#reminds me not to be precious with my sense of self and humble about my efforts

[cipheramnesia]

I want to be cool, I really do. I wish I had that certain coolness mystique which cannot be quantified, the effortless swagger commanding attention and awe. Some people can summon thay aspect effortlessly. This is not me. I'm aware of it. There's no mystery, no hidden aspects or blasè indifference in my personality. No, I'm different, not cool but rather:

That's fine, because leaning into being more of me has got me this far. But I do wish every once in awhile I was a bit more Jessica than Roger Rabbit.

[always-andromeda]

Tabletop | Eli Sunday x fem!Reader

Eli Sunday x fem!Reader

Word Count | 1,295

Author's Notes | this is another one you can thank soph for. she has infected me with the Eli Sunday disease.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, sprinkles of misogyny, slight overstimulation, nothing else I can think of!

He’s been seething with arousal the entire day. Eli Sunday woke up that morning, wanting his daily fix of you just to get him through the day. But you’d gotten up long before him and started on your chores; nowhere near the mood to start something at that moment.

Of course he was frustrated. Eli wished you had just woken him up the second your eyes popped open. Wished he’d gotten to spend that morning rolling around under the sheets with you before fulfilling his obligations to the church. Alas, your sense of responsibility was reminding him of what kind of man he should be: strong, respectful, and exercising self restraint.

So off he went to his church. He keeps his resolve steady while clasping the spindly hands of the old women who come to him for guidance, the men who are searching for respite from the bottle, and the children who desperately need to hear the Lord's word while they are blank canvases. He sweats under the summer sun and waits for it to fall beyond the horizon. Waits until he passes through the threshold of his humble home with you. Tries not to salivate at the sight of you, hunched over the stove, slaving away over dinner.

However, the mask is wearing thinner as he sits across from you at the dining table, watches you take bites of the dinner you made. With his own plate left untouched, he was a starved man. Left wallowing in his own ruthless imagination as he instilled morality in the minds of his herd, he felt no guilt. Just a hunger only you could fulfill.

You spoke then, “You gonna eat something, dear? Is there something wrong with dinner?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, my angel." He tilted his head, watched your lips parted in anticipation. "How about you take our plates away?” 

With what he wanted to do, he didn’t want the fine dishes to be destroyed in the crossfire. They were a wedding gift from your family and you adored them. It would break your little heart if they were to end up shattered by the end of the night. So like the good little wife you are, you gather the dishes and set them in the kitchen sink, getting ready to work at cleaning them until you hear him call you back to him.

“Come back here, darling.” You approach the cushioned dining chair he sits upon, unflinching in how he devours your figure with his eyes. As you come closer, he raises a hand. You stop, brow lowered in confusion.

He shakes his head side to side before tapping the surface of the beautifully varnished dinner table.

Eli says simply, “Get on it.”

You falter. Whisper a quiet, “What?” But it’s loud enough that Eli hears it; senses your bewilderment with what he’s asking of you.

“It’s quite simple, angel. I need you to get on the table.” You glance towards it nervously.

Eli encourages you again, “Come now. Don’t make me wait.” Already feeling a slight bit of humiliation flushing your cheeks, you climb up on the glossy, dark oak surface. 

He watches you follow his commands, his crooked smile growing with each of your uncertain moves, “On your knees…thaaat’s it.” Once you position yourself, legs folded under your behind and precious knees protected from the hard surface with the fabric of your dress, you look to him for approval. He only beckons you towards him once again.

Says, “Now come. Crawl.”

Still, you hesitate to be his good, obedient wife in this awkward position.

He pushes once more, that familiar warm lilt entering his tone, “I said now, my angel. Don’t worry, I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to.” The twinkle in his eye is what convinces you to make the arduous journey.

It couldn’t have been more than a few feet between you and where he sat, but it felt like forever. You could tell by now that he had something in store for you and if made you excited; left you growing greedy with your own want underneath your skirts. Had you breathing shallowly as your face came inches from his. Now you were close enough that Eli could brush your hair behind your ear.

Close enough that he didn’t even have to scoot forward in his chair to say, “Very good, darling. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Before kissing you like an animal.

He drags you chin towards him and hungrily takes the lips of his beloved. Pulls away just long enough to command, “On your back now, dear.” With the all consuming throb in his trousers, he couldn't wait long enough to bring you back to the bedroom.

Besides, you already looked delectable, splayed out like a Christmas feast on the tabletop. A feast fit for one.

You do what you're told now, of course. You lay back and stare at the ceiling. When he pulls you towards him by your thighs, you yelp at how swiftly you slid across the lacquered table. In a measured manner, Eli unbuckles his trousers and pulls himself out. His cock is thick and colored with a pulsating pink, nearly the same shade as his burning cheeks.

His hands creep up your legs, hiking the long dress up until the fabric gathers just below your chest. And he makes quick work of your bloomers, throwing them off in some corner. But the most rousing sensation comes when he bends down to hover over you. Because now, you can feel his hard cock pressed right against your abdomen.

“Are you ready to be lavished? Because I’ve been dying to have you all day, dear.” He whispers before kissing you. Not even a second after you whimper a “yes” into the kiss and he's already thrusting into you. He takes what he needs right from the start as he pounds into you.

You jolt with a loud cry each time his skin slaps against yours roughly. His pace is crushing, forcing you to wrap your legs around him and grab onto his shirt collar. You pull him down closer so he can kiss you deeply and swallow all of the broken little sounds you utter. Eli puts his back into it, rutting against you until he thinks he might collapse.

But he’s so close. And judging by the way your nails start to dig into his back, you’re not too far behind him. He gives entirely into the creature inside of him as he spills his seed inside your clenching hole; lets your cunt soak up every drop of him. It’s almost comforting as he gives you a few more good thrusts with his spent cock.

Though his bones are weary and he yearns to lay his aching head upon your shoulder, he presses onwards, bringing you to your own end. Just like a good husband would.

You constrict around him in every way: hook your feet together, drag him closer so his chest presses into yours, make him drink up the high pitched whine that comes with your release. He drowns in you, your pleasure, and your cunt as the muscles spasm once more, making him groan and twitch from the sting of overstimulation.

Covered in a layer of sticky sweat, he peels himself from you and pulls out. His own legs wobble as he helps you sit up. The sight of your poor, hard working husband has you pulling him into your arms in a tender hug. He buries his head in your shoulder, closes his eyes, and sniffs deeply; inhaling your musk and the stench of sex still in the air.

“You did wonderfully, angel. So wonderful for me.” He praises as you run your fingers through his hair.

[jarofstyles]

Dirty Business V- Affogato

A/N: HI!!! sorry for the long wait, we’ve been really busy with life, but we wanted to get some stuff out for you! We’ve taken some of the requests about this series into consideration and tried our best to fit in everything we could. If it’s not in this part, it will likely be in the next! We’re thinking two more parts for them? let us know you’re thoughts! - n + d

send feedback and requests here

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, FILTHY dirty talk, rough sex, use of toys  👉🏼👈🏼

word count: 6.8k

Things were going amazingly for the two love birds. 

Harry had been excelling at his job, it seemed everyday Y/N’s father was giving him praises. Y/N had felt secure enough to return her focus on her boutique, expanding the store online and even dabbling in designing some of her own clothes. The anniversary of her father’s company was coming up, the big 50th, and as usual she knew to expect a special event to be planned where all of his most coveted employees, partners, clients, and investors would be invited to attend. Food, drinks, live music, the whole lot. It was the talk of the year. Y/N also knew that this meant that Harry would be meeting her mother far sooner than she had hoped. The pair had been together for about 3 months now, stable and in the groove so it seemed right, but she knew how her mother could be. How unpleasant she was especially when it came to things that Y/N loved doing.

“Babe? you sure this is alright?” Harry called over to her general direction. Y/N had bought him some Gucci suit— well, called up her friend who worked the head and asked for one? Giving them Harry's photo and measurements. It was a black with a silky pattern and he didn’t know much about it other than the designer and he liked it. “I feel like I look expensive. Kind of like a prick.” He smiled. “Love it though.” He had her hands going through his hair before and he missed the feeling. Y/N was much more relaxed with him. Calmer. Soothed. Like a different person and not as anxious or on edge. When they had gone away to Paris it was similar, but here at their home, she was on edge. Especially today. “Oi, my love. Where did you go?” He peeked out to her bedroom from the en suite,  seeing the room empty, before he heard the heels clicking down the hall.

“I’m here, baby! One second!” Y/N came walking back, just having finished slipping on her dress, she just needed to get a few extra things. Accessories for herself and for Harry to complete the look. As promised, she had gotten him a Rolex, a small congratulations for moving up in the company, but also because she felt like he deserved it for being so incredible. A wide smile spread across her face when she saw him, admiring him in the sleek suit that hugged his body just perfectly. “Mmm I think you look perfect.” Y/N cooed, walking closer to him and gently playing with the lapels of his jacket. He had learned well from her, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned only slightly and it definitely gave him that youthful expensive look. Y/N hooked her finger in his necklaces and tugged him closer to her, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Thank god for liquid lipstick, not that she cared about him having lipstick stains on his lips. “Give me your wrist. Close your eyes.” She spoke, pecking his lips in between each sentence.

Harry was so lucky. He was reminded every time he saw his woman but— there was that blank in his head that wondered just how the fuck he had been able to resist this woman for so long. She was perfect for him. In all aspects. 

“Hm?” He pouted when she pulled away, her immaculate lipstick that matched her dress perfectly not budging at all. It was amazing. Some feminine magic he didn’t know about. “A surprise?” He raised a brow, not sure what it was. But, the man complied, closing his eyes when he felt a cold metal on his wrist. At first he thought she was being kinky but it wasn’t a handcuff. It was... a bracelet? A watch? Too heavy just for jewelry. When she told him to open, he nearly passed out. A fucking Rolex. The cheapest he had seen being 4 grand. But he knew this one was leaps and bounds more expensive considering the fact it was gold. “Y/N...” Harry breathed, eyes wide. “Baby... What is this?”

“Congratulations, my love.” Y/N cooed, pressing another kiss to his lips. “On the promotion, on making waves... Every businessman deserves a good watch... can tell a lot about a man by his watch. I wanted the best man I know to have the best watch.” She blushed and gave a squeeze to the hand she held. “Do you like it?” She asked sweetly, a bit shy because she knew she went a bit overboard with gifts but she felt like it was the least she could do. Y/N knew that all this money her family had went nowhere and she would rather spend it on him, someone who deserved it, than let it set collecting dust. Y/N knew once he took over the company that he’d be donating all the money he didn’t have use for. “I know you don’t necessarily like me spending lots of money on gifts, but... you’ll have this watch forever and ever and you can pass it down and everything and it will always remind you of your successes and humble beginnings and your hard work.”

“Yeah— I wanted to yell at you for spending so much but I know it’s cause... your heart is there.” He sighed, looking it over. His Y/N. His sweet, lovely, beauty. So generous and thoughtful. Pulling her in, a sweet kiss was given to her lips, repeated a few times. “Thank you. You’re the best.” She was one of the best things, if not the best thing to happen to him. “Trust me. I adore you. And I adore this watch. But if you buy me something ten grand again, I will spank your little ass until it’s bruised.” He brought a hand down for a warning spank and smirked when she squealed. “I love it. Wow.... now. How about we get going?” He smoothed the hair from her face. “Precious girl. You’re so lovely. I can’t wait to show off that you’re mine.” At work he didn’t let her bet too touchy. But outside of work, he had gotten a bit too happy with it!

Y/N was happy to hear that he liked the watch, she would happily take a spanking for spending loads of money on him. He definitely deserved it. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how much all of these clothes cost either. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him though. She had her driver come pick the two of them up, thankfully, Oliver was with Niall for tonight so he wouldn’t have to be alone for god knows how long. These things usually dragged on for hours but as long as the two of them made it to at least midnight, they’d be fine. Besides, Y/N was sure she could manage to sneak them away somewhere. 

----

When they arrived at the hotel, Y/N hooked her arm in his and put on her best resting bitch face. Everyone there knew who she was of course, but it was Harry’s first time attending. He looked incredible and she could feel the eyes on him. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself, knowing she had a catch. Harry was perfect. 

“Relax.” Harry kissed her cheek. Oh, how he wished she could be her bubbly and happy self here. “It’s alright. I can feel your nerves from here, my love. I’m here.” He cupped the side of her face with his free hand, kissing her forehead too. It was amazing to see her other persona pop up, incredible even. She was so easy to speak to people with this mask on and fake laughed at things while he observed and talked every so often. He would linger at her side and pull her in, kiss the side of her head or whisper funny things that came to mind. She was slowly relaxing but never enough.

“Styles, my boy!” Y/N’s father’s voice called from behind. “Princess, you look beautiful.” He complimented before turning to look at Harry. “Love seeing you two together.” As much as Y/N wanted to believe he meant that in a genuine way, she knew he really just liked the fact that his favorite employee was dating his daughter, that his legacy and company was in good hands. 

Y/N instantly stiffened up, hating that she didn’t even get a chance to brief or warn Harry about her mother. She knew I’d her father was there she wouldn’t be far behind. Keeping up this illusion that they actually loved one another. The all too familiar clicking of heels coming her way informed her that that moment was coming even sooner than she hoped. Y/N certainly didn’t have a great relationship with her mother and no matter how old she was she still felt her anxiety spike whenever she was around. Be it the comments she made on her life choices or how she looked, she always managed to spoil her mood. 

“Y/N?” Her mother asked with a raised brow, looking between her and Harry with a look of surprise. “Is this your boyfriend your father has been raving about?” She spoke in a tone only Y/N could read as sarcasm. The look on her face gave it away to others though. 

“Yes, he is. Harry, this is my mother. Mother, this is my boyfriend, Harry.”

Harry held her to him. She had tensed up next to him and he felt it as she got upset. She tried not to show it. 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He extended a hand to greet her. He was prepared slightly for the grimace when she took his hand, shaking it weakly. Oh, great. “You’ve raised a lovely young woman. I enjoy her company very much.” He complimented, trying to make this pleasant— but he knew Y/N wasn’t the fondest of her mother and he was prepared for something to go wrong. Anything. He was concerned. 

“Dear, this is Harry. He’s been treating Y/N very well and a very good worker.” Her father tried to soften the blow of what was going to come.

“Charmed.” Her mother answered in her usual snobby tone. The woman was never impressed by anyone or anything really. No amount of money could buy this woman happiness or passion. She was bitter. For what reason? No one was sure. “Just how well can he treat her if she bought everything he’s wearing?” Her mother countered, very much able to sniff out her daughter's sense of fashion. She was aware that her husband never hired anyone with money, no, people with money always had motives. He always hired potential. 

The comment made Y/N’s blood boil. She felt like she was seeing red. Y/N finally felt like she had a positive influence on her life, felt like someone was making her into a better version of herself and her mother had to step in and invalidate it. 

“He treats me so well that I struggle to walk most days...you must have forgotten how that feels, yeah?” The words flew out of her mouth before she could even think. She just needed to get something out even if it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say to her mother. Then again, she wouldn’t take disrespect from anyone.

Harry closed his eyes at her comment. Jesus Christ, Y/N. He wasn’t taking her mother’s comments seriously but she had blurted out a very obvious innuendo about the fact Harry fucked her so good she was wobbly, the first time meeting her mother. 

“Baby...” He chuckled, squeezing her sides. “Is money more important than how your daughter is treated, ma’am?” He said it a bit loudly, knowing her husband was looking more amused than anything. He wouldn’t get in trouble for this. “While I’m saving money for our future and showering her in more affection and love then anyone else with a hundred million in their bank accounts ever would, I am happy. I think your daughter is very happy with me. She buys me things and I buy her things. Our relationship isn’t transactional, ma’am. It never will be either.”

The older woman looked them both up and down, taking a sip of her champagne and letting out a sigh. “It’s not about the money, it’s about our reputation...” She answered and let out a sigh. “Then again, she’s never been good at making choices that represent our family well.” She rolled her eyes. 

Y/N didn’t even have a chance to say a word before her father moved his arm in between the two. “It was actually my idea, dear... Harry is the closest thing to a son I have and he will be the next in line when I step down... regardless if he is with our daughter or not.” He stated calmly, “Please, do not bring this nonsense into tonight’s celebration.” 

Y/N was left speechless at her father’s statement. The entire interaction further proved her beliefs that she wasn’t really an important member of the family. She was merely there. Her father so calmly defended Harry, said he’d have the job regardless of Y/N being in the picture or not. It was like a shot to her stomach. 

“Well what a shame that is.” Her mother sighed, looking around the room to find someone else to talk to before excusing herself and leaving the group all together.

“Excuse us, sir.” Harry gently took Y/N’s arm and led her out to the back patio, knowing she felt upset. He could just... feel it. The energy of the room wasn’t helping her and the fact people had been looking. Weaving through people, he gave professional smiles with little nods before he got to the doors, taking notice of some of the people out there and walking towards the empty side. It was a time that he knew her well enough to know she needed some alone time to recharge. Most of all, she needed a hug. 

Y/N was stunned, her face stone cold as the two of them walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air. She couldn’t bring herself to cry about her parents again, couldn’t bring herself to cry in front of all these people. It was just a kick to the stomach really, the one this she had been prepared for but was hoping to avoid. 

Harry gripped her waist and held the back of her head to his chest, sighing when he felt her rest herself against him. His back was taking the blow so no one could see her being vulnerable. 

“My baby.” He soothed, petting her hair. “You alright? Not the best interaction hm?” Her hair smelled so good and he focused solely on her, not focusing on any possible business opportunities. She was his priority. “I’m sorry I got loud with her. I didn’t mean to but I don’t want her to speak about our relationship like that.” Harry muttered. “I won’t let people disrespect you or us like that.”

“‘s not your fault, Harry...” Y/N spoke softly, “no need to apologize, you did everything right.” Y/N added and allowed herself to close her eyes and relax into him. “I didn’t want you to meet her...” She said in a quiet whisper, “She has a way of getting into your head… I didn’t want her to... to make you feel like I wasn’t proud of you or that I’m not proud to show you off...” Y/N didn’t really care what her mother said at this point, she knew she was wrong. It was the way her father defended Harry first that really made her upset. “Do you believe me now?” She asked quietly, pulling back to look at him with worry in her eyes. Y/N had told him about how her parents didn’t care about her as long as they had their money and reputation.

“Baby...” Harry’s heart broke. “I’ve believed you since you told me. I always believed you. I don’t know how they could feel that way but...” He smoothed his thumb over her face. “My darling girl. You always have me on your side.” It was nearly impossible for him to comprehend why either of them cared so much more about money and reputation than they did about the happiness and well being of their daughter but he wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t ever let anyone make any children of his feel that way. “She isn’t going to get into my head at all. I’m happy with you. I know who I am. You’ve made me feel so much more secure in that. Not the job, but just how it is. We need each other.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “You’re what I want to have and who I want to be with. No one can convince me otherwise. I want you. You’re my sweet girl. My angel. My baby. Yeah? No matter what shit she says or tries, I’m not going anywhere. She can’t change my mind.” Thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the girls skin, Harry’s eyes soft. “She’s probably going to have very, very limited time with our children though. Even supervised.”

Our children. 

Y/N felt her heart flutter. Harry had said it to her before, sure, but to hear him say it so confidently again and to know he was thinking about it? Well, it just made everything feel better. Restored her confidence though it hadn’t faltered much like it usually did. 

“Funny how you think she’s even going to get to meet our children.” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with her brows furrowed and nose scrunched. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she thought it was but his fond little laugh was worth the attempt. “I love you.” She told him again, her voice gentle and sweet. Y/N had saved saying it for moments like these and though he still hadn’t said it back to her, she didn’t mind the wait. “So much.” Harry was truly her rock. Had he not been here, had he not been the way he was, Y/N would have reacted much differently and would likely be making a scene. She had gotten so much better. “But the company is yours regardless... you heard it straight from the horse's mouth.” Y/N said to him with a small smile, “How does that make you feel?” She asked and moved her hands up to play with the unbuttoned portion of his shirt.

“I love you even more, my sweet girl.” Harry pulled her in for a few sweetened kisses to make her smile a bit more than she had. He did love her, the girl was so lovely. He would risk it all for her, every bit. “It feels nice that the company is mine, but I’d choose you before I chose it.” That's the truth. For a long time at the beginning he was trying to focus on that but she had brought him so much happiness, so much self love for himself and he was head over heels for the woman. 

“You love me?” She asked, needing to pause for a moment to make sure she heard him right. Y/N was over the moon. Sure, they might have had a very unpleasant conversation with her mother, but that didn’t change how Harry felt about her. That was all the support and love she needed. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to press a sweet, passionate kiss against his lips. For years she was convinced she needed to be someone else to be loved, for a few months she thought maybe she needed to be someone else for Harry to love her. That wasn’t true at all. He loved her. And she loved him. 

“Yes. I love you very much. Do you want to go home, my lovely? Can drink some champagne on the car ride back and go back. Cuddle a bit....” Harry knew that champagne made her frisky. Harry mainly wanted to get her out of the same place as her mother and wanted to be selfish with his time with her.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Y/N asked sweetly, “Just for a little longer.. we just got here. Go mingle a bit, I’ll behave. I promise I’m fine.” Y/N cooed, pushing a few pieces of hair away from his eyes. “Lets go inside yeah? We’ll stay for a little and then we can go back..”

“But... what if I want to go home?” Harry murmured, cupping her cheek again so he could kiss her again. Not having gotten enough beforehand. He wanted to kiss. And kiss, and kiss, and then spread her open and fuck. He had so much love for this woman right now. It was growing every day but he was hit hard with it. “Just want to be alone with you and remind you how much I utterly adore you and your every bit.” He nibbled her bottom lip lovingly, pulling back. Their sex life was erratic. Some weeks just having cuddles but others being full on fuck fests. Right now, he wanted an even mix. “C’mon. Want to be close to you.” He slid a hand down her body to rest on her ass. “You’ll give me that, yeah?” 

Oh. 

Harry wasn’t usually this forward, it was often Y/N who wanted to love up on him and have him completely and utterly ruin her. Not Harry who was pleading for them to leave an event that could be important for work. Oh how the tables have turned. This was a welcomed change though. 

“Is that so?” Y/N murmured truly surprised by the way he was acting, but she was going along with it. She wanted to see what could come of tonight. “Of course I’ll give that to you, baby, I’m just—” She bit her lip when his hand squeezed her ass tighter. “Okay, alright!” Y/N giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.” She decided they’d slip away unnoticed. No one would really look for them. The cars were already waiting out front and Y/N made sure she snatched a bottle of champagne for them to take in the car with them.

