#No I'm normal but ~nothing wrong with me~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sceletaflores · 3 days

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come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight.

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?”

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off.

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding.

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does.

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you.

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat.

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch.

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue.

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this.

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly.

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back.

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips.

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly.

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating.

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body.

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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http-shield · 2 days

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whatever you say, old man- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: post endgame but no one is dead and life is good, think 2012 Avengers fandom where clint is in the vents yeah that is where I'm at, established friendships, pining, yearning, bucky is not used to new age dating rituals, explicit language, sexual tension ~ wc: 2.6k ~ not proofread

You: Hey, are we still on for tonight? Rita’s at 7?

Him: ye

“So you’re telling me this is normal?” Bucky’s tone is judgemental as he quickly reads over the words on your screen.

You nod, wordlessly confirming that situatuonships are a staple part of the modern dating scene.

Bucky’s brows furrow, eyes flicking from the lack of effort text message to your face as you lean over the bed, phone gripped between expertly manicured fingers. He blinks once, twice, as if taking the time to formulate a response that will rebuke your earlier confirmation without hurting your feelings. This is new for him. A habit he has only recently picked up upon developing his friendship with you. He usually isn't as careful with his words, not caring enough about the recipient's opinion or emotional well-being to warrant enough time and consideration when responding, but with you. It was another ball game entirely. Bucky doesn't want to hurt your feelings, to see you frown because of something he has said; in fact, he wants the opposite. To see you smile and laugh and blush because of him. For you to want to talk to him about anything and everything, share thoughts about your day and how things make you feel. Bucky wants to know everything that happens in that pretty little brain of yours, even if he doesn't necessarily agree with it. Normally he would take the time to sugarcoat his words, sweeten his tone and make it easy for you to swallow but this is a situation where he couldn't, doesn't, want to mince his words.

“There is no world where that is normal.” He stares at you, expression bored and a little annoyed. At you? Never. At the man on the other side of the phone? Incredibly so.

You groan at his very true statement and pull away, slipping the phone into the pocket of your cargos as you turn towards your open closet.

He’s right. You know he is.

There is nothing remotely normal about two grown adults being in a relationship that is defined by the amount of time the other left the first one on read, or how much emotional vulnerability there could be put on the table before the other got too scared and ran. There is nothing normal about being in your late twenties and having a grown man introduce you to his friends as a 'buddy’ despite having an entire draw dedicated to you in his apartment but you can’t admit that, refuse to admit that you know its wrong and desperate and frankly, demeaning. If you can't own up to your own patheticness, how are you supposed to admit it to the man you are secretly interested in. There would be nothing more humiliating than confessing that the only reason you are with and putting up with bullshit efforts from this other guy is to hopefully distract yourself from the desperate need you feel for Bucky. This new guy is mediocre at worst yet attainable at best and that is something you will live with until your crush on the super soldier is dead and gone and you can finally focus on something other than him.

——

You had spoken with Natasha about Bucky last night, her voice a soothing purr over the phone as she encouraged you to disclose your concerns about pushing the boundaries on your friendship with the super soldier.

“The worst thing that can happen is he says no and then you both move on.” She croons, voice laced with comfort and reassurance.

“Wrong.” You shake your head despite being on a voice call. “The worst thing that can happen is he says no, I lose him as a friend and then I’m stuck pining after someone who wants nothing to do with me” You place another dish in the washer before continuing with your point. “Or I push him before he is ready, again losing him as a friend, and now I’m left with the guilt of possibly taking advantage of a war veteran.”

“You take advantage of Steve all the time, how is this any different?”

“I take advantage of Steve to get someone to carry in the groceries. I’m not trying to date Steve.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “What if he is interested in you as well?”

Your hands stop scrubbing at the pan in the sink.

“I can find out.”

Heat fills your body, your stomach twists at the idea of having that information. It would put an end to the constant yearning you feel, but the thought of finding out he doesn’t like you that way, that he sees you as no more than a friend will destroy you, humiliate you beyond all logical reason and you would be forced to cut off the friendship out of pure self-preservation.

You shake your head again. “I’m good.” And return to scrubbing your pan. “I'll just wait out the crush and then move on.”

——

“This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.” You sigh and completely shift your attention from Bucky to the mess that is staring back at you.

Endless outfit options are strewn about the small closet but so far none of them have come together, just single shirts, skirts, and pants all muddled in a heap of black.

“I know it's not the 40s but I doubt relationships and dating have changed that much." Bucky grumbles from behind you, the bed creaking as he shifts.

