a low, haunted murmur. "Didn’t see him coming back. He's dead, too."

The walls seem to close in and Mike moves with big steps towards you and hold you tightly, pulling you closer, "I’m so sorry”. His hand moves gently to your back, tracing soothing circles, his fingers trembling slightly.

You find yourself melting into his touch, his hold a balm to the raw pain in your chest.

Mike began searching around the place and on the cameras to look for any possible other escape. Josh had the key for the cable car. The wendigos might have taken him to the sanatorium and he declared he will go there to get them and save him.

All of your friends group around the table to analyze the map left by the man, talking about the mines and the sanatorium.

You’re too deep in thoughts to participate in it. You felt tears ready to spill down from your eyes as you kept thinking about Chris and the man’ deaths.

“Em... Em, what is that?” Ashley's tone of voice was concerning. You looked up in time to see all of your friends slowly backing away from Emily as she kept a hand on her shoulder.

You got down from the table and wiped away the tears on your eyes. Stepping closer but stopping when you noticed blood seeping through her shoulder.

“Ash...” Emily began to talk, her gaze moving towards everyone as she carefully thought about her next words

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god! Oh, no, oh, no!” Ashely was freaking out as her gaze moved back and forth to Mike and Emily.

“It’s nothing. It just- it bit me and-“ Emily tried to explain but Ashley's loud voice interrupted her again.

“It bit you? What bit you?!”

You took another step closer while Ashley grew increasingly agitated with each word.

“The...ah... the wendigo,” Emily stammered, her voice trembling with fear rather than conviction. “It’s nothing, really. It’s not a big deal—it doesn’t hurt anymore, not really.”

Mike takes a step back "Em... if that thing bit you..."

“I know what you’re thinking and i’m fine” she took a step forwards and expanded her hands towards Mike but he backed away, his arm moving in front of you to shield you from her as he stepped away.

“Emily at least let us check it out,” Sam told her quietly, hoping to calm her down.

“Emily... if the wendigo bit you, you could turn into one of those things” Mike told her as he kept his arm in front of you.

“Oh that’s ridiculous” Sam said, her voice rising in frustration as she stepped forward to intervene. But Ashley sharply spoke again, her expression a mix of desperation and impatience.

“He said it was from EATING each other- remember, he said that! It happens if it bites you, you’re gonna turn into one of those things and you’re gonna turn in on us. Oh my god. Oh, my god! OH MY GOD”

Was it really like that? The man told you that it happened if someone committed cannibalism but he never told you about bites or other things like that. Was it just common knowledge and he didn’t told you because it was oblivious?

You took a step forward and felt pain radiating on your shoulder. A whimper of pain was heard through your closed lips and Mike turned around immediately, his arm outstretched in front of you while slowly moving you behind him as he positions himself between you and the perceived threat.

“You can’t be down here with us. You gotta go. You’re putting us ALL in danger” Mike told Emily firmly, no hesitation on his face or voice.

“Like hell I am!” This was the first time you saw Emily this desperate.

“Mike, just cool your head, okay? We don’t know how it works, maybe it’s just a bite” Sam said, her voice steady but edged with concern, though the unease in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced herself.

“What is this? Guys, what are you doing” Emily looked more and more scared the longer she looked around at all of you.

“Door’s right there. I’m letting you doing this voluntarily” Mike spoke firmly at her.

“Oh, no. You’re just doing this to make yourself feel better about sending me to my death because you know there’s a wendigo out there ready to rip me to pieces like it did with-“

“OKAY, OH MY GOD! WILL YOU JUST GO?! GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” Ashley screamed at the top of her lungs, voice full of frustration and terror at this point.

Mike move towards the table and took the gun, pointing it at Emily who immediately backed away in shock.

“Whoa,whoa-whoa- Mike! Calm down!” Sam tried to intervene but Mike pushed her away, his arm pulling you behind him protectively as his other hand kept pointing the gun at Emily.

“You’re gonna shoot me?” Emily crawled on top of the table until her back hit the wall, desperately trying to get away from the situation. “Mike...? Me?”

“This is the safe room, Em. And it’s not safe as long as you’re in it. Not for us!”

“Don- don’t do this!” Her voice broke on the last word, her hands reaching out as if she could somehow stop him.

“I’m really sorry” Mike choked out, his voice trembling with regret, the words barely escaping through a veil of anguish. His hands shook as he gripped the weapon, his heart pounding in his chest as he took a step forward. His finger pressed the revolver’s cylinder, rotating it to prepare the next shot.

Tell Mike Not to Shoot Emily. She's still Emily, still herself... isn't she? The fear is there, yes, but a part of you knows this isn't right.

Support Mike no matter what he chooses. The thought of Emily becoming one of those things, of putting Mike in danger, fills you with a dread so deep it nearly leaves you breathless.

Your heart pounded as memories surged through your mind, vivid and relentless of the wendigo’s claws tearing through your body as it dragged you into the unknown. You remembered the helplessness, the horror, the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

Now, the thought of Mike facing anything remotely close to that horror because of a single hesitation sent fear clawing at your chest. You wanted to believe Emily; she was one of you, someone you'd shared memories with. But what if she did turn? What if Mike's hesitation meant losing him?

Support Mike

You lean closer, your voice soft, trembling, barely a whisper. “I trust you, Mike. Whatever you think is best... I'll stand by you."

A subtle shimmer appears, almost like a faint trick of light, the beat of butterfly wings sending ripples into the unknown.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Your words seemed to reach him, settling into something deep inside. The fear in his eyes hardened into something resolute. He was reminded of the bruises on your face, the cuts on your skin, the exhaustion in your frame as you spoke softly at him. You were still recovering, still weak from the encounter. In the state you were in, you wouldn't be able to defend yourself if she turned into one of those things.

He can't let her be a threat.

The shot rings out, sharp and final, echoing through the room. The bullet made contact with her left eye, ending her life on spot and smearing the wall behind her with blood.

