#the past repeats itself but it also doesn't

[hydrachea]

Have you ever noticed the parallels between the nameless child Kunikuzushi took care of pre-Fatui and Nahida and get the feeling that history will repeat Although this time perhaps, bc Nahida is a god, by the time the Wanderer has found her she'd have shrunk down into a tiny leaf, easily blown away, easily crushed underfoot if one was not careful. With shaky breaths, he cups her with one trembling hand while ripping the cloth of the left side of his shirt with the other, creating a hole where the heart should be. The skin on his chest cracks, and a door swings open, revealing a compartment once built for holding the cursed remains of god. The Wanderer, now hunched over like a pilgrim in prayer, brings the leaf close to his chest and gently places it in the compartment. For the first time in his life, he was grateful for his long life, the super resilience of his body made by Irminsul. If there's nothing else he could do, he could wait. He will wait. He will make sure Nahida sees the brilliance of the sun once more. One day, they shall be reunited.

@feroluce babe, there's someone at the door for you!

This hitting every single one of my partner in crime's buttons aside, it also hits a lot of mine so I in fact had not noticed but I will now happily be noticing. I had thought of making use of his gnosis compartment before, but in a much less... Wholesome context. This one, though, I also like.

Especially the bittersweet realization that as the Wanderer finally gets what he's been craving for centuries - the power of a god, feeble as it may have become, hosted within his body - letting him fulfill the very purpose he was created for at last... He feels nothing. None of the satisfaction, of the elation he long thought would come with this moment. Instead, he's alone, and he feels more hollow than ever.

(But he's used to feeling alone, and this is something he's learned to endure. And endure it he will, because the faint thrum of divine energy in his chest beats gently like a promise - this time you know you won't be alone forever.)

[tamyonmyonmyon]

[couldbebetterforsure]

I know Engage is almost upon us but thanks to you being gone for so long we never got to hear your thoughts on 3H! So……….character rankings👀👀👀👀👀👀 thoughts on the game itself👀👀👀👀👀

My dear Anon, I'm so sorry I took so long to answer this ask, especially since Engage is released now! But yeah, it's a shame I never did get a chance to state my thoughts on 3H so I might as well get into here! Better late than never, right? Also, I'm actually kinda glad I'm only getting to it now, since I feel like I've had a good amount of time to really get my thoughts together. Certain opinions I have are pretty different compared to what I would've said had you asked me my thoughts a few weeks after release or even within the first year I was part of the fandom! Also, for the sake of trying not to let this post show up in certain character tags, I’m gonna try to avoid name dropping characters.

Overall Thoughts

Despite all the discourse and nonsense of the past few years, I really did enjoy my time in Fodlan! I got the game on day one and I’ve logged several hundred hours into it! I have two completed save files for each of the four routes, one no recruit run and one recruit everyone run. I recently started up a meme run for the Blue Lions where I’m gonna have everyone specialize in weaknesses only/whatever their stats mesh the worst with. For my own sanity I’m just gonna stick with the Lions and the Church folk only for this run or I’ll drive myself nuts trying to work on this with everybody! But maybe I’ll do separate meme runs for the other routes in the future? Anyways, back to the point. I think the story was overall enjoyable but I felt like there was too much left unsaid or left “up to interpretation” instead of stated outright, which ended up fueling a fair amount of discourse to this very day. And that did sour my overall experience. But I enjoyed a fair number of the characters. Though I think I’ve made it clear by now I’m a Blue Lions fan so they’re my babies! Hopes was similar in that I had a fun time and, this is coming from someone who DOES like our dear mercenary friend Billy, I think I enjoyed how our Hopes mercenary friend was handled better (at least character wise, plot wise it could’ve been better). I don’t know, I just don’t think Billy was used well as a “silent protagonist”, and personally I don’t think silent protagonists work well in Fire Emblem games. My only big issue with Hopes is the weird choices they made when it comes to portraying certain characters or how far they wanted to go just to make certain other characters look good or innocent or whatever.

Gameplay Thoughts

I’m a character girl first so gameplay isn’t really what I care much about but I do still have some thoughts. I really like that you can make any unit into almost any class! Sucks they still have some gender locked classes though, but it’s super fun to try out new things. And, like I brought up earlier, it makes for some great meme/challenge runs! I have mixed feelings on the exploring the monastery section in that it felt like too much and too little at once. Too much in that there’s a ton of space to explore but too little in that I feel like much of that space doesn’t really get used so I just feel like I’m walking around for no real reason. And in my no recruit runs I really got hit post timeskip with how EMPTY it was. I also felt like the calendar mechanic seemed kinda...pointless? Well, I guess more that it didn’t seem to work well. Gambits and battling the monsters was fun enough. For Hopes specifically, it was my first dip into a Warriors style game since the other FEW game didn’t get my attention, and I really had a ton of fun with it! It’s fun trying out everyone’s different fighting styles and getting used to them. Plus there’s something weirdly relaxing about just running around kicking the asses of crowds of mooks. Though I felt like support grinding was even more tedious in Hopes than in 3H...

Route Related Thoughts

I felt that AM and AG were the strongest written routes of 3H and Hopes respectively. While I do have certain issues with both (particularly a certain endgame decision in the AG route), I think focusing on the characters most and making the lore take a backseat made everything far more powerful and enjoyable. These routes take the most after classic Fire Emblem stories but I don’t see it as a bad thing at all! I liked that each of the Lions were interesting takes on classic Fire Emblem tropes. The growth of our complex and sympathetic leader, the interesting deconstruction and reconstruction of classic Fire Emblem stories and characters, and possibly the best use of Billy in the story really made AM work well! As for AG, it’s much of the same, but with the added bonus of having the other Lions taking more active roles in the plot. Plus I really enjoyed the chemistry between a certain Savior King and purple haired mercenary, which much like with Billy, really worked well with the story by making me connect with the bond between characters first.

VW is a route I consider kinda okay. As someone who usually enjoys lore stuff, I just found this route boring. It didn’t help that I felt a lot of the story beats seemed tacked on. Especially the end boss. Honestly the only saving grace for this route for me was that I found the Deer as characters, especially their charismatic leader, to be really likable! On the other hand we have GW. I’ve seen numerous people put their thoughts in on why this route fails and personally that is my own opinion too. It has a pretty interesting start but then decides to take both the story and the characters in such bizarre and frankly just plain stupid directions that I couldn’t wait to finish the route out of pure frustration. It also turned the main lord from someone who I really liked in 3H to someone who I couldn’t STAND in Hopes. It’s a miracle it didn’t permanently negatively impact my view of the guy.

CF was....well I’ll definitely try to limit my thoughts here for my own sake. But basically I found I enjoyed it most when I decided to turn my brain off and just entertained myself with all the different angst options it offers. But yeah, it’s a route where sometimes I just didn’t know what sort of tone they wanted to go for or how they wanted me to take certain moments. It didn’t help that sometimes the mood would change so suddenly I was left just being like “huh????” CF came across as a route where there were several ideas that could’ve been interesting or certain plot points that you’d think would be tackled as it’d make the most sense right? But those moments are either not used to their full potential or passed over with no rhyme or reason. The less I say about the route’s center of controversy leader, the better but I originally found her enjoyable in theory rather in practice as a result of said missed potential, but nowadays I can’t stand her much. But that’s mostly thanks to a very frustrating (to put it politely) portion of her fanbase. SB was pretty much more of the same so my thoughts on CF apply here too. One thing I will say is that the finale made me actually laugh out loud. If someone had told me how SB route ended before I played it myself, I’d take it for a silly meme you’d usually find in fandoms. But nope, that’s actually how the writers chose to have it end...Incredible...

I can’t believe I almost forgot SS....But that basically is the issue isn’t it. I think SS as a route suffers from not having a certain Archbishop take the lord role over. And it doesn’t help that it and VW share the majority of story beats. I heard some mention the SS’s final boss and VW’s should be swapped and personally? With a few other story changes I agree that it’s probably work much better that way! Sorry this paragraph is so short compared to what I said for the other routes but I don’t really have many thoughts on SS compared to the others. I think it does it’s job fine enough and, while I don’t care for how it did it’s final boss, I at least enjoyed it better than VW’s.

Character Ranking

I found a tier list that included 3H and Hopes characters so I didn't have to make two separate ones, so here's my character rankings! I feel like they're basically self explanatory but if you have any questions about any of my rankings, just ask and I'll be happy to explain! Also you'll notice a couple of characters I used both the 3H and the Hopes version of in the list. That was only for major characters for who my opinion was DRASTICALLY different for one game versus the other. Otherwise these rankings match my opinion of the character as a result of both games (but primarily 3H to be honest)!

[tanaor]

Want simple tips to heavily improve your skills with character voice??

(📝Note: character voice is the way you convey your character's personality though their pov or dialogue when you write. No two characters speak the same📝)

I speak from experience when I say character voice is hard to get right. Characters, like people, have lots of layers that affect the way they see the world around them and how they interact with other characters. That's why character voice is so important in stories, and why if you write it in a compelling and effective way it will hook people into your story. I hope you learn something new in this post!!

When writing character voice, there's a list of things that you should take into account:

Where are they from? Their past and what they've lived plays a huge part in character voice. Maybe your character grew by the ocean, and so they compare things from the present to the beach, the rocks or the sea itself. You will rarely read about a sailor that is an expert in pants and compares scents to flowers. They might, instead, talk about how a house smells like the wet wood of a ship.

Think about how their personality shapes their language. If they are insecure, they might end most of their sentences with "isn't it?" or "right?" and ask a lot of questions, whereas if you have a confident character, you might find them saying things like "we should do this" or "that will be fun" instead.

What their "lense" is. This is more of an ethic aspect of the character. What have they learn it's okay, and what do they find uncomfortable? Would they find it gross if their friend left laundry on the floor?

Give them special traits (both for dialogue and narration). Maybe character A quotes a lot when they narrate and uses long paragraphs, or maybe B speaks about their past a lot and uses popular sayings. Personally, one character of mine has the tendency to repeat himself when he speaks, as in "yeah, yeah, I'll do it" or "no, no, no. Never" because he is really enthusiastic, and it fits really well with his character.

Pay attention to how they would talk about themselves. Maybe your character doesn't like people to know they're sad because it makes them feel vulnerable, so they will just say they feel annoyed or don't want to talk in that moment. This also means that they will not tell the reader something they are not comfortable saying in the first place.

How is their education? Education is also very important in this context. Did they went to university and have a rich vocabulary and structured sentences, or where they rised in a little farm far from town? You can also play with both a bit: maybe your character did go to university, but maybe they also came from a low income family, and characteristic of both things merge when they talk. Example: long, structured, sentences but a simple and sight forward vocabulary.

That's all for now and happy writing!!

Other tips for writers: previous | next

[the-tarot-witch22]

What people admire/think about you - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - page of wands , the tower, four of pentacles and the empress)

Okay so the very first thing i heard for this group is people admire how thoughtful and caring you're, this is admired by many people around you, some of you may have a baby face too, or looks younger than you are, people find you very sexy and attractive , i also heard "a head turner", you come of as confident, even though, if you're not , or don't think of yourself that way, people like that about you, you also seem creative to fellow people around you, your eyes and lips might seem to attract lots of people around you or your lips could be plump without even trying, i see pink lips or nude shade for your lips, anyways your dressing style seems classy or people just like how you dress, how you carry yourself, some people may even think you are a hot-headed person, like misunderstood or form their opinions on you, but trust me when i say some of them are just intimidated, I also feel for some people you guys would have been a victim for false rumour or you just attracted lots of haters or people like that around yourself. I also feel you guys might have people lusted over you, it definitely made you very uncomfortable though, your friendly vibe or nature is also loved by people around you! i also heard "you are lovely", People might also admire your ambition or goal driven nature they find you quite passionate, y'all seem to attract some broken people, or there are some patterns which repeat itself, people find you really nice and comfortable to be around you like just spilling their secrets or pouring their heart out to you. For some of you guys, you might have or had body image issues due to past people in your life , but trust me when i say you guys are gorgeous! Even the vibe here is so attractive~

I feel earth and fire sign energy here especially sagittarius sun!