Another sigh, this one long and exaggerated as you will the frustration to leave your body. You want to turn to him and explain that you know all this, and are very aware of the fact that nothing about your current predicament is what you want. You want to be wooed with flowers and preplanned dates and soft kisses on hands and longing looks but that’s not the reality of life anymore and having to be reminded of it is getting annoying and your heart is starting to ache at the lack of effort given to you by your current choice of dating partner.

“You know if I was taking..” Bucky starts but you quickly cut him off with a whine of his name.

“James, please.” You don’t turn to face your friend, afraid to even glance at him because you know you will crumble. “I need help picking out an outfit so help me or go back to your room.”

--------

“You know if I was taking…” You don’t let Bucky finish but, God did he want to. His name on your tongue was enough to shut him up, to send a flush rushing to his face in a way that no man his age should blush, but he can’t help it. There is something about the way his name falls from your lips that has his mind racing to thoughts that should not be there, should not appear when the picture of you enters his mind.

“You know if I was taking you on a date, you’d get flowers and chocolates and champagne and those little baby dolls you like” is what he wanted to say before you shut him up with an annoyed grumble.

His intention wasn’t to display how things were different back in his day but to indicate exactly what you’d be getting were you about to go on a date with him, to explain the reason why you should go on a date with him and not some loser who couldn’t even formulate a fully fleshed out text message. How if you were to drop that kid, and say yes to Bucky he would gather the moon on string for you, pick every flower in every field, find every single little Sonny Angel there is and give them to you each and every day for the rest of your life, you would never be sat wondering why he isn’t calling or responding, if you were even going out the next day, if he even liked you. Bucky would make his feelings for you so abundantly clear that even a blind man would be able to see the signs, but you are his best friend and best friends don’t feel that way about each other. It’s all platonic hugs and hair tussles, cheeky jabs at each other over coffee, shared trauma and secrets over whatever dinner you bring to his apartment and he yours. There will be no dates, or long hugs that turn into kisses that turn into you beneath him, whimpering his name as he makes you feel oh so good.

Fuck.

Bucky’s entire body is on fire, and he needs to stop thinking about the way you would feel wrapped around him, his mouth on yours, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

“Okay, what about this?” you announce as you walk into the bedroom from the ensuite. “Too much?”

You stand in the doorway, dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt.

“Too much?” Bucky is confused. “This is the outfit you wore to breakfast this morning.”

He is right about that one. You had worn a very similar outfit this morning, but tonight isn’t a full-on date, a semi-date, where things shouldn’t be that fancy so why shouldn’t you recycle your outfits. Bucky stands from the bed, readying himself to dig through the mountain of clothes that had formed at the entrance to the bathroom. He crosses the small space and squats before the clothing, fingers expertly rifling through the material, quickly brushing over the lace of bras and panties, before finding purchase on a black dress he thinks he has seen you in before. It might have been the dress you wore to a funeral or press conference, either way, it was not alluring in the slightest, not that you weren’t stunning in everything you wore, hell you could come out wearing a garbage bag and Bucky would be in awe of your beauty. It was just that he didn’t want your date to ogle you, to think of you the same way Bucky does so he is being a little selfish and conniving in his choice of garment.

“Where is he taking you?” His question is disguised as interest in the dress code but his real curiosity is far from an outfit.

There are two reasons why he needs to know where you will be tonight. The first is to judge whether this manchild is even worthy of a date with you, second if he knew the exact location and time, maybe he could show up and show out your date, make you realise what you deserve and how Bucky could be the one who gives it to you.

“We’re meeting at Rita’s down the road and then might see a movie, maybe something else. I’m not sure yet.”

“He hasn’t planned anything?” Bucky whips his head around to you, finding you standing there looking incredibly embarrassed at the lack of effort. What the fuck happened in the years he was gone?

The defeated shake of your head is enough to have Bucky’s chest aching. He sits back on his haunches; the dress discarded back in the pile and gives the outfit another look as he decides on where to go from here. “Yeah, I think it’s too much.” He nods and stands up, brushing his hands as if he had just completed an excavation on some ancient site.

“Go change back into your sweats ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go on a date with a guy who can’t even plan something.” He nods his chin towards the bathroom, more of an order than a suggestion.

He watches you tilt your head back as you groan in frustration. “I’m not going through this again, old man. This is how it works now.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get frustrated. He takes a step towards you, hulking 6’0 frame rising to tower above you with a somewhat menacing glare, but you know he will never hurt you no matter how much you push his buttons.

“I’m not talking about what it used to be like, little girl.” The jab at your age/generational difference comes out before he can register it, but he notices how your cheeks flush. “This is about getting what you deserve.”