“Oh, shit... oh, shit... oh, shit. What the fuck did i just do?” Mike lets the gun fall from his hands, his expression haunted, his eyes flicking to you.

You reach for his hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re safe... you guys are safe. I had to do it” he looked around, searching for reassurance, for some sign that he did the right thing.

Ashley backs away, shocked and terrified to look at him despite being the one ready from the start to make Emily leave the room.

“I’m going to get the keys from Josh. I’ll... I'll come back here.” He began to back away “you guys are safe... it’s over...” he let go of your hand, looking at you desperately one last time before turning away.

You watched him go with a worried expression. Sam came close to you, her hand resting on your shoulder as she looked with you where Mike went to get what was needed to let you escape this nightmare of a place.

From behind, you heard Ashley panicking again as she mumbled under her breath. She was sitting on the opposite side of a table reading what you assumed to be the diary of the stranger

“What? What does it say?” You and Sam stepped forward together until you were right next to her.

“It says... well... if it bites you it’s not infectious. It doesn’t do anything”

Sam took the book in her hands, looking briefly at Emily’s dead body and whispering her name softly. A tear about to spill from her eyes.

You peeked over Sam’s shoulder as she read the last page pf the diary. It talked about all the wendigos trapped inside the sanatorium.

Mike was going to fall right into a trap.

“We need to get to Mike” Sam said firmly, tossing the book aside as you and her made your way to Mike.

The dim, echoing tunnels of the mine stretch before you, the air is thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of rust. Mike is beside you, keeping close, his eyes darting around as if searching for any sign of danger, while Sam moves slightly behind you, her flashlight casting shadows that flicker and dance against the rock.

A small lake was blocking your path. The frigid water sending a chill just from looking at it.

"Guess we don't have much of a choice," Sam murmurs, voice tight.

You nod, sharing a glance with Mike, whose gaze is steady but filled with the same dread. Together, you step into the water, the cold biting instantly as it soaks through your clothes. It seeps up your legs, then higher, numbing everything it touches. By the time the water reaches your waist, your muscles are tense, your breaths sharp and shuddering from the sheer chill.

You could help but mutter something about how you were freezing your ass, teeth chattering as you trudge forward and earning a small chuckle from Sam, suffering as well from the extreme low temperature of the water.

A solid surface came ahead and you all got up from there.

Sam spots something on the ground and in the glow of her flashlight, you see a small, battered notebook, its cover dusty and worn but unmistakably familiar. It's Hannah's diary, you recognized her handwriting.

The three of you huddle close, drawn in by the painful intimacy of her words. The cold, the hunger and the maddening isolation as she struggled to survive in the mines with a broken leg. She stayed here for around a month.

“Oh god... it makes sense. I think... Hannah dug up Beth. It was Hannah. Beth died in the fall- so Hannah must have buried her“ Sam pieced everything together”

“God-dammit” Mike muttered in disbelief.

“She would have been starving... she would have been desperate-“

The implication of what it meant twisted your stomach, bringing back flashes of the memory from that night. You feel the cold seep through your skin, but it's not the chill of the mines.

It's the haunting weight of regret.

Mike's voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone gentle. "Hey... you okay?" He's watching you, his gaze filled with concern.

Lie. You could brush it off, tell them it's just the cold getting to you. It would be easy, just a few words to keep the truth hidden, to protect yourself from the shame that threatens to overwhelm you. But the guilt would stay buried, festering, a constant reminder of what you did and chose to keep hidden.

Confess. You could let it out, finally release the burden you've been carrying. Admit that you saw Hannah that night, that you knew about the prank but chose not to warn her. This choice would mean exposing yourself but it might also allow you to find a sense of forgiveness. A chance for honesty and maybe a path toward healing.

The truth gnaws at you, clawing its way to the surface, refusing to stay buried. You can't keep it hidden any longer.

Confess

Taking a shaky breath, you look at Mike and Sam, your voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you. I saw Hannah that night. Right before... everything. She asked me if I knew where Mike was and I didn't tell her about the prank." Your voice cracks, raw with the pain of holding back the truth. "I could've warned her and stopped it. This is all my fault."

The silence stretches as your confession hangs in the cold air. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your chest tightening as the weight of it crashes over you.

Mike's hand tightens on your shoulder and he looks at you with a softness that you didn't expect. "This isn't all on you. I shouldn't have gone along with the prank in the first place." His voice is laced with regret. "If anyone's to blame, it's me."

Sam's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "You made a mistake but we all did. I should have found her faster. I should have insisted more on stopping that prank. None of us were perfect that night."

Her words are like a balm, gentle but unwavering, her empathy wrapping around you as she holds your gaze. The three of you share a moment of quiet solidarity, bound together by the shared regret.

You all continue moving through the mines. Mike's hand brushes against yours as you move inside the water.

"So... you were jealous?" His tone is playful, laced with his usual teasing, as if trying to lighten the atmosphere.

You roll your eyes, feeling the corner of your lips curve upward. "It was like a year ago, alright? And yeah, I was jealous."

Mike grins, his eyebrow quivering as he nudges you gently. "And how long were you crushing on me?" He leans a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious murmur.

Sam, walking just behind, groans in mock exasperation and from the cold water. "Could you two get a room already? I really don't need to be the third wheel right now."

"Sorry, Sam." You laugh, feeling the last remnants of tension ease from your shoulders.

Eventually, you could hear Josh mumbling to himself, his eyes wild, his expression a chaotic mix of fear and mania.

"Josh!" Sam calls, her voice gentle but firm. "Josh, it's us."

He doesn't respond, muttering incoherently, his gaze distant, as if lost in a nightmare he can't escape. “He’s tripping or something” Mike muttered to himself before giving him a slap to snap him out of his stupor. "Josh!"