Harry felt like the kitten who had gotten the cream— even though he hadn’t quite yet. He had gotten her to leave, was touchy and finally got her in the car where they finished the bottle of champagne quickly. He pulled her closer to him, feeling like a needy puppy with the way he nuzzled at her neck. A hand slid up the slit of her dress and touched the softness of her inner thighs, purring at the heat of them. 

“Haven’t told you how much I love this dress.” He muttered against her neck. “S’so lovely. But I want to get you out of it.” He was only slightly buzzed but he felt even more in love right now. “Want to see somethin’ like this on you when you’re pregnant. Mmm— fuck, that’ll look so gorgeous. Can’t wait for that.” He had a bit of him that hadn’t realized how much he had a bit of a breeding kink until she showed up. The idea of filling her and letting the cum catch in her, claiming her in that most primal way? It was godly. “When are you gonna let me, pet?”

Y/N was definitely feeling the champagne because his comment caught her off guard for a moment. She remembered when he first told her about this kink of his, how he wanted to put a baby in her and just... pretend that that was the goal. How he had a thing for knowing he could get her pregnant. She had been on birth control for a while and they’d been having sex without protection for a while. There was really nothing to fear. All she had to do was give in, let that primal instinct take over and let him live this fantasy that quite frankly, turned her on. The way he wanted to be a father of her child, the way he wanted to see her stomach swell with life. It was hot. 

“Wanna put a baby in me?” Her glossy eyes looked at him, a loopy smile on her face as his fingers pressed against her skin.

“Mmmm. Yeah, so bad.” Harry rubbed his face against her. “Sooo fuckin’ bad, bunny. Just want to stuff you up full, over n’ over again and make you hold it in. Even tho’ it looks so pretty drippin’ out. Love cleaning it with my tongue but I want it to catch.” He sighed. He thinks perhaps it’s a mix of the alcohol buzz and the way he felt like maybe she truly needed to see his desire for him that set him free. He really wanted her to be able to see that he was so into her, he never wanted to leave. Ever. Add in the fact she just made him unbelievably horny. “Wanna get it all stuffed in that little tummy of yours, yeah? Just... wreck you n’ make you cry from his good it is, then keep fillin’ you up.” He muttered. “Jus’ wanna get inside cause I’m so hard. Want to fuck. Get back inside my pussy.” He always referred to her cunt as his own, and he knew she liked it even if she didn’t tell him that.

“Daddy..” A whimper left Y/N’s mouth at his words, her whole body heating up with a sudden burning desire to be at her home and in a car with the partition up. Goosebumps spread across her skin as he continued to speak, lips brushing against her sensitive neck making her squirm. Between the alcohol and hormones, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. She dared to look out the window, seeing that they were only a few blocks away from her place. Thank god they weren’t driving all the way to Brooklyn, she would’ve had him fuck her right in this car. Y/N moved her hand to rub over his hard cock, giving it a slight squeeze. “What’s gotten into you, daddy?” Y/N smirked, her voice coming out much darker. “We’re almost there... then you can take me upstairs and do whatever you want. Anything.” She hummed, knowing that whenever they were in this mood something kinky always went down.

“Haven’t been in you in too long. I’m so... I want it.” Harry grunted against her neck. “Jus’ wanna be inside of you. You’re all hot and slick. I know it.” He moved his hand up and startled her, groaning against her skin as he felt his suspicions become reality. “Mmm— Yep. Knew you’d be wet for me.” He smirked to himself, placing his fingers on her pussy. He didn’t move them yet but kept hold of it. “S’all mine. Let me touch it whenever I want to just do this. Want to make you go crazy with how good it feels.” He muttered, kissing her jaw and finding her ear to talk into. The vibrations of his dark voice tingling against her, making her shudder. “Daddy’s hot little cunt. And you’re such an eager slut for it. Already slick for my cock. Gonna have a hard time keeping still when I lick your pussy up and get you cleaned up. Plus... have a bit of dessert.” He felt her shiver as he pressed his finger tighter against her.

Y/N inhaled sharply, feeling his fingers press against the place she needed him most. It had in fact been a while, a few days. It’s not long by most people’s standards, but for them? It had definitely been a while. 

“Fuck, please—“ Y/N bit down on her lip as the car had come to a haunt. “Thank you!” She called today the driver, hesitantly pushing Harry to get out of the car as she followed with the empty bottle of champagne. Y/N threw it out in the trash can in the lobby, hoping her dress still sat correctly on her body after Harry had a proper feel in the car. Seeing him all drunk and disheveled, nice suit and hair a mess was the hottest fucking thing she’d ever seen. She swore it. Seeing that loopy smile and his hungry eyes on her was making her forget why they even went out in the first place. Y/N stumbled into the elevator with him and hit the button for the top floor, looking at him from over her shoulder. “What?” She giggled.

Harry grabbed her and pressed her front against the wall of the elevator, ankle hooking hers and knocking her legs open. Immediately his fingers found her cunt, sinking two inside of her. The shocked gasp and moan mix make him smirk, fingers moving in and out of her pussy. 

“Couldn’t wait to feel it. Missed my pussy so fucking much.” He smeared his mouth over her jaw biting down gently. “Fucks sake, sometimes I think you forget that it belongs to me. S’daddy’s pussy. Think you need a proper reminder of that today.” He bit down on her ear this time, moving his fingers harder into her pussy, the slick little squelch of his fingers filling the enclosed space. She was squirming in his arms and making these noises— fuck. “Keep making those little mewls. Such a dirty kitten. Letting your daddy finger fuck you in the elevator.”

It was all so sudden. Y/N really thought he’d at least wait till they got inside, but before she knew it she was pressed up against the cool wall of the elevator, her heart racing. Harry really wasn’t playing tonight and Y/N surely wouldn’t underestimate him again. 

“Fuck me— daddy, ah!” She whimpered out, cunt clenching against his fingers while they moved inside her. Her head fell back on to his shoulder, the feeling of him biting at her jaw and smearing kisses against her skin sending her wildest thoughts over the edge. “‘S your pussy daddy! Fuck— yours, all yours!” She pleaded, feeling herself shiver at the sound of her own slickness against his hands. Y/N had never been quiet and Harry was well aware of that, hitting all the right spots inside of her that would make her go crazy for him. “Please— please!” She begged, “feels so good! Don’t stop!” Y/N begged, knowing she could easily cum just from how insanely turned on she was.

Harry didn’t hesitate to make her cum. She came all over his hand in the elevator, a devilish grin on his face as he pressed his fingers in and curled them just so, having her drip all over the digits. He truly felt like he was going feral because he really couldn’t wait. He loved his Y/N so much, he felt the tiny bit of buzz hitting him and all he wanted to do was fuck. Show her how much he meant it every time he promised forever. How he cherished her pleasures. He had swiftly picked her up and thrown her over her shoulder when they’d gotten to her penthouse. Carrying her through the whole place to her bedroom with a dirty hand he had sucked clean and a squealing Y/N over his shoulder, he finally got to her bedroom. 

“You’re going to be a good girl for me. Aren’t you?” Harry smirked while Y/N looked up with her innocent eyes and nodded, seeming to be in awe of his behavior. Harry hadn’t exactly gone this primal before but she was wet as fuck and he was as happy as could be. Taking his tie off, he smirked down at her and held it in front of him. “Wrists.” He demanded. At the rapid blinking, he gripped her throat, leaning down over her. “Don’t make me ask for them again. Give me your wrists.” It was quickly after that, she was stripped and they were tied and held to the headboard. Naked and all at his mercy, Harry stalked the end of the bed with a dark gleam in his eye. “Look so pretty, my sweet girl. Innocent, if it wasn’t for your drippy little cunt making a mess of those expensive sheets.... Said they were silk, didn’t you?” He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. “Where are the toys?” At a drunken 2 am they’d ordered sex toys one night and a little toy chest she had gotten for them, and he wanted to play with them. 

“Daddy!” Y/N whined, but the sharp glare he sent in return immediately sent darts of hot arousal and a bit of fear through her. “Closet....”  the whisper was given as she clenched her thighs together. Harry brought the chest out and hummed as he looked through things, happily finding what he was looking for. 

“Ah!” 

When Harry took out the wand vibrator, it had her heart racing faster. She hadn’t ever used one with someone else before. Usually she could control when she took it away and just how much she could handle at a time, but with the way Harry was acting... Y/N knew that he wasn’t going to be nice about it. 

“Daddy... please, I just want you inside.” Y/N tried, not sure she could handle all that pleasure. 

“Hm. It’s a shame I didn’t ask, isn’t it?” Harry knew that she would be okay with this, because he had gently asked her colors and she had genuinely responded green. He knew her well enough and had permission beforehand. They’d spoken about this being something they did anyways. “Now. I can see you’re all slicked up. Already came once tonight so I’ll be nice and make sure this one is even better.” He cooed, leaning down over it and spitting right on it. The flinch had him grinning, Y/N moaning and bucking her hips at the sensation of it. 

As soon as the vibrator was clicked on, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Still sensitive from the knee weakening orgasm from the elevator, the buzzing had her legs stiffening. 

“Oi.... keep them open.” Harry scolded. “Daddy’s been so nice to you. So sweet. And now you’re out and trying to take away my fun?” He gave a faux pout, but his voice was thick with arousal. 

“I forgot about how much of a slut you are sometimes. Been so gentle with you lately but you really have been wanting a bit of fun.” He murmured, clicking up the setting. 

Y/N was laying with her mouth open, breasts heaving with the way Harry moved the wand up and down. The powerful vibrations had her shaking a tiny bit and she knew she wouldn’t last long. Another pitiful whine of his name had her getting a bit more pressure over her clit. 

“Shhh. That’s my girl. Daddy’s dirty whore, hm? Can’t get enough.” 

Her hips were bucking up and the heat coursing through her was intense. Harry’s behavior well was fueling this intense arousal. He was all man. All.... perfect for her. She loved being admired and needed and even a little bit degraded when it came down to it, and he was giving it to her. 

“Fuck... look at you. Dripping down to your sheets and panting like a bitch in heat. All you want is cock inside your precious cunt, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes! Daddy, please. I’ll be so good. So, so good just... inside me!” Y/N pleaded, bucking her hips needily. Harry was so good to her. More generous than any other lover. More caring and loving in general but in bed, it was a whole other level. 

“Begging... sounds so good coming from you.” Harry muttered, pressing the setting up as he leaned over her. “One more orgasm before you can take me. I know you love being filled up. Pounded. Like when your makeup gets all messy and smeared because you’re so fucked out you can’t breathe. I know that you want to be so sore in the morning that it’ll be obvious that you have the best cock in your bed.” Harry has also shown off his possessive side lately. Been increasingly so. “Want everyone to know and to see that you’re well taken care of. Daddy’s princess.” He muttered, watching her face. 

Y/N was losing it. Her stomach was hot with heat and she kept bucking her hips and grinding into the wand Harry held firm against her cunt, playing with her breasts with gentle movements of his fingers. Two types of sensations. 

“That’s it. I can see it.” Harry encouraged, it was obvious when she was close. “Be a good girl. Cum.” 

At the demand, Y/N lost it. Shaking, she let out a gasped sob as her body writhed against the sheets, a squeal of his name and holding on to the tie holding her wrists to the board, her back arched and her whole body trembled in the best way possible. She didn’t even know what was happening as she felt her wrists get let go of, flopping to the bed. All she felt was herself being turned over to her stomach, propped her hips up with a pillow and then— fuck. 

Harry filled her. A loud moan came from him, a pathetic whimper. Harry’s hand gathering her hair up and holding it firmly, cock buried deep inside of her for a moment before he began to go. There was no mercy with his thrusts. Hard, bed shaking, dirty. Leaning his body over her, speaking into her ear. 

“That's it. This is what you were made for.” He muttered into her skin. “Made to be fucked by me. Act so spoiled all the time but no one knows... you come home, my sweet little angel. Want to be so sweet to me and then a needy little bitch in bed.” He cooed, hands slipping between them. He wasn’t going to last very long. “Had me all worked up all night with that sexy fucking dress, your pouty lips. I love it so much. My pretty girl. I love showing you off. I want to do it more.” He grunted as he pressed her further into the bed. “Mine. You’re all fucking mine. This pussy belongs to me. I want every fucking person to know that I’m yours. That you are mine. No one else gets to take you. I’m keeping you forever.” He wasn’t even hesitant to say that. He loved her. His woman was the only one for him. “Mine. Fuck... I’m gonna cum soon. You got me all worked. Fuck, I needed this pussy so bad. Needed you.” He groaned into her ear as he ran sloppy circles across her clit. 

Y/N was more than happy to take it, whining loudly as she felt him take every bit of his cock and slam it in. Truly, she felt cock drunk, eyes crossed and mouth unable to close. She was so sensitive and needy, but she had let go completely in his hold. It felt like shocks every time he pounded into her and the stream of whimpers and little noises was loud but pitiful. She needed this so bad. To be fucked out by him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Plea-” Her whines got caught in her throat as his hand grabbed at her hair and pulled her back. 

“Yeah? Begging to cum again like the good little cum slut?” Harry practically growled, “Squeeze for me, yeah… that’s it… fuck, you’re so good, so perfect.” He knew he wouldn’t last long. Her cunt felt like heaven. Nothing had ever felt better. With every thrust Harry felt like he was struggling to hold back his full power, essentially shoving his cock as deep as he could manage. Y/N’s sweet sounds of pleasure only edged him on, his own grunts and mutters begging her to cum for him so they could share a sweet release. 

And my god was it sweet. A series of throaty moans left the both of them, nothing but the added sound of skin slapping against skin and the slickness of their climaxes filled the room. Harry slowed the pace of his moving hips and stayed hovering above his love whilst they caught their breath. 

“You mean everything to me, you know that? Nobody, and I mean nobody will change that. You’re mine, Y/N. I love you.” Harry meant it with every fiber of his being.

He was going to marry this girl.

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

A/N: hehehe fore-shadowing? 😈- n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[kookiepredictions]

Message from Jungkook’s Higher Self to his DF

My most precious,

I have been thinking about you again. Well, I say again, but I had never stopped in the first place. Do you think about me too? I think you do. At least I want to believe you do. I feel like that’s all that I have left right now. I feel so lost and confused. I feel like I’m trapped in a maze, but I’m not stuck in one place. I’m moving through this maze. And I’m moving willingly. It’s like there’s something at the end of that maze that is calling out to me and I can’t seem to refuse. I feel like I’m ensnared by that calling and I must keep moving towards it. It feels like I have free will but at the same time, I have absolutely no control over it. I don’t want to stop, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop. So I have just 2 choices: either move towards the end of that maze, or be constantly restless. The only problem is, I don’t have a map to this maze. I’m moving but I don’t know if I’m moving in the right direction. Am I getting any closer or am I getting further away? No one else seems to know either. I look for help from others but when they do, I feel like it’s useless. I have to find my own way. I’m all on my own in this path. The only person I know can help me is you. I know you are the only one who can tell me exactly what is wrong with me and how to right it. So I look for you everywhere and everytime. And then it dawns on me— is this maze leading me to you? Is that why I can’t refuse its calling? Or is there more to it? And why do I think you are the only one who can help me? I’ve known for a while now that I love you. But this feels like a lot more than what I have known the word “love” to mean. Who are you to me and why do I need you so much? Every song, every movie, every person, every place reminds me of you. How are you more present in my life than the actual people present in my life? How do you have more control over my feelings than I have over them? As if it’s not scary enough that I am so addicted to you, I don’t even know if what I’m addicted to is real or an illusion. Are you even a real person? Is our connection even real or is it all in my head? Are you a “Twin Flame”, a “Soulmate”? Have I met you in the “Past?” I don’t understand these terms and the more I learn, the more confused and lost I feel. Are you a “Karmic”? Are you here to punish and torture me for everything that I have done wrong? Tbh, that seems more likely. Half of me expects you to one day say to me, wake up, all that shit is in your head. Or, haha, you really thought I would fall in love with someone like you? However that conversation goes, it always ends up with me heartbroken. Maybe I want you so much because I believe I can never have you. And why would I? What have I ever done to deserve you and a love so perfect? Why would I get so lucky? There are so many other people who deserve this more, then why would I be The One?

Frankly, this is what I’ve always felt about myself. I got all this success and fame at such a young age. And what have I done exactly for this? I have only done what I have been told to do by other people. When there were struggles and problems, the older members and other people stressed out and solved them. I didn’t do much. Yeah, I practice hard and all, but that’s really the least I could do. Failure or success, whatever has come to me, has fallen into my lap due to someone else’s effort. I have never felt like I completely deserve it. People always say, BTS are so humble, Jungkook is so humble. But I have never seen myself as an amazing person or even a nice person. Yet people always seem to believe that about me, so I’m like, alright if that makes them happy. And so I live a dual life every day. I give people what makes them happy, but I never let myself believe what they believe about me. I know who I am. I have indulgences that I am not proud of. If people knew everything about me, they would not love me at all. Not that it mattered to me that much. I had adjusted to this dual life. But now it does. It matters to me what you think about me, how you see me. And it terrifies me because what if you think I am bad person? What if you don’t love me or even like me? My mind says it shouldn’t matter, but my heart says it does. Why does your opinion matter so much?

For as long as I can remember, I have had very high ideals regarding love— and boy I started young! I wished for a perfect love story and went into connections hoping for it but somehow it always eluded me. In my head, it always seemed perfect, but the reality always turned out to be different. I don’t really blame the other person either. I just blame it on my fate, really. At some point, it started looking like I was fated to be in connections that would never fulfil me. Sometimes I tried to adjust and compromise, and sometimes I felt really frustrated and restless for more. I never categorically felt like I wanted something more, but it always felt like there could be more. And yet, how do you look for something you don’t even know exists?

I wished for a perfect love but I did not know what I was signing up for. I always thought if and when I fell in true love, my life would become so much easier. And so when I met you, and I had all these deep feelings for you, I thought, that’s it, now my life will be so much easier and happier. But then things took a drastic turn. You know how it feels when you are taking a trip somewhere and you’re on the bus and everyone later talks about how amazing the journey was, and you realize you missed it because you were asleep throughout that journey and now you wish you weren’t? That’s how it feels right now. I wish I wasn’t so asleep when I met you. I wish I had cherished you more. There’s so much I want to do for you now but I feel like I missed my chance. I feel like I let you down and I can’t forgive myself for that. I replay the past over and over wishing I had acted differently. I pray often and every time, I pray for a second chance with you. But then I think, if I hate myself so much for having hurt you, surely you must hate me more. You always assure me that you love me, but I find it so hard to believe because how could you ever forgive me? How could you ever want me back? And that’s the moment when I feel like I am only being delusional. You are no Twin Flame of mine, you are a punishment served to me by God— a punishment the pain from which I can never recover from. Once again, love has eluded me and I am fated to live the rest of my life in pain and regret, only this time I can clearly see that I have ruined it with my own actions.

But then again, a part of me never wanted to accept this fate. A very, very small voice inside me told me this time it was somehow different. That I still had hope. That I had reason to keep trying. And that is crazy because what reason do I have? I don’t even know if this is real! I have been advised by people to be careful, to not trust you so much. And truthfully, I have tried doing that as well. I have tried forgetting you, not thinking about you. But it’s always like when you’re told not to think about something, and you start thinking about it more. I have tried to reason with myself, used logic. But I always keep drawn back into that maze again. I must find my way through it. I’m afraid something dangerous might be on the other side of it and I don’t want to land in trouble and take those who I love with me, but I can’t stop! What is this self destructive behaviour? When and how did I start trusting you so much? I feel I am at the edge of a cliff ready to take a plunge and I am terrified. What if you are not on the other side of it? What if you deceive me, let go of me, leave me to die? I think of all this and then an even terrifying thought comes up— that I am, indeed, more willing to destroy myself at your call, than to take the chance to lose you. No one should have that kind of power over anyone. I feel like you have me under a spell but it is a spell I am willingly submitting to because it brings me so much peace and joy. I have never known this ecstasy and I am addicted to it. And it’s irreplaceable and unreplicable. You are the only source of it. I know because I have tried finding it elsewhere. From other people, from work, from my ambitions. It’s never the same. You make me so happy! I can spend hours with you and still never get enough of you. I could have you wrapped tight in my arms and still feel like you’re not close enough. You feel so close to me and still so far away. You’re always right within reach and yet I still can’t hold you. It’s frustrating! I don’t want to be stuck in this place forever because it’s torture. I want all of you but I am afraid you’ll not want me. I don’t know which is worse— to be rejected by you or to never try and find out if you wouldn’t. I throw emotional tantrums trying to get you to react and respond because that’s the only way I know how to get your attention because what else can I do? What can I give you that you don’t already have? And this is another aspect of this connection that I am scared of as well. How can I match you? What can I give you? For many years, I have seen myself in a certain way. I know why people like me or love me. I am Jeon Jungkook of BTS. For so long, that was my identity. You came along and shattered that illusion. Suddenly that identity isn’t enough anymore. I feel naked around you. I feel poor. What is my identity, I don’t know anymore. I was comfortable living a life of playing a role for other people to make them accept and love me, but it’s not working on you. And honestly, now that I see it through your eyes, I don’t like it anymore either. Who am I now? I feel like a nobody. What can a nobody give you? What can a nobody give anyone? I hate being here. And yet, there’s a strange sense of liberation in this that I have never felt before. As comfortable as I have been living a dual life so far, it also felt like a burden on my shoulders. I could never truly be myself with anyone. Now I feel like I can, with you. But what if you don’t like who I truly am? I am so scared to look at myself. This is the reason why I throw tantrums to get your attention. It is easier than looking into myself. Because I fear that if I did, I will only see bad things. I will only see myself taking and taking and taking from others and I will see my judgment in there— that I am indeed a very bad person and for that, I am punished to live a life without you. If that is the truth, I don’t want to know the truth. I want to live in this beautiful illusion forever— or so I think, until I am tired of living in the illusion and want the truth. I want to know how you feel about me. I want to know if there is hope for me in this journey or if I am trying in vain. I want to know if I’m on the right track or if I’m going crazy. I am lost, I am lonely even with so many people around me, and I have no map nor a compass. All I’m being shown is the edge of this cliff and being told to take a leap of faith and even the courage that it requires I need you for that.