He pushes in on the space between your bodies, now chest to chest as you square your shoulders, not ready to back down from an argument despite knowing you will not win.

“And what’s that?” you stare up at him, brows raised in anticipation of his answer. You aren’t sure where this is going. If you are going to receive another lecture or maybe even a verbal beatdown as to why your standards for men are so low, a common topic of conversation between you and Natasha, but instead you are met with a soft smile as his Vibranium hand is raised and brushes against your cheek.

“You deserve flowers and preplanned dates and wine and jewellery and everything you could ever want.” Bucky’s voice drops into a whisper, cold fingers trailing soothing lines against your heating skin. “You deserve a man worshipping you, to be on his hands and knees begging to take you on a date. Not some punk who can barely put together a sentence.”

You hold his gaze, blue eyes staring intently as you shudder in a breath. “Who’s going to do that, huh?” your voice is small, no longer filled with the same bravado you had not a minute ago. “You know anyone who wants to do that for me, you send them my way Bucko.”

His metal hand slips to your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into your pulse points so he can feel the speed at which your heart is racing.

“I’d do it.” He states matter-of-factly, eyes dipping to your lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breathing becomes a little bit too difficult as his human hand traces up your bare arm.

“Anything?”

Bucky nods and dips his head until his face is mere centimetres from yours. “You didn’t let me finish before, but I'd give you anything you’ve ever wanted.” Fingers move to cup your chin and tilt your head up. “You want flowers, I’m a florist. Moon? Stars? I’m getting Stark to build me a rocket. Anything you want, you’re getting it.”

“And if I want you on your hands and knees barking like a dog for me?” You smirk, the mental image of Bucky on his knees panting like a puppy has your stomach twisting.

“Put a collar on me and call me Spot 'cause I’m yours, doll.”

The confession has your eyes widening.

“I’m all yours, from now until whenever you’re done with me.” Bucky whispers, breathless.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, knowing he is waiting for your permission to do just that.

Bucky crumbles, his expression falling from that of teasing into one of pleading.

“I want you to kiss me, James.” You whisper.

His resolve breaks and he presses his lips to yours. Softly and timidly, closed mouth and restrained but as your hands reach out to grip his waist, a delicate gasp slipping past your lips, does he deepen the kiss. His mouth opens over yours, lips slotting against your plush ones, tongue darting out to test to waters only to be met with your slackening jaw. Bucky’s grip on you tightens as he continues to kiss you, afraid to let you go in case this was one of the many, many dreams he had where he woke up alone and confused, but as you bite down on his bottom lip, he is brought back to reality. Your hands on his waist, pull him tighter against you, the softness of your body had Bucky’s mind wandering to places it should not be. You pull back, pupils blown wide and lips parted as you pant. Bucky is just as breathless, hands cupping your face with a gentleness he doesn’t think you’ve ever known from the way you stare up at him.

“You’re not going on that date.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: eee this is my first avengers fanfic since like 2018 pls be nice I just need something happy to think about clint living in the airvents, thor eating poptarts era was my happy place

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #✮⋆˙ bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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writeonwhiskey · 3 days

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the skz house: ch 26

a/n: i'm so glad you're all still here with me after that long break. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. ahhhh i'm getting so nervous for you all to read the next few chapters! alright, fuck it, here we goooo!

[ read chapter 25 here ]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Tears and Relapsing

The following morning you untangle yourself from Hyunjin and head straight to the bathroom to wash up. You throw on a pair of black jeans, combat boots and your school hoodie before heading to campus with Jeongin and Allie. You try your hardest to focus on whatever it is your teacher is droning on about, but your thoughts continually shift back to seeing Chan later and having ‘The Talk’.

You consider delaying the inevitable, you could probably talk Jeongin and Allie into making a pit stop on the way back like you did with Changbin and Seungmin what feels like years ago. You know that’s not the right move in this situation, though.

After class, you make it back to the house—walking in like a woman on a mission. You have to rip the band aid off now. Felix lets you know Chan is in the workout room, and that’s exactly where you find him. The house is equipped with two garages—one double, one single. The singular garage is walled off from the larger one and filled with all sorts of workout equipment—a treadmill, power rack, bench press, stationary bike and various kettlebells and weights.

Chan is seated on the bench press, sitting up at an angle and facing the mirror across from him. He turns to you when you enter, and you feel the familiar, heavy thumping of your heart behind your chest as you approach him.

“How was class?” he asks with a smile.

He seems to be in good spirits, at least. However, that doesn’t seem like a good thing knowing what you’ve come here to say to him. You remain hopeful that you can handle this delicately and he will understand where you’re coming from.