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you - eight of swords, five of swords, the sun and the strength)

Okay so the very first thing i feel and heard is you guys are amazing communicators, people love that about you, you try to get your point across to the other person, no matter how nervy you are, but you try not to show this to people around you and they love that about you! Some of you may only talk a lot when you are actually comfortable with the other person, some of you could be introvert or ambivert, when i was doing your reading I also felt a emotional vibe, like you may not show your emotions much but they are there and you are extremely different than world perceive you, some of you might have battles in their own head, imposter syndrome, feeling they are not enough, but what i see and feel is you guys are coming out of that zone , learning to be more confident loving yourself, some people might even be feeling that you're not like before, like they lost you but trust me you have been grown and growing, healing yourself, people like your sharp bone structure or there maybe something sharp about your features pointed nose , but straight and extremely good looking, some of you might get insecure about it, but trust me people love it, people like how competitive you are, or when it's time or you feel like, you don't back down from a challenge, people find your laugh infectious, or love how positive you are despite the situation, people may also like your brave and courageous persona, some of you in this group could be religious or spiritual. You seem like strong to your environment, just like as i said you might not like pity or people thinking you are weak, no matter what. People may also like your hairs, nose too! if I have to give you a word i had say "adaptable". Because that is something i keep hearing~

i feel lots of you here could be libra moon/rising, Leo energy is also here!!

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you - wheel of fortune, the hanged man, page of wands, justice and the world)

Okay so the very first thing I feel is, your sense of rightness, people love how you stand up for right and wrong, how you stand up to people, people admire that about you a lot, you don't feel the need to people please anymore, in past you could have done so, but not anymore I also feel your confidence and sense of justice is being admired very much, I also feel people admire your way of talking, your sense of dressing a lot, some of you here like dark shades of red or blue, people admire how much you accomplish , not knowing how hard you have work for it but they feel jealousy as well a surge of admiration towards you, people also admire your desire to read, i also feel some of you here could be a big reader or like to read a lot, people also like how nonchalant you are , but in all honesty you can be losing it , there is also some procastinators here but you get the work done, people find that freaking attractive like how can she complete this work/job, whilst she always said its not complete lol, people like your body language, they do wanna be more like you, they find your problem solving quality also very attractive, they also admire how balanced you are how equally you treat people, no matter the hard times you turned out great! "i also heard we are proud of you", they like how comfortable and complete you make people feel. They also like your facial features a lot! Some of you could have foxy eyes here and people find that very sexy and attractive!

I feel here is capricorn, leo/sagittarius and scorpio energy!

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[rene-darling]

Soooo ahem- what if traveller calls Xiao's name while our babygirl is busy moaning in the best part??

GETTING- Interrupted while doing the nasty.

OMG YES!! Love your brain darling, this but with other genshin men as well.

...kazuha...tighnari...itto...Xiao...

Kazuha

You're his first priority doesn't matter if he's the one fully naked.

He's probably more red than before but he'll cover you up first

Glares at whoever walks in but it's more of an embarrassed glare.

After that person leaves he'll just sigh and probably won't be in the mood anymore.

But if you coax him a bit he'll be raring to go soon enough.

It's an embarrassing memory which he wishes he could forget

The next day when he sees that person who walked in he's very chill and acts calm and collected like nothing happened.

Tighnari

Shocked and pissed.

With work it's already hard to find time for each other and now when you finally get the chance someone interrupts

Immediately covers himself with his tail

It's like an instinct, he'll cover you too

He sends the person off with a nasty glare and then refuses to resume your previous activities,

He's ashamed beyond belief and gives you an earful for not locking the door.

Cannot face the person who caught you both for a while..

Itto

Doesn't realise.

Bro keeps going until you have to physically stop him

Once he finally sees that someone has intruded on your private time he just stares..for a moment, before letting out the most shrill scream ever known to man.

You can't believe such a scream can be from a bug muscular man such as itto

He chases intruder out the room..forgetting the part where he's naked.

You have to run after him before he runs into his gang and embarrasses himself further

Xiao

Pretty back arching and hands tightly gripping at the sheets, xiaos trying desperately to last longer. But, you're just not giving him the chance to hold back any longer.

He moans your name like a mantra as if it is the only word he knows. He could feel that he was close, arching his back he looked back leaning into you muttering your name.

He was close, he could feel it..it felt so good. Sweat dripped off of him and he could feel himself becoming closer, and closer, and- "adeptus xiao~ we need your help-"

Immediately the traveler's hands shoot up to cover piamons eyes. It takes Xiao a second to realize that he's no longer in bed with you...

His eyes widen. He stiffens as he's overcome by pure shame and embarrassment, horrified he tries to jumble a sentence together but fails, too stunned to speak.

He immediately teleports back falling onto the floor of your room. "xiao..there you are..where the hell did you go?" your question doesn't get an answer by the panicked adeptus who looks like he saw a ghost.

You have to calm him down, and there is no chance in hell you can continue what you guys were doing beforehand.

After said incident, he refrains from having intimacy for a good while, too traumatized by the prospect of the past repeating itself.

He's also too embarrassed to face the traveller in the coming weeks, running away whenever they get even a little close.

Safe to say you've lost love-making privileges all because of the traveler..damn...you won't get to see that xiaoussy for a while🙏

[acid-ixx]

Dear author,

I love your batfam series SO MUCH. I like the way you describe the feelings, how you use the words, how the depression of Y/N was shown, and the thinking of Batfam when they realize that Y/N had been heavily neglectful. Every time I read this series again, I still feel the hurtful of it and it actually makes me cry a lot T.T. And I love that feeling. And the series makes me want to draw, even though I’m not good at drawing.

The first panel, I draw Y/N in my thoughts ( sorry if you feel uncomfortable) and Conner. This one is inspired from a manga called “ Veil”.

The second one, I draw some scenes from chapter 3 (I tried to draw the ways Y/N calmed themselves down, but I couldn’t 😭).

From your series, I’ve thought about ABO au, where Y/N is a beta, they can’t be marked ; so the yanderes ( romantic one) are more yandere, because they know that Y/N never belong to anyone.

Last thing to say, I VERY VERY VERY LOVE your batfam series and this is one of the greatest fics of Batfam I’ve ever read. I also very admire your hardworking and your inspiration about this series. But I hope that you also stay healthy because I saw that you’re very productive ( how you can write so fast but still focus on the details TvT). No words can reveal the love in my heart to your series.

Sorry if I either bother you or my bad grammar ( English not my native language, this is also the first time I do this ). Thank you so much because spending your time reading this piece of mine. I just want to express my feelings and thoughts about your fic. Hope you have a good day!!!<333333

— masterlist !

a/n: the topic of a/b/o is written under this post. anyways, this comic panel is so absolutely brilliant and breathtaking omg... i love all the thoughts u have compiled here and i'm so sorry I wasn't able to reply to this quick enough 😭 but i appreciate this sm !! "even tho im not good at drawing" YET U SENT ME THIS !! i absolutely love everything about this don't say ur not good at drawing bec u are 😡

so like i said, don't be sorry if u draw the reader as female bec i portrayed them as gn so anyone can interpret them as any gender and it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all as long as i'm the one not being misgendered. anyways, veil is actually one of my fave mangas and if u ask me, i could say your relationship with conner is pretty much akin to that of veil's! which means conner is very touchy-feely with you and is uncaring of their status as a wayne and would rather... have you take his last name very soon, if you know what i mean hehe.

the second scene is absolutely heartbreaking even for me, especially the panel where your mom tries to comfort you by telling you it's all alright made my heart ache real badly because that's probably the last time you have experienced; the love of a parent that's soon taken away from you. your mom's last words would be reassurance, one that both comforts and disturbs you as the memory repeats itself over and over in you head like a broken record </3

and the abo au, for me personally (tho i never have written for it) is just going to threaten more angst with your family because not even your pack is willing to take you in and care for you. despite your hopes due to being a beta unlike your family who are comprised of strong alphas and resilient omegas, you are merely average in their eyes probably, average enough to be forgotten and discarded by a pack you had thought would take you in for you must be a misfit just like them.

yet despite the pain you had to endure for feeling unloved as a beta, it would also deepen your potential with conner as your love interest because although you could never be claimed by any past sweethearts, conner would always, and i mean always make a show that he loves you in a deeper, more symbolical way. he may not be able to mark you as your alpha, but a ring and an always protective hold on your waist paired with his scent and pheromones engraved into every piece of your clothing is enough to tell everyone to "fuck off, this one's mine."

and tysm for loving my fanfic 😭 even tho i have written it impulsively, look where it got now !! yes i am very productive but this is a mere product of my attention span and hyperfixations towards the dc storyline and no my health is very bad but trust me it's not from writing, it's more from me just being very ill every single day but im trying to take care of myself <33

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here�� he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[prythianpages]

I Can't Pretend | Eris x Reader

summary: After your sudden disappearance, Eris takes it upon himself to find you. When he does, he breaks down and can no longer hide his feelings for you.

warning: angst, suggestiveness, smut (p in v, loss of virginity); this one is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions and the longest imagine of this series (at 6K words)

a/n: you can find the masterlist to this series here or read this as a stand alone imagine (: all you have to know is that reader is engaged to Eris's brother and in the part right before this one, reader and Sawyer got threatened by Beron. this piece here is brought to you by Tom Odell's Can't Pretend.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

“You just marked your death sentence.”

Your body grows cold, muscles tensing once again. The tears running down your face feel endless as you stare at the door closing behind the High Lord. When it finally shuts, the sound feels like a sentence in itself, locking you into those promises. Bedding ceremony. Death sentence. The words repeat themselves over and over inside your head like a haunting melody. 

You’re going to be watched as you're forced to be intimate with Sawyer. Then, you’re going to die. You want to run…but where to?

A whimper drags you from your thoughts, directing your attention back to the male lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Your fate is sealed and cannot be helped. But you can at least help him.

You hardly recognize him as you kneel beside him and help him sit up. Blood trickles from his face and every exposed inch of his pale skin is littered with open wounds that make bile rise in your throat. You can also sense all the broken bones in his body, something urging you inside to mend them.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, unable to hide the tremor in your voice and your hands. Slowly, you bring your hands to his face, grimacing at the lack of warmth.

A choked, rattled sound escapes from Sawyer. He instinctively leans in to your touch, welcoming the surprising wave of relief that comes with it. It’s as if something deep inside you is calling to him, telling him that you can fix him.

“Did you…did you mean it?” He croaks out.

You don’t have to ask to know what he means. “Yes.”

Sawyer’s pained expression softens for a brief moment. “Sometimes…” he begins and as you blink away your tears, you catch the way he averts his gaze, focusing on the splatters of his own blood that taint the marble floor. “Sometimes, I wish the Cauldron had made me different too...”

“The Cauldron makes no mistakes,” you assure him, your voice steadying with every breath. “It doesn't matter who you love. All that matters is that you love strongly and freely. I sense you have a good heart…which I’m coming to find is a rare thing in a place like this.”

“I thought I was an asshole.” There’s a subtle hint of regret in his tone.

“Yes,” you say with a small exhale. “I’m afraid that you still are… An asshole with a good heart.”

And for the first time since you met him, a faint ghost of a smile graces Sawyer's lips as he looks back at you. 

You continue to help heal Sawyer, the same way you’ve done for others in the past. The cuts on his face close as your fingers brush against them, the swelling of his face goes down and the broken bones begin to mend. It’s like a miracle. There’s no trace of any injury left behind other than the blood that has not yet dried.

It’s strange for it to be quiet between you both. You’ve grown accustomed to the insults thrown your way in his presence and even the look of disgust that usually mars his features when looking at you. But all you see is the bewilderment in his face.