And then I wonder, am I annoying you with all my neediness? Are you liking me less and less every day because of how lost and incapable I am in this journey? You are so smooth, you have figured everything out and everyday I try to catch up to you but you are progressing at the speed of light and I feel more and more lost. I feel like I am failing us again. But believe me, I am changing. It might be at a slower pace than yours but I have changed so much than who I used to be before I met you. And that is why I feel that there is something special about this connection— it hasn’t just changed me with regards to you, it has changed me in all areas of my life. And I am so proud and grateful for that. But the path ahead seems to be so long still and then I lose hope and hate this journey. Why does it have to be so difficult and complicated? You love me, I love you, then why can’t we just be together? Isn’t that what love is? That’s it, I am crossing my arms and sitting here and pouting until I get what I want. (lol cutie). And then after my tantrums dissipate, I see the meaning of this journey again. I see all that it has done for me, the way it has changed me, and I am grateful and hopeful again. That small voice has actually been getting louder and louder over the days. I think the balance is tipping in favour of hope. Every day I feel a little more hopeful that we are indeed meant to be together. Maybe that’s what this maze is all about. I see light flickering more strongly at the end of it every passing day. I just have to figure my way out. In doing so, I have been learning to grow more and more confident in my own ability. I may have been discovering my own true self, devoid of my past identity created from my ego. I am purging past energies heavily and having multiple tower moments and ego deaths on the way which is where the moments of pain, the anger comes from, but every day, my resistance is weakening and I am, little by little, accepting this journey for what it is, not what I want it to be. I think I am noticing a pattern here— after the pain always comes the feeling of liberation and power. I want to be everything you want and everything you deserve. No matter what it seems like on the surface— it may seem like I am this selfish evil person who only thinks about his own needs, but believe me, I want to return back to you all the happiness and peace that you have given to me, I want to fulfil all your dreams. It may seem like I don’t value you, but you are my most precious treasure, and I want to make sure you know what your worth is to me. I am trying my best to get there. I am navigating my way as best as I can. I hope it is enough for you. I hope you can be patient with me. I hope you never give up on me. Please don’t ever leave me.

[lifeandloveliterarythings]

It was as if earlier,

I was lying on the floor ,

With my face on the cold cold floor ,

It was as if I was just watching the commotion of the steps and the motion of the people ,

And then the onset of stuff that was kot foreseen started to happen,

New inventions and discoveries of life particles ,and the mold that had gold glue induced while it was forming a substance of which legends of humble and horror origin are born!

Despite the despair and dread ,the roller continued rolling and molding by its own fuel of will ,wonder and pain power !

And I didn't knew that the storm was lifting me onto its arms ,

It made me rise to the highest elevation,as high as the clouds hover ,

And gave me a taste of a sight and the senses which the storm wanted me to know enough of !

And as the storm tenderly puts me onto he zone of a floor whcih resembles a floor but this time ,

It's not a simple floor ,

The storm as she tenderly put me to rest ,

For a long time it didn't remove its own hands from my beneath,

And as to storm leaves with a silent face,it sits leaning on me for my company ,grip and hold ,

The storm now is gently navigating away to its core throne ,

To watch me over from angles of art !

Such softness the storm has ,but it bled me to the rivers that rendered rains of ruthless creatures ,not of the wild animals but the treacherous ones ,the ones that call themselves human beings !

The context of the softness ,the storm has is known by the one ,that's been hugged for a decade and in the lost delicate times !

But still know I realize how soft the storm is ,

I say the way it holds me after the storm has completed its tenure of my lifetime is the most gentle ,the most softest thing I know for now!

The efforts that led to destruction were flawless,but that's been done for me to reborn with grandeur!

Also it sends me stars and boosters of ecstasy all the time as I breath ,

And best gifts the storm saves is for the mighty nights by coloring the jights from the color that the world is yet to witness the wonder of ,

The storm writes me letters too , Expressing the self and all the moments I was there with ,

The storm writes to me and sends me gifts about the upcoming rising that ha begun ,

The network that it has been working upon ,

The games that it has planned for me ,

Additionally tells me about the approximities of when it will accompany me,

When it will hold me in its arms ,

To have a play that the world hasn't sen before ,

It also mentions to me that about all the strong moments of hugs it gave me all along,

Every day it reminds me of all the characterorial ,behavioral aspects the creatures fall in love and prey for !

The most precious gift ever came from the storm itself and it reminds me of that each and every moment,

So that the daily breathing quotient of my living goes high by infinite exponentiality!

...going out will come back to continue this in some hours ,

Don't forget to read the additions later

Love ! ❤❤

[lynx-paw]

Stray Kids album review no one asked for, but I still did because yes.

Every song has 3 "reviews": before looking up lyrics, after looking up lyrics and final.

1 – Cheese

BEFORE: Ohh the guitar riff. I am WEAK for guitar in this one. Probably a song I’d play waiting for the traffic light to go green. It has nice, somehow fun beat. But, we definitely could have survived without them naming types of cheese.

AFTER: Heh. A real fuck you in not romantic way.

FINAL: I appreciate the entire idea behind the song. Tho, we still could’ve survived without types of cheese.

2 – Thunderous

BEFORE: Idk why, but beginning reminds me of Rhythm Ta. Yes Changbineeeeeeey take it away.

Did I hear it right? "I’m not sorry, I’m dirty." Babes, are we okay?

Ah yes, Aussie line being more Aussie with each passing day. OMG THAT LAUGH AT 2:03 YES.

Oh I def heard it right, I’m not sorry I’m dirty. Cool, cool, ok. The rapapapam bought me, seriously.

It has very Kingdom!Ateez sound to it which isn’t a bad thing at all, I’m a sucker for Kingdom!Ateez. But… I don’t know, I miss either more intense build-up or beat drop. That would, like, totally kill me and pay for my burial.

AFTER: Oh. Changbin’s part is really, really good. Okay, okay, seriously props to whoever wrote the lyrics. But we really could’ve survived without I’m not sorry, I’m dirty.

Kkundeuri wasseoyo and Gyerani wasseoyo need to have a collab if you know what I mean hehe 😉

FINAL: I feel like my precious I.N had so much fun in this one, so I give bonus points. The song is good, the lyrics are bomb, but the sound lacks intensity. I wish they went with a bit harsher tone, the song would be absolute bomb slap then. All in all, I like it.

3 – Domino

BEFORE: GOING IN STRONG YES. Yeah, goodbye brain, I’ll be going around singing Domino, domino, DOMINO. Yo, that stop and then intense rap at approximately 1:15 is very nice touch.

Don’t kill me, but in my very humble opinion, Chan’s parts feel a bit out of place in the song.

Oh… I don’t like the pace change starting at 2:40…

AFTER: Ah, yet another fuck you, I’ll succeed no matter what you say song.

FINAL: Kinda have a feeling it might grow on me after a few days, but right now… Hm. I don’t know. Maybe one of those songs which need to marinate and which might slap after I come back to them randomly.

4 – Ssick

BEFORE: Oh, the beginning gives me Ikon vibes, yes please. Okay, okay, this drop at 0:50 is really good, I like it very much.

This song has nice transitions and per se, variety, that maybe previous songs lack. For now, my favourite song. It is repetitive, just like the previous ones, and that’s not a bad thing, but I think this one has the best mix of repetitive and filled with variety in beat.

AFTER: 3rd fuck you haters song? I mean sure, fuck haters, but isn’t dedicating 3 songs to them giving them a bit too much attention? This one isn’t just about fuck you tho, it’s also about being there for your friends and I like that aspect. It’s like fuck you to haters and i wuw you to friends and supporters.

Also very, very, very important and positive part of the lyrics is “Oh yeah, I know that I don’t have anything special. But, yeah, do you know that I myself am special?” This, boys, girls, rocks and flowers, this is very valuable lesson. You don’t have to own something special because you are special by just being. Don’t belittle yourself. Even skz is telling you that.

FINAL: From all the fuck you songs this is probably my favorite.

5 – The View

BEFORE: Awww very summery song, very sweet since the beginning. OH SHIT I AM CRYING WTF?

Fuck, this reminds me of a feeling, if you get me, but I don’t know which one? I like it. I LIKE IT SO MUCH. YES. BRING IT ON. BRING ON THE TEARS YES. (i am probably the only person being excited to cry but that says a lot about me sush please).

This is one of the songs I’d LOVE to randomly hear on the radio. Just driving to the beach, vibing you know.

And getting attacked by sudden rap and beat change because why tf not, you know?

AFTER: “Clouds like a submarine swim” I told you, summer vibes.

Ah, fuck. Here, it’s this why I cried. I sensed something in the way they delivered this part of the song and it was this: “The road in front of me seemed dark ‘cause i never ever let it go. Now I feel comfortable, I like it, this feeling and I’ll never ever let it go.” Not to be someone who’ll be like Aha! This is the meaning behind this! but to me this reminds me a lot of feeling stuck with bad self-image, both mentally and physically, and because I said this is like a summer song, my brain immediately goes to all those summers I hated my body and this one being the first summer ever that I didn’t actively hate myself. This part of lyrics is for me like finally breaking out of the shell or maybe a better expression, shedding old skin and just leaving it behind, going forward with new, more positive mentality and a sense of liberation.

“I like the view right now” is like 1) i literally like the view (sunset on beach type of vibe), 2) i like looking at you/myself and realising you’re feeling comfortable around me/yourself/myself, and/or 3) i like this new view on life I have.

Look, I could literally quote entire song and give in depth analysis of on what level they resonate with me, but I won’t do that. I’ll just say these are one of the best lyrics I’ve ever read and they’re so well combined with music ughhh. And the fact this song came at the right time in my life *insert chef’s kiss*

FINAL: I love it. It was really good before I read lyrics and after it’s like three times better. One of my faves on the album.

6 – Sorry, I love you

BEFORE: Nothing special for except for the slight angsty tones I hear. I like it, but nothing crazy. I’d like it to pop up on my playlist occasionally. I think it would be an absolute BOP for me if it was leaning more to the rock genre. Like, a bit slowed down with accent just on guitar and their voices. But, that’s just me always being a sucker for rock ballads. For some reason to me, best ballads and most songs which evoke strong emotion from me are the ones which accentuate the words, the voice and one instrument.

AFTER: Very convinced this song is written by the one who is watching Nevertheless (is it Seungmin? or someone else?). My roommate strongly disagrees with that, but look, I don’t make rules, I think, I say.

FINAL: I hate to admit it but it’s catchy. I’d love live band version of this ngl.

7 – Silent Cry

BEFORE: Interesting intro huh. But something doesn’t sit with me right with the rest of the song. I don’t know what. I really don’t.

AFTER: Yeah sure, hit me with depresso lyrics right in the beginning.

FUCK. The lyrics are really killing me.

FINAL: I just can’t suffer through music. Lyrics are amazing, but idk, music is so not my style and somehow don’t suit the lyrics.

8 – Secret Secret

BEFORE: WAIT WHY DO I HAVE EMOTIONS ALREADY IT’S ONLY BEEN LIKE 10 SECONDS INTO THE SONG. Fuck. I’m on the verge of tears. Imagine listening to this and then Ex I would straight up have emotional breakdown. Yeah, yeah, I’m crying. Leave me alone. The softness, the preciousness, the cuteness, ugh I am broken™.

AFTER: Yeah, fuck. I’m crying again.The lyrics are killing me.

FINAL: This song makes me very emotional, I am a literal mess right now. Kill me, resurrect me, kill me again.

9 – Star Lost

Not my type of song. Like, nothing’s wrong, it’s just so not my type.

10 – Red Lights

BEFORE: Well, the beat drop for sure slaps. The song reminds me of something, it’s either a movie or a song, but I can’t remember. And that’s not a bad thing, I just hate the fact I can’t remember what it reminds me of.

AFTER: “I’m staying up all night again.” I see what you did there, tsch.

“Now tell me you hate me I can’t stand you any longer. But I know, you and me, there’s nothing I can do.” this is very good. I like this.

FINAL: This song could be about so many things. Lust, control problems, feeling of losing yourself, not knowing what your stage personality is and what is real you, anxiety, insomnia, depression… The thing they really managed to do is achieving a level of intensity. I like the song more after I read the lyrics, but I have to say I thought it would be much, much more intense and in your face. I’ll let it crawl in my mind and heart. Slowly. Hehe.

11 – Surfin’

BEFORE: I’m not a fan of summer. Or summer songs. But this is good. Wtf. Something’s going on with me lol. I have nothing much to say, I like the song, that’s it hahah.

AFTER: Felix talking about working 24/7 isn’t something I thought I’d hear in such a summery song.

“My head is overheated just like my laptop.” yo Changbin, mood.

FINAL: I hate summer songs, but this one slaps. This is the only summer song I’ll ever love and accept. Absolute bop.

12 – Gone Away

BEFORE: Oh the beginning surely is something. Oh no, no, no, no, no, I’ll cry again. Oh no. I’m dead. Fuck. I’m crying without lyrics, what’s going to happen after I listen with lyrics? Fuck man.

OH SHIT WHAT WAS THIS AT 3:00? THEY’RE PULLING OFF SOME MAYFLY SINGING UNIT THING I AM LITERALLY DEAD HERE. My. Jesus.

AFTER: Yeah, I’m crying a river. Pass me handkerchiefs.

FINAL: Seungmin, stop watching Nevertheless.(Don’t. I need more heartbreak songs ty.)

13 – Wolfgang

- The song I lowkey hated on Kingdom, but it crawled in my mind and heart later. Hyunjin just added some spice heh.

14 – 애

- Not gonna comment much, this could be the worst song ever and I’d still adore it because of what the song means. And who it brought back 😊

[amani-outrider]

oK I am SICK of looking at this, but wanted to post it for V day (also too nervous to post on Ao3 right now) BUT

Renathal/You Rated M  Words:  2413 Impulsively flirting with Renathal during the Ember Court turns into a tucked away make out session because why not!!

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

The Ember Court is still humble in the ruined area of Sinfall, but there’s an enjoyment to it regardless. There’s something about taking the time to please guests and do simple tasks like giving them tea that’s a nice break from the earth and realm shattering developments or world-saving. A break is nice. 

But part of it is selfish, you know. You glance at Prince Renathal, dignified in his humble attire, drawing eyes even as he sits tucked away from the main entertainment. He is a powerful figure in Revendreth, so it makes sense they would be looking at him and seeking him out, but just as he is powerful he’s handsome. Maybe not in the traditional sense of beauty standards on Azeroth, but there is a charm about him that’s undeniable. 

You can’t help but watch his profile as he talks to another venthyr, a member of House Primrose, the way his eyes crinkle in polite amusement at something they say, the elegant curve of his nose, the way his lips move as he speaks, flashing those fangs with every word.

You drag your eyes away from them, drawing them back up his face and realizing with a start that those blazing red eyes have slid from the venthyr in front of him to you, piercing in their intensity even from across Sinfall.

You jump and nearly trip over a dredger in front of you, your tray of tea wobbling dangerously in your hands, the tea cups clacking against each other as they slide around. You straighten it out before a real accident can happen thankfully, but your cheeks burn with embarrassment for being caught staring.

“‘Scuse me,” the dredger says, bowing out of the way. 

It’s my fault, you want to say, but they’re already off to take care of other tasks. 

You look around to see if anyone saw your near-accident. Surely that would be some sort of grand faux-pas at a gathering such as this, but if anyone notices or cares, you can’t tell. Temel seems pleased with how things are going and your guests are still happy, so that’s good enough for you.

The tea goes cold before you can hand it all out, most of the guests already have some, but you're not one to slack. They're guests to impress and sway to your side, after all. You head over to the refreshments booth and deposit the tray, ready to exchange for a fresh pot of tea.

"It will be a few moments, Maw Walker," Stefan tells you as Tubbins starts diligently brewing more tea, waving his hand dismissively as if to say 'go do something else in the meantime.'

You turn to walk towards where the guests have gathered for the entertainment, ready to mingle and perhaps judge some souls for their sins with the Accuser, but you end up running into a body in front of you. 

"Maw Walker," it’s Prince Renathal and you can hear the smile in his voice.

Oh no, is your first thought. Anxiety coils in your stomach and you wonder if he's going to call out your staring.

You crane your neck up to look at him. You somehow always forget just how tall he is and that's just another thing about him that is unsettlingly attractive. 

"How are you enjoying the Ember Court today?" He raises a brow, but your eyes are still drawn to his fangs, sharp and dangerous and looming over you. Renathal's smile falters and he looks almost self-conscious as he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Do I have something between my teeth?” 

I’d have to take a closer look, you blurt out with very little tact or grace, fueled entirely by your desire to get up close to him and those fangs. Maybe if you'd planned this out you could have laced the words with a flirtatious tone, but no. This is the best you can offer. (You want to kick yourself.)

You like to think you’ve been subtle with your… fixation on Renathal, a distant appreciation of his looks and convictions as a leader that are both equally enamoring. Afterall, you don’t want to ruin the bond you’ve made with the venthyr or the work to rebuild Revendreth over some silly feelings, but  it’s probably obvious to someone as old as him, someone from a realm that punishes those for desiring, exactly how you’ve felt. And he probably knows what you’re thinking right now as embarrassing as it is, but at worst you can imagine him being amused by your mortal desires.

And sure enough a realization passes through his eyes, brows twitching up briefly and your breath catches either in anticipation or panic as you wait to see which way the scale of his reaction will tip.

“Oh!” He seems genuinely surprised and you can't tell if that's good or not. "Oh~" His face settles into a devilish smirk, eyes dark yet blazing as he looks down at you. You feel pinned under his gaze, hair standing on end as heat rises within you. "Maw Walker, you flatter me." You'd like to do much more than that, but he glances around and reminds you that you're still in the Ember Court, there are guests around and they're only a step away from Tubbins and Gubbins. (It probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing they've seen, being under Theotar's charge.) "...Perhaps we can slip away?" 

There’s precious little privacy in Sinfall, the only place you can think of to go is the ruined tower, but even then that doesn’t offer much cover. He places a hand on your shoulder, though, firm and commanding as he starts guiding you away. Clearly he has something in mind.

Sure enough, he leads you toward the tower, waving off guests that try to stop the two of you. He waves the guards at the tower away with a fib about vital intel needing urgent discussion and they're relieved to step away and take part in the festivities. 

You climb up the rubble of the ruined stairs to find a spot that won't immediately expose you both if someone walked in. It would be an eye full for any stoneborn or stone fiend that flew past, but it’s better than nothing. 

Renathal is all poise and composure, graceful even as he navigates over the uneven terrain, a faint smile to his lips all during the ascent. Amused, but a glint in his eye promises he’s scheming.

“Here we are,” he says, gesturing in a near-bow to motion you ahead of him. 

You follow his lead and stand there, staring up at him dumbly like you’re not sure what to do now that you have him where you’ve always wanted him. It doesn’t feel real, like if you reach out and touch him he’ll fade away and it’ll be some cruel illusion spawned from your own desires.

Renathal chuckles, looking down at you with a fond warmth that strikes you right in the chest, shaking the doubts from your head. He steps forward, looming all too enticingly, he’s warm- startlingly so- in a way you wouldn’t expect from someone in the land of the dead. He reaches up and caresses your face with a feather-light touch of his hand, the barest trace of his sharp nails trailing over your skin that makes your hair rise and cheeks burn.

“I must confess…” Renathal continues, tracing over your features in a way that’s almost reverent. “I have thought about this all too often.” His thumb ghosts over your lips, hoving there with the faintest twitch of restraint. 

Me too, is what you want to say, but your throat is too dry for your voice to form coherent words.

Your tongue darts out to lick your lips before you can think and Renathal's gaze flicks down to catch the movement, eyes flaring. His hand grips your chin with an echo of the strength you know he possesses and tilts your head up, until you're craning your neck awkwardly and he’s leaning down just as awkwardly. Your eyes slip closed and you feel the warmth of his breath hit your face.

His lips press against yours just barely, almost tentative. The angle is off with the height difference and you can’t quite slot together the way you want, even when you rock forward onto your toes to attempt closing the distance better. He pulls away after a moment and even with the awkward first try and the strain in your neck, your lips tingle with a want for more.

“Hmm this won’t work at all…” Renathal mumbles to himself when he straightens his back, his brows knit together. You worry briefly if he’s rethinking this- that a venthyr like him and a mortal like you can’t possibly work in this way. “Here-” He dips down again, hands reaching around your middle and picking you up with ease, whirling around until you’re pressed between the stone wall and his body. Like this you’re face-to-face without any trouble and you can fully admire the pleased smile on Renathal’s lips when he takes in your flushed and flustered expression. “Much better.” And he leans in again.

When your lips connect this time it's gentle but the fit is much better when your height is matched. You both move slow, unsure, adapting to the feel of each other, fumbling now and then. He tastes of tea with a faint metallic tang underneath. Different, but not unpleasant.

He pulls away again and you want to ask if it’s okay, but he returns quickly, this time more urgent and your mouth opens in surprise. He licks into your mouth with an insistence, a curiosity. Is this his first time tasting a mortal? Yes, you think, and it sends a thrill through you knowing that for someone as ancient as Renathal, you will be a first- something unique.  Your thoughts are chased away by another surge of his lips, overwhelming like a tidal wave crashing over you and you quickly get caught up in it. Your hands clamor for purchase, grabbing the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair.

It’s like he’s trying to devour you from the inside out and you’re more than happy to let him do it. 

One of his hands leaves your waist and trails lower to grip your thigh and he coaxes it up as if to wrap around him- so you do. You wrap both legs around him and pull him closer. He gasps into your mouth and you can feel his nails digging in through the fabric as his grip tightens. 

This could go farther you think, you want it to go farther you realize as you run your fingers through his hair- as soft as you’d always imagine, but you’re also distantly aware of where you are.

Renathal seems to realize this as well because he breaks the kiss reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to calm his ragged breath. 

"Maw Walker…" he breathes out, as ragged as his breath. He tilts his head as if to kiss you again and you find yourself arching to meet him, but he moves instead to kiss your cheek. Then a kiss under your jaw and you're rolling your head to the side, baring your neck to him. That earns you a pleased hum from him when the next kiss lands on your neck, open mouthed and slow. He laps at the skin there as if savoring the taste. "I had no idea mortals could taste so… thrilling." His voice is dark, carefully restrained, breath ghosting across your skin making you shiver.

He descends on your neck again slowly, almost experimentally, placing more kisses there. Then you feel them. His fangs grazing over the skin of your neck. Then he bites gently, pressure teasingly light, not enough to break the skin but enough that it has your blood pumping either out of fear or excitement or a combination of both and then- 

Ting ting ting.

Below in the Court you hear the Accuser announce it will be ending soon and reality asserts itself once again for both of you. Renathal removes his mouth from your neck after a moment's pause and then rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“It seems we cannot hide away any longer,” he sighs, pulling away reluctantly. 

A greedy part of you wants to yank him back and keep going, but you know with the closing of the Court they will be looking for both of you. More than anything you don’t want to be caught in such a position, you don’t want to cause any more problems for Renathal because surely there’d be whispers and rumors and all sorts of things that could potentially tarnish his image in the eyes of his peers. 

He gently lowers you down from the wall and you nearly fall trying to stand on your own two feet again, knees still weak and legs like jelly. But he catches you and holds you steady. You straighten out your clothes and brush dust and ash off them as best you can and you see Renathal doing the same, brushing out his disheveled hair with his fingers. The only issue is the spot on your neck, which you hope hasn’t bruised into something glaringly obvious….