“I don’t think I retained much, if I’m being honest,” you reply.

You look around the room for a place to sit, but there aren’t any chairs. Seeing your dilemma, Chan stands from the bench and walks towards you. The sight of him walking to you causes a lapse in your regularly scheduled breathing. He’s clad in a pair of gym shorts and a black muscle shirt, leaving his shoulders, biceps and forearms on full display. His veins are more prominent than normal—accompanied by a slight gleam of sweat covering his exposed skin—showing he has been putting the equipment to use.

When he’s close enough, he puts his hands on your waist and delicately guides you towards the bench. You feel the instinctual pull to touch him, too. To grab him, wrap your arms around him and pull his mouth to yours. But you refrain.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You pull your backpack off, hugging it to your chest and sit sideways on the bench. Chan takes a seat on the treadmill across from you with his legs outstretched in front of him.

“I’m sorry about the other day, I was—” you begin.

“It’s okay,” he interjects, shaking his head.

“No. It’s not,” you proceed. “You were there to prove the exact things I said to be wrong...in hindsight I could have handled it so differently. I am sorry for what I said.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, after everything…but I get it.”

You nod, hoping he really does.

“I never got to properly say it either, so—thank you. For the rose,” you say, opening your backpack in your lap and digging out the card inside. “…and this.”

You hold up the card, the word written on it is facing him. His eyes don’t even acknowledge it, they’re focused on you instead. He arches an eyebrow, though, seeing you take it out of your bag. Perhaps surprised, or pleased, to know you’ve kept it close since he gave it to you.

“This is fucking heavy, Chan,” you say when you realize he isn’t going to speak first.

He looks down at the ground in front of him, tearing his gaze away from you for the first time. He remains completely still; the only sign of movement is when he blinks.

“It’s true, though,” he says softly.

“Why? Why me? Why all of a sudden? You tell me I have to be the one to stop this, to stop letting you ruin me, and now this?”

“It’s not all of a sudden…I don’t think,” he contemplates. “I’ve just given up trying to fight against it now.”

“Do you realize what you’re asking me, though?” you place the card back in your backpack. “To let you throw away your life for me?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…”

“It is.”

His face contorts at that, offended.

“I mean, the sentiment is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” you say with your hands up. “But the actual thought of it is awful. I could never let you do that. What happens if we don’t work out when the school year is over? We have to be realistic about this.”

Perhaps Changbin should give him a lecture on simulacrum, too. Maybe that would help get him to see through the lust filled haze that consumes the room when it’s just the two of you.

“That wouldn’t happen,” he says incredulously, finally looking into your eyes again.

You take a deep breath. You want to appreciate his optimism. You want to smile at his words, to tell him you agree. You can’t do either, though. You can’t encourage this behavior. For his sake, whether he realizes it or not. There’s a contract in place that clearly outlines you are forbidden from being with him when this is over. Letting him choose you, means letting him throw away everything else.

He stands from the treadmill and approaches you again.

“Do you think I would let it?” He asks, stopping in front of the bench. His eyes are still locked on yours as he places his hands on your knees, slowly spreading them apart so he can step between them. “I’d make you so happy, y/n.”

His russet brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, as he speaks. That, combined with his hands on you, is almost enough to unravel your restraint.

You gently remove his hands from your knees and shake your head, looking down at the ground.

“I can’t.”

He hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up.

“You could.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes now. He means this wholeheartedly. It should feel more assuring to hear, but it leaves you feeling terrified. You’ve never had anyone care about you this way or shower you with such devout proclamations.

“I won’t, Chan,” you shake your head again, keeping your eyes on him this time. He needs to know you mean it.

His eyebrows come together as his lips turn down ever so slightly. It’s clear he’s not used to rejection, least of all from you. He drops his hand from your chin and takes a small step back.

“Okay,” he gives you a curt nod.

You watch him carefully as he continues to retreat from you.

“Just ‘okay’?” you repeat. “You know I care about you, that’s not what I’m saying here. It’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

“This is your decision to make, and you’ve made it,” he says, turning his back to you and walking to the treadmill.

He steps onto the treadmill, starts tapping the buttons until it turns on, and begins to lightly jog. You stand from the bench and put your backpack over your shoulder, feeling flabbergasted that he would just abruptly end the conversation like this.

You walk along the side of the treadmill and stop next to him.

His words and behavior feel unfair, but after the actions he’s taken that are so on par with the man you know he can be, you understand that this might feel like a rejection. He has to understand why you’d make this choice, though, right? Even if he can’t see it now, he has to eventually.