As the weight of silence threatens to consume you, you find yourself humming to deter the thoughts lingering in your mind. It’s a familiar melody, one your mother would gently sing whenever your injuries and the sickness that would often befall you begged for relief. Just as it did in those tender moments, the melody you hum washes over you, bringing an immediate sense of comfort. 

The warmth returns to your veins and Sawyer, too, senses the soothing energy as it radiates from your touch. His sharp aches dulls into a distant memory. “I didn’t know you were a healer,” he says quietly and then realizes how little he knows about you. He has an inkling that his older brother knows more. “Are you from Dawn Court?”

“My mother was. I think I inherited it from her side,” you reply, helping him to his feet.

As the two of you stand, the door slams open, causing you to involuntary flinch. To your relief, it is Lady Raelynn and not her fearsome husband. Her breaths are quick and shallow and eyes full of concern.

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” she breathes, rushing toward her son. She assesses him for injuries, not caring over the blood that stains her hands as she softly touches his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The healer is already waiting in my quarters and I’ve had my maid prepare some tea to soothe your ails.”

The way she speaks leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach, as it gives away that situations such as this occur with such frequency. Lady Raelynn then turns to you, gaze dipping down toward your hands. They’re stained with Sawyer’s blood.  “The both of you,” she adds as emphasis.

Her hand reaches for yours but you take a step back, suddenly feeling sick. She had already included you in the disconcerting routine. The urge to run comes over you again as Beron’s words resurface in your mind. Is this what your life will become? A routine of suffering and torture until death harshly claims you.

“I’m okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. It’s a lie and you all know it but they don’t push you further. They share a glance filled with understanding, deepening your revulsion. You think you’re going to throw up. “I–I think I need to rest.”

“Of course,” Lady Raelynn nods, a deep frown settling upon her face. “Please allow one of my maids to escort you back to your room.”

**

Eris has grown to know fear over the centuries. It held him in its grip, bringing forth tears and whispering sweet nightmares into his ears until there was no trace of hope left behind. But this feeling surging through his veins and creeping into his heart is much, much worse. Like a fear he’s never known before.

You’re not in your room. You’re not in the gardens. You’re not in the library. 

All air has left his lungs and he feels like he can’t breathe until he finds you. There’s one more place within the Forest house he’s yet to check. He’s racing toward it, his pace reflecting the erratic rhythm of his heart. He knows he should tread carefully but you’re flooding him with your emotions through the bond, pushing away all rational thoughts from his mind. 

The doors to Lady Raelynn’s quarters slam open. His eyes are drinking in the room like a man deprived of water, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Y/n,” your name is spilling from his lips in a choked breath. “Where is she?”

His gaze lands upon Sawyer, who sits on the couch and then to his mother, who sits right next to him. You’re not here either. His heightened senses take in the bloody cloth in his mother’s hands–not your blood–and then, the somber expression on Sawyer’s face. Across from them, three teacups rest on the small table, the faint scent of chamomile wafting over to him.

Suddenly, Eris is livid. His gaze darkens and he’s rushing toward his younger brother. Hands roughly grasp onto the front of Sawyer’s shirt, forcing the younger male to rise to his feet. Flames tickle around his throat, tightening with every second.

“What did you do?” Eris seethes. It’s more of a demand than a question.

“Eris!”

“Answer me,” Eris nearly growls, his eyes mirroring the flames tightening around Sawyer’s neck. “Or I swear to the Cauldron, I’ll–”

“Eris!” His mother calls out again. 

This time, she’s successful. She steps in between her sons, a hand at Eris’s chest and she can feel the frantic beating of his heart. The flames around Sawyer’s throat loosen their grip but only a little.

“Your brother has endured enough blows today.”

“He looks perfectly fine to me,” Eris retorts, amber eyes taking note of the lack of injuries on him. Despite his mother’s words, he’s inclined to give him one. One that will remain and act as a reminder to never cross him. He already knows that whatever happened, was Sawyer’s fault.

“Yes,” Lady Raelynn begins, voice heavy with caution. She knows Eris will find out what happened one way or another and though it fills her with dread to be the harbinger of bad news, she rather her son hear it from her. “Because y/n healed him.”

The sound of your name brings Eris back down and the flames around Sawyer’s throat extinguish. He looks at his mother, silently urging her to go on.

“Your father caught the ear of the rumors circulating in court and well…well, he called for a bedding ceremony.”

Sawyer swallows thickly at the reminder. He casts his head down, overwhelmed by Eris’s heated gaze that is directly solely on him now. A realization hits him then and slowly, he lifts his head. “You care for her, don’t you? All this time…,” his voice trails off.

Eris falters. He shakes his head, a mix of horror and panic tainting his delicate features. “I told you–”

“Then you should know,” Sawyer interrupts him, lips pressing into a tight line before speaking again. “Father plans to kill her after the wedding.”

Flames erupt from Eris’s fingertips, itching to wrap around Sawyer’s throat once more. He warned his brother not to be a fool. To be more careful because this was not just a matter of life or death for Sawyer but for you as well. Eris just needed more time to help you and he fears Sawyer just deprived him of it.

A firm push from Lady Raelynn stops him from raising his hands. “Eris, your brother is not the enemy,” she reminds him, tone pleading with him to hear her. “Y/n is in her room. Go to her. She needs you.”

Eris's fiery temper flickers, dissolving into the familiar grip of anxiety that had driven him to this chamber. He takes a step back and Lady Raelynn’s hand drops back to her side. “She’s not in her room.”

It’s now Lady Raelynn’s turn to panic. “What do you mean she isn’t? My maid personally escorted her there. She even helped draw her a bath.”

“She’s gone.”

Sawyer lets a curse under his breath, a shiver running down his spine. “One more mishap,” he murmurs, fear swirling in his eyes. He falls onto the couch, sinking into the cushion with dread. “One more mishap and father warned…,” his eyebrows furrow, not being able to finish the threat Beron had made to the both of you and Eris feels his heart at his throat.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Lady Raelynn speaks but it does nothing to reassure Eris.

“When I bring her back,” Eris says, voice steady with determination because he will find you. He takes another step back, toward the doors. One hand grasps for the knob while the other points a finger at Sawyer.  “Then, I’ll deal with you.”

Sawyer says nothing but Lady Raelynn nods, urging him to go. “We’ll cover for you,” she assures him. “Please be careful.”

Eris leaves without another word, the doors closing shut behind him. 

“He loves her.” Sawyer's words are tinged with sympathy and bitter amusement. A humorless chuckle escapes from him and he looks toward his mother. Her gaze remains fixed on the doors of her room, where Eris had left just moments ago, as she gives a silent prayer to the Cauldron.

“Are we cursed? To love those we cannot have?”

“I’m afraid you all have inherited it from me,” Lady Raelynn confesses softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken longing, clouding her eyes with regret and sorrow.  

**

Leaves crunch beneath Eris's boots as he makes his way toward the stables, the crisp autumn air biting at his cheeks. His face dons his usual mask but his heart is still racing. He would much rather take his hounds in his quest to find you but the risk of raising suspicion held him back. It’s not uncommon for him to ride during these hours of the day and it’d give him a better vantage on covering as much ground as he can as opposed to winnowing. 

The sound of a high-pitched whinny echoes through the air as Eris approaches, drawing his attention. His gaze settles upon the stablemen, their focus fixed upon a solitary stall.

“Lord Eris,” one of them greets, bowing his head in respect. “Do you wish to ride? I can ready your horse. Just give me a moment.”

Eris offers no response as he strides purposefully toward the stablemen, his curiosity piqued by the source of the anxious sounds. The stableman follows his gaze, his expression troubled. It’s your horse, Maximus. The white stallion throws his head back, pawing at the ground with such force that the dirt rises in swirling clouds.

“He’s been restless all morning, my Lord.”

“I’ll take him,” Eris finally speaks, his gaze lingering on the horse. From where he stands,he can sense the tension rippling through Maximus’s powerful frame. It reminds him of the way his hounds act when they sense something is wrong. “Perhaps, a ride will soothe him.”

The stableman’s eyes widen in alarm. “I would advise against it, Lord Eris. This one has a temper that only Lady Y/n can soothe. He’s bitten us before.”

Eris lets out a quiet amused huff, undeterred. “I’ll saddle him myself,” he says and it’s as if your horse understands for it tilts his head to look directly at Eris, a silent exchange passing between them.

The stableman simply nods, reluctantly handing the necessary equipment to prepare your horse. As Eris steps into the stall, Maximus steps back with a deep and heavy exhale. “It’s okay. I’m y/n’s…y/n’s friend,” Eris reassures though the word ‘friend’ rolls off his tongue awkwardly.

As he utters your name, Maximus's body relaxes slightly, mirroring the calm that had settled over Eris earlier in his mother’s quarters. He admires the way Maximus’s eyes soften slightly, betraying his deep love for you. Animals are the true definition of unconditional love, he thinks. However, there’s a flicker of doubt in the horse's eyes at the mention of the word "friend," as if he could sense something more. It makes Eris wonder if your horse can see past the glamor he meticulously placed over himself and you.

Maximus doesn’t move when Eris takes another step forward. He pats his neck softly, running his fingers down the silky white strands of Maximus’s mane. The white stallion’s head lowers and ears relax under the gentle touch.

“Can you take me to her?”

Maximus taps one of his hooves in response and Eris smiles.

**

Eris can feel your bond growing stronger and stronger as Maximus gallops, taking both of them deeper into Autumn’s forest. Around them, trees adorned with golden leaves blur into a whirl of color. The sound of thundering hooves fills the air. He pulls on the reins and the white stallion immediately obeys, coming to a gradual stop. 

“Stay here.” Eris commands as he dismounts.

Maximus lets out a noise in protest but does not fight when Eris secures him to a nearby tree. He looks around the forest, allowing his senses to guide him through the labyrinth of trees. He feels a sharp tug against his ribcage, prompting his head to turn right. How did he not think of it sooner?

Eris quietly makes his way toward the clearing ahead, where the meadow he often frequents is. The canopy of the tall oak trees filter the golden sunlight into a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. A kaleidoscope of wildflowers blooms along the edges, their petals kissed by the wind. His senses sharpen with anticipation. It’s as if a taut string is pulling him inexorably closer to you. 

He’s flooded with relief when he finally spots you but it is short lived as he takes in your appearance. Relief is quickly replaced by a terrible sinking feeling that he feels in his very core.

The river is a distant murmur as you face it, your back to him. The shifting patterns of light and shadow play across your form, casting you in muted hues. You’re dressed in his clothes, the same ones he had given you when the two of you snuck out. The ruffled long sleeves do nothing to protect you from the biting Autumn winds and he frowns as you curl into yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You seem smaller somehow, more vulnerable. He’s already taking his coat off as he approaches you.

“Angel,” he calls out softly, placing his coat over your shoulders, but you don’t move. You don’t even react…are you even breathing?

Eris steps around you, his eyes pools of amber concern and as he comes to stand in front of you, his heart clenches. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Tears stain your rosy cheeks, making his knees weak. Yet it's the emptiness in your gaze and the absence of radiance in your expression that shatters his heart. This court has broken you beyond repair. You, who always shined so bright, who lit up his world, were losing your spark. This is what he had been trying to prevent and he failed. 

His hands cup your face in a tender caress, internally wincing at the lack of warmth he feels. Drawing upon his powers, he channels heat into his hands. As the warmth envelops you, he watches as your distant gaze gradually returns to him.

A pained expression clouds his features, tears stinging at his own eyes. He knows the answer, recognizes it the more he looks at you. He knows because you wear the same expression he does after facing Beron’s temper. But he needs to hear it. His brows furrow, barely able to contain the anger that had been left simmering. Anger not directed at you but at his father. 

“Did he…did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay.” 

There’s a roughness to your voice he’s never heard before that kills him inside. You lean in to his touch, tilting your head slightly to the right. Consequently, the same cheek Beron had struck earlier. Eris frowns. There’s no mark on your pretty features, no trace of harm of any kind. Though, he knows better now. 