“Perhaps,” Renathal breaks the awkward silence between you, “we could continue this another time?” His voice is tentative, almost shy, like he did just ravish you mindless just a couple of minutes ago.

You aren’t sure when or where you’ll have the chance or privacy to do this again, but you nod enthusiastically regardless. 

------

The Accuser is there to meet you at the bottom of the tower, lips pursed and arms crossed. Gresit and a gaggle of chained souls linger just outside waiting for her.

“I hope whatever intel you needed to discuss was important enough to abandon the court.” She glances between the two of you, judgemental gaze overwhelming with its pressure and you want to shrink under it. Her ire settles firmly on Renathal.

“Ah yes! It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I will see the guests off now.” And he slips past her quickly, back to where the guests are mingling in the afterparty. 

Her eyes narrow at his retreating form like she knows and then flick back to you. 

“I hope you had fun, Maw Walker.”

[twst-sumi-squad]

Cinder-Vil-a: A short story

♢ Sumi B exited the classroom with a weary sigh, lifting a hand to her head and holding it as she thought of her troubles. It was her turn to watch over the club so that no one they didn't want around came and trashed it. It may or may not also be to hide it from some of the people they write about. Groaning once more, she turned to head down the corridor, not focused on where she went. Even though her eyes were cast to the floor, she noticed Vil even before the collision, and only didn't dodge because she thought he would. However, today, this was not the case. Instead of his normally impeccable sense of self awareness, it seemed that the dorm leader had been distracted by something, his eyebrows knit tensely together even after they both noticed they'd fallen. Vil got up first, offering a hand that was politely declined by Sumi B. After humbling her with an apology, he soon set off again, clearly headed to deal with the task worrying him, leaving behind something on the floor. Sumi B picked it up and smiled, laughing a little as she examined the compact mirror.

"Wow, you'd have thought he was Cinderella running from his prince to have forgotten this by running in such a hurry..."

Turning back, she called him with a smirk.

"Hey~ Lampa alu~! You dropped something."

Later, in the clubroom, oceanic currents flew over her head as she sat at the alcove's desk. Staring down at a blank piece of paper as blue lights swam all around it, she tapped the pen to her lips in thought.

"Cinderella huh…"

Smiling, she began to write a small story springing from the fertile ground of her imagination. ♢

♥

“Rise.”

Soft supple lips part in a humbled smile, his sparkling lashes rising to show the gleaming grin within his amethyst irises. Nodding softly with grace, he stands to face you, the glimmering makeup over his eyes colouring his smile with glittering rainbows. It’s stunning to view and you hold your breath, taking in his elegant beauty. Dressed in a deep blue dress adorned with golden roses and split in two at the chest, he smooths it out, fingertips delicately clinging to the edges where they clutched it for his curtsy. Champagne gold hair that faded into a light lavender was tied up in a coiled bun, showing off the light blue earrings hanging from his ears, the almost diamond hearts shining like he’d plucked droplets of water from a river and hung its tears on his ears. The mystical aura that seemed to surround him led you to believe that might be true…

“Yes, my prince?”

His voice is light and alluring, you swallow as he addresses you, taking in a breath to compose yourself. You must not lose your image in front of all the people attending the ball, all the eyes cast indirectly at your way, through mirrors and whispers. They all watch you, scouring for a weakness - an opportunity. But instead of dismissing him, you can’t help but ask.

“What is your name?”

Calm in manner, he holds a hand to his heart and tilts his head slightly to the side, delight dancing in his eyes.

“My name… is Vil.”

Curious, you mirror his tilted head, holding a hand to your chin.

“Is that your full name?”

“My prince, my name is all I have. If you will not accept it for what it is, what else do I say?”

Smirking with a subtle flair of pride at your confusion, he bows his head to you as you reply.

“You avoided the question. Will you not answer to your prince?”

“I do and I answer only the truth.”

With that and flourished twirl, you are left staring at his back receding into the crowd, catching just the mere glimpse of his head turning back to gaze at you for just an instant - before your view is blocked by another person bowing at your heel.

Swilling from side to side, your reflection seems dulled in the drink you hold, the long glass cool against your fingers. All its shiny surface seemed to do was reflect the leering eyes glancing at you from every side as you walk along the table, taking care not to stumble in your poise as you do. The golden drink in your hands - apple juice? or was it alcohol? you can’t recall what was ordered for the party, you’d grabbed something random after all - served little as a suitable distraction from your nerves. Greetings sometimes bombard you and you check your reflection is smiling before looking up to reply, keeping your performance as prince as perfect as possible. Just as you settle to brood within a corner, a flashing golden rose decorating blue dashes by your sight. Instantly, you snap your attention to it, watching it disappear behind a corner and chasing after it. A name, short and sweet when spoken by his lips, flashes across your mind. It stands doubtful but you place your hope in it anyway, heat rushing to your cheeks. The warmth of your face is met by the cool breeze of air as you leave through the back door, still searching for that snatch of blue. Smiling with a laugh, he stands before you at the bottom of the steps that lead to the garden, holding his hands behind his back as he looks up at you. Vil presses a decorated nail against the edge of his lips, grinning. You try not to let your eyes focus on those lips as they move, teasingly calling out.

“Catch me if you can~”

His laugh is infectious, rendering you sick in its terribly fast spread as you start to smile, rushing forward down the steps. Every step forward you take, he skips back, before he begins to run away in the opposite direction. Unable to and not intending to do anything else, you follow him delightedly.

Casting moonlit shadows and sparkling spotlights down on you two, both of your performances shed, stripping you of your duties as you shrug the burdens off your shoulders and throw your heads back. And laugh into the night. Vil’s voice is musical to your ears, alighting your face aflame every time he sings to you from behind a bush, darting away from your grasp.

“My prince~!”

Running as fast as you’re able, you dash after his cooing words, letting your chuckles run free. Eventually, you sneak up on him, stealthily sidling up behind him, asking carefully beforehand.

“May I hold you in my arms?” 

Stiffening, he pauses before nodding coolly. Though he isn’t turned to you, you nod before slipping your arms around his waist. He smells of coal and roses, fire burnt petals and shadows overcast flowers.

“Then...I’ve caught you.”

Almost breathlessly, you whisper, knowing he’ll hear. Vil’s face pinkens to a crimson, flushing at your touch as he pulls out of your embrace. Holding the back of his hand to his mouth, he looks away from you and gently releases your arms from around him.

“...Indeed. Ah, I apologise, I lost my composure. I shouldn’t have teased you like that, you’re the prince after all and I’m...”

Hearing his voice sends your heart aflutter but hearing its notes strike a sadder tone fills your heart with sadness as well. Consolingly, you shake your head, smiling. 

“No, it was the most fun I’ve ever had in such a while.”

Your words seem to uplift him, as his crystalline eyes seem to shine a little brighter, their blazing purple gazing deep into yours. Smirking, he crosses a finger to his lips once more, tilting his head to his right.

“Well, I suppose your beautiful eyes must be quite the appraiser since a beautiful jewel like myself has caught your attention so easily.”

The moon casts light from behind his head, brilliantly shining as if he was glowing in the night. Upon his head, there almost seemed to be a crown of starlight, a halo of their shine surrounding his golden hair. Melting at the sight of his smile, you hesitate before reaching out to catch his hand, bowing with perfect posture as you plant a gentle kiss across the back of his palm.

“Then, may I ask for this beautiful gem to join me for a dance?”

Flushing a little, he nods wordlessly and you smile, feeling heat rise to your cheeks once more.

The waltz is slow and sweet as you both dance to the tune of melodic breezes, the air sweetened in fragrance by the aroma of the flower bed surrounding you and Vil’s own scent. His eyes sparkle as brightly as his earrings, but they hold an added edge of fondness that seems to deepen everytime he looks at you. There is a precious silence that hangs around both of you, soft in its touch as caresses your faces. Here, in the comforting emptiness of the garden, you’re both free from the whispers that would follow you. You take a step to the side, in time with the silent music, and feel him step closer. Another step and your heart begins to beat faster. His lips draw closer to yours as you stop dancing, standing still in each other's arms. Gently holding your chin, he pulls you closer and then steals your heart with a kiss, the gap between the two of you closing within a heartbeat. He holds the kiss for a dreamlike moment, drawing it out, as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his lips against yours. A loud bell rings, signalling midnight, causing Vil to gasp. You barely get to open them after he hastily breaks it in a panic since he covers your eyes with his hands. Shaking, he grimaces.

“I’m sorry, my prince. This jewel cannot stay.”

Shoving you to the side, he rushes off, his fluttering marine skirts disappearing to the image of rags.

All that you have left, to remind you that this dreamy mystery beauty existed, is a golden pin shining in the grass, a silent image of a knife stabbing into a heart. Much like how yours is feeling. It was the one that held his bun. Picking it up, you examine it, twirling it around between your fingers, imagining the golden pin against the lighted gold of his hair. You press it against your chest, feeling the beat of your heart still pace quick against it through the fabric of your outfit. You aren’t going to let it end like this. Running after Vil, you dash through the gardens and towards the exit, delighted as you catch the sight of someone else running away. Rags flutter against their body and dark black soot is dusted over their fair hair. But as they turn back and pause at the sight of you, you know it’s Vil. His sparkling makeup is all gone, replaced by tarred marks that smear across his face. His hair is scraggly and thin, his clothes no more than sheets of fabric better suited for beds. But still, his amethyst eyes gaze longingly at you and you take a deep breath and walk closer. Even without the dress, the hair, the makeup, you know what he looks like. Beautiful.

“May I hold you in my arms?”

Your voice is soft and tempting, carefully holding your arms open for him. He looks away, unable to face you.

“Are you sure you even want to, my prince?”

“I know that I don’t want to chase you if you don’t want me to. But if I need to, I will.”

He laughs bitterly, skeptically replying.

“Really… even when your beautiful jewel isn’t as perfectly cut as it should be?”

Walking closer, you don’t let your arms fall.

“I don’t know what you mean. As long as you’re Vil, you’re perfect to me.”

Surprised, he looks at you with wide eyes before sighing.

“Well, you truly do have beautiful eyes. Ones that can see me for the beauty I am.”

Softly, he slips his arms around you and squeezes you into a tight hug. You feel your cheeks burn but your heart swells with happiness. Smiling, you whisper into the wind with a short laugh.

“I’ve caught you, my gemstone.”

♥

[thepiningpoet]

A Beautiful Mind:

What bothers me most about you is that you are equally a lover of beautiful things. An academic, genius mind but your head is still turned by an eloquently expressed verse, a beautiful piece of art, tranquil atmospheres that ring of hissing mist, the subtle brush of swaying long grass, flowers with an intoxicating scent. You have a beautiful mind. Beneath your breast, beats a poet's heart.

‌You can talk with me for hours about dreams, and to travel outside of ones homeland and find yourself in another skin, and art, and transformations, and lust, and what stirs us as human beings. You can talk with me for hours about anything at all. And all things deemed as unutterable in public. And I'm mesmerized by it, by you. I'm captivated to the point, I find my soul lost and altogether redeemed. To look at you is to crave things I've never wanted before. You make me feel like a spirit who has laid eyes on something sacred. Something forbidden. Something I shouldn't have because in all technicality, it should be unattainable. You pass me as God passed Moses... I feel the warmth of your light but I shouldn't dare look too closely. But what if Moses had looked? Would he have perished that very moment or would he never see the world the same again? It's a precious death of some nature, I suppose, the death of the past self. Such is what I've experienced since having gained your acquaintance. Now you find my new self brash, confident...willing to take chances with my heart, with my vessel. With you. You are angelic in every sense. Angelically good. Angelically kind. Thoughtful, humble. But when the glory of the sun leaves you and when you're drenched in the ghostly light of the moon, you become something other than yourself. You become someone else entirely. A strange eerie presence like a gossamer, silk dream. There's lust behind your eyes then. It is not a judgement; we are the same, I assure you.

My pupils become gaping black holes which take all of you in when the lunar light has found me and the tide goes in and a sudden magic takes place. All things change by the moonlight and perhaps the night reveals all which the day has no knowledge of. Secrets. Things draped in shadow. Parts of our own dispositions which we are taught to put away. Shall we continue to conceal what we are, displaying these distorted images of our true natures with half-truths, and awkward sniggers, and sly smiles, and painted faces hiding dying, miserable souls craving for a happiness only truth and freedom can offer? I don't want it anymore. I never did. Why should we hide our complexity? Why should we morph to fit these preconceived primeval ideals? I am all these facades I've shown to you and yet equally the ones I haven't. All have condemned me for emotions I have no control over any longer. I both ardently love and admire you...and having cultivated these feelings fearfully, yes, I too have grown a simmering lust for you. Yes, I've dreamed of caressing your cheek, fondling you with enough attention and admiration to make the muscle which beats and yearns within me burst in elation. Yes, I too have dreamed of asking to take your coat, your shirt too. Undoing your tie. Unclasping your belt. Unwrapping you slowly as the most otherworldly present I've ever beheld until I have rendered you in a complete state of dishabille. Does it make me a wretched soul worth the wrath of God? Perhaps.

But I shan't worship a god any longer who condemns the concepts and laid the foundational work which has made it so. I can't believe in a god who condemns the natural elements of our tender personalities which has drawn us towards one another irrepressably. Such a god is of man-made design and minimal thinking, far too simplistic in design and concept for any element of the supernatural. I believe in a God that made you and me...as we are...in all our authenticity, in our nakedness, in our truth, in our intricacies. I believe in such a God, a God beyond human thought and perceivability. I have not forsaken or forgotten God. I dare say you have been the very reminder that I haven't. Everytime I see you, I say a silent prayer. Everytime I hear your voice, I give thanks. For such perfection can only be formed from the divine. There's no mistake in you. No flaw. If anything, God has forsaken me, tempting me with you, taunting me with the one I cannot have...laughing at my torment cruelly. "Faith like the grain of a mustard seed" it is written. I don't wish to move mountains. I wish to move your heart. Have I not even enough faith for this? Or is it to move mountains is a far simpler feat than to move a man's heart to choose that which is better for him? To choose one who chooses him above all else? Take pity on me. I write of you still. I fear I always shall.

‌-K.A.H.

‌

‌

[visionsofus]

Hi! I’ve been reading some of your Wanda & Vision mixtape series and after the season final, I HIGHLY recommend giving “Our Corner of the Universe” by K. S. Rhoads a listen! I think your series is such a great idea and it’s so well written; warm without being cheesy.

You seriously are trying to break my heart with this song - I'd never thought about listening to it in the context of Wanda and Vision but boy once I did my heart was in pieces. Anyway! I hope you like where I went with this. 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |  

track #8 of Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape ~ Our corner of the universe 

Synopsis: In which Wanda and Vision are coming to the end of a few weeks together in Paris pre-IW and Wanda dreams a life for them where they no longer have to run and hide. Unknowingly, she draws Vision into her dream and they both must contend with the idea that this reality isn't something that will be easy for them.

Paris had grown colder in the last few days, as though the city knew the time was coming when Vision would have to leave.  The sun had disappeared early that morning behind a cover of clouds that had seen the day through until sunset, leaving a soft rain to patter against the glass French doors. They were huddled in bed now, Vision tracing soft patterns about Wanda’s back as he watched the rain drizzle down the glass.

“Tomorrow is too soon,” she whispered, her head shifting slightly from where it was resting atop his chest.

“I know,” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head affectionately.  

“One day we won’t run like this,” Wanda said looking up into his eyes and Vision tried to smile. Normally he was more hopeful, but it was now coming to the end of their second year of meeting up like this and it was difficult to see a future where they could be else. Of a time when they might have a life together that was more than stolen moments in distant cities.

“One day we’ll be able to live together in one place, we’ll have neighbours and friends, we won’t have to hide.”

“I hope so, my love,” Vision said opening his arms wider as Wanda got under the dark bed covers for the evening. Once she was settled, he slid off the bed and went about turning the lights out and checking the doors were locked. It was routine for them now. Once Vision was sure that everything was safely locked up, he joined Wanda, pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed atop the covers for added warmth.

Wanda shuffled closer to him as he lay down beside her and he opened his arms for her to rest atop his chest once more. They were often inseparable like this on the last night, needing the physical connection of each other to remind themselves to be present in the moment and not spend their precious hours dreading the coming morning.

Vision ran his fingers through Wanda’s hair in calming motions as her breath slowed. Eventually he stilled and started to drift off himself, into the version of sleep that his synthezoid body demanded.  

Neither of them was conscious when Wanda’s hand twitched atop Vision’s chest, red mist forming before dissipating in the air between them.

Vision didn’t dream. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, if he really wanted to his synthetic brain could replicate something close to the dreamlike state that humans experienced. But he generally preferred the endless quiet that came with his brain’s resting state. The chance for stillness, even for a few hours, was a relief. Perhaps there was an element of self-preservation to it, the fear that Wanda would be caught and that he would have to watch her be imprisoned once more haunted his waking hours enough, he would rather not be consumed by the same thoughts at night.

So it came as something of a surprise when Vision found himself opening his eyes to warm sunlight, despite his brain reminding him that he was indeed, still resting. It disconcerting trying to reconcile his physical form, which remained in the Parisian apartment in bed beside Wanda, and his mental form currently cast in sunlight somewhere, somewhen, else.

Judging from the light streaming through the four paned windows opposite his face, it was early morning, where though, he couldn’t tell. Slowly, Vision rolled over and came face to face with the peaceful, sleeping face of his partner. She sighed softly and shifted closer to him.

“Go back to sleep, it’s too early,” she whispered to him.

“It’s night-time,” Vision said in confusion.

Wanda’s eyes opened and she scrunched her nose up at him. “Just a few more minutes.”

This put him at ease, it was exactly what his Wanda said most mornings. “Of course, a few more minutes,” he said, and Wanda sighed happily, moving closer to rest her head upon his shoulder like a pillow.

“We should stay like this forever.”

Vision smiled and his eyes drifted closed against the sun, wishing that every morning might be like this.

He started when he suddenly found himself standing in an unfamiliar living room. It was a cosy space, mostly occupied by a large red couch and a collection of armchairs assembled around a flat screen television. He spun on the spot looking around for Wanda.

“Vis? Is that you?” Came Wanda’s disembodied voice and Vision followed it through the next room into a quaint kitchen complete with cluttered island and wooden dining table.

“Darling?” Vision said hesitantly, closing the kitchen door behind him. “What’s going on?”

“I just wanted to make sure that your evening is free for next Friday, we’ve been invited to dinner,” Wanda said running her fingers atop a calendar and marking a square with a black marker.

She was dreaming, that much he was now sure of. This strange transition to what appeared to be a few hours later was the most obvious indicator. Not to mention the haze like state of their surroundings, as though the interior designer had given up halfway through the décor process. Kitchen tiles faded off into exposed wall, there were two clocks hanging above the sink ticking in opposite directions, and though there were cookbooks sitting on the kitchen island, when Vision tried to make sense of their titles, he found he couldn’t read any of them.

He’d talked with Wanda about what kind of house that she would like one day, but that had been a while ago and he’d been hesitant to add himself to that image. Now here he was in her dreamscape, in a made-up house that they appeared to live in, together.

“So that is a yes for you next Friday?” Wanda said absentmindedly as she began to move around the kitchen assembling a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.

“Yes,” Vision said, deciding it was best to play along, distantly recalling that it wasn’t a good idea to wake sleepwalkers. He didn’t want to give Wanda a fright or force her into a lucid dream state. Instead he watched in wonder as she continued to navigate the space with ease, her hands finding the cupboard with the saucepans and the cutlery drawer without hesitation, it was fascinating to watch. He wasn’t entirely sure how Wanda had drawn him into her dream, but for now he was content to observe.

“I was thinking of making Paprikash to take, what do you think?” Wanda asked as she brought her meal to the table and gestured for him to join her.

“I think—” Vision began, watching her smile up at him as he hovered about the table. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said grinning and taking a napkin from a pile on the table, “perhaps I can teach you how to make it properly?”

“I’d love that,” he replied, thinking tenderly of his pathetic first attempt at the dish all those years earlier. Back when he’d been a lovestruck being, not entirely capable of processing the wave of feelings he got every time she was near. He supposed not much had changed, if anything the feelings had grown more intense.

Before Vision had time to further dissect the space about them, the scene changed yet again and he found himself standing in a park whose grass was slightly too green, the colours of the playground a little too bright. The colours lost their saturation around the corners of his view, as though the paintbrush had run out of paint for the edges.

Vision instead turned his attention to the woman walking beside him, her arm tucked into the nook of his elbow as they strolled through the park. He was distinctly aware of Wanda chattering away about their imaginary schedule for the weekend, suggesting a movie the following day at the outdoor cinema with their neighbours and reminding him of the community meeting the following Wednesday.

He smiled softly and listened to her creating this life for them, wishing it into existence. He was content to just hear her speak, to gain this glimpse into a future they clearly both wanted, even if it was just a dream for the time being. It reignited his desire to fight for a shared life with Wanda. The running and hiding had been wearing them both down recently, but it humbled his despair to know that Wanda still longed for this version of life. It made him want to do as much as he could to get them something close to this life.

Vision turned his face to the sun as they walked, relishing in its warmth as glimpses of light made it through the greenery above them. Her hand was a constant on his arm, her voice in his head telling him of all they both wished for, birds providing a background chorus.

His eyes opened once more, smiling as he turned his head to look at Wanda. It took a moment to realise this wasn’t part of the dream, that he had returned to their current reality once more.

It was still dark outside and for a brief moment his heart held onto the hope that time had paused while they dreamt, that it was still evening, but a glance to the digital clock on their bedside table told Vision it was nearing 7am. He was due to get the train at 10am.

Wanda was still curled against his side, her breathing slow and steady, one hand had reached across the covers as they slept, reaching for him. He took it rubbing her cold fingers to warm them up. As he did so, she stirred beside him.

“Wanda,” he murmured to the morning air, brushing her hair off her cheek with gentle touches.

“No,” she whispered back, scrunching her eyes closed causing little tears to leak from the corners. “I didn’t want to wake up.”

“I know,” he said.

“I wanted to stay there.”

“One day.”

Wanda opened her eyes at this and looked up at him, her questions clear. He smiled tightly at her but was sure it came across as something closer to a grimace. Understanding reached her eyes and he nodded sadly, confirming that he’d seen it all too.

“One day,” he repeated, like a promise and she slid her arms around his waist in answer, pulling herself closer to his warmth.

They held each other for as long as they could afford before knowing that they had no other choice than to get ready for their respective departures. With their bags packed, Vision set about making a quick breakfast for Wanda, the same scrambled eggs and bacon she’d made in her dream world. She stayed pressed to his back, her arms wrapped around his waist, as though afraid he’d disappear like her dreams.