“I’ll text you when dinner is ready?” you ask, opting not to push the subject any further.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His tone is drier than the Sahara. Still, you offer him a small smile before turning away and exiting the room.

You sit between Hyunjin and Chan during dinner. He seems okay, but doesn’t say much to you directly other than asking you to pass the condiments. When he’s doing eating, he heads straight down to the basement with a few of the other members. You keep your composure as you clear the table, not wanting to jump to conclusions or take deep offense to his actions. You remind yourself that he just may need some time to think things over, like you did.

You help the girls clean the kitchen, chiming in on their conversation occasionally but otherwise remain quiet. You shower in his room, as normal, then climb into his bed. You try wait up for him, but end up dozing off.

When you wake up the next morning, Chan isn’t lying next to you. You must have stayed up til nearly midnight and he never showed. You try to think if he came to bed at any point during the night but can’t recall if he did or not. Part of you knows you’d remember, the other part of you wants to remain in denial that he would avoid you to such an extent. And where is he this morning, even?

He does have a morning class today. Perhaps he just went in early. Perhaps not.

You push back the blankets and get dressed before going down to the kitchen to make breakfast. You make a large pan of scrambled eggs and fry up some bacon for the others. You attend your afternoon class, and when you make it back home, you have to go straight to the den. Rhiannon and Charlotte are already inside, covered in blankets and watching something on the TV.

“Do you want us to turn it off?” Rhiannon asks.

“No, you guys are fine,” you tell her, dropping your backpack to the floor as you sit at your desk. You pop your headphones on and focus on your assignment.

Halfway through, your phone buzzes.

It’s Chan.

Come upstairs.

You save the document you’re working on without hesitation and make your way to his room. You want the chance to speak to him again, to check in and see where his head is at. You have to get him to see that you’re doing this for him, not to hurt him. Hopefully he’s given it some more thought on his own.

The door to his room is open when you get there. You enter the room and close it behind you.

“Chan?” you call out when you don’t immediately see him.

He saunters out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair whilst fully naked. The sight does startle you, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Your eyes do betray you, though, flickering down to his exposed cock, then back up to his face.

He tosses the towel onto his bed as he walks towards you without saying a word. He cups your face with his right hand, stroking your cheek tenderly before bringing you closer. Maybe he wants to show you that he still cares. So, you let him.

His lips meet yours and you let out a soft sigh.

Yes. I’ve missed you, too. You convey as you kiss him back.

He places one hand on your waist, pulling you with him as he walks back towards the bed.

“Take your pants off,” he instructs.

You stare at him for a moment, recognizing the flat demand in his tone. You’ve not heard that in a while.

“Chan, can we—”

“Off.”

Your hands are already working on the button and zipper of your jeans as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening. You slide your pants off, followed by your underwear as you assume that would be his next command if you don’t. You sit on the bed and slide back, watching as he crawls onto it, advancing towards you. You try to interpret what he’s thinking from his eyes.

You feel a sliver of something in you crack as you realize there’s nothing there. He’s looking at you, yes, but it doesn’t feel like he sees you.

Once he’s hovering over you, his mouth is on yours again. You’re kissing him back, wanting to give him whatever reassurance you can, to fix the damage you may have done to not only him, but yourself as well.

“You still want me, yeah?” he asks, pulling away from you.

You cup his face in your hands, staring into his hardened eyes, pleading with them to see you.

“Of course I do,” you tell him.

You attempt to bring his mouth to yours again, but he pulls back. In one swift motion he flips you over so you’re on all fours. You look over your shoulder to see him spitting in his hand before cupping your pussy with it. He rubs you, in the way he knows that you like, slipping his fingers inside briefly.

He grabs his cock and lines it up with your opening and thrusts forward, hard and deep, with no warning. You let out a startled gasp and drop your head. You can’t deny how good it feels to have him inside of you again, regardless of the thick tension hanging in the air.

He says nothing else as he continues to slam into you, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, grunting out his apparent frustrations. And you let him have it, let him have you, let him take it out on you.

You reach your hand down between your legs to rub your clit. He grabs a hold of your arm to stop you, bending it slightly and holding it hostage against your back.

You moan as he fucks and restrains you. Unable to deny how amazing it feels. And you want more. You always want more.

“Chan, please,” you beg. “I want to come.”

“No,” he growls.

He releases your arm and places both hands on your hips, pulling you against him with wild force, causing you to scream out.

“Please?”

“No.”

You know this is what he likes—and it’s not as if you’ve lost trust in him. Perhaps this is a twisted form of punishment. You hate that you’ve hurt him. Maybe this is how you can make it up to him. Maybe he just needs to get this out.