So he asks again. Differently and more carefully, this time. He’s trying very hard to tame the fire raging through his veins for your sake, worrying that he’d scare you if he allows you even the slightest glimpse of it.

“Did he touch you?”

You shift your head, attempting to escape his hold. But Eris doesn’t allow it and takes your silence as an answer. He swallows thickly. His father had laid his hands on you. Fiery tongues surge from the earth, swirling around you both and painting the air with bright hues of amber and scarlet. How dare he?  His father is going to pay for this, Eris will make sure of it. He’s going to return the pain Beron inflicted on you tenfold. He’s going to ki—

“I’m okay.” You try again and it’s as if you’re also trying to convince yourself.

Eris leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmurs, voice thick with longing and regret. He had been so careful about leaving Autumn since your arrival and the one time he has to leave it, is when you find yourself in trouble.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now.”

He feels the softness of your hand against one of his, prompting his eyes to open. His amber orbs glisten with a haunting luminosity as quiet tears escape them. “I put you in this situation,” he confesses quietly.

Confusion flashes onto your face, your eyes searching for answers and he feels his heart at his throat. “I arranged your marriage, knowing the life I would be damning you to. This is all my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know me then and my father…this marriage would’ve happened any–”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, inhaling sharply, voice strained with emotion. He doesn’t think you’d be defending him if you knew what he did to your father just hours ago.  “Don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it.” 

And then he reluctantly drops his hands, stepping away from you, needing to put some distance between you both.

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“Eris–” You take a step closer but he holds out a hand, flames erupting from the ground right between the both of you.

“No. You don’t understand, Angel. I’ve tried to fight it but I can’t contend. You’ve pierced through every defense of mine and now… I’m exhausted.I can’t pretend anymore.” Eris bows his head, flames dancing around him with heightened intensity. He collapses to his knees, surrendering to the turmoil within.

“You awaken sensations within me that I’ve never known. Sensations that both exhilarate and terrify me. If you–if you only knew the depths of my capabilities, the lengths I would go for you, the sacrifices I’ve already made...”

He can already imagine the heartbroken look on your face when you find out the truth. That he, your mate, the very being that should bring you nothing but joy and shower you in love brought harm upon your family. You’re one and only remaining family member. It did not matter if your father was a monster because either way, you adored him. Or rather, the idea of him. 

Eris should tell you the truths he learned. How your father poisoned you for years, treating you not as his daughter but as a mere experiment instead. He only read snippets here and there from the journal, read just enough to be sickened with the horrors purposely inflicted upon you. 

And Eris will tell you. He knows he needs to. But you’re breaking and he can feel you on the verge of shattering apart this very moment. If he tells you now, he fears–

“Eris.”

Your voice pulls him out of his racing thoughts and he winces. As if it physically pains him to hear the sweet way you say his name. “Don’t say my name like that, angel,” he nearly pleads. You don’t know what you do to him.

The flames pulse around him with the rhythm of his heart. He decides at that moment that you can hate him all you want after. As long as you’re alive, as long as your radiance returns to you, that’s all that matters. He just desperately needs you to be you again.

“Just tell me, angel, and I’ll do it,” Eris says, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his breath. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better? I can’t bear the sight of seeing you like this so please tell me.”

**

His words strike a nerve in you, the devotion in them unfamiliar to you. How cruel, you think, tears pooling at your eyes for an entirely different reason. You’re marrying the wrong Vanserra. You take a step forward, the flames of Eris’s fire threatening to swallow you whole.

 “You care for me?”

“Devastatingly so.”

Another step forward. Your heart hammers in your chest. The flames lick at your feet and you should fear them. But you don’t. Because it’s Eris and though you shouldn’t, you want him. Not Sawyer or anyone else. You want Eris. All of him. 

“You’d really do anything for me?”

Eris lets out a sound–a mixture of an exhale and laugh. It’s humorless and singed with disbelief as if he can’t believe you’re really asking him that after he just confessed it all to you. But you need to hear it again.

“I would traverse all over Prythian, surmount every obstacle, and brave the fiercest storms just to see the light of your smile. All you have to do is ask.”

And then you’re taking that last step, braving yourself against the searing heat that dances in the air to reach him. Because if you’re going to die, you need him to know. You need him to know the truth that lingers in your heart. 

That he’s your golden hour, painting your world in shades of warmth and love, but also your midnight hour, where secret desires and dreams are whispered under a canopy of stars and now…

Now, he’s everything in between. You’re every waking thought and the last before you sleep. You need him to know that you burn for him. Ardently. Your breath catches and Eris’s eyes snap open, widening as his fire reaches out to embrace you. 

But it doesn’t burn you. 

The two of you look at each other in awe before you’re falling to your knees in front of him, the flames enfolding around you in a tender caress. Neither of you say a word. Your hands reach out to cup his face, coaxing his gaze to you. He doesn’t stop you this time. Not even as you lean in and press your lips against his. He should pull away but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips move against yours, kissing the warmth right back into you, giving a piece of light from him to you.

You pull away, just enough to speak but still close enough to feel the warmth of his mouth. “And if I ask you to take me in a way only a lover could, what then?”

He looks at you with such an intensity it sets you alight but then he’s averting his gaze and there’s an ache in your chest.  “Please,” you whisper, eyes glistening with tears. 

You always dreamed of what your wedding would be like, who you would marry. A part of you always knew that it would be arranged. Still, you foolishly hoped that in light of the arrangement, love would blossom. That your husband would hold affection toward you and learn to love you. That on your first night together, he’d be gentle and caring.

But your dream was morphing into something darker. Your husband would never love you in the way you desire. He hated the very thought of you and though you caught a mere glimpse of the caring male underneath the harsh exterior earlier, it did nothing to soothe you. It can’t be Sawyer. 

The night you dreamed of was becoming a nightmare. The last thread of hope was hanging precariously, threatened by the sharp blade of anxiety and fear. You can’t lose the last part you hold dear to Sawyer. You can’t let Beron win. They don’t deserve to forever hold this over you.

You look at Eris, your last thread of hope. “Your father called for a bedding ceremony and I don’t want that to be my first time. I don’t want Sawyer to…to…”

**

“I know, angel,” Eris murmurs, not letting you finish your sentence. He wipes at your tears and then places his hands over yours, which remain on his face. He gives a gentle kiss to your lips but his body is tense. The thought of you having to endure the horrors of a forced bedding ceremony. Your body on display for others to see, the emotional and physical pain it will bring upon you, the—

Eris has to force himself out of those dark thoughts, the bond in his chest roaring with a fierce and protective anger. He kisses you again. This time, on your forehead. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But your father–”

The fear in your eyes pains him. He pulls you closer, nose brushing against yours as he forces you to look into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then trust me when I say that no one will touch you against your will again.”

“Even though your father, the High Lord, has condemned me to death?”

“No one,” he repeats, voice firm as he pulls you close to him. One arm wraps itself around your waist while the other cradles your head to his chest. He brushes his fingers through your hair, basking in the sweet scent of rose it brings forth.

Silence envelops you both and you allow it to embrace you, the same way Eris does. In his arms, you are safe, you are warm. It is just the two of you…against the world.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of,” Eris speaks softly.

“I’m thinking…” your voice trails off as you shift in his hold to face him. His hands fall to your waist and you make yourself comfortable in his lap, placing a knee on either side of him. “What if it's your touch I will?”

Heat and desire pour through the bond, filling his veins.

“Your eyes I dream of,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his red hair and tilting his head up to look into his eyes. When you lean in to delicately kiss the corners of his eyes, he shudders beneath you. 

“Your heart I want.”

Your hand trails down his neck in a tender caress, stopping at his chest. Right over the organ that beats for you. The golden threads stir under your touch and he swallows thickly, eyes locked onto you. He wonders if you can feel it–the way the bond is singing madly like it wants to be heard. With a sudden boldness, he tugs on it.

His eyes widen when your body seems to react, lurching forward slightly. Your movements still, hand lingering on his chest and he watches you with bated breath. You felt it…but your end of the bond remains quiet. Still waiting to unravel, only giving him a glimpse of the emotions stirring within you. 

Something that both uneases and relieves him. He wants to know exactly what you’re feeling–if your emotions resonate with the same fervor that consumes him. He wants you to understand the depth of his devotion to you. However, amidst his yearning, your oblivion toward the bond allows him to mask the subtle shift in your scent. A silent sacrifice that weighs heavy upon his heart but a burden he is glad to carry if it means he can safeguard your innocent heart from the cunning foxes at court.

Your hand continues its path downwards, tracing a tantalizing path toward his. His heart stirs with a flutter of anticipation. He can feel the unspoken yearning in your touch. With trembling fingers, he intertwines his hand with yours, each brush of your skin igniting a wildfire in him that grows brighter as you bring his hand to your lips. 

 “Your hand in marriage I long for.” You press a soft kiss upon the fourth finger of his left hand and his resolve is faltering. Teetering on the edge of surrender…

The flames surrounding you both catch on the ring on your fourth finger, the very one claimed by his brother. A forced and loveless claim. Yet still, regretfully, not him. A stark reminder that you are not his and perhaps, will never be. The simple golden band glistens precariously as if acknowledging his thoughts. He should stop you.

 “Y/n–”

“Your touch I crave,” you continue, your longing turning into a desperate need as you kiss him. Harder, with more urgency, sending a delightful sensation down his spine that makes his cock twitch. 

As your hips roll against his, Eris abruptly pulls away. The hands at your waist tighten, keeping you still and holding on to that last wall of defense. He wants you but he shouldn’t.

Your brows furrow and Eris hates the hurt that flashes in your eyes. The hope that deflates. “I’m sorry.Have I misinterpreted your—““

“I want you too,” he interrupts, needing to reassure you. He licks his lips, gaze flickering to your own, already missing their taste, before lifting back up.  “Gods, do I want you but not like this.”

He gestures to the autumn meadow around you both. The meadow that is painted in hues of crimson and gold and alive with the whisper of falling leaves and dancing flames. It’s beautiful. The epitome of Autumn. But it’s no proper place to have you. 

“You deserve better. You deserve for your first time to be special.”

“It does not matter where we are. As long as it’s with you, it is special. Please,” your bottom lip trembles and Eris leans in, gently kissing it steady. “I want you to be my first. I don’t want it to be Sawyer or anyone else. I want it to be you.”

“We don’t have to do this now. There will be another time,” Eris utters but his voice lacks strength. The promise in his words hangs in the air delicately like a wisp of smoke that is already dissipating into uncertainty. 

“Time,” you echo quietly, a wistful shadow casting over your features.  “What if we don’t have time? What if–what if this moment is all we have left?”

Eris wants to respond but the words catch in his throat. There’s nothing he can say to reassure you there. He knows you’re aware of the impending dangers that wait for you back at court. His father will be watching you closely now, security will be tighter. Eris will have to be more careful, tread lighter and with higher caution. 

There’s only a little less than two weeks away from your marriage to Sawyer. The three of you are running out of the time and there is still so much to do. The stolen moments with you will have to cease and he senses you’re aware of this truth as well. This may be the very last one between you both.

If you thought Autumn was a terrible place before, then you’re about to learn that it’s much, much worse. It’s a living hell. And Eris curses the Cauldron for its cruelty.  

Angels like you shouldn’t live in hell.

“So much has been taken from me and I fear there is very little choice I have remaining in this world. But this,” you pause, placing his hand over your racing heart, an urgent plea echoing in the rapid rise and fall beneath his touch. “This is mine to give and it wants you. I want to give it to you before it’s too late…”

Eris’s entire body tenses, muscles tightening with restraint.

“And if your heart feels the same, then I need you,” your voice trembles under the weight of your emotions and suddenly, Eris feels like he can’t breathe. “Like fire craves the kiss of air–”

No one has ever looked at him with such devotion, spoken to him with such passion. It’s overwhelming and threatening to drown him in its intensity. While his mind is screaming for him to run away, his heart wills for him to stay. 