At the station they waited at the platform as the train pulled in. Vision hated this part the most, hated that he had to be the one to turn his back first, but Wanda never told him where she was going next, it was to protect them both.

“We will find a way to that home,” he whispered at her ear as they hugged one last time.

“You really think we could have that?” she asked, voicing the question they both seemed too scared to ask all morning.

“I promise to you,” he said holding her hands tightly between them, “that I will do everything in my power to make that life for us.”

She smiled and leant forward to kiss him one more time.

“Travel safe,”

“And you,”

And Vision was leaving again, not knowing when they’d next be able to meet up, or for how long. At least some of his hopelessness had turned to hope in the last few hours, reignited by the knowledge that she longed for the same life he did. Doubt was always following him, and he’d started to wonder if he’d been overstepping where they were at in their relationship, but he could no longer ignore how right it had felt. They’d find a way to that corner of the universe, one day.

[silenthillmutual]

wah i got “lover dearest” stuck in my head

cws: violent intrusive thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking (referenced)

this bar doesn’t feel right on dankovsky’s skin. really, no bar does. even through his coat he feels the griminess crawling on him, itching to get beneath the leather, and if he weren’t wearing gloves he’d scratch it off in great bloody chunks. he scowls at the table in front of him, like if he furrows his brow hard enough the thought will simply vanish. he’s always hated that sort of violent imagery. he’s not innocent, not unaccustomed to viscera or even to the act of drawing blood, but something about turning his claws on himself puts a hole in his stomach.

he’d swallow himself if he could. the image isn’t going away, reel rewinding in his mind. it’s a flimsy moving picture, but it doens’t have to be good to stick to his mind.

daniil crosses his legs, one foot over the other. he came here to think, to stimulate his mind to progress. the change of scenery was supposed to help him through the stagnation he’d hit in the stillwater. the town hall was never conducive to thinking - even its usual occupants failed to do much more than act, to carry out orders based on little more than rumors. and maybe that was the philosophical point behind its arcitecture: a place for the human soul to follow the law, whatever the cost. or maybe the people here are just that stupid.

well. at the current moment, daniil can’t claim to be any better. coming to a bar to think was a moronic decision. he’d only come to bars to escape his thoughts, to drown them out for a while so he could... so he could do anything, really. sleep. socialize. he never did much of either, never did them well, never did them for long. sometimes with the drink, the thoughts would disappear altogether and he could just sit, staring at a wall, enjoying the blessed silence. other times the drink would numb it for long enough for him to make it back to his flat, stumbling over books in the dark, only to be attacked the moment he shut his eyes. images would come at him, blurring into one another, and a small but concise voice he didn’t recognize reminding him he knew the way to open a vein, to slit a throat, to puncture a lung. the best way to practice is on himself.

“fancy meeting you here, oynon.” daniil scrambles in his mind, throwing himself at the sound of burakh’s voice. outward, he’d be embarrassed of his actions, but as it is he can only feel relief. “i’d have thought our humble bar beneath your status.”

burakh says it with a lilt in his voice to indicate a joke is being made, and one at daniil’s expense. daniil clicks his tongue against his teeth and doesn’t quite shake his head, looking towards the bartender. even that hurts. “i’ll learn to make do with the materials provided me,” he says, “but i think you’ll notice i’m not drinking. i never do, on the job.”

“of course not. what a scandal that’d be!” burakh takes his seat across from daniil and plants his elbow on the table, drawing daniil’s eyes toward him. it’s nice to have someone across the way to look at instead of the wall, and it’s all the better that burakh is prettier than their surroundings. he doesn’t seem as out of place here as daniil would have thought, given the owner of this establishment. but artemy does shift in his seat to look at him, and the expression he wears is restless. “what are you doing here though, dankovsky, if not drinking? it’s the middle of the day, and i doubt stamatin has much medical insight to offer you.” his eyes flick to the dancer.

daniil cuts him off before he can make a truly ridiculous suggestions. “you never know. andrey was in the health sciences before he left for architecture. and perhaps the local alcohol offers a modicum of protection against the pest.” burakh’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and some of daniil’s self-assured smugness rushes back. he’s not sure what part of his response burakh is surprised by. “i am here to think,” he offers. “thought a change of pace would help. i’m at a dead end, colleague.”

funny. it feels good to admit it. it’s never felt good to admit to anything before; to failures, to attractions, to the shifting and clouded thoughts inside his head... “i’m flattered, emshen, that you would trust me with such a dark and embarrassing secret. bayarlaa for this precious gift.” daniil thinks about kicking him under the table. then burakh sighs, dropping his hand from his face and sitting up a little straighter. “i have an idea, but i’m not confident in it. feels like i’m missing something, but i can’t put my finger on what.”

"is that why you’re here at a bar in the middle of the day?” burakh gives him an odd look and he feels his insides being tugged down. he’s always been affectless, and never sure if his words come across with the earnestness he means them. in a moment of weakness, he continues: “have i said something wrong?”

and for all of that, burakh snorts. “i don’t know what i’m doing here,” he says. “i don’t frequent bars at all. i just felt -” he stops himself, and daniil watches, transfixed, as his cheeks dust over with pink. he’s on the verge of putting a stop to whatever words were coming next, and daniil is suddenly and desperately invested in their trajectory. he leans closer, almost over the table, hoping his expression conveys his interest. burakh looks baffled, almost shy as he mumbles out, “i felt my line being pulled here.”

“oh.” he doesn’t know what that means. he gets the sense that it’s something important, and something personal, by the way burakh looks at him. he can’t help that his first thought is like a fishing line? but for once he manages not to simply say the first thing to come to mind. he says the second instead, just as honest as the first and every bit as embarrassing as burakh’s admission. “i’m glad.”

whatever it means, daniil’s choice of words seem to have been the right ones. burakh is a little less hunched in on himself now, fingers going lax against the table. daniil vibrates, a sudden impulse to reach out and grab one, to use him physically as the lifeline he’s latched onto mentally. especially as he’s looking ready to jump up and leave, and daniil does not want to be left with his thoughts again. “i shouldn’t have come here,” he says without thinking.

burakh looks at him, brows knit, eyes working through something. daniil licks his lips to try and work on a follow-up, but he freezes. even in burakh’s presence, the thoughts come back. you’ve shot a man already. daniil’s fingers curl on the table, nails against the leather against the wood. you are a violent and ruthless man. his teeth burrow into his lip, digging for blood. you will give in and hurt yourself again. the taste is stale against his tongue. it’s only a matter of time. daniil’s eyes start to flicker nervously. i am patient. “what i said, erdem - when i said that,” burakh shakes is head, puts a hand in his hair. daniil watches, eyes aching to stay focused. “i thought you were calling the kids ‘mutts’. i didn’t realize you meant actual dogs.“ a nervous smile plays over artemy’s mouth. “they left that part out. i guess because they told you?”

“yeah,” daniil says, not sure what it is he’s agreeing to. you could slip the cuff of your glove up and sink your nails in. you could tear at the skin until it bleeds. you could take your hand and slam it down on the table so hard it breaks your wrist.

“i’m sorry. i don’t really think we’re better off without you.”

daniil blinks at him. it takes a moment to process what he means, to work through the layers of awful commands in his head. “i didn’t mean that,” he says, though perhaps he should have let burakh think he did. burakh gestures for him to continue, and he finds himself uncertain. he feels the stress high up in his throat, difficult to breathe for the doubt blocking his airways. he can’t manage even a grimace like this, sweat gone cold along the back of his neck. “the bar,” he says. “i shouldn’t have come to the bar.”

like that, the floodgates open. daniil puts a hand to his temple, muttering almost more to himself than to burakh. “being here brings back such memories. bad habits. destructive habits.” stop where you are. he’ll think you’re a freak. “drinking myself stupid just to keep the -” daniil shuts his mouth so quickly and sharply his teeth ache. “nevermind,” he says, and what should be a grumble comes out just as monotone as all the rest. when it looks like burakh is about to encourage him, he snaps out, “you wouldn’t understand.”

despite the tone, burakh looks at him with soft eyes. it irritates daniil to be looked at this way. it’s uncomfortable, much kinder than he deserves. he could take it if burakh wanted to shout, if this turned into a brawl like his first few years at university. he’s not used to this, whatever it is. “maybe not,” burakh concedes, “but wouldn’t you feel better talking about it anyway?”

“i never have.” even to his own ears, he sounds surprisingly vulnerable. it makes him want to tug the coat tighter across his chest, deflect whatever future empathy comes his way. there’s a mix of emotions flooding through him now: a distaste for pity, a fear that he’s crossed the line, a sense of longing to be understood where it’s impossible. he’s not sure what sort of response he’s looking for or, more to the point, what he needs in this moment, only that it’s difficult to look burakh’s way. he can still feel the other man’s eyes on him, waiting for him to continue, and a panic sets in that he truly doesn’t know what burakh wants. he feels, all of a sudden, so ludicrous like this, when there’s so much else to be worried about. “nothing seems to work anymore,” he confesses. “it’s hard not to fall back on...”

he trails off, but burakh picks up on it. “yeah,” he says. daniil feels something and looks down. he hadn’t realized he’d left his hand sitting on the table until now, hadn’t felt it at all until other fingers grazed over his. he knows there must be a flush to his cheeks, and the urge to take hold of the hand swells up. his own fingers feel a tremor underneath burakhs, and more wild and impulsive thoughts crowd his brain. more pleasant this time, but far more unobtainable.

“i don’t think you can help me,” he says flatly. saying it feels liberating, and the next words come easy. “not with this.” burakh tilts his head. “some battles must be fought with the mind, and not the hands.” burakh laughs. it’s a pleasant, light sound, and daniil’s heart races to hear it. equal parts endearment and frantic confusion. “what? what did i say?”

“nothing i shouldn’t have expected.” burakh’s fingers curl a little around daniil’s own, before they start to slip away as he stands. “you do what you need to, dankovsky. and if you find you want help all the same, you know where to find me.”

“actually, i don’t,” he blurts out, and he knows his face is on fire now. “it’s you who usually finds me, not the other way around.”

burakh blinks at him, and extends his hand. daniil can see where it’s calloused over, and thinks about touching it. the imagined texture is a far cry different from the images he’s conjured to mind all afternoon. not soft, perhaps, but gentle. “have you got a map?” he asks. daniil sets his bag on the table too quickly, eliciting another quiet giggle as he searches for the paper. burakh pulls a pen from his center pocket, circling an abandoned factory not far from where they are now. “i trust that you won’t give out my secret,” he says, and slides the map back over.

he’s gone before daniil can think of something else to hold him in place.

it’s for the better, daniil tries to rationalize, but his body screams that it really isn’t. he’s alone again, in a place that begs him to give in. the thoughts are at bay for the moment, only because daniil’s kept his attention the way burakh’s hand had felt on his. he fantasizes, for a second, what it might have felt like with his glove off, to know the brush of those rought finger pads against the back of his hand. and then, easy as anything, the thoughts are back to torment him. images of broken fingers, of pencils shoved through skin. daniil stands before he can wallow a second longer, and heads for the bar.

[dreamcity-rawr]

demon!nctdream

   in which nct dream are the demons of the 7 deadly sins you happen to meet

Mark Lee: pride.

a wholeass demon king. he prides himself for the power he holds as a demon in a human world and isn’t even humble about his supernatural strength and intelligence. he sees himself as superior to human beings, often times viewing them as useless. quite self-centric in that sense. but you, he couldn’t help but admire and respect. there is something about you that makes you a goddess to him and truly, you’re the only person he allows to stomp over his ego, he’d send anyone else down to hell in a second. he holds you so dear. you’ve had a hard time with how entitled his demon self is, but through observing him, it’s makes sense that he’s so prideful. he deserves that much recognition for what he’s achieved all on his own.     “I’d love to take you back to where I’m from and marry you someday but…the queen title doesn’t give you enough credit” “Mark, I just thought it’d be nice to meet your parents,… not to become a queen….”

 Huang Renjun: wrath.

hates everyone and doesn’t even hide it. although most of his hatred comes in form of glares or insults, he’s actually quite violent as well. and his demonic strength makes his anger even more dangerous than it already is. doesn’t hold back at all, instead, lets anger take whole control of him, so he ends up destroying things and hurting people. he had wiped off a whole section of hell once just out of anger, thereby others cower in fear in front of him. but he wonders why you don’t mind how overly rough he is. you’re always so patient and understanding with him. and he loves that you somehow always manage to calm down the demon in him although it makes him a little vulnerable. “I could just headlock you and smother you with kisses and hugs right now until you can’t even breathe” “That’s….a very interesting way to put it. Um,… I love you, too, babe”

 Lee Jeno: sloth.

quite the lazy ruler. with the power he has, he’ll just snap his fingers and have other people do things for him. doesn’t really bother doing anything that requires too much effort but others can’t complain about it because they’re scared of him. a demon who loves leisure is a demon who kills anyone who takes it away from him. so, wake him up from his nap and you’ll be napping for the rest of your life. But when you once woke him up, he didn’t really snap at you. something about the way your hoodie looked so warm and cozy made him pull you down with him, hugging you until he fell back asleep. from then on, he’d always come looking for you and demand you to help him sleep because you did it very well. a lot of times, he’d just be playing video games while you sit in his lap, nuzzled in his chest so he has where to slung his arms around. “I’ve had slaves feed and fan me….but none of them ever received such privilege as you, kitten” “I’m sweating like crazy from the seven-hour cuddle with no aircon, Jeno. What kind of privilege is this?”

 Lee Donghyuck: envy.

he has always been a jealous kind of demon boyfriend. you enjoy seeing his jealous and possessive side from time to time but you start to realize he’s always jealous over the smallest of things. his eyes turn green when he’s envious, which happens a lot. he refuses to stand still when someone else approaches you, he send them straight down to hell, never to be seen again. because of that, you got into many arguments of privacy and freedom, which would end up with yall “breaking up”. but he can’t stand being away from you so he’d be coming back, apologizing. he’d appear in your bedroom at midnight, just to rip the plushies from your arms and place himself in instead and sleep, kissing you all over while whispering how much he loves you. it makes you melt, tbh.  “this is the dungeon of hell, where I punish sinners that dare touch you and-” “hyuck, what the hell are my plushies and pets doing down here?!”

Na Jaemin: lust.

always so affectionate with you, peppering you with kisses and smothering you in hugs. he could never really keep his hands off you. but a lot of times, it’d get out of hand and that’s when his demon takes over, barely containing his sinful desires. his eyes turn red while staring down at you, breathing heavily just because you show a little more skin than usual and it drives him crazy. all these dark thoughts invade his mind but he fights to not take you then and there, he can’t bring to do that to you even though he’s never held back with his past lovers. It’s because you’re the only person he’s ever truly loved and you’re precious for him to ruin. he’s swore to wait until you feel ready. the farthest it has really gone is your whole neck covered in purple hickeys that one time you wore a strapless dress, which he has constantly apologized to you for. “This math equation is so confusing, damn it” “Baby, please….don’t bite your lip like that. It drives me insane, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back next time”

Zhong Chenle: greed.

he is already a demon on a throne who has everything in his reach. yet it’s not enough for him. hell is not enough for him. that’s why he comes to earth, observing it before planning to conquer it. and he truly can, he’s just that capable. but his desire of the whole world fades away the minute he encounters you, helping him get rid of a roach. from then on, he decides, he has to have you before the world because you’re the most precious and powerful human being. and so he does. he peppers you with anything you’ve ever dreamed of having and although it makes you feel great, it’s actually the way he treats you that makes you fall for him. the demon in him seeps through his constant want to make the world’s wealth his but his weakness is not having you, his sense of the whole world. “If I Disney Land, should I name it LeLe land or Dolphin la-” “Babe, I love you but…it’s 2am, can’t we just go back to sleep?”  

Park Jisung: gluttony.

tough and fierce. rarely ever shows any emotions, which paints him as a very mysterious kind of demon. opposite from his calmness is his excitement for food. as someone that is young and growing, he eats a lot. it’s his passion. he is a demon who devours food of all sorts. the rarer the better. loves food even more than people and he’ll go to lengths just in order to taste something, even if it was killing to eat, demons could afterall devour human as well if they wanted to. and somehow, he finds himself interested in you, who doesn’t eat too often. and when you do, you eat the simplest of foods. It drove him mad how a person could have so little appreciation towards food and he makes it his goal to change your mind. somehow midway he grows very fond of you, so fond he has to remind himself you’re human, not food. the only human he ever likes more than food.   “If you were food, I’d definitely saviour you for last….like dessert, you’d be the sweet sweet kind~” “A-Are you really sure demons don’t eat human? You’re making me feel a little unsafe right now”

   author’s note    thank you so much for reading and sending in requests!!! I wasn’t very sure whether to go really dark on this or to go more light-hearted and soft/comedy way. so i decided on the latter as it fir the dreamies more.and when thinking about demons, 7 deadly sins was the first thing that popped to my mind and dreamies have 7 members soooo....yea.  ♥️ I love you  ♥️ 

[mwolf0epsilon]

BATIM - Helping Hand

Summary: All stories have a beginning and an end. Henry’s ended with kindness, Joey’s began with cruelty.

---

     Back when he’d been trying to reintegrate into civilian life after going to war, Henry had no conceivable way of explaining his experiences in an eloquent fashion. It was very difficult to put into words the sort of visceral feelings that made his chest tighten with a mixture of white hot panic and instinctual terror. There were no feasible words to express the sensation of looking another human being in the eyes and knowing that they were just as reluctant to be there, and that one of them had to die for the other to live. War was a topic that muted him to a somewhat permanent degree. Too hard for him to talk about. But the studio? The horrifying atrocities Joey had committed in his absence? The lengths he'd gone to get what he wanted? That was the one horrific happenstance in which he could find his voice and curse out a supposed friend for their heinous crimes, especially when he found himself back on that familiar doorstep that led him into that repeating nightmare... The mockery of a long-dead dream. Yes, Henry Stein, the man of few words, would end up spewing out as many acidic profane words that he could conjure up on the spot. So foul they were that they would have had a sailor as shocked and disgusted as a blushing nun. Not that anyone could judge him for it. A man of routine could only bend so much to the insatiable will of another, before he slowly found himself pushed over the precipice of madness. It was by pure miracle he hadn't lost his senses long ago. Because, thankfully, Henry made due with what little leniency and creativity he had to keep himself entertained. Every few loops he changed things up just a little bit.

     The “Long Runs” as he called them, were a respite of sorts Henry had concocted long ago as a means to give himself a break from the main storyline Joey so vehemently forced him through, with little to no choice in the matter. They were, in a sense, somewhat of a sacred thing. His sanctuary, as Sammy would put it, and one that he'd long since forced his puppeteer not to disturb. If Joey didn't want his marionette to flop onto the ground in defiance of restarting the same old stale song and dance all over again, he'd have to allow him some time to relax and get back on his game. Otherwise Henry would simply sit down and refuse to even go near the Ink Machine, much less begin this charade. Without the hellish thing as his driving point, it’s not like Joey could find any reason to push him forward anyway.  Not without the Ink Demon being let out to take on its role of the relentless hunter. So, having learned this, Joey seemed to begrudgingly allow him to explore the studio to his heart’s content without pushing him to do anything that would immediately set him towards that final stage. That repetitive speech that made less and less sense the more Henry experienced it.

     On these breaks Henry took his time and did what he’d done back when he was a kid: He people watched. An odd hobby, but one that taught him something quite valuable about creating characters. Traits and qualities. Everyone had a way of being that was entirely unique to them. Be it the way they walked, if they spoke just with their mouth or with their hands, or how they chose to project themselves out in the world. Dress and speech patterns, certain ritualistic habits, likes and dislikes...All things tended to be readable on a person if you just stopped, watched and listened for long enought. Which is why, on every one of these breaks, Henry took the time to figure out everyone’s gimmicks. Soon after, he’d started his little gestures of kindness...

     It all started with the swollen searcher with the nice hat. Jack Fain, the once lyricist that had aided in getting the right words to Sammy’s jolly little tunes. Henry had been absentmindedly exploring the sewer tunnels near the music department when he’d noticed the searcher in a rather bad way. Overstuffed with the thick ink that Twisted Alice so coveted from his brethren. So large and nauseatingly lumpy that he couldn’t even move out of his current spot. He supposed that was his inevitable fate unless crushed with a crate, which made him feel a little less upset about dropping such a heavy object onto the poor thing. Then, much to his surprise, Sammy Lawrence himself sauntered down from one of the adjacent tunnels to find the pitiful creature blocking his path. And even more surprising, he actually seemed sad about it's sorry state.   “Oh you silly sheep… This is the 4th time this week that I’ve found you so heavy with your precious wool…” How Sammy could count the weeks, Henry wasn’t sure, since he knew for a fact the music director often forgot his own name. Come to think of it, Sammy forgot a lot of things, reminding Henry of a fellow in his platoon that was afflicted with early onset dementia. He’d been discharged due to becoming a liability, and seeing him fight the disarray of his own mind had been a honestly terrifying spectacle. Henry had felt a great pity for him, which is about the same way he felt for Sammy now. The poor guy could have been great had he not ended up in Joey Drew’s grasp and then tossed into this nightmare realm. “Not to worry...Your shepherd is here now, although you’ll have to forgive me. I have no shears.”

He’d watched in morbid fascination as Sammy dug four-fingered hands into the swollen searcher’s mass, pulling out chunks of it in a way that made Henry’s stomach twist in discomfort. If Jack felt any pain, he didn’t show it.  If anything with each clump of ink removed, he seemed almost relieved. Finally, once returned to his regular proportions, the searcher let out a much softer humming sound. One that was much nicer to the ear than the wet hiss he reserved for Henry whenever he got too close to the skittish creature.   “You’re welcome my little sheep. The others will be most pleased with the wool you’ve so generously provided…” The pile of thick ink was truly massive, and the old artist could only wonder what Sammy hoped to do with it. “Please refrain from consuming more. Excessive indulgence is a sin you know...”

From the way Sammy had addressed Jack upon arrival, this seemed to be a recurring issue. One the self-appointed prophet seemed to exclusively come down into the sewers to solve himself. It piqued Henry’s interest in such a way that he’d begun to wonder… If he helped with that, would this in any way benefit him? Couldn't do him wrong to have some thick ink at hand... And then he wondered: Would helping them benefit Jack and Sammy in any way? Only one way to find out!