Josh blinks, his gaze slowly refocusing on the three of you, a flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes. "Don’t h-hit me, p-please-"

“You were deep in it, man. Full metal jacket”

“Josh, Hannah was down there for weeks... a month?! She dug Beth up” she was on the verge of crying and you stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

"We need the keys," you said gently, trying to keep him calm. "The keys to the cable car, do you have them?"

Josh's hand trembles as he digs into his pocket, pulling out the keys and handing them to Sam. She pockets them and glances toward the slope leading up to the surface.

"That's our way out," she says, her voice filled with determination.

Mike shakes his head, glancing at Josh. "He's not going to make it up there. We'll have to go back the way we came."

Sam nods, though her face is etched with worry. She looks at you, assessing your condition with a careful gaze. "Think you can handle the climb? I can help you up if you need."

Mike steps in, his hand brushing your arm as he looks at you. "You sure you're up for it?" he asks, his tone soft, but there's a hint of worry in his eyes.

You nod, meeting his gaze with a steady look. "I can handle it. Sam's got my back in case”

He hesitates, his grip tightening on your arm, his gaze flickering with a hint of reluctance. Then, with a soft sigh, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand lingering on your cheek as he pulls back, his voice a whisper only you can hear. "Be careful, alright? I want to see that handsome face of yours back at the lodge."

You smile, brushing a hand over his. "You too, Mike. Don't do anything stupid."

He chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with a bittersweet edge. "Stupid? Me? Never." He winks, a smirk playing on his lips, though his gaze holds a flicker of sadness.

He knelt down to help both you and Sam with the first push to start climbing and with one last look, he turns back to Josh, his hand gesturing to the direction to get out of the mines.

You and Sam exchange a determined nod before turning to the steep climb. Every movement is careful and calculated, each foothold chosen with precision as you make your way up.

The climb back to the surface is grueling, every muscle in your body aching, but the sight of moonlight filtering through the cracks above fills you with a surge of determination. Sam pulls herself up beside you, panting but grinning as she looks over at you with a playful gleam in her eye.

"That was just like a climbing class, right?" she quips, giving you a nudge.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, except with a lot more life-or-death stakes," you reply, matching her tone with a smirk.

She lets her hand fall onto your shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing as she takes a moment to study your face. “You did good,” she says, her voice a soothing contrast to the chaos you’d just survived. “Not a single complaint, even when you looked like you were about to pass out.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “Do I really look that bad?” you ask, the question coming out more tired than you’d intended. The last time you saw your reflection was before you were dragged away from Mike, leaving your body feeling like it had been run through a blender. You knew there were cuts, scrapes, and bruises all over your body. The left side of your cheek throbbed painfully whenever you touched it and you could feel the stickiness of dried blood against your lips.

She gives you a small, teasing smile, a spark of humor glinting in her eyes. “Nah,” she says, her voice light but sincere. “It makes you look tough. I can guarantee you, Mike would approve of me without hesitation.”

A tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Despite the exhaustion in your bones and the tremble in your legs, you can’t help but feel a small spark of gratitude for her presence, appreciating her support as the two of you move forward and towards the lodge.

A bone-chilling scream pierces the air from behind you. You can feel the presence of something behind you, its screeches growing louder.

The two of you bolt toward the lodge, every step pounding with adrenaline without looking back until you reach the lodge. You pound on the door with both fists, your heart hammering as you shout for someone inside to let you in. You feel the tremor in your hands, the knowledge that every second spent outside is a second closer to whatever horror is chasing you.

Then, a figure from behind calls for your name.

Mike.

Relief floods through you as he steps forward, grabbing you in a fierce hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breaths shallow and shaky as he presses his face against your shoulder and allows himself to rest for just a second.

Sam picks up a rock, smashing it against the window of the door to unlock it. With a final glance behind, the three of you slip inside.

“And Josh?” Your voice suddenly small, a tremor running through it as you glance at him.

He lowers his gaze. It’s a look that sends an icy chill through you, the kind of look that makes your stomach twist in dread. “It got him”

Your breath catches, you feel sick to your stomach, cold in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature around you.

Sam’s shoulders sag, her face twisting with anguish as she drops her eyes to the ground. ”Ohh, god, what an awful way to go...” she mutters, her voice thick with disbelief and grief.

“What do you think we should do now?”

“We should check the basement, might be someone left down there”

Descending down the stairs to the basement, the only thought passing inside your mind was that there was no time to mourn yet. Help will soon be on the way. You just have to survive just a bit longer.

The door of the basement cracks open and three wendigos are there. Their emaciated bodies twisted and contorted, creeping forward with a surprising speed.

Ashley was no longer there.

Mike takes hold of your hand and with Sam behind, you all backtrack to the main lobby. Mike suddenly halts and tugs harshly at your arm to block you in the track.

"Don't move. Don’t fucking move muscle." His voice a hoarse whisper.

Your heart pounds as you follow his gaze and that's when you see it. A wendigo, tall and twisted, perched on the wooden chandelier above. You caught a glimpse of the butterfly tattoo on its arm. This was Hannah. She was no longer recognizable, skin stretched taut over skeletal limbs, her hollow eyes scanning the room with a terrifying intensity.

𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂ℴ𝓋ℯ

Fear grips you, cold and unrelenting, as you force yourself to stay still. You can feel every tremor in your muscles, the effort it takes to control your breathing, to keep from trembling as the creature shifts, her claws scraping against the wood.

The wendigos from the basement emerge to the main lobby. One of them lunges at Hannah, and in a flash of brutality, she catches it’s leg and throws it first against the wooden stairs and then against the chimney, causing one of the gas pipes to break. Another one attacks her from upstairs but despite the height advantage her claws successfully sink into its neck and decapitate it with little effort.

Your eyes flick to Mike, his face drawn tight with focus as he inches toward the lightbulb switch while keeping an eye on the distracted wendigo.

Then you see the last wendigo from the basement perched on the wooden railing near you, its blind eyes scanning and it's facing Mike. Every step he is making is putting him in danger.

Save Mike. Do anything in your power to distract the monster from him. Anything to protect Mike, even if it means putting yourself in danger.