“–like flowers thirst for the tender caress of rain, like–”

Eris’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is searing yet gentle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he groans into your mouth. He carefully guides you back onto the soft bed of fallen leaves and golden grass, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other remains over your heart. 

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and forced to pull apart. His body hovers over yours, amber eyes drinking you in. He tenderly kisses the remnants of your tears away, reveling in the way you softly sigh and lips begin to curve upwards into a smile.

“I love you, Eris.”

The three words hit Eris so hard there’s a crack in the last wall of defense. He’s terrified to move, not wanting to leave this moment but also in fear that if he does, that last wall will crumble entirely. 

“Me? Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more unequivocally sure.”

Eris studies you intently, captivated by every subtle shift in your expression. There’s nothing but unwavering love and desire reflecting back at him with such luminous intensity that it threatens to blind him. He can no longer think properly. Every reservation, every thought telling him to stop is slipping through his fingers.

All he can think about is you and how you love him. You love him! You love him! You love him!

And when he meets your eyes again, it’s too late. 

The damage has already been done. That last wall of defense is crumbling at a devastating speed. A soft flush creeps up his cheeks, betraying the vulnerability that seeps through his every pore in surrender.

“Is this what you really want?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as his nose brushes softly along your neck. “Even if it’s just for this moment, let me be entirely yours. Every beat of my heart. Every breath. Take it all.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eris murmurs against your neck, inhaling sharply and when the honeyed scent of your arousal greets him, he whimpers.

**

Gentle is not a word Eris Vanserra would use to describe himself. That is, until he met you. His mate. The one who dismantled the walls he spent centuries constructing around his heart in months with little effort. In your presence, lies a burning desire to soften the edges of his demeanor. To be the gentle male worthy of your affection. 

You wield a power over him unlike any other, leaving him utterly captivated and surrendering to all rationality. He should tell you he feels the same but he is beyond words. How can mere words capture the magnitude of his devotion?

So when you’re asking–begging–to be his, he can’t bring himself to say no. Not when this may be the very last moment shared between you both. Not when you’re giving him the perfect opportunity to show you the depth of his feelings instead.

Everything fades into insignificance. Nothing matters but this moment. With a touch as light as the brush of butterfly wings, his hands explore your body. Tentatively, as if scared to burn you with his burgeoning desire. Always asking for permission–”is this okay?” “yes”–before venturing further, before discarding your clothes–his clothes. 

Flames continue to dance around you both, a protective circle and barrier against the cold winds. Each flicker of light casts intricate shadows upon your faces, your bodies. Eris pulls away just enough to admire you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down and capturing your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. But it will never be enough. “So, so beautiful.”

You’re melting like wax beneath every touch and then his lips are tracing down the paths his hands have forged. Gentle and somehow still urgent. His mouth lingers on the swell of your breasts, sucking and eliciting the prettiest sounds from you. 

“If it’s too much, you tell me,” he utters, holding your gaze as he rests his chin on your stomach. He can sense your nerves. He’s nervous too. He wants this to be perfect for you. As perfect as it can be, given your circumstances.

“We can stop whenever you want.”

You nod but it’s not enough for Eris. “Words, angel,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach. “I need your words.”

“I’ll tell you,” you breathe, body arching into him. “I promise.”

Eris presses another kiss to your stomach before continuing his path downwards, to where he can feel you aching for him the most. He’s breathing so hard and kissing every inch of your skin, setting you ablaze. His nose brushes against the apex of your thighs and he’s flooded with your arousal. It’s overwhelming all his senses and he’s pulsing with need to have a taste. 

Still, he pauses to look up at you through his long eyelashes.

“Please,” is all you manage to say.

Eris moans in anticipation, drinking in your otherworldly beauty, the same way he wishes to devour you. One hand rests on your hip while the other reaches for yours. His fingers intertwine themselves with yours and when you squeeze them, he lowers his mouth and finally has a taste.

You throw your head back with a choked cry. “Eris!”

Eris groans, lapping and working his tongue against you. He’s never loved his name more. “You taste absolutely divine,” he breathes, losing himself in you. If this is how you taste, his cock throbs painfully as he imagines how you’d feel.

You reach your peak soon, crying out his name again. He lifts his head and brings your locked hands to his lips, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. “Beautiful,” he whispers again, heart swelling with warmth. Overcome with emotion, he dives for your lips and pours them out into his kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

The hand not intertwined with yours, caresses against your core, fingers prodding at your entrance. Your mouth parts in a gasp at the intrusion but he eases you through it until you're clenching around his fingers and begging for more.

“Are you sure you still want this?” He can’t help but ask, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go slow,” Eris promises, his amber gaze filled with softness and tenderness. Blush rises to your cheeks and it’s instinctual, the way you look away. He lets out a low sound in disapproval. “Eyes on me, angel.”

When you meet his gaze, his pupils are blown but his gaze remains soft and warm. Your lips curve upwards and he does the same. Both of his hands are locked with yours, resting on either side of your head. He holds your gaze, slowly sinking into your warmth and stilling at the furrow of your brows. He kisses them, allowing you to adjust and wanting to ease any discomfort you may be feeling. 

“You’re doing so well for me, angel,” he encourages, voice strained. The bond in his chest is surging with pride at being your first and with a primal fervor to be the only one who gets to have you like this.

He feels like his heart is going to burst into flames and when he finally sheathes himself inside you, everything catches fire. His mind. His body. His soul. Every muscle, every nerve in his body is coming undone with every thrust. His kisses, though still soft, grow intense. So hot yet so sweet.

Fire consumes him, its vibrant flames igniting not destruction but building something new. Something beautiful. Something heavenly. where hopes and dreams, once thought lost, are resuscitated. The wounds of his heart being mended by you.

His body presses further into yours, mouth pressing feverish kisses down your neck, whispering sweet praises and worshipping you for the divine being you are. Your moans grow louder and you’re clenching around him tighter. “I love you,” your voice is a mere whisper but he hears it loud and clearly and you don’t seem to mind his lack of response. Not when he’s following after you, bodies shuddering as release courses through you both.

Eris pulls you close to his chest, arms tight around you. He can feel your heartbeat. Fast but steadying and in tune with the rhythm of his own. The gentle rise and fall of your chest let him know you’ve fallen asleep. Letting out a sigh in content, he closes his eyes, wanting to bask in this moment longer.

His fingers lightly trace along your back, tracing the four words he couldn’t bring himself to say back to you earlier.

I love you, too.

a/n: I've never written soft smut before so I hope it was okay. I also hope I was able to convey the desperation between Eris and reader well. I debated a lot on whether keeping the smut or scrapping it. Huge thank you to @stormhearty for helping me out with this part and giving me her input! ily! ❤️

series tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy, @queerqueenlynn, @circe143

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

[agatharkn3ss]

Lilia Calderu is extremely important (Spoilers)

Lilia says in ep.5 that she "reads people" and she "reads time". But she is much more than that, she just doesn't know it yet.

I believe Lilia Calderu is Fate itself - or Fate of this coven at least.

You can see the background of Patti's end credit is the tarot table. This is going to be her air trial in episode 7. But do you also see the word "Fate"? Circled in red?

Now... Doesn't that remind you of something? Like maybe... "Circle sewn with Fate"?

Oh and what else does Lilia do? That's right, her side hustle "Lilia's Leggings"! The motif of sewing around Lilia is repeated throughout episode 2 - she has a sewing machine in her kitchen/bedroom and when she starts singing the ballad, there are big thread spools in her background. Could they be any more obvious?

Without Lilia, there would be no coven. She is the one who sends the list of names to her past self so that they can form their circle.

I am convinced she will do this as part of her trial. She will be doing a tarot reading and sending messages to the past events, trying to find the right time - just as she uncovers her tarot cards - and yes, that's including the broken line "Alice don't try to save Agatha".

If you want to know more about how I think those messages will be send, I have described the detail in this post.

The tarot cards that have been used so far give us insights into the story - not just because of their tarot meanings, but also because the images on those cards correspond exactly to the moments when Lilia said their names out loud.

These are the scenes as seen through Fate's eyes.

Three of Pentacles has the coven singing the Ballad. Three of Swords is the moment before Teen is healed - they are in the woods, on the purple Road and Lilia sees Agatha's heart being broken three-fold (because of Rio, Nicky and now Teen). High Priestess is exactly how Lilia first met Jen - with the rays coming out of the painting behind her. And finally, the Knight of Wands is standing in exactly the same stance as Alice was when she saved Agatha.

The rest of the cards, although not named in the show yet, will likely make appearance in her trial. Queen of Cups bears striking resemblance to young Lilia. Death is holding a dagger and a black heart, and is surrounded by flowers... And finally, there is the Tower card. Which is going to be about the her tarot (Air) trial.

You can read more about my predictions on how her episode 7 trial will go in this post.

But essentially, the members of the coven will be dressed up as the evil witches from the pop culture, while Lilia will be in white - like Glinda the Good Witch. So it looks like Lilia will need to confront those negative stereotypes yet again. She will also understand, that although she predicted tragedies in the past, she actually has the power to predict something good, even control it.

There will be swords sticking out of the ceiling and falling down to the floor - probably serving as a time reminder. You can see those swords in the poster above too. There is another poster - that resembling the cover of "The Crucible" - a play about the Salem witch trials. Again, we see the "thread" elements clearly here.

Unfortunately, we know that Salem Seven manage to get inside the trial too. I think once Lilia completes her task to finish the tarot reading and deliver the list to the past, she will then flip the sand timer - another reminder that she can, in fact, control time. Unfortunately, flipping the timer will also mean that the whole tower room they are in, will also flip upside down. We see Lilia and Salem Seven floating up. Sadly, I think that means that they will end up impaled on those swords? We can't see anyone else from the coven.

The Tower card seems to suggest people floating, but there is also a blue crown being toppled off the top. I wonder what that means for Billy.

That last shot breaks my heart!

But to finish on a different note, there is even more to Lilia Calderu.

You see, every tarot card has this little squiggle in the corner. Looks familiar?

I believe, after all this, that it is Lilia who puts the sigil on Teen - again, this maybe done in retrospect, when she sends her messages from the future. She knows that Teen's identity must be hidden or Agatha never becomes interested in what he has to say. And maybe others' decisions would change too if they knew. Maybe he needs protecting from the Salem Seven, because he is the son of the Scarlet Witch (that Salem witches call the Harbinger of Chaos and wanted to attack Wanda). Or even protection from Lady Death herself - because if she found out he was literally a ghost, reincarnated, she would want the body to restore the order?

So, in her true style, she literally SEWS the sigil onto Billy's mouth.

Lilia Calderu, what a legend. She is FATE.

[aryxchse]

the same type of blue. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself. and i won't shut up about how logan lerman and his wife being sally and poseidon in my head

warnings : emotional, i can't warm up to paul im sorry, sally and poseidon should've been an endgame but idek how, mentioning past, you looking like sally, crying, some of the hera cabin power mentions that i had in mind

the moment sally jackson met you, was the moment she saw her teenage self in your eyes.

you were this funny and bubbly girl who was too nice for your own good. you had these mother instict in you that later she found out it was because of your mother being hera. you would always say what type of marriage you imagine with percy and how many kids do you want. one boy and one girl, doesn't matter who's the older. the girl was going to have percy's eyes, but the boy will have yours.

and it always put a smile on her face to listen you talk about your dreams so comfortly to her. because she saw herself in those dreams. they were once her dreams too.

percy looked and acted too much like poseidon for sally's own good. he would unknowingly make his dad's jokes, and would call you 'darling' like he did to her back then. all these little details would remind sally her past love.

it was a barbeque day for the jackson-blofis family at the montauk cabin. where you were obviously invited, and poseidon, obviously was not. he liked to show up in family gatherings once in a while, to spend some time with his son or suprisingly, estelle.

you and sally prepared the table as the boys made the meat while laughing at something. paul and poseidon had this awkward friendship that always made you giggle. and percy would chat with his biological dad more often, since he felt more comfortable with him. don't get me wrong, he loved paul. all of you loved paul. but poseidon's warm energy made him easier to talk.

you never thought you'd have a dinner with a god but here you were, eating a meal with one of the most powerful gods ever existed. poseidon was really good at making people forget that he's a god, the one that rules the seven seas.

after the dinner, percy and you started to clean the area as paul went inside to watch this new game he followed, you didn't really paid attention. sally stayed outside, smelling the sea's calming scent, her bare feet dipping in the sand.

she looked over were poseidon and estelle was playing. he made sand castles with her as he laughed like a true grandpa. it made sally chuckle too, seeing him acting all fatherly with her daughter.