     He'd left it for the next time he decided to take a break. First going through a few more loops to give himself time to figure out just how to help the prophet and the swollen searcher that lived down in the sewers. He couldn't exactly allow Sammy to sacrifice him. It would only end with the delusional ex-music director dying faster. So what could he, a humble artist, possibly do for someone who was so lost to devotion? And then there was the question of what could he do for Jack. The only thing he seemed interested in, was being left alone and keeping a hold of that dang valve. Henry hadn't personally known the man, so this was a difficult task. Luckily he found an answer in the form of an audio log Buddy had collected well before the older man had set foot in the studio. As it turned out, Jack Fain was a fan of coffee. That at least was something to look into, as he made his way all around the studio. He'd mostly only found rations of bacon soup, but surely there had been a coffee machine in the break room, right?  And if he could keep his seeing tool, maybe he could keep anything else he kept on his person until the end of another run? He'd tried it once with Wally's keys and he was pretty sure he'd kept them on the next loop, only to lose them again later (the man should have invested in a better key ring, that one was a slippery bugger!). But could it work for heftier items? That too was a theory he tested, and Joey surely must have found it quite odd when he'd begun his end of the loop speech, only to stop as he stared in confusion at the bag of coffee Henry had brought along with him.   "...I have questions..." He deadpanned as he stared at the bag of coffee with slight distrust. A bag of coffee beans. Nothing could be less threatening.   "Funny, I thought that was my job?" Henry grinned. "Asking questions, and never getting any answers?"   "Funny indeed… Whatever you're up to, don't think it'll do any good." Joey frowned. "Your path is set, and nothing can change that. Even if I’ve been rather patient with your excursions."   "We'll see." That only gave Henry more motivation to try. If just to spite Joey. Another guilty pleasure of his that he indulged in from time to time. He too needed a bit of fresh unpredictable entertainment after all…

     To not lug around a bag of coffee everywhere he went (which wasn’t very practical), Henry had decided to take another break on his next run to begin experimenting with this little idea that had been borne out of curiosity. It was easy to set a goal for it: If offering something of comfort to someone that had minimal impact in Joey’s puppeteering did anything of value not only to himself but for the person in question that he sought to offer some kindness to, then what could potentially happen if he tried the same trick with some of the "main cast"? It was, in all honesty, a rather clinical way of thinking and planning things out. He was essentially detaching himself from this reality to test those around him, having superior knowledge of what was truly going on (albeit in a limited and at times fleeting fashion) thus a sort of intellectual advantage over their situations. He was being a less harmful manipulator. Setting up events like Joey. The morality of it all came crashing down just as he’d gotten a coffee machine to work.   “Keep it together Henry.” he shook himself out of that nasty train of thought as fast as he could. “You’re not doing anything malicious...You’re just...Making coffee.”

He could maybe use a cup or two himself. If just to settle his nerves. How ironic that a stimulant could calm anyone.

  "Yeah, just a simple cup of coffee. No harm, no foul…" Except to his hand when the damn coffee maker scalded him for no particular reason. If anything, he hoped this was the best damn coffee that the swollen searcher had ever tasted in his whole life as an ink slug. There was just one tiny problem with this plan: Henry didn't have any cups. Nor any mugs. Not even those tiny little plastic cups that came with these sorts of machines. The studio was apparently in a "bring your own mug" policy just to skirt around buying a refill of those.   "Joey you damn cheapskate…" he had to improvise. Thankfully he wasn't short on containers or an appetite for bacon soup. He just hoped the taps in the bathroom would still have access to clean water...

     To Joey it must be quite a sight, watching an old man make his way down into the sewers balancing three cans of soup containing piping hot coffee in them. The stairs weren't exactly up to code and the ink coating them was slippery, so this whole journey to sate his damn curiosity might leave the old artist with second degree burns and potentially a ruined back.  Thankfully he managed his way down into the depths with no real issues, and noted the shadow of the prophet following his every move. Good, he hoped an offering would appease him. Play on the same field as Sammy in a sense, just to see what he might do. Granted treating Jack nicely might grant him the cultist's mercy if he treated him like a friend still. At the sight of him, the thing that had once been Jack Fain began to flee as usual.   "Hey, wait… I have something for you!" He watched the creature skirt around a corner, hat barely staying on. He stood there, unwilling to run, and simply held the cans of hot coffee with a slightly disappointed look on his face. And then…

...Snhiff shniff shhhhniff…

The wettest sniffing sound Henry had ever heard assaulted his ears, as the swollen searcher peeked back around the corner at him. Its mouth shut but the hollow sockets where it's eyes should be appearing to be wide as it tracked what must be an alluring aroma to it. It appeared searchers still retained a sense of smell, which begged the question of how Jack could stand to live down here.   "Smells nice doesn't it? I uh…" he waved one of the cans carefully so as not to spill its contents. "Got a coffee maker upstairs working again."   "Ksshhhff…Eeee..." he couldn't understand what it said, but Henry was pretty sure Jack was trying to say "coffee". He recognized what it was, and most importantly it looked like he desperately wanted it.   "Yes. It's coffee. Do you want it?" He outstretched his arm, trying to entice the swollen searcher with his peace offering. It looked at the can, the sloshing dark liquid inside it, then stared at Henry. It seemed to be trying to decide if it was worth risking its "hide" to get what it so desperately craved. Finally after an agonizing minute, it went for it.

     Henry nearly toppled over as the swollen ink abomination lunged for the can. He damn near spilled the other two on himself as well. Luckily he'd regained his footing and managed to keep everything nicely contained in the repurposed cans. The searcher on the other hand was less the skittish thing that ran circles around him, and more like an overexcited puppy. The slurping desperate chugging noises as it inhaled the coffee were a little gross, but that was easily overlooked by just how happy it looked.   "That good uh?"

The gurgling purr that followed got a chuckle out of him, and he couldn't help give Jack a gentle pay on the hat. He couldn't have imagined just how happy the poor fellow would get. And he wasn't the only one. That worn out Bendy mask peering from the corner gave Henry a good idea of just how impactful such a small gesture had been.   "I have an extra can if you'd also like some…" He'd brought one in the hopes that Sammy might appreciate some as well, but he wasn't sure if he liked the stuff. In the little time they'd worked together at the studio, the music director had been more of a smoker than a coffee enthusiast. Shame he wouldn't be able to get such an item for him… To Henry's surprise, rather than keep his distance and wait for his dramatical reveal, Sammy actually responded to him.   "My stomach does not react kindly to most substances besides the Lord's plentiful gift..." His words were devoid of emotion. Awfully cold but also contemplative. "I'm sure my darling sheep would be more than happy to consume my share…" The happy gurgling more than confirmed this, and Henry wasted no time to give him the extra can. Jack took it gleefully and began to drink it eagerly.   "A picky eater…" Henry felt slightly disturbed at the idea that Sammy was drinking any of the ink just laying around. "I can respect that."   "I assure you, it is not by choice." The mask cocked to the side, studying him. "Although I must admit the stomach aches have helped ensure my physique stays at the peak of perfection to ensure my tasks are well done."

Henry frowned and stared down at his own stomach. He was a little on the pudgy side nowadays, and honestly chugging cans of bacon soup probably didn't help. But he wouldn't call Sammy's proportions the peak of perfection.   "Doesn't sound too fun, getting sick unless you drink… the Lord's gift." Best not step on any toes, if Sammy still had any that is. Play it casual.   "I do not believe you've come down here to critique my practices as a devout follower of the Ink Demon." The Bendy mask turned to watch Jack devour the can of coffee. Henry felt like he must have been smiling fondly. "You have… Come down here to present us with offerings. Kind ones."   "Yes." He replied calmly, remaining just as calm when the mask turned back to him. Sammy's body language spoke for him more than his words did. He was doubtful.   "Why?" A good question.   "I had nothing better to do." He responded truthfully, albeit only partially. "And you could both use the kindness I'm sure."

They could, they honestly could. After having their minds, bodies and souls taken from them, their identities torn asunder, both Sammy and Jack could only benefit from being treated with the one thing Joey had stripped from them. Humanity. That run, for such a tiny little gesture as offering Jack some coffee, Sammy let him go without a fight. Joey's speech was much more heated than usual, but nothing really seemed to change on the next loop. At least he didn't think so until he found a can of hot coffee waiting for him in Sammy's sanctuary, as well as a bowl of extra thick ink with the valve propped in the middle of it.

-

     His second gesture couldn't have been more easy. While Sammy still tried to sacrifice him, his speech was more subdoed. Almost playful in a way that said "I know what you did and I'm grateful, even if my actions don't show it". Joey's grip on him was too strong to escape with just one kind action, but not enough that Sammy even in his state of forgetfulness could get the mental image of Henry treating Jack to some coffee out of his inky brain. The alterations to his pattern gave Henry plenty of time to figure out just what to do for his encounter with Twisted Alice. Playing slightly into Sammy's delusions had allowed him to get close, so focusing on her obsession might coax what little of Susie was left. Because he'd gotten wise and asked what it was like to become a toon to the only other person qualified to give him a proper response. Sure Buddy couldn't talk, but his reignited personality had given Henry insight on what it was to become a cartoon character. There was a power struggle at first. The original human personality and the Toon's personality clashing in an effort to remain in or take full control. A chaotic and confusing process until one came out victorious. At first Boris had won… then Buddy had slowly begun resurfacing the more loops Henry went through. Now they had a mutual agreement. They needed each other to survive, and the same turned out to be true for Alice and Susie. Alice being the more dominant and jaded of the personalities, having long since fallen from grace after witnessing the sheer cruelty and lack of hope this abominable studio had to offer. Susie ended up being the weaker of the two, guarded by her dragon like a princess in a twisted castle. She sometimes spoke up, clearly disturbed by what their shared hands had done in the past, but Alice had too much of a grip on her to ever let her go. If Henry could properly appease the angel, he might be able to get to Susie as well. Give them… What? A glimmer of hope? Better than let them stew away in their rotten despair.   "You're staying. I'm going." He pleaded with Buddy after taking the gifts left behind by Sammy and Jack. "Don't give me that look, I've told you what she does when she gets her hands on you…" A soft whine as the toon wolf pleaded for him to reconsider.   "I know you worry, but I need to reach out to them. Even if it doesn't change much, they deserve some consideration." He pauses to think back on the tapes Susie had left, and then her final speech before he was forced to confront the brute Boris inevitably became. "After Joey used them it's the least I could do." Buddy (and no doubt Boris) growled in frustration before eloquently writing just what he thought of Joey. Henry crinkled his nose at the rather uncharacteristic choice of words, but the very last sentence made him smile somberly: “You don't have to fix Joey's mistakes.”   "I wish it was that simple. I really do." It wasn't like he had a choice, not when Joey thought he could evade the responsibility himself and pin it on someone else.

     Alice was fairly easy to butter up to. He'd entered her lair and sat through her little song like the patient man he was, and then when she finished up with her usual screeching finale he did something she didn't quite expect. He applauded. She was so caught off guard that she just stood there, even as the lights turned back on. Flabbergasted at the sudden adulation.   "What a finish, truly miss Angel, you're quite a gal." He'd continued to clap, bowl of thick ink balancing precariously on top of his head. "I'd offer flowers, but sadly all I have on me is ink…"   "...Why, what a flatterer…" She sounded uncertain, a hint of Susie just barely at the surface. She must have been quite shocked as well. No one had ever reacted to Twisted Alice's presence with such a welcoming embrace. She was a creature to be feared after all.   "Flatterer? Me? My goodness miss Angel, don't tell me you don't get the occasional fan…" he removed the bowl from his head and made sure the thick black blob was quite visible to her. An enticing offering provided by Jack Fain. It's not like he needed the excess ink.   "Sadly not. If only most visitors were as well mannered as you..." She crossed her arms, Alice's suspicions breaking through. "But that's to expect from the real creator, isn't it Henry?"   "Glad to see some recognition, but honestly I can't be credited for any of this. Not when it's been… Altered to such a degree." Henry looked around with a saddened expression. "Joey really managed to taint everything he touched..."   "Only if you let him." The Angel's hiss was a terrifying thing. "But it was so easy to let him in, wasn't it...? He had a way with words…" Susie was such a meek girl. A scared chick in a world conducted by the big bad wolf. And Alice? Alice was a fox that offered her protection. But Henry could be just as cunning provided he was given the chance. Always for a good reason, rather than satisfying his selfish desires. So very unlike his childhood friend.   "Words were his weapon of choice, until that wasn't enough." Henry offered her the bowl, watching as she inspected it. Tested it's stability. She seemed pleased.   "Why are you here, Henry? Why come back to this miserable place?" Alice's gaze was piercing, but not as malicious as it often was. "And I'm sure it's not due to nostalgia, or an excuse to flatter your way up to the heavens."   "I think I knew once." He replied in truth, because you didn't lie to an angel. "But now? Now I'm not so sure… I think Joey liked that naivety on my part. It certainly worked to his advantage."   "That it did, little errand boy. You're just as trapped as the rest of us…" She dismissed him. "You may pass freely… But don't think I'll show you mercy twice. You are, after all, still a thief."   "What's a man to do but try to protect a poor pup?" He couldn't help tease as he made his way to the door. He was free to explore her lair and go on about his "day" without her tasks or her looming presence. That was good enough a reward for him, even if it didn't promise Buddy's freedom from the cruel fate that awaited him.   "Such a shame that pup wasn't meant to be." Alice responded. "A shame indeed. He was such a nice boy..."

     This particular encounter gave him a lot to think. The people he'd once assumed to be monsters weren't inherently malicious. That much he'd figured from Sammy's behaviour after he'd played nice. But while most chose to cower and cry, or lose themselves to desperation and lies, Alice was simply resigned to the hand she'd been dealt. Because, honestly, she was in a terrible position to begin with. Even if Susie clearly wanted better, for the both of them. In the end, the angel was only trying to protect her vessel even if Joey set her on a most cruel path. She was tired of grasping on to shallow hopes of ever getting out. Rather be the hunter than the prey. That run, his old friend seemed even more frustrated with him.   "Stop humanizing them. There's nothing you can do for them." Joey had grit out through his teeth, trying to keep a smile that was as insincere as his speeches.   "You're wrong. There is something I can do." He'd responded, unbothered by the anger in his captor's words.   "And what's that?"   "Treat them with decency, which is something you never did."

-

     The Projectionist was a challenge. From what he could tell, Norman Polk had essentially gone feral from years of agony and isolation. Most of the Lost Ones even considered him a dumb and very violent animal. Alice thought of him as useful. Susie felt a terrible pity for him. And Buddy? Buddy both feared and felt anguish when confronted with the Projectionist's presence. Henry had known him for a short while, so he could understand the sentiment. Norman had been a good albeit quirky man.   "He looked after us…" Susie spoke over the intercom. "He was so kind. It hurts to see him like this… A monster."

While Alice didn't let up on her list of tasks, and did indeed always take the cartoon wolf as scripted, she'd started letting Susie come forth to speak to Henry. She had a lot to say.   "If I knew how, I'd help him." He watched the Projectionist walk through the flooded maze of projectors and hearts. Each step heavy, and the clicking of the projectors somewhat deafening. Occasionally it let out a soft crackly noise from its speaker.   "You'd die." Alice interjected.   "How so?"   "Why do you think it takes hearts, Henry?" The twisted angel asked. Come to think of it, he'd never considered the why of its actions. "It's because its own was stolen long ago."   "Joey stole his heart?"   "No my dear errand boy." Alice chuckled bitterly, before Susie took hold. "Sammy did…"

     Joey was getting awfully frustrated with him, so Henry gave in and followed the plot to a t on the next three runs. He needed to think anyway.  Think of how to address the problem. Because, really, how would he convince Sammy to halt his ritual to look for something he might not even recall ever having stolen? And then there was the matter of giving it back to the Projectionist without getting brutally killed. He decided to just wing it on his next break. Starting with visiting Jack with more coffee, if just to get Sammy to talk. It worked, but the prophet seemed hesitant to talk about the resident of level 14.   "That beast is a dangerous one… Nothing but my lord can stop it's rampage."   "That beast is looking for something someone took from him." Henry explained. "Or so I've been told."   "And how am I to fix this exactly, little sheep?" The deranged cultist crossed his arms. "Surely you mustn't think of me as a miracle worker?"   "Help me find it. I've been told you might know where to look."

Truth be told Sammy had no idea what he was on about, but he was adamant to repay him for once again bringing some semblance of joy into his favourite "sheep's" life. Luckily there wasn't any need to run around in futility, searching for something that might be long gone. The prophet's memory issues resulted in Sammy placing items he considered of value in the same place. A box hidden under the floorboards beneath the cot he'd set up in his sanctuary. Unluckily, a heart was not among the objects he'd stored. At least it seemed so since it wasn't anywhere to be found in the box of trinkets.   "Damn it…" he sighed sadly. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.   "I am sorry to disappoint." The Bendy mask betrayed no real emotions, so Henry wasn't too sure if the apology was genuine. He sounded a little miffed about having his personal space invaded, but didn't act upon it. "What is it you seek, exactly?"

Looking through the box, Henry gave a nonchalant shrug. He picked up a golden locket that was coated in dry ink, turning it slowly in his hand as he tried to figure out how to surpass this bump in the road. Sammy quickly reached out and took it from him, clearly upset that he'd touch his personal belongings.   "Don't touch that." The cultist hissed.   "Sorry…" he watched him put the locket back into the box, next to what appeared to be a series of unlabeled tapes. There was also a chain with a ring on it, and a few other trinkets that seemed to hold some sentimental value. "I know you can't remember much… but… Did you ever take a heart? A literal heart?"   "A… Heart..."   "Yes. I know it sounds strange but--"   "Not at all. They're plentiful down below." Sammy shrugged "Delicious too… More so than the ink or the soup. I cannot explain how."

And Henry would rather not have him explain, because his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. He’d killed people before as a soldier, seen horrific things, but the thought of someone describing eating a human-ish heart made him sick.   "Then, yes a heart. Maybe not an ink one." He added, trying to keep the conversation on track.  The ex-music director paused, tapping a finger to the chin of the mask, before staring down at his own chest. Much to Henry's horror, he plunged his fist into his own torso and pulled out…Well it must have been a heart at some point.  Now it looked like an amalgamation of stitched flesh and all sorts of wires and weird clicking mechanisms. A perfect fit for the quasi-mechanical monster skulking around level 14.   "Would this be the heart in question?"   "W-what were you keeping it literally on your person for?!" He couldn't help spit out, much to the annoyance of the deranged ink man.   "Where would YOU keep a heart?" He huffed "It was safer here… And it felt important."

No kidding. And important it was, to the point where Sammy didn’t want to give it back. How was Henry going to convince him to do so?  Well…   “The person it belongs to needs it back.” He pleaded. “Can’t you please hand it over so I can give it to him?”   “I cannot trust that you’d find the rightful owner.” Sammy stated. “Sheep need guidance, not to guide. And you, little sheep, are risking falling prey to the wolves.”   "I can assure you I know the owner, and so do you." At least he had, once. "The Projectionist needs it back Sammy. Please, be reasonable."   "I am being reasonable. I'm protecting this from that horrific beast!" He held the heart closer to himself, very likely glaring beneath his mask.   "It doesn't need protecting from him! It needs to go back to him!" Henry argued back. The old cartoonist was getting fed up.   "No!"

That was… not the right answer. At least not when Henry was so close to a breakthrough. Or so he thought. He regretted what he had to do to get that heart in the end. Killing an unarmed man felt like cowardice, even if it was for a good cause.

     Level 14 was always such a dreary place. Even with a newfound goal, an old veteran like Henry still felt uneasy going through such a maze. After being forced to kill Sammy that run, he wanted good results. If just to justify his actions as being for the greater good. They… weren't.  The Projectionist charged as usual upon seeing him, and Henry had to fight his instincts to flee. Instead he held out his gift, closed his eyes, and prayed. No pain came, but the scream… That gutteral and mechanical crackling of sheer agony. Like hot iron had struck flesh. The Projectionist was screaming, it's chest ripping itself open to reclaim the missing piece. And then, when the wires shot out and took back the heart, the screaming only intensified. Boris took hold of the body he shared with Buddy. The cartoon wolf howling in despair to match the screams while curling into a tight shaking ball in the elevator. The Projectionist fell on its knees as it continued to scream. Henry's mind was fraying just listening to it. Watching the pitiful beast claw at its mending chest and screech until its speaker could handle no more.  A loud pop filled the air, and suddenly there was no sound. But the clawing continued The convulsing carried on. It was screaming without a voice and it was all Henry's fault. Coward that he was, he ran to the elevator and slammed a hand against the buttons. His eyes too blurry from regretful tears to see where he'd end up. Alice and Susie remained quiet. Their silence was damning. Condemning his actions and allowing his conscience to fall heavy with guilt.

     That time, once he set foot in the quaint New York apartment, Henry shakily sat down at Joey's table and stared into nothingness. A tired hollow man that couldn't bring himself to look at the grinning devil that was positively gloating with joy.   "I told you so." A choked sob and bitter tears followed. Henry hated how careful Joey's hands were as he wiped away his tears, and as he murmured sweet words into his ear. That burning cobalt gaze aglow with the flames of victory. Fuck him. Fuck Joey Drew. This old war veteran would not give in so easily. He just had to try harder.

-

     There was no point in following the plot. He felt like he had to fix the mishaps of his last run before he even tried to offer his services to either Tom or Allison. This much was clear once he stepped foot in the sewers, because instead of being happy to see him or even feeling timid, Jack outright attacked him on sight. Gurgling and hissing in rage at him having hurt Sammy in his last run.   "I know… I'm sorry…" he kept the irate swollen searcher at bay if only just barely, hoping to appease him with his sincerest regrets. "Can you take me to Sammy? I… I want to make it up to him. What I did was wrong."

More than wrong. It was damaging. Because instead of the usual inky figure clad in overalls, boots and a Bendy mask, Henry was met with a shivering searcher with said mask.   "Oh Sammy… I'm so sorry." He was at risk of getting his throat ripped out, but he still couldn't help kneeling down to make himself look less threatening to the frightened creature. The searcher didn't try to retaliate, instead it clutched its chest and groaned pitifully.   "I know what I did was wrong. But so was keeping Norman's heart." Not that Sammy wasn't aware of this. He'd claimed it to be important, and he'd wanted to protect it, but he'd also been reluctant to give it back. People's selfishness had already done so much damage to this studio, it was only cruelly ironic that in trying to do the right thing Henry too had been quite selfish. "Is there any way I can make this less painful for you?"

Gesturing vaguely at the searcher's current state explained enough. The creature that had at one point been a prophet that had in turn been Sammy Lawrence, seemed to hum in thought before nodding slowly. It dragged itself towards the upstairs, motioning for Henry to follow. He did so, with Jack right on his tail if only to keep a suspicious eye on him. Back in the music department Sammy proceeded towards his Sanctuary, which Henry quickly got to work on unlocking for himself. He couldn't exactly do the little wall trick Sammy did to get around. Once the projector turned on and he plucked or hit every correct note, Henry strolled towards the opening shutter. Sammy greeted him with his box of trinkets.   "Is there something in there you need?" He adjusted his glasses as he asked, trying to get a better look at the contents. The searcher nodded eagerly and pointed at a vinyl record, way at the bottom of the pile. "Oh… you want me to play that for you?"