Run. Save yourself. The path is clear. No wendigos are paying attention to you. Just a quick turn around, a chance to escape. You could save yourse—

Save Mike

You raise your foot and press it down onto the floor, letting it creak just enough to attract the wendigo's attention. The creature snaps its head towards you, the hollow gaze empty and yet focused, its twisted limbs twitching as it crawls toward you, its movements disturbingly animalistic.

𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂ℴ𝓋ℯ

The wendigo creeps closer, its body contorted, moving on all fours with a disturbing grace, each shift of its limbs slow and deliberate, its clawed hands digging into the wooden floor. You can see its sunken eyes, the stretched skin pulled tight over a jaw filled with teeth too sharp, too numerous.

Just as it seems to lose interest, it shifts, turning toward the stairs, drawn by a new sound. Hannah’s form looming over it as her hollow gaze fixes on it, ready to fight.

You see Sam from the corner of your eye, moving silently toward the door, hiding behind the remnants of overturned furniture. Hannah close in on her hiding spot, her bodies coiled with an unnatural tension, ready to strike.

Your heart pounds in your chest, its frantic rhythm deafening in your ears as your body locks in place, paralyzed by terror.

Mike has backed away and reached your position. His hand slips into yours, his grip firm as he starts to pull you toward the door. His gaze remains fixed on the wendigos, unwavering, every muscle in his body tense with vigilance. His attention flickers only briefly to Sam, a silent worry in his eyes matching yours.

Just as you're inches from the door, Sam's scream cuts through the silence. Your blood freezes. Panic surges through you as you turn around.

Hannah’s grotesque hand shoots out, grasping Sam's face and yanking her up in the air as she struggles to break free. In one brutal, swift motion, Hannah's arm pierces Sam's body, tearing through her.

Her scream pierced the air, and then... silence. Sam's body goes slack, her eyes glazing over as the light fades from them. Hannah lets her crumple to the floor, lifeless.

Tears burn in your eyes, blurring your vision as your breath comes in ragged gasps. You clutch Mike's hand harder, your fingers digging into his skin, as the crushing weight of Sam's death settles over you, the weight of loss heavy on your heart. You feel Mike's hand squeezing yours back, his body tensed beside you but his face filled with grief and helplessness.

The two wendigos turn, their hollow eyes finding you and Mike, and they begin to move, their twisted limbs carrying them forward with terrifying speed.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," you whisper as your gaze locks onto Hannah's, the words slipping out, soft but filled with regret at what you did to her.

Mike steps forward as he reaches for the light switch. The moment he flicks it, a spark ignites, and the room erupts in a blinding explosion. The force sends you and Mike flying backward, his arms wrapping around you protectively as the two of you crash to the ground, the shockwave rattling through your bones as the lodge goes up in flames.

You lie there on top of Mike, the world spinning as the roaring fire consumes what remains of the lodge.

In the distance, you hear the faint whir of helicopter blades, the sound growing louder, accompanied by a voice echoing through the smoke. "We've got survivors."

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow in the police station room, making everything feel painfully real.

The officer across from you studies you with a quiet intensity, his face neutral, but his eyes carry a weight that tells you he knows he's about to hear something he won't easily forget.

“I... I was grabbed and dragged through the woods. I thought I wouldn't make it, but then this man showed up. He had a flamethrower... he saved my life and he... he died trying to save a friend of mine” You recount everything, the words spilling out in uneven breaths as you described the twisted nightmare that unfolded in the mountains.

When you finish, the silence stretches out, heavy and unnerving, until the officer leans forward, his gaze intense.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss," he says, his tone carefully measured. "We recovered multiple bodies from the lodge after the explosion. One is severely burned, difficult to identify, but we believe it was one of your friends." He pauses, watching your reaction. "From what we could determine, she was shot."

The words sink in, your stomach twisting as you realize he's talking about Emily.

The officer's gaze sharpens, his voice low but probing. "Your boyfriend already told one of my colleagues what happened, but... I want to hear it from you. Can you tell me why he did it?"

His question hangs in the air, pressing down on you with a weight that's almost suffocating.

Tell the truth. You could tell the officer everything, lay bare the paranoia and fear that drove you all, admit that Mike had acted out of a desperation to protect all of you, even at the cost of a friend. This would leave Mike exposed, vulnerable to judgment and consequences that he might not deserve.

Protect Mike with a half-truth. You could bend the truth just enough to shield him, craft a version that holds the essence of what happened but protects him from the harshest scrutiny. You could tell the officer that Emily was on the verge of turning, and that Mike's decision was one made in self-defense for everyone. After all, Mike had no clue the bite wasn’t infectious. This would keep Mike safe.

You think of Mike, his face as he'd held the gun, the determination and anguish mingling as he made the choice to protect all of you. The quiet nights, the endless texts that bridged the miles between you when life pulls you in different directions. The inside jokes that only the two of you understood, the late-night conversations. You remember the way he’d stood by you through everything. The way he would always try to make you smile when you were having a bad day, the sound of his voice calling your name in a crowd, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. The memory of him chasing after you through the woods risking everything to save you.

Protect Mike

"There were other... things in that lodge, things that weren't human. I don't know if you've recovered them yet, but I'm sure you'll find them."

The officer's brow furrows slightly, as if considering the implications of your words. "We... found some burned bodies in the lodge. They were deformed, impossible to identify." His words trail off, as though he's reluctant to admit what he's seen.

You steady yourself, forcing your voice into a calm, controlled tone as you look back at the officer. "Emily was infected. She was about to turn into one of those things. Mike acted in self-defense for all of us, he was trying to protect us." The officer's face remains impassive, though you see a flicker of skepticism in his eyes.

You lean forward, pulling the crumpled photo from your pocket, the one the stranger had given you of the man twisted by the wendigo curse, the monstrous transformation captured in horrifying detail. You hand it to the officer, your hand trembling as you do.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"These... things aren't human. It wasn't her anymore. Mike did his best at saving us."