"he wants to make up for it," you said, and it made sally slightly jump. you apologised while putting a hand on her shoulder. "you know, since he couldn't look out for percy and you."

sally's eyes started to water up, but she managed to crack a smile. "how do you know this?" she asked. you shrugged, "i can feel a parent's feelings, even if they're a god. weird power, i know." you chuckled at the end with her.

"he didn't had any choice," sally muttered, looking at the sea again. you nodded. "i know, but he still feels bad. he really loves you sally, still like the first time." your whispering words made sally want to breakdown right then and there, but she only sighed.

"baby!" percy called behind you, smiling like a little kid. you both turned around as you made your way to percy, giggling. once again, it reminded sally the good times. but she wasn't alone this time, poseidon could also see the similarities between them. how you had sally's hair back then like how she used it, and how percy was a literal copy of himself.

sally sat next to poseidon as he sat there silently, watching his son and his girlfriend chase eachother around the beach, just like he and sally did. estelle was asleep in his arms, the calm energy he radiated making the girl fall asleep immediatly.

"they're just like us." poseidon whispered, not looking at the woman he still loved. sally smiled, not that he would see. "yeah. but a better version." she responded.

"one that ends happily unlike us." he agreed, too afraid to look in her eyes. sally didn't said anything, and the past lovers watched their son having the time of his life with the girl he loved.

suddenly percy lifted you up on his shoulders and ran into the water with you, still being clothed. you whined the moment you swimmed up. "percy it's not fair!" you yelled at him between your giggles.

"m' wet too baby, see? there's nothing unfair in this!" percy laughed with her, hugging her waist tightly so that she won't slip away.

"you used to do that too," sally whispered to poseidon, smile hurting her cheeks at this point. poseidon mimicked her facial expressions as he nodded quickly.

"and you would always whine like her." he chuckled, making the woman laugh along with him.

percy stepped out from the water with the help of the waves, still holding you in his arms in bridal style. while he made his way into the cabin, he spinned you around once in a while to make you laugh.

"he's really your son." sally chuckled, watching the couple enter the cabin.

"he's our son." poseidon corrected. he finally faced the woman, and saw the tears perking in her eyes through a smile. this was sally jackson, the woman he loved the most. smiling through everything.

he made the tears go away with a flick of his hand, too afraid to touch her. "a proof that our love was real, not a dream i had."

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Jewellery

Royal and Noble jewellery is a staple of their life, a statement of the who is person is, their rank and their wealth. Jewellery simply isn't a accessory, it's an exercise in showmanship and a way to link to a past.

(Disclaimer: Many stones in pieces often have a bloody past, usually stolen or worked from the earth under the reign of Colonialism. It is best to always take this into account when admiring real world pieces)

Providence

Jewellery like this is usually inherited buy can also be bought or even given as a gift. There is three kinds of jewellery in this instance: private, owned by the crown or owned by the state.

Private jewellery is owned by a single person and worn or lent at their own descretion. Private jewellery can be no less grand than state owned jewellery. This jewellery can be inherited by anybody the owner chooses.

State jewellery is not privately owned, it belongs to the country itself. It is not inherited but used by royal family. If a royal family is deposed, the jewellery remains with the state. Such as the French Crown Jewels.

Owned by the Crown means that it can only pass monarch to monarch, worn only by consorts or the monarch and lent to anybody they choose.

Noble jewellery is not quite the same. Much of it is owned privately but there may be one or two pieces designated as official jewellery for the title such as a specific tiara.

The Rules

Jewellery like this are not just trinkets to be borrowed by anybody. Usually the monarch (or titled noble) or sometimes the spouse, is in charge of designating who can be lent which pieces and for what occasion. Even if you are a super close member of the family, you still have to take what's on offer. Sometimes certain jewellery is worn exclusively by a certain rank say the Queen or the noble themselves and would not be offered to anybody else. For example, you will note that into today's royalty you will see certain royals repeating the same tiaras such as Kate Middleton who has only worn the Cambridge Lover's Knot, the Strathmore Rose Tiara, the Lotus Tiara and once, the Cartier Halo Tiara. These would be the tiaras available to them, which usually number only a handful. Certain pieces are designated by for the monarch/Consort as well, the Vladimir Tiara & the Girls of Britain and Ireland Tiara only graced the head of the Queen in her reign. Other pieces such as earrings or bracelets would also be distributed accordingly, more elaborate and expensive pieces would be worn by the higher ranking members. Certain collections are meant to be passed on, such as the Consort's jewels but many Dowager refused to pass on their jewels such as Empress Dowager Maria Feodorovna after the death of Tsar Alexander III.

Treasure Trove

Now, just because a family has a throne or a grand title doesn't mean they have caches of jewels. Many noble families sold off their pieces to pay death duties, most only have a few pieces left today. As for tiaras most noble families would not have access to large quantities, usually only affording one or two. The Spencers for example own two, the Spencer Tiara and the Spencer Honeysuckle Tiara. This is an inaccurate protrayal in Downton Abbey, as the family have at least 6 but then again Cora is a Dollar Princess so it could be possible to own as many but it never made sense considering just how many times they almost loose the estate and never sell any off. Royal families are not exempt from this either, some families have vast stores of jewels such as the British Royal Family (I wonder where those all came from...) while the Greek Monarchy (discontinued) has only a few pieces. The Romanov collection is of course legendary and we may never know it's full extent.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gitae Kim for the first time

G/N. Pre Mexico. Pre silly lil murders :))) Masterlists

Whispers and rumours swirl. Passes from student to student, teacher to teacher. There's something wrong with him.

"Him there. In that class. With the dark circles and heavy lids, he's weird. His father's a gangster."

"What? Really!"

"Yeah. Don't talk to him, he's trouble."

Is he? You wonder. As you watch him, a tall lanky figure already heads and shoulders above the rest of the student body, you can't help but think he's like you.

Adrift. Waiting for something better or waiting out the years until you can leave this lonely wretched place.

Both outsiders, not quite fitting in.

.

.

You start to observe him.

At first just quickly peering at him when he's around, then naturally over time, growing bold and searching for his presence, watching him when you think he's not looking.

The boy, with strong features and haunted eyes, has no friends and doesn't talk much.

His gaze is constantly far away, like he's spiritually and mentally not here. Appearing deep in thought.

Scheming, you've heard others say. Plotting.

Maybe. Not many people talk to you either though the gossip is kinder.

Head in the clouds. Daydreamer.

You're strange, they also say, their tone never tinged with fear. Something akin to pity can be picked through their words.

.

.

"What do you want?"

You had averted your eyes fast but not fast enough.

The tall boy says it like he knows you've been watching him. That your wandering glances at lunch isn't a one-off.

"Nothing." You respond, voice coming out croaky and startled.

He arches a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes, the first time you've seen anything more than apathy on his face.

You hold his gaze and to your surprise, he's the one that breaks it first and strides off.

.

.

"Hi."

His eyes flicker towards you.

"Hey." You repeat, swallowing down your apprehension and drumming up all the courage you can muster to ask, "Is this seat taken?"

Time stretches for what feels like an eternity. He doesn't react to your question though the only way you know you have said it aloud is from the way he watches you.

Like a predator, sizing you up, working you out.

You realise, with great embarrassment, you might have mistaken his words the other day for an understanding between you.

Just as you're about to give up, accept the rejection and disappointment and leave him alone, he finds what he's looking for and finally tells you. "No."

It takes you a moment to remember your original question and you release the breath you didn't know you were holding.

In hindsight, you wished you didn't sit with him.

He offers no other conversation and your self consciousness spikes when he watches you as you pick through your lunch.

.

.

The whispers and rumours change once other people notice the odd company you keep.

You can't bring yourself to mind.

He's quiet, eyes unnerving but you feel like you've found a kindred spirit.

.

.

A cigarette, held between his fingers, is offered to your lips.

You had stumbled upon him during a free period at the back of the school. Past the field and among the weeds and rubble where no-one, not even the cool kids, go.

You lean forward to grasp it in your mouth, the interaction peculiar and intimate. The cigarette itself feels unfamiliar and foreign, you didn't want to tell him that you don't smoke.

A small flame clicks into life from his lighter and he holds it to your tip. Eyes never moving off yours as the ember starts to burn.

You take your first inhale, feel the poison in your mouth and on your tongue, travelling down the back of your throat and-

"Shit-" you sputter and hack your lungs up. You cough and cough, eyes watering, cheeks turning red.

He laughs, low and rumbling, as he thumps you lightly on your back.

As your breath returns, he asks, "What's your name?"

You tell him and he trades his in return.

"Gitae," he says, plucking the cigarette from your hand and taking a drag.

[yanderecandystore]

I love the yandere monster story, can I make a wish for some yandere monster boy naga who is looking for a mate to carry his eggs and live the rest of his life together forever?

I don't condone yandere shit irl, but if you bang a naga man someday I'll give you a pass and a cookie, you mad lad. Not proofread enough lmao, also sorry but I really don't know how to type s e x.

Tw/Tags: straight up NSFW/+18 scene (written by someone who struggles to imagine sex- So we don't guarantee quality) // not very descriptive genitals, if at all // the usual yandereness + breeding kink; possessive behavior; manipulation; suffocation; implied oviposition but not really cause I'm dumb // you're a literal desert mailman💀 I'm sorry // brief mentions of troubled family life/past trauma // language barrier // self-conscious reader // willing yet slightly scared reader.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Writing in the sand [Yandere!Male!Naga x AFAB!Messenger!Reader - One shot]

Being a messenger was actually a lot more dangerous than it seemed at first, how many times have you and your camel met with bandits, scammers, difficult terrain, awful weather, people who would tell you the wrong direction for shits and giggles?? MANY times, but did you ever consider quitting and going back to the tea shop of your very judgmental parents or worse- To accept the offer of personal servant to that weird queen from the faraway lands who wouldn't shut up about how much better her kingdom was?? NO!

I mean a little bit. Just a little bit. Occasionally, I mean her kingdom was really pretty, though constant snow sounds like a pain in the ass, and giving up the freedom you currently have for either a strict monarch or your family was NOT something you were planning to do, ever!

The first time you got off the borders to send messages for far away people was the day you truly felt alive for once! The desert itself was your greatest rival and yet you faced it head down after that day- Sure, you were unprepared at first and there's still plenty to learn out there but it was EXCITING!!

You fought (ran away as quickly as you could) many groups trying to get a coin out of your body, or your life! Or your camel!! King Mustard wasn't the same after the "giant scorpion with that group of thieves" incident that happened, the worst part is that it happened twice though the people were different at least. Your personal theory is that the scorpion WAS the same from before, and that it has been following you through your journeys and it probably was looking for revenge!!

You told that story to so many people that now it's hard to go someplace without repeating yourself, it's weird how even though you're never at one place for too long, most people know you! You're, humbly speaking, sort of a big deal in the great drylands- Not known for your bravery but mostly for your constant running mouth and your adapted technique in how to extract cactus juice safely from a cactus with 70% success of no cactus drunkenness! (100% Needle-safe not included).

Stopping in a town was obviously the safest place for you and your camel, but was also probably one of the most rewarding parts of your trips, of course because you always need to have plenty of resources out there in the sand but also because… Well, as much as you loved every second of exploration and travel, you were admittedly a very lonely person.