More eager nodding and a wet sounding slap on the ground. Well it wasn't much but considering Sammy refused to touch it for fear of covering it in ink, Henry thought perhaps he hadn't heard any music in far too long. Besides the "hymns" he played for his Lord.   "Willow Weep for Me? I don't think I've heard this one." With careful hands he took the vinyl from the box and began to look for a record player. The dinged up gramophone in the corner was almost beckoning him to play it. Once he'd turned it on, the melody was quite soothing. His two searcher companions seemed to think the same. Jack seemed to finally relax and practically curled up near the record player, while Sammy seemed to bob slightly to the tune. Henry simply closed his eyes and listened to the music, only opening them back up when broken words began to sing along. Sammy's form was repairing itself. Slowly, but steadily. Going from slouching and being half submerged in a puddle to looking like he was kneeling on regenerating legs.

"Willo- we'p for…" the prophet coughed "...me."

     Not too long after Sammy's recovery, Henry left the music department. He had a lot of preparations to make if he wanted to do any more actual good rather than having a repeat of the last run. Hopefully Sammy would be in higher spirits once they met back up in the harbour. As loathsome as it was to fight him, it was better to see him so full of energy than cowering in a puddle. He already knew what he could do for the duo of survivors, but he had to make a few stops along the way. Starting with giving Buddy the notebook he carried on his person, and Boris his favourite bone. It was a delight seeing the toon wolf's eyes light up as he flipped through several pages of doodles, while he happily gnawed on that suspiciously human sized bone. Then he went to Alice and requested an actual "date" with the angel. Not in the romantic sense mind you, he loved his beautiful Linda like the goddess she was. He merely wanted to sit down, have a can of coffee, and talk. Let Susie feel normal for a little while after both she and the angel witnessed what happened to the Projectionist. Afterwards, he checked up on said ink creature and noted that it wasn't roaming like usual. Instead the Projectionist was sitting on a crate, staring at the wall where one of several Bendy cartoons was playing. It even chose to ignore Henry when he approached, one hand clutching its chest in slight pain. Still adjusting to what had been restored. On his way out, Henry swore he heard a soft "thank you" under all the crackling and static of its speaker.

     The Lost Ones greeted him with their sorrowful gaze as usual and he replied not with fear or revulsion as he once did, but with a kind smile and promises that one day he'd find a way to make it better. It wasn't immediate freedom like they desired, but it was something more tangible. Something more human. The path to fighting Buddy in his brutish form was as harrowing as ever, but Henry's mind was set. He left cans of soup out for the Butcher Gang, oiled the joints of the octopus ride Bertrum Piedmont's disembodied head resided in, talked to the animatronic despite having no proof that it actually moved, and even greeted the Ink Demon from within the Little Miracle Station where it always fought the Projectionist. Henry could practically feel Joey's outrage at his nonchalant actions. His carefree actions despite the hopelessness of his situation. Of their situation. Then when he met with Tom and Allison, he promptly disarmed himself and offered them his tools,before accepting captivity without a word. Once questioned, he gave them the honest truth. Hard to believe, but Allison was not as suspicious as her canine companion. It wasn't difficult to give her the proof she needed to know he was being genuine. Pity to see her so crushed that there really was no escape in their foreseeable future. Not just yet. But still a possibility. After all, the others were remembering with each gesture of kindness he offered them.   "Joey wants us to feel less than human." He told the not-quite-angel. "It's how he keeps us in the linearity of his failed ending. He can't accept that he can't win."   "But neither can we. Otherwise we'd already be free?" Allison sighed, Tom offering her a gentle pay with his good arm as they left the Harbour.   "Maybe, but giving up hope is the last thing I'd ever do. Then I'd just be letting him win." Henry calmly replied,ready to plummet very soon as he began walking over the precarious boards. "Joey is a man who dreams big. What he never did was have any faith in said dreams… Instead he forced others to do it for him. I'm tired of being his scapegoat, and maybe we won't get out today or tomorrow, but there's only so much he can throw at me until he gives in."   "So we outlive his dreams?" Allison asked.   "No. We just outlive Joey instead." With that said, Henry walked forward and felt as light as a feather as he fell into the depths. There was one last person to show some decency to. Even the demon deserved a gesture of kindness.

-

     Joey Drew was furious. For all that he'd spoke of belief and dreams in his many speeches he knew that Henry Stein, that stubborn fool, was right. There was only so much he could throw into the plot before he grew tired. His body was already giving in to time itself, and he'd never quite perfected his methods enough that he could make himself a reliable new form. Not without risking becoming one of the abominations… Buddy Lewek's Boris had been a fluke. A lucky match. The rest? The rest were adamant to not be what he'd set them to be reborn as. Even Susie had failed to emulate the character she so loved. And Henry? Oh his blood boiled… Why couldn't Henry give in?! Joey was so close,so close to getting his perfect Bendy. If the traitor would just let the Ink Demon consume him!

     A knock on the door caused him to rip up his storyboard with the ink pen he'd been using. Cursing himself, Joey crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash can besides his desk. Already it was overflowing with similarly crumpled papers covered in ink stains. Looking at the clock, a few more profanities spewed from his mouth as he turned his wheelchair around. Who, for the love of God, was knocking on his door at 3AM?! Wheeling himself over, Joey practically ripped the door open.   "What?!" He didn't care if he was rude. His mood was completely sour and he hated being interrupted. To his shock and confusion, he was met with a face he thought he'd never get to see again. Nathan Arch smiled down at him with that unnerving toothy smile of his.   "Hello to you too, Mr. Drew." Joey blinked up at his old friend and rival. He hadn't heard from Arch since… Since he'd bought the studio and the Bendy IP… What could he possibly want now, when he'd already taken so much?   "Mr. Arch." He regained his composure. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"   "Oh, just dropping by to discuss something… Something very interesting." The man used his leg to gently push Joey out of his way, arms crossed behind his back as he invited himself in and began looking around. Joey glared behind his back and closed the door.   "At 3AM? Even for you, a punctual man, this is a bit much." He stated as he uneasily observed Nathan as he looked through his storyboards. "Couldn't it have waited until a more reasonable hour?"   "Since when were we reasonable men, Joey? Especially when you've been so… Cruel to me." The other turned to stare at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The machine… Joey. You took the machine."   "Of course I did. It's mine." And no one else's. Not that fool Thomas Connor's, nor GENT's. The Ink Machine was his and his alone. "Yours is the studio and even my work. But the machine will never not be mine."   "Oh, that's where you're wrong. You see,the GENT contract you signed stated that it belongs to the studio… Thus, it belongs to me." Nathan stalked over, arms coming to rest on Joey's shoulder. "It's as simple as that."   "Not quite. As it is, it can't be moved…"   "Ah yes. Your little… Project." Nathan chuckled. "Show me. Show me the homunculus…"

     There was no saying no to Mr. Arch, and no actual way he’d be able to physically force him out, so Joey complied to his request. Wheeling back into his office where the machine resided, Nathan followed and watched with glee as Joey called upon the Ink Demon itself. It stood there, in all its despicably gruesome glory, staring at both men without visible eyes. It shrunk away from Joey, just as it always had.   "It's magnificent…" the awe in Nathan's voice was disturbing.   "It's a freak of nature." Joey hissed. "Imperfect and incomplete."   "In who's eyes, dear friend? Here stands defiance to God's will. Life created by the creation." The Ink Demon shivered, holding it's head in its mismatched hands. Trying to block out their words. "Why throw it away so eagerly just because it didn't correctly follow the template?"   "Because it's not enough! It needs to be perfect! It needs to be all we've ever dreamed of!"   "We? Oh Joey darling… did you really think creating a living toon would ever bring back your beloved Henry? Did you think he'd ever want you? When he had such a lovely girl that could give him what you never could?" Nathan laughed cruelly. "Henry Stein left you, because you were a selfish boar. And then you were so hung up on trying to win him back with extravagance that you couldn't stop and see what you already had! God above Joey, you were so desperate you hired a mere child that reminded you of Henry, only to torture him the same way you tortured your employees…"

The Ink Demon looked to them again, flinching when Nathan stalked forward and grabbed it by the chin.   "This, Joey, is not a failure! It's the doorway to immortality. A vessel of timelessness. A godly power that you rejected vehemently." Nathan's eyes were becoming crazed, that dangerous spark devolving into an inescapable madness and anger. "For what end exactly? To give it away to some shmuck that could never truly appreciate it?! Well… that won't do. That won't do at all!"

And without warning Nathan Arch did something Joey couldn't believe he'd ever dare. He plunged a fist into the Ink Demon itself, and tore out it's heart.   "NO!"   "If you won't accept this gift, then I shall!"

There was nothing to be done. The ink demon shrieked and soon the machine began its work. Ink flowed out of the nozzle, mixing with the distorting melting figure of the demon and pulling both it, and both men inside. As the world around them passed by, Joey could only watch as the ink began to claim both his form and the form of the one who dared intrude in his project. They both fell with a wet splat, a large puddle, before taking two very distinct newly reborn and remade forms. One a towering grinning demon with disturbingly human teeth. The other a little devil in a suit. The studio was without a narrator. This was the end.

[obutsuwrites]

A Little Wicked (overhaul x reader)

Summary:  “Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited.

warnings: non-con~!

word count: 3,460 xxx basically a self-indulgent overhaul smut fic~! oops,,

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ask box is also always open 4 requests or wateva

Notes: 

numinous (adj.) - describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted--the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired

nemophilist (n.) - a haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude

The young adventurer navigated through the overgrown forest, screeches of owls echoed over head; sounds of nature after dark. Thick trees obscured the woman’s vision. Mother nature was finally reclaiming lost land. However, this particular forest held a secret as precious as new life. A powerful sorcerer was said to inhabit this jungle of trees and predators. She knew man-eating animals roamed this land. The woman had grown up on heroic tales of would-be heroes besting creatures of the night. Heroism. Adventure. Glory. Tales she idolized. Titans of old seemed almost god-like to her. Abilities she had prayed for every night. However, her pleas fell upon deaf ears. 

After enduring this for years, she realized she must manifest her own destiny. The allure of magicks too tempting for her quest. She knew it was wrong. No respectable explorer had stood on the back of giants. No. They started small; stories eventually amassing to celebrity. Folk tales repeated for generations. The ultimate means of being remembered, she acknowledged. Mortality no longer applied to them. They gained immortality through legends. 

The young woman sighed. The lantern was her only light source in the decrepit grove. Thick roots ran along the leaf scattered earth. She had already tripped once, her lantern almost shattering. Tonight, even the moon hid. Just like the predators. The hoot of owls were the only sound in the moonlight. She wondered if the fabled Sorcerer of the Forest even existed. The tales of him on par with legends of heroics. Was it possible the man didn’t exist? The land showed no sign of recent travel. Untamed earth. 

She stopped. The sudden thirst hit her senses. Her mouth was like the desert. Quickly, slender hands grasped the gourd that sat upon a leather belt. The woman drank deeply; water trickling down exposed flesh. After a swallow, oxygen-starved lungs greedily inhaled. Earth and pine wafted through her nostrils. 

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. The rhythmic pounding of her heart threatened to leap out from her bosom. Primal fear seeped into her body. Goosebumps painted into her skin. The dame paused, her hand at her side, clutching the gourd. 

Breathe, she told herself, You are brave.

“Who is t-there?” The explorer called, her tone momentarily faulting. Anxiety ridden eyes waited. Could be a rabbit, right?

A gruff voice broke their silence, “Filthy mortal. You have been searching for me, haven’t you?” The man sounded perturbed. As if her very presence was a nuisance. “Well, here I am.” Ungrateful.

The woman blinked. Surely, this wasn’t the Sorcerer of the Forest? The male sounded no older than her. Far too youthful to be such a myth. 

“I don’t t-think you’re him,” she replied, slowly turning to face the owner of the voice. 

Foreign eyes observed her, his nose crunched with disdain. The young man was adorned in black; a pulled hood and avian mask blurring his features. A pristine cloak hung around his wiry frame. Leather gloved hands fidgeted. His posture betrayed his voice, uncomfortability spread throughout his spine.

“A sorcerer. You mortals ask for such frivolous things,” the masked man replied. Despite his age, the Sorcerer of the Forest never quite understood mortals. Useless stories amused them. Inspired them. This caused a problem for him. Rarely the man would receive dim-witted guests to his side of nature. Naive mortals that didn’t understand his terms. They would agree to his services, not realizing the peril. 

A laugh escaped from the woman, a nervous habit. Clearly, this man was mortal, too. Just has a little superiority complex. It wasn’t unexpected. Such a talented display of magic was too prideful. Like a secret to be shared. 

“...okay. Wait. You know what I need?” 

The words hung in the dusk. Disgusted eyes still trained upon her, memorizing her. He looked almost pensive. A leather gloved hand rested against a clothed elbow. The masked man’s dark brows furrowed together.

“Moronic girl,” he chastised, “you desire a strength potion. It’s rather bold to assume I’d stoop to such a vile practice.” The man was a sorcerer, not a desperate apothecary.

Another laugh bubbled from her. Genuine sounds. “You’re a sorcerer. Surely, you mix potions?” 

The woman’s tone was immature. Naive wonder spread across her face. She prayed he would remove the formerly intimidating birdlike mask. It’s shape provoked a primal fear within her. As if she should run as far as her legs would carry her. Instincts screaming.

The man stepped forward, dead leaves crunched under his boots.  

He scoffed, his eyes darting from her. The mysterious man smoothed invisible hairs along auburn hair. His hair looks soft, the woman noted. Perhaps he was an Adonis underneath the beak. With the distance between them shortened, she noticed brass goggles upon gilded orbs. The same contempt within them. 

“Do you even carry a sword? Perhaps a dagger. Oh, I know. You don’t do you?” he quizzed. The man clearly taking delight in her vulnerable form. 

The maiden softly gasped and dropped her gourd to the ground. Her hands now wrung in doubt. No legend about the Sorcerer of the Forest told of his scorn. He was the un-sung hero; the powerful force that provided the hero a winner’s edge. 

She didn’t reply. Horror locked the adventurer in place. Her eyes trained on the man before her. 

He closed the gap between them, the linen of his cloak brushed against the woman’s shirt. “What you desire will cost you.”

Xx

The young explorer had followed the mysterious, angry man to his hut. The design was simple, but presistine. Not a single ingredient or amulet out of place. His shack reminded her of the shaman huts in her village. The after smell of incense a permanent fixture. 

The two discussed their deal. An insistent voice spouted a word vomit of myths. Her eyes alight with passion. The possibility within her hands now. 

“...and that’s why I need this potion, talented Sorcerer of the Forest! I don’t care about t-the consequences.” The maiden stuttered, her excitement had gotten the best of her. 

“I have told you, mortal. I am Overhaul. This fantasy of the ‘Sorcerer of the Forest’ doesn’t exist. Merely stupid childish stories,” the man corrected. His tone stern. 

Overhaul.

Instantly, the woman realized the mistake she had made. The man before her was not the great Sorcerer of the Forest, but his antithesis; Chisaki Kai. A rumored lesser demon in fables. Overhaul being his preferred title. His deals the catalyst for despair in his epics. The being a play on devil’s advocate. A strong occultist that dealt in absolutes. In his parables, the heroes would receive their most intimate desires, but at the grievous cost of their humanity. Their soul.

Her features were clouded by concentration. The temptation mulled over in her mind. Is… Is it immortal to sell my humanity for the greater good? Surely, heroism cancels out sins.

She offered her hand in a show of solidarity. “Please.”

A good handshake was the cornerstone for any business transaction. Even the resident smithy had a crushing grip. A truth the maiden had learned early, the concept of goodwill familiar to her. 

Golden eyes stared at her. His indifferent glare almost seeing through her. 

“Handshakes are informal. If you weren’t so naive, you would know.” Naive laced with venom. Ignorance was a sin to him. Cretins were beneath a messiah. 

Stand tall. Make your demand known.

The nervous woman straightened her back. Eyes meeting Overhaul.

“Sorcerer or lesser demon; I humbly request the potion. Please,” she asked, her hands clasped in prayer. Stubborn hands with steadfast faith. Illusions of adventure plagued her. The poison deep in her bones. She could taste her immortality in fiction. 

Overhaul almost pitied the woman before him. Feminine graces for deceit. The ghost of a smile stretched across his features.

“As you desire.”

Xx

The aspiring adventurer had inquired about a strength potion. A rudimentary task that would only require several days work for Overhaul. The reply caused a grin to break out upon the young woman’s face. Her face… almost cute. 

While working, Overhaul caught flashes of the maiden’s frightened expressions. A sick delight taking root into him. His psyche was a chasm of perverse thoughts. The mixture of worry and dread intoxicated him. Like an inch he couldn’t scratch. 

He felt on fire. 

Xx

She wandered aimlessly, soft footsteps echoed through the abyss of trees. This was her ritual now. Naively calling for Overhaul. The beaked man was behind on his promise. The confident woman’s belief in him wavered. A gourd still hung from her belt; a failed lesson. 

“You can be so damn loud. Do you realize that?”

The naive mortal’s expression tightened; the intimate reaction caused a flush to scatter across him. Foreign anxiety and a rush of dopamine through his body. Hot breath huffed against the hollow of his beak. The fervor burned like a wildfire. 

She averted her eyes; the earthen ground her chosen subject. Overhaul’s aura engulfed the young woman in anxiety. Instincts feral. 

The nemophilist beamed; fangs bared for prey. Sadistic glee painted into his face. Amber eyes studied her. Victim no match for an apex predator. 

“Sorry… I’m happy I found you, I think. You’re behind schedule, Overhaul, but it’s for good reason, right? Maybe you ran into a lack of ingredients?” the woman hoped, her heart unable to conjure the alternative. Panic surged through her nerves. A feeling she couldn’t ignore. Body hot with anxiety.

“Follow.”

Xx

Yet again, the young maiden found herself in the wooden cabin of the occultist. A scent of wood and flowers assaulted her nose. The smell less pleasant than before. 

Overhaul held the vial; gloved hands gingerly guarding her desire. She felt a pang in her bosom. The promise of immortality dangled before her. Breath caught in an eager throat, words cramped. 

“Please. I have money. Gold. I can pay you.” Desperation covered her tone. The zealous woman features pulled tight. Eyes glued to the vial. The key to her quest. 

The masked man laughed, placing the vial on the wooden table between them. His eyes stuck to her. Selfish eyes fixated. Overhaul’s chest hitched; the anticipation of her fear tantalizing. He felt drunk from her presence. 

“No… No money. As Overhaul we both know I’ll claim my due. For someone that prides themselves on mythos; you genuinely are stupid,” he sneered. His words overrun with acid. The man was merely prodding for her adorably fearful visage. An image that haunted him. Perhaps, he could coax the emotion out of the meek woman via insults. Overhaul knew the power he held. His veins burned with it. 

The woman nodded. Distinct horrible stories flooded her. The sparks of misery burning into her psyche. A terror she prayed to avoid. “Whatever, Overhaul. We made the deal. So drop the act. It’s embarrassing.” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth; the ignorant mortal understood the weight of them. The nervousness in her back. 

“Take it before I change my mind.” 

An empty threat, or so she thought.

Xx

A week passed. The young explorer still felt as before. No obvious strength stockpiled within her. It took her three days to deduce that the willowy man she met had been a pretender. Merely a man fascinated with Overhaul. She was familiar with the insanity of it. The very same thing motivated her to find the Sorcerer of the Forest. A pretend man. 

Life for her was stagnant as before, too. No excitement lived in the heart of the village. Routine a sacred theme. Mundane. 

Despite this, the steadfast mortal had continued her prayer. Feverish belief burned in her chest. Perhaps faith was the secret to immortality in mythos. 

Xx

Soft knocks echoed through the woman’s door. A late night visitor. Panicky fear settled in her bones. After dusk visits only brought tragedy. Slowly, she rose from bed. Anxiety flowed through her muscles; simple movements a struggle. 

Delicate feet dragged across wooden floors. Tired eyes in a haze. She reached for the door knob, the brass cold against her. The young explorer cautiously opened the door. A sheepish plastered. One must be strong in misery. 

The exhausted mortal’s eyes dropped; Overhaul curiously before her. The man barely an inch from her. Just as before. The kindling of a blush erupted across her face. Pink, squeezable cheeks.

Overhaul’s urge to touch such a filthy creature was almost overwhelming. And yet, he restrained himself. A promise of fulfilling her desire fueled him. He ached to see her afraid again.

“What are you doing here?” She was unprepared for the gravity of her choice. No soul was worth heroics. Not even a naive mortal’s. Humanity was the last shred of chaos the woman had. Every aspect of her life routine. 

A smirk took root. “Moronic girl. I’m fulfilling your greatest desire. Follow.” 

A phantom hand guided the woman’s numb body through the village and into the forest. Overhaul only a few paces ahead. A haze developed over her; the extent of her actions a mystery. 

Xx

She had no memory of adventuring to the occultist Overhaul’s hut, yet, here she was. A dressing gown clad body sat across from gold eyes. The ghost of a smirk still lingered on his face. Her distressed frame was the source for his perverse joy. A sick knot settled into his stomach. 

“Do I give you my soul?” she inquired, a sniffle in her tone. Tears building inside her chest.The reality of her agreement attacked her. 

Overhaul stifled a chorkle. An unrealistic expectation mortals held. So side-eyed. He assumed nothing less from her. Naivety was an illness. “No, idiot. Strip.”

Her mind glazed over. Robotic limbs carried out the sorcerer’s demand. Dark magicks at work. 

“Please… stop. I don’t desire t-this.” The maiden stood before him; horror in wide eyes. She cowered. No memory of disrobing; her heart in her ears. Had he drugged her? Was the vial a love potion? 

Gently, gloved hands removed the avian mask and goggles; Overhaul’s face on display. She did not expect him to be handsome. His features carved from stone by da Vinci. The ironic nature not lost. How could a vile man be so beautiful? 

“Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited. 

He licked his lips. Pining yellow eyes burned into her. The man known as Overhaul drank from her vulnerability. The woman’s soft body was a treat. Only for him. 

The mortal blushed. Crimson obvious in the moonlight. “Not like t-this.” She was attracted to him, but every instinct screamed at her to flee. The man was suffocating. 

Overhaul reached out, pinching her flesh between his fingers. Tense skin responded to his touch. She shivered. 

“A brat like you doesn’t deserve to use my title, don’t you agree? Refer to me as Kai.”

The woman felt helpless beneath him. Even his thin frame towered over her. The height difference only incited Chisaki Kai. Her vulnerability was a luxury. A privilege. She shifted, a futile attempt to escape him. 