The officer studies the photograph, his expression shifting from skepticism to something darker, more troubled. He nods slowly, his gaze flicking back to you, and there's a note of respect in his tone as he speaks. "We'll look into it. Thank you for sharing this. We’ll keep it in mind for the investigation." He slips the photo into his folder, his expression thoughtful as he regards you one last time.

You hesitate, your voice soft but filled with a quiet desperation. "Could I see Mike?"

The officer studies you for a long moment, taking in the bruises on your skin, the exhaustion etched into every line of your face, and the pleading look in your eyes. He sighs, standing up and nodding toward the door. "Come with me."

You follow him through the narrow hallway, your heart pounding with every step as you finally catch sight of Mike, seated outside another interview room, his head bowed, hands clutched together. The exhaustion on his face is evident but the moment he sees you, his face transforms, relief flooding over him like a wave.

You barely have time to process before he's standing, crossing the short distance to you in a few strides and wrapping his arms around you in a fierce embrace. His grip is tight, his body trembling as he pulls you close, his breath hitching as he presses his face into your shoulder.

"It's over now," you whisper, voice barely audible as you press closer. "We're safe. It's finally over."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with fierce determination. He’ll never let anything happen to you ever again.

The two of you sit together in silence, your hands intertwined, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle, steady rhythm. You can barely bring yourself to look at him, feeling the guilt gnaw at you. All of your friends died and it was your fault

His arms then pull you in closer and you lean into him, not saying anything because no words seem to make the guilt any lighter. But, in that moment, with his arms around you, there’s a strange sense of relief. No matter what happens next, at least you’re not alone.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

I really love all the characters in this game, and honestly, it was painful to write their deaths. But I wanted to try something different this time. I hope it didn’t make the story less enjoyable to read—it wasn’t my intention at all. If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[kyeomyun]

2:01 AM

pairings: dad!jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF :((

warnings: none... you might lowkey go through baby fever :)

word count: 0.8k

synopsis: jeonghan would do literally anything to stop his baby from crying, even if it included being dolled up.

::note: WELL- yes ik now those jewels on jeonghan hair are indeed stickers and not hairclips but YK WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS. also hello strangers :). it's been a fat minute since I have actually written something down so if this seems a little dry... just know I haven't written anything since august 🧍🏾‍♀️but i do hope you enjoy this absolute brain rot I wrote last night at 2 in the morning 😍

network(s): @kflixnet

If there was one thing Jeonghan absolutely despised, with his whole entire being, it would be seeing someone who he holds, oh so dearly to his heart, cry.

He knows crying is a trigger for intense emotion, don't get him wrong, he knows very well it was common with toddlers. Including his. But that does not eliminate the huge tear he feels in his chest when the salty crystalline drops roll down his wife or his daughter's cheeks.

And he would do about everything (except cook the pot roast dinner that you LOVE that takes almost 5 hours to make and Jeonghan could not, for the life of him, stand on his two increasingly aging feet for more than 2), to make his loved ones stop crying. Even if that included doing something he thought he would not fit..

"Almost done, darling?" Jeonghan asked softly, careful not to make the tire of his voice get the best of his tone.

It was 2 AM, and his daughter, Yoon, had a rude awakening with cold sweat and vivid memories of a nightmare that she did not want have the guts to relive with her father. Which the father could understand, reliving a nightmare is not fun at all and he did not want to force that scenario onto his precious girl.

"Nu-uh," She clipped another hair clip onto Jeonghan long hair, humming in approval watching her masterpiece come to life in front of her eyes. "You said I can put a lot, daddy!" She pouted, hands flowing through the overload of bows: baby pinks, baby blues, even ones with sparkles and stars dazzled upon the long strands of freshly washed hair. Messy? Yes. Did Jeonghan care? Just a little tiny bit. "I have to make you really, really, really, pretty!"

"I did say that, did I?" Jeonghan said that more to himself, his words playing back on him tremendously. His eyes were drooping, fighting back the wondrous dreamland he was in before he was awoken by a frightened 4 year old. As much as his body wanted to shut down, his mind was stuck on one thing and one thing only.

Well maybe 2.

How long will it take to take these hairclips out and how is his miniature him doing?

"Mhm!" She clipped glittery pink hairclip on a randomly selected portion of her father's hair. "But at least daddy will look extra, extra pretty!"

Jeonghan butt was staring to numb, sitting on the carpeted floor of his daughter's room criss-crossed and Yoon standing up behind him with the next 2 hairclips awaiting their home on his head. But his heart filled rapidly, an intense feeling he has always had at moments like these. Ever since Yoon was born, this feeling was almost... unexplainable. Too immense to be just happiness and too extreme to be just love. It could be a mix of both but those 2 words are just not enough. No words could ever be.

Oh, he is down bad...

The smile that stretched upon his poorly chapped lips was one worth describing though; a smile that held so much value, love, adoration, did he think love?

"One more, daddy!" Yoon announced enthusiastically, a pretty baby blue butterfly, clipped on a strand near the front of Jeonghan head. A small giggle was heard as the little girl admired her work, grabbing ahold of the mirror and giving it to her pretty caregiver. "Is it pretty?"

Jeonghan took the mirror, its weight light but enough to slightly tilt his hand a bit. This motion was able to show the awaiting face of his daughter, who too stared into the mirror and tried to read her father's face. But he obviously had his answer.

But he still pretended to contemplate, his pointer finger tapping his chin in wonder. "It's not pretty,"

That cute pout adorned her lips again, her fragile heart clenching painfully. "You... don't like it? I thought–"

"It's beautiful, baby," Jeonghan looked behind him, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could match the cuteness of seeing his other half, his small angel, puffy cheeks bunch with joy. A smile that could kill many, Jeonghan being one of millions. Billions.