It's not something you like to tell others, as you have already experienced people doubting your capability of being a messenger if you get so "emotional" over being far away from people ("I told you so!" Yeah, thanks mum.). It was a time you could feel at least safe and… Sometimes welcomed.

But it wasn't always a lonely trip, after all, King Mustard was here! Him with his big personality was always the heart of the party! Everyday was fun with him, even if he couldn't speak to you… However, that doesn't mean you haven't found great comfort in your travels, you probably haven't noticed this yourself yet, but [y/n]...

You are a very dear person.

Every person you've helped along the way in your trips, just by coincidence finding them, and landing them a hand in the hot and harsh reality of the desert thinks of you dearly. You have friends! It's just that you don't see them very often… If at all. The desert has a funny way of getting people closer, people who struggle to survive in its environment, and yet it also drifts them away- The wind blows in every direction separating every small particle of sand, and maybe one day they'll meet again, or maybe not. Cruel was it, with its breathtaking beauty and extremely cold personality for someone so hot and merciless.

You often associate the desert with its forgotten god. You tend to talk about it as a person rather than just an environment of harsh conditions, you always remember to talk to it, hoping it would listen in a way. You were pretty much by yourself out there, but thinking that someone was listening to your travels made you feel safer, perhaps not as tormented as the blazing Sun would leave you to believe. You were being watched, and protected, you just knew it!

The proof of it came from one of the greatest encounters you ever had during your travels.

It was really hot that day, King Mustard seemed really tired and you were melting under the blazing heat- You two needed shelter and fast! And suddenly, as if the gods listened to your prayers!-(But quickly threw you two middle fingers)- An immense sandstorm was approaching!! For someone as cautious as you, you couldn't understand where the hell it came from!! It was so sudden and just- There was no indication of it!! At all!!

You got knocked out, and when you woke up- You were… Somewhere strange, like an underground oasis of sorts, hidden in the desert there was a cave of luscious greenery and drinkable water, it was magical how big the place was!! You thought you had died and went straight to Paradise!!

At least, you thought so when you saw a very large and handsome man staring back at you, smiling gently. He had tanned skin and a REALLY long, almost platinum hair! He looked so gorgeous with his green cat eyes that you almost forgot to breathe!

You asked the man if he was an angel, and he responded to you in a language you didn't understand. You were 100% certain that the man was really an angel and yet when he revealed the lower part of his body your face dropped immediately, terror slightly setting in. He was half snake, half a giant snake at that! His tail seemed endless, those dark scales were so pretty yet so terrifying! The gold markings seemed very regal and holy in nature but the endless darkness almost seemed to eat it all up! Like a demon!

You freaked out at first, but when you looked at his eyes, his gentle face- His expression of concern, those big bright eyes, you noticed he really didn't seem to have any ill intent towards you, perhaps you were misjudging him for something he was not. After breathing in and out, you calmed down, never taking your eyes from him, you felt comforted as you realized this creature was the one who saved you out there! And who saved your camel!! He was still really scared of your snake buddy, but you made sure to soothe him.

Long story short, you became friends with a human-snake guy who seemed genuinely very cool! It's a shame you didn't understand a word he said… You suspect that maybe he speaks in a very ancient language and perhaps this means he was REALLY old!! And yet, he seemed just about your age, and you got to hangout with him during your free time.

Poor thing, he seemed trapped down here (though to be fair, it is a fabulous prison to be in-) and he really wanted to catch up with times! So you made it your duty to help him understand the new world, you have no idea why he is here and how long did he live here separated from the rest of the world, but now that you knew how to get there and how to get out- You made it your mission to teach him everything you knew about the modern world.

And although the language barrier was massive, you two somehow got to learn something very special about each other- He shared with you his name, "Rakaski", and you got to teach him yours.

~"[y/n]"~ His accent was heavy, and yet you felt something flutter inside you whenever you heard him call your name. You remember him repeating your name over and over again as if he wanted to memorize how to say it.

After hearing his name, you made sure to research it, trying to find something that could lead you to know what language he was talking in- But no books nor people seemed to know how to speak it, except for one book you found, a fairytale book that was so old that it was a nightmare trying to understand the vernacular! But it didn't seem like a very "old" old kind of book, it was probably made after the language had changed, there were a lot of words that you didn't recognize.

The book never explained the name's meaning really, but it was always used as a common word- And given the context of the story you read, it seemed to mean either "falling" or "god"? Well, you're not very sure, since the book was confusing as hell, and your interpretation of the story was very mixed- Was it about a desert deity or a man that kept tripping over in the sand?! Seriously, why did it have to be so confusing!?

In the end, you still didn't understand the book and neither did you find out anything about Rakaski's name. At least you know it was older than your home kingdom, which was pretty cool.

Either way, the lack of communication never stopped you from coming down that hidden paradise to talk to your best friend every opportunity you could! King Mustard can be very squeamish whenever you guys try to get down there, he really disliked going there and you assumed it was because he was claustrophobic, which you already knew he was. So, today you'll leave him in the shade and get down by yourself, you don't want to stress the poor thing.

"M-Mustard! King Mustard Junior The Third, stop pushing me around!! You know you're a lot heavier than me! Seriously, this isn't funny!!" Ah, King Mustard, for a camel you're really just a scaredy cat! You push him away gently as you can, he keeps positioning himself in front of the hole you want to jump in.

"Hey stop!! If you don't want to come then fine, but let me get in! Please! I'll be back soon!" The massive animal was starting to get a little too agitated, and you knew better than to try to force your way.

"Mustard, seriously you're starting to scare me, you know I'll be back soon, please let me get down." You don't know if it was the deep magical connection of friendship that made him understand you and realize that he scared you, or if he suddenly felt disinterested in playing with you right now.

Taking by how the camel sassily walked away you're starting to think it was the second option- Of was he genuinely insulted by your stubbornness? Who knows.

"Sigh… You always get like this when we pass by." Though you can't really blame him, you know he still distrusts Rakaski, but come on it's been a year! And Rakaski has never hurt any of you two! Sure, he was a bit intimidating at first but he had a good heart, you just knew that.

Compared to the men back in your hometown? Rakaski was a saint, you were sure of it.

You had slid through the sandy hole and into the luscious underground with ease, you started to call for him, but before you could even yell out "Ra" you saw him not so far away, seemingly very occupied.

"Awn, guess you're decorating! Have I come at a bad time?" You walked to him and joked despite being aware he wouldn't understand you.

The way his face lit up and turned to face you was just so precious, he seemed very excited!

~"[y/n]!! [y/n]!! It's really good to see you again!! I was already worried you would never come."~ He talked just like you, committing the same mistake of talking as if the other would understand- You had no clue what he said, but as he coiled around you and his arms squeezed you oh so dearly you understood exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, yeah- Missed you too-" You never knew how to deal with anything social, period, and being flustered at someone who wasn't even human was not a first but it never got easier. But with him, at least, you feel like you don't need to pretend that you don't feel slightly flustered by his attention. Gods know you're a very easy target for large and very well built men.

After he let you go, you realized he was just building a new nest for him, so you decided to help him as well. It was already pretty much done when you got in, but you felt like he deserved a "fancy" bed so you helped him decorate with flowers and some of the trinkets you bought for him, he just loved human trinkets!

And by the gods, you knew you were currently in Spring, but these flowers?! They were just so damn pretty, it's a real shame that your traveling is mostly done in sand, occasionally though you have to go to the East to deliver important letters and gifts and you just kinda love that place! Every time you go, they're experiencing a different season, and it all changes so much, it's beautiful!!

"Oooh!! Maybe I should bring you flowers from one of the neighboring kingdoms, it'll be a way to show you the world since you can't leave…" You think out loud, and of course, he looks at you a little confused- And yet he repeats the word you said.

"Flowers?" He repeats it as if he didn't understand what you said, yet liked how you said it.

"Yes! Flowers!-" You say pointing to the flowers in his nest and surrounding you two, he quickly understands it, it seems.

~"Oh! Flowers! Oh, that's what it's called to you? Great heaven's, humans are always changing, aren't they?"~ He starts to laugh, you… Sort of don't understand the joke, but perhaps "flowers" just sounds funny to him.

He patted your head as he laughed, as if trying to congratulate you on making him laugh (I mean, getting this man to laugh was a challenge, you bet even without the language barrier).....

Although, it felt more like a "reward" sort of situation… As if he was rewarding you for… Being so entertaining, you suppose! Still, that's probably just all in your head, besides you know well when someone is being condescending to you, you're sure of it! Years inside your family's house has made you a pro in spotting bad apples from far away. I mean, you like to think you do, to be fair Rakaski was a little difficult to read, and sometimes he did things that you probably weren't sure of what they meant.

But then again, he was a very old half snake dude trapped inside a cave somewhere along the rock formations spread all over an unforgiving desert, his social life was probably a lot worse than yours, and who's to say that his antics aren't based on his own culture? Perhaps snake people like to coil around each other to show affection, even if it's really hard to breathe like this.

Things weren't so complicated between you two, however, as you guys have invented a form of simple and more direct communication through pointing to objects and scribbling on paper. You had thought about using sign language, so you learned a couple of words and tried to use with him-

"So- This means that- Hm..?"

But before you could teach him he already was talking to you through hand signs you didn't understand, he was very well adapted and you only knew a few like "hello", "you", "me" and "see you soon"- Which would be the most used one for you two.

"Huh, you always impress me, maybe you should be the one teaching me-" You bowed down, genuinely impressed with what you saw, and he seemed very content with himself as he smugly pretended to wave and throw kisses to a nonexistent audience. His ego was always a bit inflated, wasn't it?

You decided to cut your visit short and return back to King Mustard as you didn't want to leave him waiting for too long. It's funny how neither him nor Rakaski liked each other despite sharing a diva personality. As you waved your goodbye, Rakaski decided to give you one last big hug.

A hug that didn't seem to end at all. His body wrapping around you and leaving you to feel surrounded by darkness. This usually happened so it didn't come as any surprise. You tried to tickle him as that usually worked.

"Come on now, you know I'll be back soon!" You laughed as you tried to provoke him, his belly was so sensitive that you could see him contracting and trying to avoid giggling.

But he didn't let you go. Your attempt only made him restrict you further, the snake body trapping your hands with its weight.

You were well aware of Rakaski's animalistic tendencies, for example he was cold blooded and constantly held you to try to gain some height, like he is doing now.

You know that when he yawns his jaw unhinges and opens so inhumanly wide that you have to close your eyes so you won't have any more nightmares about it.

You know he is nocturnal so he is constantly feeling a little too sleepy whenever you two hangout, as you often come to see him during the day (which was something you did for safety, though you sometimes worry he is having trouble sleeping because of you-).

And you also know that snakes tend to suffocate their prey with their body before eating them whole.

While trying not to judge him as a human eating monster you still feel very, very terrified of the slight chance he might be hungry and has forgotten you're not food. The more you struggle the tighter it gets, and it doesn't help that his skin is so cold, it makes your nerves flare up as you can hear him growling with what you hope is not hunger.

"RAKASKI-!!" You yell, you couldn't help it, you were starting to feel dazed. While closing your eyes you felt his lower body shift and relax, you felt arms hugging you a lot more gently than the suffocating sensation from before. If it wasn't for his lazy eyes and the internal chuckling you can feel in his chest you would say he was actually hungry for you. He was just trying to scare you.

"Sigh, you'll be the death of me- Seriously you scared me to death!" You tried to push him off you, but he basically threw his entire body weight on you as you fell to the ground with your back on the soft yet not very ideally comfortable grass.

"Shhhh~!" He nuzzles on you while hugging your stomach. Normally he would have let you go now after petting your head or pretending to bite your neck just for funsies- But today he is very much not letting you go, at all.

Okay, you really didn't want to address the situation, you weren't planning on ever talking about it of course but- By the gods, you knew better than to assume his playful smile was just his usual silly self.

Oh, who were you kidding, you knew it from the moment you came in and saw the nest he was making, it's not like you haven't noticed his chest rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe just by talking with you. You wanted to leave because you noticed that perhaps you took the wrong month to visit him.