His pace quickens and he suddenly pulls his cock out of you. In seconds you feel his warm come coating your back as he groans through his release.

When he’s done, he grabs the towel he tossed on the bed earlier and wipes your back clean. You collapse onto the bed, feeling unsatisfied at your orgasm denial. Your clit makes contact with the fabric of the sheets and your body instinctively starts to move against it to create more friction. You feel his palm connect with your ass forcefully and whimper at the pain, immediately halting your movements.

He slides off the bed and retreats to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and slipping them on. He then takes out a pair of shorts and dons them, too, followed by a shirt.

“You can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

He walks to the door and exits without saying anything else as you choke back a sob. He hasn’t spoken to you this way in months. You almost managed to forget how physically painful it feels.

On Wednesday morning, you’re up with the sunrise. You hardly slept through the night; so much tossing and turning and just staring up into the darkness. Anytime that you actually fell asleep, you woke up soon after with your brain already in the middle of an anxiety-stricken thought. And the cycle repeated itself again and again.

You didn’t expect Chan to jump up and down with joy at your response to his confession, however you also didn’t expect him to retreat so far back into his shell. He somehow feels further than he even was in the beginning. How can he so abruptly go back to treating you this way? Like an object.

Your initial instinct is to make excuses for him. He’s putting his walls up in self-defense, to protect himself from the pain that you’ve caused. But, no...you can’t reason away his behavior.

At least not while maintaining your own sanity. And you need to start prioritizing that, if you intend to leave this house unscathed. As much as you care for everyone here and will be saddened to leave them in a few months, you must put yourself first. You won’t have any of them to lean on when this is over.

Chan’s alarm for his morning class blares through the room and you sit up in bed, watching as his hand shoots out from under his blanket to silence it. He grumbles and stretches before throwing the blanket off. He lets out a long sigh, swings his legs off the side of the bed and sits up too. You wish he could learn to sleep with a shirt on sometimes.

He looks over at you, eyes squinted as they adjust to the light of day.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

“Morning,” he replies.

“What was that last night?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

He shrugs.

“No.” you shake your head as you push your blankets aside and walk to him, standing between his legs. “You’re not doing this to me.”

While his expression is blank, his eyes are saying so much but you don’t have the code to decipher the meaning.

“What was that?” you ask again.

“How it has to be,” he replies.

“Why would it have to be like that again? Just because I refuse to run off into the sunset with you?”

He shrugs once more.

You take a deep breath and let out a long exhale.

“Chan.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. He places his hands on your hips and you feel the familiar warmth his touch provides course through your body. Instead of pulling you closer, though, he moves you to the side so he can stand. “I don’t know how to want you, and want be to with you, and still accept that fact that you’re okay with this ending.”

As he’s talking, he walks around the bed and into his bathroom, you follow after him.

“I’m not okay with it,” you tell him, reaching out for his hand. “Is that what you think?”

He looks down at your connected hands, then up to you.

“What I think, what I want…none of that matters. You’ve made that clear, y/n.”

“So, you’re okay with spending the next three months like this? Just fucking me and nothing else?”

“That’s what you’re here for,” he says coolly and removes his hand from yours.

You grit your teeth and swallow the expletive hanging on the tip of your tongue. You resolve to just nod your head as you slowly back out of the bathroom. He disappears into the closet, and you turn around on your heels. How can this man, whom you know for a fact is capable of giving you so much warmth and fleeting, albeit dangerous, glimpses of his love, turn against you so quickly? For a decision that’s not truly yours to make, all you feel you can do is accept the truth of your situation.

You don’t even bother to grab your phone before exiting the room, wanting to put as much space between the two of you before you spew words that you might later regret.

Fuck. You.

[ read chapter 27 here (coming soon ]

a/n: our poor Channie has no healthy coping mechanisms. be gentle with him. more coming soon! you can join the mailing list [ here ].

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids #the skz house #skz smut #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n

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hard-core-super-star · 1 day

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Can i ask one for Kate Bishop. One where kate and reader's are best friends .they sleep together after being drunk. R is hopelessly in love with her. Everybody including kate knows this but it's like an un spoken thing.katie says doesn't see r like that because obviously she's afraid of losing the friendship if the relationship fails. Tells r that night was a one tym thing . After sometimes start seeing somebody so r will get the idea. So much angst ,heart breaks ,Kate being an idiot ,r being lovesick puppy .and a Happy ending .☺️ Its okay if you can't .Thank you ♥

an inch away from more than just friends [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: falling in love with your best friend is supposed to be easy. unfortunately, neither you nor kate are particularly good at talking about your feelings.