"Yay!" The excitement was barely contained in her small body, slightly bouncing in her place she stood in for almost 30 minutes before her stubby arms wrapped around the neck of her father. "Do you think uncles will be jealous?"

"Very," Jeonghan stared back in the mirror, his smiling bundle of joy warming his heart to the greatest. "Very, very jealous."

A kiss was planted on his cheek, and now he was conflicted about what his members will actually be jealous about.

His marvelous creation on his head, hairclips and bows that were placed in no particular pattern, or the creator, that shined her crooked teeth and eyes shining just as bright as she went back to slightly messing with the butterfly hairclip that hung just barely in his peripheral.

Ok, definitely the creator.

did you enjoy your order?

if you did, please reblog, like, (pls) comment, all of that jazz :>

have a good day, sweets ^^

tagging: @wheeboo @etherealyoungk @rubywonu @trblsvt @icyminghao @idubiluv @odxrilove @stormyjisung @slytherinshua @fairyhaos @gyu-effect @hannieheartuu @jaehunnyy @luvhyun3 @lvlystars @mesanthropi

[fangsandfeels]

I've seen the "Non-ascended Astarion ending is bad for him because you have to persuade him to reject the ritual" opinion...

..implying that he never really wanted not to ascend, it's you the player who selfishly forces him to give up on his goal. To prove their point, they state that you can get a good ending out of all other companion's quests without using Persuasion at all, except for Astarion.

And boy did I want to talk about this...

(In fact, everything I wanted to say has already been told in this amazing meta post, but I still gotta ramble)

First of all, Astarion was going through an intense PTSD. The game gave him a debuff to show how badly going back to the place of his torment was affecting him. Larian couldn't make it more obvious that he wasn't thinking clearly.

Second, there is one thing all abusers have in common: they destroy their victim's feelings of self-worth to the point, the victim no longer wants or knows how to ask for help or have relationships outside their abusive circle.

Who would want you like this? Look at yourself, you think you're better than me? You're nothing. Who would want to waste their time on you? You think somebody else would treat you better?

Since entering the Cazador's palace, Astarion is reliving his worst moments. Initially, he takes it in stride, hiding his discomfort underneath performative and emotional expressiveness. He talks about how he spent time in the bedrooms where he never did any sleeping, about the kennels where he was tortured, about the barracks where he was sent to when he "deserved neither carrot nor stick". Bad memories, but he shares them with Tav because he trusts them with his scars already. They might as well know the rest.

But after descending into the dungeon, Astarion starts spiraling into self-loathing at a break-neck speed. He used to think that all Cazador victims he ever brought to him were long gone, drained, and discarded. A horrible, undeserved death, yet the thought of them not having to suffer for too long was a small consolation, one of the threads holding his sanity together.

But then it turns out that they weren't dead. They were turned. Locked away deep underground, alone with their new selves, with the hunger and isolation. They did suffer. All these years, they suffered, buried in this tomb - because of him. Cazador may have turned them, but it was Astarion who brought them to him. And they remembered it. They recognized him. The monster who stole them from their home. The monster who ruined their life. Monster. Just like Cazador.

So, as if his PTSD wasn't enough, this revelation was another blow to his grip on himself, his perception of himself. His confident facade was shattering - and in his head, he was starting to think that Tav's idea of him, of who he is, was shattering as well. He tried to warn them before. He said he couldn't be what they saw in him. Whatever person they believed him to be had never existed - and Tav was finally coming to realize that as they walked through the gallery of his sins, looking his victims in the eyes and hearing out what they had to say. Of course, Tav hated him now. They had to. How could they not?

So, at the end, he is scared. Terrified. He bit off more than he could chew by walking into the manor and thinking he had only six fellow spawns to deal with. He saw their lives as a small price to pay because Cazador made sure to erase any solidarity between them. He made them torture each other and compete with each other. He twisted the very meaning of family bonds to his perverted liking, and he knew that by doing so, he would make sure every single one of them would get a whiplash from anyone trying to mention family in a positive connotation. Astarion takes no issue with getting rid of his "brothers" and "sisters" because he is fully aware that had the roles been reversed, they would have sacrificed him without a second thought. And he was certain that Tav would change their mind once they learned more about his brethren.

But the spawns in the dungeon...All the faces he remembered. All the lovers he lured. They did nothing wrong. They never hurt him. They never tortured him. Their only mistake was to trust him.

The revelation horrifies him. His first response is to be shocked, overwhelmed with emotion - and then he has to remind himself that sacrifices must be made. He feigns indifference. He tries to cover his internal conflict with gallows humor. But his flippant mask keeps slipping as he lapses from indifference to anger, to guilt, to begging Tav not to hate him as his greatest crimes glare back at him and claw at him, shouting out threats and seething with hatred.

He can't bear the thought of dealing with all the people whose lives he helped to destroy. He can't do anything for them. Just killing Cazador won't undo what he did to them. He will never be anything but a monster in their eyes. And this is what he deserves to be. He will always be reminded of what he is.

He has no choice but to do the Ritual.

He has no idea what will happen to him after he is done - he isn't a planner. He has never been. But at this point, he doesn't see his soul as something worthy of preserving - and by association, he extends that to other spawns. He knows it all too well because he remembers how it felt. He dissociates, projecting everything he hated about himself onto Cazador's victims, trying to rationalize why he should live and why they must die while he actively avoids the truth.

Completing the ritual is no longer about being free. Or protecting himself and his lover. It's about running away. Even when Astarion has Cazador at his mercy, he still thinks of running away. Getting lost forever. So nobody could ever hurt him.

A part of him even realizes that it means running away from Tav too. But Tav can leave, he naively thinks, not knowing the full consequences of the ritual. Tav will leave to find someone else, someone better, and he will start everything anew, a king of his castle.

So, of course, Tav has to reach out to him through that thick haze of fear, anger, and self-hatred. Persuasion isn't about strongarming someone into doing what you want. It's not subjugation or emotional blackmail. It's reasoning with someone. And that is exactly what Tav does - reasons with Astarion after watching him mentally struggle, after seeing his genuine shock and fear, after understanding that he isn't fully on board with the idea.