Kai suddenly grasp the woman; his hands finding purchase around her wrists. Her skin was a map of goosebumps. He pulled her to him; the heat of her body melted into him. A delicate form for him to break. He shuddered at the thought. A tapestry of bruises. Lilac suits you.

“O-Kai. Kai, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. It hurts,” she pleaded, as purple blossomed on her wrists. The beginning of a bruise. Gloved hands ignored her cries. The filthy mortal’s request only riled up Kai. A throbbing ache formed between his thighs. An urge to bury himself inside her crawled from the back of his psyche. 

Lecherous eyes scanned her body. Kai’s body snug against the frightened woman. Clean linens. A faint bouquet of clean linens drifted to him. This must be the essence of the disrobed body before him. Simple fabric separated Kai from eden. The garments weren’t flattering, he convinced himself. That’s why a gloved hand detached from her wrist; her arm falling limp as the sorcerer examined dull cloth between disinterested fingers. Florcets of pink rested twisted into pure horror. Traces of anxiety now settled in her ribs; the woman’s throat choked shut. The lack of sound a disappointment to Kai. The inch on fire with arousal for terrified looks. 

“You don’t need this,” Kai whispered, his breath hot against the woman’s exposed skin. Unceremoniously, Kai ripped the brassiere. Fabric ripping the only sound between them. Quick, short breaths followed. The occultist felt overwhelmed. His fantasy before him. Saliva pooled; the man’s mouth flooded. 

Delicate skin winced in the biting chill. A free arm shot up in a frantic attempt to cover shame. Chisaki Kai frowned. Adonis features twisted. Fangs threatened in a snarl. “Show me.” 

She held steadfast, a lilac now settled into her wrists. The naive explorer refused to allow an erratic man the pleasure of her stripped bosom. A right reserved for lovers. Not a cruel con man. 

Gloved hands swiftly detached from her. He harshly pulled off the leather gloves and pathetically tossed them behind him. Kai was finally able to feel her. Feverish hands returned to exposed flesh. Sadistic hands roughly grabbed the numinous woman. A yelp sounded from her, his impatient touch a cause for surprise. In her nerves, she felt a spark.

Yellow eyes marveled at the beauty before him. Inspiration. 

“On your knees.” 

The mortal woman before him obeyed. Dread flowed through her body. Images of violence danced before her. Promises of Chisaki Kai’s power.

“Not such a bitch, now are we?” Kai teased, a cruel smirk upon his face. Satisfaction from her blind devotion. Warmth tightened against his pants. The compassion he held for her. A little gift for not misbehaving. Kai couldn’t spell his excitement; his chest heaved in anticipation. 

“Isn’t t-this enough? I’m begging you; please stop.” A chorus of no’s followed after as Kai pressed the dame’s face against his crotch. His throbbing need now stimulated by the friction. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural. Animalistic. 

Satisfied, Kai released her face. Feverish hands unbuttoned his pants. The furor caused slender hands to shake. “I don’t care. You desired this, wicked girl.”

The scared woman audibly gulped, terror and arousal swirled in her mind. Gentle hands found his hard cock. Length throbbed in her palm. The man’s very body craved her touch. She began to tenderly stroke him; her hand exploring veins. 

Kai growled, instinctively bucked into her. No time for shame. He could chastise the adventurer later. Her hands were heaven sent. Curiosity mingled with lust. A free hand snaked to her panties. The woman teasing herself. A whine fell from her lips. The syrupy sound encouraged Kai; the sorcerer’s sentence spilling out. 

“Suck my cock.”

She stopped pumping him, her hand poised around his head, foreskin pulled down. Innocent eyes viewed the brown haired man. A meek air engulfed the woman. Moist hands now covered the grove of rose upon her cheeks. The heat devouring her. Was she on fire?

Breathe.

Plump lips wrapped around his cock, veins pulsating. Kai’s pleasure was obvious. The flustered woman began to swirl her tongue around him; her hands caressing his manhood. He melted into her touch. The man’s bucking now at a  sweltering pace. An idea presented itself. 

He knew he had to be quick. Otherwise, she could bite him. A degloved hand shoved her head down him. The wet chasm of her mouth coupled with gagged sent Kai into ecstasy. The knot branded into his stomach, working its way to his chest. An orgasm approaching. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” the auburn man mewled. Spit spewed from the asphyxiated woman; droplets decorating his hips. She needed to breathe, he reasoned. Hands clawed at thighs in a vain attempt for air. He released her.

Hungry lungs inhaled; the aroma of wood and flower heaven sent. 

“No more…” she rasped. Voice hoarse from the man’s violent bucking. Snot leaked from her nose, eyes brimmed with tears. 

She looked so broken, Kai realized. The fire within him a roaring blaze. A dire need exploded in his chest. The man roughly grabbed the woman’s face, shoving her against him again. 

An anxiety fueled mouth played with his length. Muffled cries juxtaposed against moans. Tiny streaks of fear now displayed down her cheeks. Pink cheeks shining. 

Orgasic euphoria burst from Kai. The abrupt event caused her to gag; a sloppy spray of hot cum and saliva ran from the woman’s chin, the final droplets resting against her bosom.

[naturepointstheway]

“beanies and cameras” (Life is Strange, quick fluff fic)

Some fluffy, mushy indulgence in a Life is Strange fic? Hell yes, and I’m not sorry. Let’s write this “mushy nonsense” (as Chloe would say) before I procrastinate it so far that it’s like Christmas Day before I write it ;) Inspired strongly by learning what happened to Chloe and Max in the second season of LiS (only through the playthroughs on the interwebs though, but that didn’t make me any less excited and emotional!)

Summary: It is the morning of New Year’s 2020, and for once, Chloe is up early with Max, watching the early dawn light. 

Chloe has never been one to respect benches and tables, and this morning was no different as Max walks in to the kitchen, yawning, to find Chloe sitting on the bench, legs tapping against the cupboard under the bench, nursing a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Max has seen Chloe framed in golden hour’s light many, many times, and it still takes her breath away to see how the fragile winter sunlight catches in her blonde hair and softens the outline of her face. 

“Did you make coffee for me, at least?” Max asks as she walks into the kitchen to give Chloe a morning kiss.

“The kettle’s just boiled, help yourself.” Chloe jerks her head at the kettle next to her, putting down her mug, bending to wrap her arms around Max’s shoulders. “Happy New Year, Max. A new decade, a new us, right?” 

Max always marvelled at how warm Chloe was when she held her close, no matter how cold it was outside or inside. 

“Happy New Year back at ya,” Max murmurs, closing her eyes to sink into Chloe’s embrace. “Hope you’re ready to get mushy. I dare you to out-mush me.” 

Chloe pulls back, arms still draped over Max’s shoulders, grinning down at her in the morning light. “If you make that a double dare, I’ll take it.” 

Max laughs gently, pressing up against the bench, arms still wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist, Chloe’s legs resting against her sides. “I double dare you to out-mush me, and no take-backs.” 

Chloe pulls a face, but her eyes sparkle even as she pretends to shudder. “Ugh. Okay, dare taken.” 

“I can see some things never change though,” Max nods at the bench Chloe’s sitting on, “Like your total disregard for surfaces people prepare and eat food from. Dude, you’re like twenty-five, not fourteen anymore! Shouldn’t you be--”

"Nope, I’m not gonna stop till I turn thirty.” 

Max rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop the smile in her eyes as she reaches up to tuck a strand of Chloe’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering in soft blonde strands. She lets her hand rest briefly against the side of Chloe’s face.  

“At least you’ve stopped saying hella every other sentence.” 

“Excuse me, I was a teenager, give my limited teen-self’s vocab a break. I kinda miss your wowsers though.” 

“So cringe-worthy, don’t remind me of that, Chloe.”

“Didn’t make it any less adorable.” 

“And you’re still wearing that same beanie since you were nineteen.” 

“Sixteen, actually,” Chloe corrects her, “And it’s still doing its job now, why would I throw it away if it still works?” 

“Hey, you look adorable with that beanie, not knocking it.” 

“You better not, Max. And you still have your old camera bag.” 

Max grins. “Hey, it still works, right, like the camera itself?” 

“I swear, that camera is immortal. I don’t even remember how long my dad had it for. Probably even before either of us were born.” 

“Still works like a charm. Film’s getting more expensive though. Maybe I should try my hand at digital for once. At least I can see if a shot is shit or not, all without wasting precious film.” 

Chloe’s fingers idly scratched Max’s shoulders, the latter feeling little goosebumps rise on her arms at the pleasant touch. 

“Hey, I’m sure we can find something sweet somewhere, you’re the camera whisperer after all.” 

“Not as many selfies, either. Maybe I just don’t feel such a need anymore, now that I have you with me.” 

“Hey, we still take selfies!” 

“At least you’re in them now--they don’t feel as lonely anymore. And you know me--Max Caulfield never misses an opportunity to take a picture with Chloe Price. Ever.” 

“And you better not forget it,” Chloe comments, Max stepping back as she finally gets off the bench. “Ever.”

“We’re always going to be together, right?” 

“Duh, Supermax, of course we are. We’re always Max and Chloe, remember?” Chloe reaches over to her coffee, cupping it in her hands as she takes another drink. “Except for when...you know...” 

Max winces, looks down at her feet, knowing she shouldn’t still feel guilty about the five years of radio silence, but still...

“I’m--”

“Nope. Stop feeling guilty, already, Max, that’s all in the past, right? 2020 is the decade of leaving that guilt behind. We’re gonna more than make up for it, not we already haven’t.” 

“How’d you know--” 

“Because no matter what, even at twenty-four, you’ve still got a bit of that old Max from before you left for Seattle. Though I’m glad you got rid of that ponytail.” 

Max can’t help a laugh, a hand reaching up to her short hair, tucking some of it behind her ears. “Yeah, that ponytail was gone like six weeks into Seattle, believe me.” 

“Poor Seattle still had to endure six weeks of your ponytail. That’s just horrific, Max, how could you.” 

“Oh shut up,” Max grumbles playfully, now moving to a cupboard to take out a cup, grabbing the kettle to prep some coffee for herself. “You still look amazing with long hair, not that you didn’t with your hairstyle back when you were nineteen.” 

“Yeah, I prefer long hair anyway.” Chloe shrugs, takes a long, final swig from her cup. “That hairstyle has too many bad memories attached anyway, so...” 

Max breaks away for a moment from her coffee-making to take one of Chloe’s hands, interlacing their fingers, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t know if I can get too mushy about the last ten years, Max. I mean...” 

“I liked Seattle, but to be honest, I never felt completely whole without you, if that makes sense? It sounds so cliche, but...” 

“Nah, not at all. Rachel filled that gap for a while, but...” Chloe takes Max’s other hand in hers. “Only when we reunited did I really feel whole again. I really missed you, Max, you have no fucking idea. And seeing your beautiful freckled face again alone literally healed half my soul again. I felt like a total kid again just seeing your gorgeous...Maxiness.” 

Max gives Chloe a playful nudge. “Ah, we’re already getting mushy. Mushy Chloe is best Chloe.” 

“That’s because you’re a goop.” 

“Go on, Chloe, admit you like being a goop.” 

“Never.” 

“I double dare you to admit it.” 

Chloe lets go of Max’s hands, folds her arms with a defiant shake of her head. “Not that easy.” 

“Double dog dare you.’ 

“Hell no.” 

“By the time this decade’s out, you’ll be ready to admit you like being all mushy and goopy. Calling it now.” 

Chloe raises an eyebrow, seeming to grow taller as she looks down at Max with her piercing blue eyes. 

“By the time this decade’s out, I’ll still deny I like getting mushy with you.” Chloe unfolds her arms, reaches out to tuck Max’s hair behind her ears, letting her hands drift from cupping Max’s face to resting on either side of her neck, palms warm against Max’s skin. 

“We’ll have to see then, won’t we?” Max comments, hands now resting again on Chloe’s hips, closing her eyes as she leans up for a tender, lingering morning kiss, a small smile on her lips as Chloe’s kisses wander from her lips to trace down the curve of her neck. She feels Chloe’s lips still at the base of her neck, breath tickling Max’s skin, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. 

“Any plans for the decade ahead?” Max whispers, eyes still closed as she presses herself up against Chloe, feeling how warm she is even in the chilly winter morning. “Maybe I’ll be a world-reknown photographer.” 

“You mean you will be,” Chloe murmurs, hands moving to hold Max even closer. “Stop being so goddamn humble, I keep telling ya.” 

“I know, I know.” 

“Maybe I’ll be ready to go back and find a university to finally get a degree.” 

“Science degree?” Max murmurs as she leans her head on Chloe’s shoulder, not daring to open her eyes, wanting to stay in this moment forever. 

“Duh, Max, of course it’ll be a science. Maybe I’ll learn to love chemistry again.” 

“Ugh. The only chemistry I like is ours.” 

“Hey, even girlfriend chemistry involves chemistry. It’s just...biochemistry...chemistry.” 

“Still not converted, sorry,” Max smiles into Chloe’s shoulder, gives her a quick little kiss through the cloth of her pyjamas. “Love you anyway.” 

“We’re gonna kick ass and take down names this decade, Max, and no one’s gonna stop us, come high hell or heaven.” 

“Damn right you are.” 

We’ll always be together, and I’m always going to be okay with that. We’ll always be Max and Chloe. Forever. 

[mixedracefairy]

A Reylocentric review of Episode IX

*HELLA SPOILERS*

DON'T READ IF YOU'VE NOT SEEN STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER!

(I'm from London get used to the slang)

I liked:

• I just liked how one of many Snokes was in like a Matrix incubator, lit and mysterious idea - that Palpatine was behind the creation of Ben. Did he bun not being able to find Rey and then switch to Vader's line as I assume Ben wasn't hard to find? Had to use Snoke otherwise Final Order and resurgence would be revealed. Cool.

• Opening with Ren POV establishes him as a big man and dark don and Palpatine is butters like whatever you think of Ben/Ren all man can get behind hating on Palpy.

• The whole 'lads we best sort this out or we're totally fucked' plot - Palpatine is back with a surrender or be destroyed motive

• The promise of destiny to Ren if man ends Rey cos it makes them mortal enemies. However you sense he won't cos she's wifey but the dichotomy is bare hypey. (That sounds silly. It does however, best express my feelings to the situ.)

• Him chasing her all 'I am gonna turn you to the dark' - it's exciting that he has a desire for her, it's also exciting that she's like aight calm and carries on with her ting with the boiz

• Rey's vision - the potential in the force for her to rule with Kylo Ren and be dark side. Wild.

• Rey's heritage revealed - that she comes from a lineage of great power and great darkness. At first it was cool that she was a nobody and Ren like a prince because of the class contrast and their bond, but this reveal makes her almost greater than Ren, eligible to be empress. Literally the bottom to top. Lit.

• Moments of proximity, there's a momentum building, the bond between them and it's exciting to anticipate their presence together and what might come if it

• The duel of wills over the transporter, demonstrating equal power. (Luke saber 2.0)

• Her shock at her power, losing control/unawareness of might - Rey fearing her power and destiny. Rey also being how the Skywalker twins learn from their mistakes of not fearing (Ben's) power

• Their force bonds - moments where she outsmart him, him with the position in power searching for her on the ground but she's in his quarters. There's always been something hypey about the FO/Empire with their might vs RA/Resistance underdogs and our boiz winning, but never in a situation where they're bonded and he's literally searching for her to wifey.

• Lowkey role reversal cos he's tryna tell her who she is, albeit for his own purposes, and she's in denial and responds by attacking him. The 'I'm angry so I'm gonna hack at things with my lightsaber' is usually a Ren move.

• You can't tell if they want to kill each other, (cos you can tell they wanna fuuuh). Ren races at her with his speeder, she cuts off his wing; in their heated duel they let each other recover yet she seizes the opportunity to kill him. She then heals him as the occasion is a mutual mourning. Confessing wanting to take his hand, Ben's hand.

• The way Rey and Ren dance around each other, Rey flying off his star base. Man all like rah, bae swerved again.

• They did 3PO dirty! It's gucci tho for the Groot-esque bant.

• Ren's abandoning of the dark side moment was feeling keenly the loss of his mother, indicating he had a love for her and somewhere a desire to return to the light or a safety/relaxedness that his opposition was headed by her. Almost like he was protecting as much as seeming to destroy her cause. 

• It reminded him of how he lost his father by his hand, their love haunts him as somewhere he felt he belonged but was ashamed to return to because of Snoke (Palpatine's) corruption. Her death is a loss of hope for his sometime redemption or organising of the galaxy between those who backed the Resistance and First Order. 

• The memory of Han convinces Ben Leia's cause still lives if he decides to take it up, showing he did care for her and what she stood for. He just felt lost to it, hurt, unbelonging, bitter and abandoned by it. Yet he believed in himself and his destiny for greatness, (which you have to rate), so man was like dark side it is. (Wow, what a gangster.) 

• It's a bit like Leia's death freed him of the shame of wanting to be light because he needn't face their judgement, or more, the pain of their undeserved love and forgiveness.

• Lowkey Harry Potter vibes like when Harry's nemesis kills him but doesn't die but the horcrux part did. Han says "Kylo Ren is dead" after he is stabbed by his own saber - the pursuit of darkness that was destroying him has been killed (with compassion for Leia?)

• Leia's arc from episide IV has been lit. After her death, Poe feeling unqualified and Lando saying they all of them weren't ready, you deep how young, (what literally 17?), Leia since day has been taking initiative, being a leader. What a champion and woman all the galaxy has looked up to. And telling silly flyboys to put their cocks away, yet still she believed in and elevated Poe (who has learnt and developed).

• Force heal 1 was a nice indicator of her capability and just a nice touch of her approach of kindness to problem solving, like Leia to her flyboys - put your cocks away. Also dope how Finn prees it and backs her.

• What the hell was Finn going to tell Rey before they sank?

• Yo the way man ended Hux was lit! Pusssyyyy

• Ben's redemption, how he went after Rey to rescue/fight with her as Han's son.

Fresh 👏 garms

• The parallels of Ben and Rey both ditching their saber was cool. Not sure why, like they're both on the wavelength of 'fuck this shit' haha. Except Ben ditches his to step into his true self, what he was trying to do since day, and Rey ditches hers to deny herself. Good thing Luke was about to say who you are is what you make of yourself. A bit like the answerless mirror cave from VIII.

• I like old Luke. I like what a cynical c*nt he is hahaha

• Ben abandoned his saber as it represented Kylo Ren and darkness. Was it foolish to take just a blaster? Tbf he is the don with the force so maybe he thought he was gucci. Force swap was sick tho.

• Pretty cool that their force bond is so powerful it could renew Palpatine's power as it shows how precious it is. Also mad tragic that that is their downfall, they stood no chance against him. But surely if it could renew him it could end him? Two yung padawans couldn't really take on big man like Palpy so fair.

• There were some excellently convincing moments all round of loss of hope - 'they're done fuuucked' moments. Poe in his X wing, Rey staring into force lightning etc.

• Was it stupid that Ben went to Rey? It's obviously instinctive he ain't gonna snake bae now they're not opps. Without him there Palpatine never would have been renewed tho. Rey however remains pure and not a Sith, so did he come to protect her innocence? Fits in with the literary themes and tropes of fairytales that the whole idea of them comes from. 

• I mean if he hadn't come Rey would be Sith empress and really how bad would that be? She'd probably have Ben beside her thus fulfilling the vision she had. What Sith vows must she have taken in order to become empress, (to save the mandem obvs), because she could technically marry Ben who would rule in light and she in darkness. That would be badass af, an unwilling Sith empress.

• Rey's fulfilling of destiny, saving the galaxy etc. I mean obviously it's dope when a hero steps into her role. She chose, like Ren, to ignore her past but in this case for good (because she had the bravery to believe she was not isolated, she was loved, unlike Ben). 

• Her battle has been one of self worth and belonging and she believed she belonged to a Jedi family, worthy to have all Jedi behind her, despite her searching for a family to give her life meaning and finding the truth is literally the opposite of what might help her in this battle. She gave all her power/life for the galaxy.

• Ben gave his life for her, completing his redemption in a Christ-like ultimate love sacrifice. We also catch a first smile and oh me lawd it is my favourite thing in the whole three trilogies. That transfer of life, joy, love, kiss, death was just perfection. Po👏et👏ry. 

• Fuck man. She was his only joy. Raaah

• Also because she died for the galaxy, he died to give her life, it's like he took the L for the galaxy instead, but also allowing our young female protagonist from ends the glory and not the star prince with a bad white male privilege temper and climb to power.

• Leia didn't become one with the force til Ben was redeemed. That's deep. Was that why Ben turned? His scar is now healed, suggesting the betrayal of patricide and how that weakened him instead of making him Kylo Ren is mended by Rey. He's no longer split in two?

• What's the symbolism of giving her life by putting your hand there Ben? I see you Disney, you gotta keep it PG but I see you

• At the end, when she's asked what her name is, it would have been cool if she was like Rey Palpatine and I overcame the meaning of the name, I know who I am. But it was fitting, you could sense it - and the force ghosts what a touch - she was a Skywalker. Her fam have been Leia, Luke and Han, and her soulmate should they have been married would make her Skywalker too. Technically Rey Solo which also fits because it's the same reason Han chose the name cos man didn't know who they belonged to, except she's not alone, she belongs as a Skywalker.

• Obviously Rey and Ben raising little babies as heirs to the empire would have been dope but Ben's death atones for his atrocities as well as makes for poetic writing. 

• Rey returns to nothing, which is cool cos her parents obviously must have been eligible to be heirs to the empire and also chose to be nothing. So it's significant, not anticlimactic. It's humbling, which in the trope of heroes is radical.

• This is a statement that autocracies like the Final Order don't belong in the galaxy, but people power can take down star destroying fleets. (Shame about UK politics not being people power taking down hope destroying elites but ok.)

• Oi what does that gold lightsaber mean? It's cool still.

• Leia and Luke, like Rey, show a natural instinct for the light, as if to say humans are naturally loving without influence of darkness. (Ffs Darth Sidious)

• Both Rey and Ben have the same dark then light genealogy. Rey actively seeks out the light (VIII) and is denied it and genuinely fears her potential for darkness eventually. Ben is moulded to darkness despite his natural light. When they face big man Darth Sidious they're both at a point of comfort in their identities, they both believe they have a right to the light side because of who they are and the choice they are making.

• What's the new mask phase all about?

• Ben's arc is dope - you meet Kylo Ren and he's scary and powerful, then lol at mask off moment, you're a likkle yout! Then find he desperately wants to prove himself and becomes a vulnerable manchild, his act of patricide fostering a softer side which we connect to through Rey, taking leadership and then throwing that in the trash to be, like Rey, a nobody. It's like reverse Vader, also because instead of unwittingly killing his missus he wittingly gives his life for her.

• Lit trilogy 👏 bun the haters. Them man don't understand 😙👌