warnings: a complete mess of fluff, smut, angst, and idiots in love; kate is HORRIBLE at acknowledging her feelings; drunken hookup in a storage closet {lots of grinding + teasing; r is a brat and kate is annoyed but turned on; small bits of dirty talk}

wordcount: 4k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! sorry for not posting much on here, i've been spending a lot of this past month working on my vampire!kate story so inspiration has been quite limited. i'm thinking about posting more short drabbles but idk how to format them 😅 anyway, i hope you're all doing well and i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You weren't sure how you had ended up here. You hated parties. Especially ones thrown by rich people who had nothing better to do than spend a ridiculous amount of money on expensive booze and shitty food.

Not to mention, this particular party was being hosted in some skyscraper in downtown New York, which meant no matter how badly you wanted to escape the bustling atmosphere, there was nowhere else to go. Even the balconies that littered the outside were subject to the nonstop sounds of traffic.

At least it was better than being inside and having to sit through endless small talk about things you didn't understand.

A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you lean against the railing, silently watching the cars drive by on the street below you. "There you are."

You turn your head and give Kate a small smile. "Hey."

The archer approaches you, a certain bounce in her step that isn't coming from her normal bubbly personality.

While you weren't the biggest fan of these types of parties, Kate somehow thrived in them. Sure, she could be awkward most times, and she had a terrible habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but she was charming. And as much as she hated the rich men who she had to rub elbows with all night, she understood them.

She'd grown up in this life while you...well, you were an outsider. Someone who didn't fit in, no matter how many expensive outfits the young CEO bought you or how many people she argued with.

The only thing you two could agree on was that the best part of these events was the free alcohol.

"How long have you been out here?" Kate asks as she joins you, her side pressing against yours and giving away how tipsy she already is.

"Like twenty minutes," you reply. "It was getting too stuffy in there."

She laughs and you allow yourself to admire her jawline and the way the city lights bounce across her skin. "Tell me about it. I swear I've had the same conversation with everyone."

"I don't know why you still bother coming to these things."

"It's good for the company, I guess," she says with a shrug. "And it gives me an excuse to get dressed up with you."

You roll your eyes at her, hating the way your heart instantly skips a beat at her words. She always gets extra flirty when she drinks. If you were more of an optimist, you might even believe her words had some sort of truth to them.

"You're an idiot."

She makes a face at you, her features a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You always say that."

"Because it's true," you say.

"Whatever," she huffs.

The two of you stand there for a few minutes, basking in the closeness of your bodies. It's a small thing, but it's moments like these that remind you just how deep your feelings for the archer run.

The buzz from the alcohol in your system leads you to rest your head on her shoulder without a second thought. Her arm wraps around you in an instant and it's not until that moment that you realize how cold you are.

"Can we leave yet?" You ask in a soft voice. It's a little embarrassing how desperate you are to be away from the bustling party.

"Almost," she replies. "I think you owe me a dance."

You groan, already dreading the looks you'll definitely get. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, we do." She gives your side an affectionate squeeze before pulling away from you. "Just one dance, and then we can leave."

You know better than to trust her words, but you can't pretend dancing with her doesn't sound nice. Clearly, Kate isn't the only one with lowered inhibitions right now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes but reach out for her hand.

Her fingers interlock with yours, and she leads the way to the makeshift dance floor. Thankfully, most people seem too busy in their own conversations to pay attention to the dancing couples...and you and Kate.

It fills you with more bitterness than you'd like, but you try not to dwell on it. It's easier said than done...until her hands land on your waist and pull you close to her.

"You can come closer, sweetheart, I don't bite."

A nervous laugh escapes you. Mainly because you've listened to enough of her superhero stories to know for a fact she does bite, but also because getting closer to her is the last thing you should do right now.

She makes it far too easy to do, though, so you give in and wrap your arms around her neck.

The two of you start swaying to the soft music being played by the small group of musicians at the front of the room. It's hard not to spend the entire time admiring her features from this distance and as much as you try to ignore it, it's impossible to deny the way your heart flutters in your chest every time you make eye contact with her.

Your silence seems to surprise her, considering the way her eyebrows furrow together. "You okay?"

You nod and try to ignore how close your faces are. "Yeah, just...thinking."

That seems to get her attention and her concerned look turns into a slightly mischievous smile. "Oh yeah? About what?"

"Wouldn't you love to know?" You reply, hoping your attempt at teasing her will help distract her.

It doesn't work and instead of moving on, she wordlessly pulls you closer, her smile turning into a smirk when your eyes widen from the sudden proximity. "Come on, sweetheart, don't get shy on me now."