It's true, vampire spawns tend to gravitate toward power, especially if nothing is pulling them back. A vampire spawn is a feared and scorned creature - it no longer matters whether they were an unwilling victim, forcefully taken and turned. They are seen not as an individual but as the extension of their master - and the only natural transition for them is to get on the top of the food chain. The only way to make a name and become treated as something more.

Astarion saw power as the mean to safety and freedom, first and foremost. Ironically, he never planned beyond securing these two priorities. He never saw himself after accomplishing his goals, and it's kinda amazing how people can make conclusions about his hedonism because he misses petty vanities, wants to drink blood from a goblet, and sleep on silken sheets. The man who was held and tortured in the kennels, fed rats, and had to stitch and fix his only set of clothes over and over to keep it presentable, the man who has never felt happy for most of his conscious non-life is called hedonistic for wanting nice things. For still wanting to take care of himself for once.

He wasn't harboring any grand plans, conquests, or schemes. Even his idea of taking control of the Absolute was abstract and shapeless because he didn't care about getting control over the most influential people as much as he was afraid of breaking whatever protected him from Cazador's domination. He never really knew what to do with power aside from keeping Cazador and the likes of him at bay.

The way Astarion behaves in a relationship also speaks tons of how controlling he really is...or how he isn't controlling at all. When his romance with Tav transforms into something real, and he enters a new territory, Astarion is empowered to make decisions and think about what he wants instead of pleasuring others. It's clear that he and Tav don't have sex after they come clear about their feelings. Tav respects his comfort and boundaries, gives him all the time he needs, and lets him take the lead. Whether they will have sex again or not is entirely up to Astarion. Whatever he decides, it won't change Tav's feelings for him. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do.

Astarion enjoys this new autonomy. He is playful, affectionate, outspoken...and afraid of messing everything up. If Tav mentions breaking up, Astarion thinks he is the problem. If there is another potential love interest showing they have eyes for Tav, Astarion encourages Tav to be with them because he believes they can give Tav everything he can't. When Tav says "I choose you," Astarion is taken aback, needing a moment to hide his genuine confusion at Tav actually wanting to be with him rather than Gale, Karlach, or Halsin.

For all his talks of control and dominating others, once Astarion finds himself with a lover who values his autonomy more than getting power at the cost of his dignity, who makes it safe for him to be honest, and who listens to him, he almost stops mentioning control. He merely lives in the moment, happy not to know, not to pretend, not to manipulate. Just to be.

What Astarion truly craves - not wants on a superficial level, not conditioned to want - is not to be a vampire lord. He wants the freedom to be anything. Anything he wants. Little does he know that true vampires rarely get to be anything they want, even if they gain the ability to walk in the sun -- we see it in his Ascended path as, instead of acting up on his supposed freedom to be anything, Astarion repeats Cazador's rules step by step. Just like Cazador did. Just like Verlioth did. He isn't anything he wants. He is the replica of his former master.

Astarion never had the luxury to explore who he wanted to be outside what Cazador made him. He only makes his first steps once he is free. We see glimpses of that deep-seated aspiration to be seen as a person. Treated like a person. Loved like a person. To be reflected in someone's eyes. He wants to know if there is someone beneath his usual mask, something his, not tainted by Cazador. Someone real. And at the same time, he dreads to know the answer. Because that part of him knows regret. Knows shame. Knows guilt. Confronting it posed the risk of realizing he didn't deserve love, kindness, or a future. What if real him truly doesn't amount to anything? What else for him to do?

So, he tells himself that he has no choice, and he expects Tav to affirm it -- not because he wants them to, but because he believes that Tav has seen enough to make the same conclusion. However, Tav objects, trying to be louder than all the inner demons hissing into his ears. Tav speaks to the Astarion, who asked them what they saw when they looked at him. The Astarion, who thanked them for standing by his side when he said "No" to Araj. The Astarion one who stood frozen in their hug before returning it tentatively. The Astarion who diligently, dedicatedly, caringly kept pulling himself together instead of letting himself unravel completely.

Tav reminds him that this Astarion, right here, right now, is worth fighting for. That he didn't survive all these years of torture, pain, humiliation, and dehumanization to give himself up now. He already has the power to avenge himself, avenge all Cazador's victims. He can end everything right here, right now - and this is the only power to free him. He has the power (and responsibility) of having a choice.

Tav empathizes with other spawns as victims not because they're more "innocent" than Astarion, but because associating with them doesn't brand Astarion as weak or broken. These spawns aren't horrible wretches, and neither is he. They don't deserve this, and neither did he.

The only one who deserves to die today is Cazador - the vampire, the monster, the pathetic piece of shit.

Astarion Ancunin deserves to live.

[fornooneinparticular]

nanami x reader

Summary: a surprise encounter with your husband, who you thought died during the shibuya incident

tags: (angst?), he’s alive, I’m just coping

It’s almost been two years after the Shibuya incident. Nanami was dead. Or so you thought. But now in this very moment, in japans country side far away from Tokyo, he was standing in front of you.

You just moved to the country side to leave the past behind. Leaving Tokyo and your once shared home with Nanami was hard. But you couldn’t stay. Not with all those memories. Memories of the love that you once shared. Which have now turned Bittersweet.

You tried to not think about it to often since it’ll just make you cry again. Which has proven to be difficult since everything in and outside of the apartment would remind you of him. And then the realization would set in that he’s gone. And every time it feels like you’re reliving that fateful day again.

That is why you had to leave.

It was less noisier here than in Tokyo. Of course moving to somewhere you don’t know anyone brought with its fair share of difficulties. You barely even spoke a word these last few months. Even your voice sounded foreign to you when you greeted one of your neighbors. Friends are difficult to make. And the ones you do have live almost a three hours drive away. But for what’s it’s worth, you could live with the loneliness. At least here, nobody would look at you with pity. Nobody would ask about your deceased husband.