It was mating season, wasn't it? Why now? Why today?! And why WERE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT?!!!

"Okay I think I need to think about this a little more- I mean you're clearly not thinking straight right, I'm not even a snake lady, man!" You try to push him off you as you avoid eye contact, the worst part is that he was fairly attractive for someone's who's lower body was just one huge snake tail.

He wouldn't budge, he only shifted his head to look at your face, even if you were avoiding him you could feel his smirk creeping around the corner of your vision, you wouldn't be surprised if he knew what you also knew.

I mean, it wasn't a secret you liked him was it? You thought you didn't mind him noticing this but this sudden desire just feels like it's happening all too fast and you're worried it might be just a one time thing, that he is acting like this out of instinct not out of actual desire towards you. And well you never really did this before, I mean not with someone like him, at all! But you had experiences with people before.

Bad experiences. The ones that would leave someone worried for years that they're not good enough to anyone. Were you being cautious or were you just being self-conscious? Were you scared of him not liking you when this high of his diminished? Maybe you just weren't sure if this was a good idea.

"I don't know if I'm really ready for this." You confess, looking back at him- Hoping to find your answer.

And he looked back at you with a sad expression, did he understand what you said? Did he understand what you meant at least? He looked so concerned and genuinely "awake" despite his current very urgent instincts. He held your hand and kissed it for reassurance, you didn't notice you were crying until your vision was blurry and your chest was aching.

"Sorry.." You tried to wipe them yourself, you don't know why you're apologizing. Rakaski didn't seem to take it well, he was about to say something before shaking his head vigorously and wiping your tears himself. He came closer to look you in the eyes, stop staring elsewhere, you won't find comfort anywhere else but those eyes.

He decides to come off of you and give you some space despite his initial reluctance, the gentle and almost warm presence of reassurance leaving with him- And before he could give you space you decided to make the first move yourself.

You kissed him, hoping perhaps he would understand the gesture, and he did! He hugged you and kissed you back returning your neediness… Though coming in with a lot more desperation than you thought. Not seconds after forcing his tongue in despite your unisseanes.

I mean, it 's good! He isn't being horrific at it is just that you have underestimated how badly he seemed to want this. And although you're just as interested in this as he is, you're worried you may not hold to the same durability as he has.

Today was the day. Today had to be day, and he wouldn't have it any other way. To wait longer would be torture and you best believe this man was patient. He wasn't expecting you to almost reject him at first of course, oh you almost gave the immortal a heart attack!

He shouldn't have been so pushy, he knows that, but having your soft lips on his was so worth it that he couldn't help himself as he pinned you down again, ah… It's a shame the nest is so far away, this is not a very classy way to do things.

Then again, ripping off your clothes with no regards was probably not very refined either, humans needed a lot more courting than he was aware of- But it was fine! You were doing just great, you were being so good to him, he wishes he could praise you in your own language so you could understand him.

~"You're so lovely for something so fragile, thank you for accepting me- You have no idea how long I've spent being trapped here knowing damn well there's not a single other like me out there."~ He would praise you in his own tongue in frantic breaths while kissing your neck and nibbling in your ear, while his lower body made sure to lock you in place, you were a little scared, weren't you?

~"I'm genuinely sorry for having to put you in this position but I can't take it anymore- But I know you want this as well, I know you do!"~ He usually was very talkative, but there was something in his voice that sounded shaky, desperate, and his hands were too confused on where and what to grab that you noticed he seemed just as inexperienced as you were.

Well, at least you thought so before he spread your legs and started to rock back and forth in your lower region- It's not exactly that he is inexperienced, but he is very much off his mind right now- His movements aren't uncertain, they're just frantic for any release. Not that he won't tend to you as well, he just really needs this right now. But you'll understand, you always do. You always treat him so well, despite the monster he has become.

~"It'll hurt, and I'm not sure if it's only a little. I promise to make it worth it later to you."~

You were struggling to keep up with his weird and off putting rhythm- He was just so ready for this, it's been on his mind ever since he found you unconscious inside his natural prison, but he knew better than to be selfish to someone he'll have to share a nest with.

~"It'll be great don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be well taken care of. It'll be incredible, my treasure."~

You shivered when he went from humping your lower region to undressing kissing it almost as passionately as he did your mouth- He should probably move a little slower considering he changes activities way too quickly but hey it felt better than the awkward dry humping.

It wasn't bad, but it lacked a bit of finesse- Not like his careful and calculated attention to your privates right now-

"Humans need a lot more work than I remember, but does that mean we can make it last longer? Would you want that, treasure? [y/n]?" Rakaski was playing with it almost as if he never looked at something like a naked human before, but it was a lie- He was absolutely just trying to tease you with every poke and flick.

He ran his finger down slowly before reaching an opening and pulling it inside, at least one to feel you inside. It's lovely that you arch your back to the littlest of things, and although he doesn't understand your words, moans are hardly hard to misinterpret.

"Slower then? I guess I was being too unprepared, I'll be honest that it's more fun than I expected. If this is the work I have to do every time then I'll gladly accept." Human courting was fascinating to him, though now he understands why, he can't just expect you to take it all in with a little help- And helping someone never tasted so sweet.

You were feeling embarrassed by his stare as he licked you out and further tried to spread you- Trying to ease the inevitable soreness that would come but damn, did he have to look at you like that?! It made you feel a little dirty, a little too embarrassed to entertain his idea, for someone who seemed so eager to shove it in without any foreplay he was really taking his time now!

You grabbed his hair carefully, you didn't really notice what you were doing and to be honest you weren't sure how to continue with this but Rakaski looked at you in awe… His smugness was replaced with a look of pure adoration- His pupils wide and round as he expects you to guide him.

It gave you a bit more confidence knowing he trusted you to hold his head and sort of help him find the right pacing.

You don't remember for how long it went, you just remember that it ended with you on top of him, going at your own pace. He held your hips not stopping you to go as fast or as slow as you wanted but rather because he felt very uncomfortable NOT holding every centimeter of you. He needed to grab into something and your sweet flesh was exactly that.

You woke up in his nest, feeling a little disoriented, memories of what happened a little foggy, but you were sure it wasn't a dream considering the soreness in your thighs- It was hard moving.

You sighed, feeling weirdly satisfied- Well, that's not the right word, more like… Well, genuinely happy.

You tried around, and you saw Rakaski curled up into a ball, sleeping so peacefully and yet with that little mischievous smirk in his face you just knew he was dreaming about it.

You turned your body to face him, deciding to close your eyes and sleep a little more.

Until you remembered you left your camel outside.

"HOLY GODS, KING MUSTARD!!" You jumped up, trying to run as quickly as you could towards the entrance- But you couldn't even leave the nest when Rakaski wrapped his tail on you and pulled you closer.

"WAIT! It 's my camel!! I forgot I left him-"

"Stay." He said in a very half awake voice.

"You can talk…?"

"Stay." Rakaski wrapped himself around you, as he buried his face in your neck. You weren't sure if he was understanding what you said, or if he only understood the meaning of that one word.

"Rakaski, I'm just going to check on him, I'll be back soon, I promise-" You pushed his chest away. You shouldn't have done that.

Rakaski tightened his grip around your body.

"Stay. [y/n]. You're not supposed to walk so soon. Stay still, no mother should walk so early after mating…" He still sounds so sleepy, so innocent, but his half opened gaze was not… friendly.

"Rak- AH!-" Tighter, and tighter, and more tighter. He knows damn well that whenever you get to that camel you're leaving him for gods know how long, but as he stated before, soon to be mothers shouldn't walk around in the dead of night especially since he knows humans don't deal well with the coldness of the desert during this hour.

It's better to stay here and let him take care of you while you're now waiting for his kids, even if you aren't aware of it. He isn't sure how long hybrids take to be born, but he wasn't to be there for you every step of the way.

"Shhhh…. Go back to sleep, stop struggling, it is not good for you…" He kissed you goodnight as he suffocated you back to sleep.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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

I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[actual-changeling]

I know a lot of people interpret Scully's reaction to Mulder's love confession in 'Triangle' as her assuming that he is drugged up and talking nonsense.

There is another (worse) option, though.

"Oh brother" is definitely not what you respond if you're taking it seriously, we can probably agree on that, but i don't think potential drugs are the reasons here.

Let's look back a little. I'm working with the assumption that 'Folie a Deux' is set in May of 1998 with FtF taking place in August. 'The Beginning' happens sometime in September of the same year. If we use this as our timeline, we have a total of around five months during which a LOT of shit happens.

'Folie a Deux' is important because this is the "original" drugged up love confession Scully hears when Mulder is in the psychward. It gets to her, she thinks he is being genuine and does what he asked her to do.

More important than the act itself is what he tells her. I assume most of us have that conversation memorized, but just as a reminder:

"Scully, you have to believe me. Nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will. You're my one in five billion."

Even from our point of view, this makes complete sense—she IS the only one he trusts.

Except that it's a lie. I don't expect Mulder to think of Diana in that moment, and it wouldn't have been an issue at all if it weren't for the events of 'The End', which happen about 2-3 weeks later.

Suddenly, there is a person from his past that he trusts unconditionally to the point of stupidity, and he not only doesn't talk to Scully about any of it, he stops talking to her period. It's as if she has been a placeholder for Diana, and now that she's back, there is no use for her anymore.

Mulder works the case with Diana, Scully is dragging herself along and he does not care about her or her work until it is useful for him; he doesn't back her up when a room full of people (including Diana) belittle and mock her. He nods along, which, to Scully, is just the last puzzle piece slotting into place.

To summarize, Mulder's confession in Folie a Deux that she took seriously is revealed to be a lie—a means to an end to get her to do what he wants her to. Whether or not that's objectively true is a totally different matter because this is what Scully is confronted with.

Betrayal.

With that in mind, their argument in FtF in his hallway and Scully thinking of herself as redundant makes complete sense. We get yet another love confession, one she ALSO takes seriously, and if it weren't for that fucking bee, they'd have kissed. Maybe then, the whole mess that comes after could have been avoided, but here we are.

In "The Beginning", Scully repeats said confession back to him in an attempt to calm him and regain his trust in her/her science. Let's see what happens:

He implicitly tells her that none of what he confessed still applies, that the whole speech was, once again, nothing but a farce to get her to stay. Mulder confirms this at the end of the episode, and Scully asking him with tears in her eyes to trust her is a deeply painful contrast to his earlier declarations.

Two times, Mulder confesses his love to her.

Two times, he takes it back later and continues to use it against her.

In 'Triangle', Scully once again finds herself next to Mulder in a hospital bed and listens to him as he confesses his love for a third time. Does she think he's drugged up? Yeah, probably, but that's not the reason she cannot take him seriously.

Considering her track record with Mulder and big speeches, is it at all surprising that she no longer trusts what he tells her?

"Oh, brother," because she is forced to grapple with her many, many feelings for him and process it in a way that fits into everything else that has happened so far.

"Oh, brother," because it might be an attempt to placate her and nothing else.

"Oh, brother," because there is a chance he will twist his 'I love you' into a weapon to stab her with later. Because he says it and does not mean it.

This is not a "oh, he's drugged up" expression to me. This is Scully preparing to get hurt again.

The funniest part is that she's right. She is right. He couldn't have meant it because then he wouldn't be staring her down with apathy in his eyes and tell her not to make it "personal".

SHE is making it personal? After Mulder manipulated her by pulling on their connection like a leash to get her to do what he wants? After he confessed how much he loves and trusts her over and over just to throw it all away?

To ignore all of it in the moment it actually fucking matters?

The drug option is less angsty and kinda fun, and I do enjoy reading fics that interpret it as such, but with their history attached, it is so much more—and so much worse.

Pretending it never happened is one thing, but then actively denying it to her face and using her feelings to hurt her? Yeah, no.

Mulder fucked up and Scully has every right to reject his declarations and distance herself from him.