Today was your first day on your new job at the nearby hospital. It wasn’t your first choice but it’ll pay the bills. The other nurses working there were nice and too busy to tell you the latest gossip to ask you personal questions. On your way home, you caught a glimpse of short blond hair. It was fleeting since the person was quite far away and there were many bushes and threes on the property so you couldn’t see clearly. But it still made you halt in your step. They look just like…

Of course it couldn’t be him. He’s dead for gods sake. Why are you still searching for him in the crowd. But what if. There wasn’t a body to be buried. So maybe.

No. You shake that thought away. He’s dead. And you know this. It’s just your stupid heart. It still couldn’t move on. It’s still isn’t yours. You’ve come to that realization after trying to date someone again. It wasn’t your idea of course. It was a blind date that your friends set up in order to help you. It was nice of them but you felt guilty. Guilty of breaking the promises that you made. Guilty that you’d never love anyone again like you loved Kento. It wouldn’t be fair to them, so you paid for your own food and wished your date goodbye. You haven’t tried dating anyone since.

You’re okay with been alone. You don’t need to find someone again. You’re fine on your own. Your independent. At least you could play the role of a cat lady. You just needed the cats.

But still. For what ever reason you couldn’t be okay with not checking if the blond haired person was Kento or not. It’s stupid. It’s just hair. Many people have blond hair. You never cared to check if someone looked like your deceased husband before. Why do you care now?

This was different this time. It was a gut feeling. You felt stupid but you couldn’t go back to your apartment without knowing. So you quickly and quietly made your way over. You decide to follow him a little at least for as long as long as you’ll need to gather up the courage to ask.

There’s nothing to gain from this. You’ll just quickly check and then continue being sad and move on. There’s no harm in checking. But what would you even say. Hello, sorry you look like my husband who’s been dead for two years but I’m in denial. What if it’s not him and you just followed a random stranger around. Before you could turn around and flee the possibility of an awkward situation the person abruptly turned around.

It couldn’t be. No it can’t be. But he does look…

Have you maybe finally lost your mind.

In front on you, less than three meters away stands Nanami Kento. Or at least someone who looks like Kento.

Maybe it’s not your Kento. Maybe he just looks like your Kento. But he does look eerily similar. The hair, his face, the way he carried himself, the way he just stood there and looked at you. He looks exactly like Kento. Aside from the burn that covered one whole side of his body.

It wasn’t until he speaks up that you realize that you stared at him for a while without saying anything.

“Do I know you?”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

could you do a word list for memory? your blog has helped me out a bunch and i really appreciate you!! (I may have your tumblr tag in my dedications once i finish)

Word List: Memory

Memory—the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information; something remembered from the past; a recollection

Anamnesis – The recalling of things past; recollection, reminiscence.

Bethinking – The action of thinking, considering, reflecting, or remembering.

Educe – To bring out (something, such as something latent).

Encoding – The conversion of a sensory input into a form capable of being processed and deposited in memory.

Engram – A memory-trace; a permanent and heritable physical change in the nerve tissue of the brain, posited to account for the existence of memory.

Evocation – With reference to the Platonic theory of recollection (ἀνάμνησις): A calling up of knowledge acquired in a previous state of existence.

Flashback – A past incident recurring vividly in the mind.

Hearken back (to) – To bring back to mind.

Membrance – Remembrance; a recollection, memory.

Memento – A memory, a recollection. Obsolete. Rare.

Memorabilia – Memorable or noteworthy thoughts, observations, writings, etc.

Memorability – memorableness, also (occasionally): a person or thing worth remembering.

Memorableness – The quality of being memorable.

Memory-belief – A memory implicitly believed though probably unverifiable.

Memory span – The maximum number of items that can be recalled in the correct order immediately after a single presentation of them.

Min (Old English–1556) – Remembrance, memory; "to make min of": to make mention of.

Minder – A person who remembers; a person with a good memory. Obsolete. Rare.

Neurogram – Physiology. An enduring physical change in the brain thought to be produced by mental activity and to form the basis for memory.

Recall – The action of remembering or calling back to mind; the ability to remember.

Recollection – A thing or fact recalled to the mind; a memory (of something).

Record – Memory, remembrance, recollection. Obsolete.

Recordancy – Remembrance.

Reflection – The action or process of recalling or recollecting something; recollection; remembrance (of an experience, emotion, etc.).

Reliving – The action or process of experiencing something again, esp. in one's memory or imagination.

Rememberer – A person who remembers. Also occasionally: an organ or faculty which remembers.

Remembery – colloquial or regional. A person's memory. Also: a thing remembered, a memory.

Rememorance – Remembrance; (also) an act of reminding.

Reminiscence – Chiefly in plural. A recollection or memory, as a mental fact or phenomenon.

Reproduce – To bring back to mind.

Resouvenance – Recollection, memory.

Retention – The storage and maintenance of a memory.

Retentivity – The ability to remember or to retain what is learnt; the capacity for being retained; retention.

Retrieval – The process of recovering or locating information stored in memory.

Retroaction – Psychology. The (usually deleterious) effect of subsequent learning on the memory of what was learnt previously.

Retroactive inhibition – The inhibiting effect on recall that can be produced by subsequent learning of a similar kind; retroactive interference.

Salience – Social Psychology. The quality or fact of being more prominent in a person's awareness or in his or her memory of past experience; saliency.

Souvenir – A thing or fact remembered; an act or instance of remembering; a memory. Chiefly literary.

Sovenance – Remembrance; memory.

Thought – Remembrance, a person's memory or mind. Obsolete.

Trace – Psychology. A change in the brain as a result of some mental experience; the physical after-effect of such.

I'd love that dedication, haha! No but seriously, I'm glad to hear this, really appreciate you telling me. Hope the list helps & all the best with your writing. If you're alright with it, I'd definitely love to read :)

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ On Memory ⚜ On Amnesia