"You're annoying."

"Is that why you've been staring at my lips this whole time?"

Her words catch you off-guard, but they're not exactly far-fetched. The alcohol in your system mixed with having her so close only equals a long list of bad ideas. You can't deny how enticing those ideas sound, though.

You somehow manage to find your voice long enough to throw her observation back at her. "I think you're projecting, Katie."

"So you don't want to kiss me?"

She's toying with you, you know she is because you've seen her do it countless times, but you can't find it in yourself to really care. You know you shouldn't do it. You try to remind yourself that you're both drunk and simply trying to rile each other up for fun.

That no matter what happens, it won't mean anything. At least, not to her.

The longer you think about it, though, the less the potential consequences matter to you.

"I do," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "But only because it's the only way to shut you up."

You expect her to laugh at you and change the topic, but, of course, she doesn't. Because the only thing Kate loves more than annoying you is taking you by surprise.

In an instant, she closes the distance between your faces, her lips meeting yours in a borderline hesitant kiss. You're certain you've never seen her so nervous before. It's strange but endearing.

More than that, it helps distract you from how nervous you are.

She pulls away from you with a smile so bright that it makes your mind swim. "I guess you were right, kissing me does shut me up."

"Is that your way of trying to convince me to kiss you again?" You ask, doing your best to act nonchalant.

You're not sure that it works very well, but thankfully, she makes no teasing comments about it. She simply steals all your thoughts away by kissing you again.

The fact that you're one step away from fully making out in the middle of the dance floor isn't lost on you. Kate seems to come to the same realization as you at that moment and she reluctantly pulls away from you just to grab your hand and lead you away from everyone's gaze.

You don't know where exactly she's taking you, you just know it's definitely not toward the exit. You'd love to call her out on it and act upset and yet...you don't. How can you when your curiosity is practically eating you alive?

She drags you into the first storage closet she finds, closing the door behind you and pushing you against it. The action steals your breath away, along with the rest of your coherent thoughts.

You weren't going to act like you'd never fantasized about doing this with Kate but you'd always imagined it would happen under different circumstances. Although, if you're completely honest, you can't say you're actually mad about it.

"Hi," you whisper, your eyes drifting down to her lips once more.

"Hey." Her hands find their way back to your waist as she steps forward, effectively trapping you against the door. "Are you...still okay with this? 'Cause we can just leave and act like nothing happened."

You appreciate her thoughtful words even though the fire she started within you is burning far too bright to be put out now.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you assure her. "I don't think stopping is an option now."

Your words seem to make her hesitation disappear and her smirk instantly makes a comeback. "And why is that, darling?"

"You know why."

Kate leans in closer, one of her hands drifting down to grip your leg and lift it up until it's wrapped around her waist. "Maybe...but I want to hear you say it."

"In your dreams, sweetheart."

You feel incredibly proud of yourself until the archer pushes herself against you, creating the most wonderful friction against your center. The movement catches you off-guard and you let out an embarrassingly desperate moan at the feeling.

The brunette takes advantage of the moment and ducks down to attach her lips to your neck. "I would love to put you in your place but you are far too adorable like this."

Your head tilts back to give her more access to your skin as you struggle to put yourself together long enough to reply to her words. "I wouldn't describe this as adorable."

She chuckles against your skin, the feeling of her warm breath sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. You almost can't believe this is actually happening. For a second, you briefly wonder if you're simply dreaming.

There's no way the pressure of her body against yours isn't real, though. No way for the pleasure you're experiencing to be completely made up by you.

The hand still on your waist gives you a soft squeeze before she guides you against her. There's something slightly humiliating about grinding against her in some random, badly lit, storage closet that only adds to the intensity of the moment.

Kate seems to read your mind considering the way she moves against you, drawing out another barely supressed moan. "You're holding back, y/n/n."

Her teasing words only make you want to tease her right back. Just because you've wanted her like this for a long time doesn't mean you want to make things easy for her. Riling her up is always more fun anyway.

"Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are," you reply, hoping she won't call you out for grinding against her so desperately.

She has no plan to make things easy on you, though, and as annoying as it is, it's also incredibly attractive. "That's not what your body is saying."

"How can you be such a dork at a time like this?"

"It's my talent."

"Keep telling yourself that."

She groans, out of annoyance rather than pleasure, but you know your slight defiance is a turn on for her. It's almost funny how someone so bratty gets such a rush out of putting other brats in their place. "I hope you know your attitude is going to cost you later."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Katie."

Her hand finally makes its way up your thigh, and she cups your heated core in one quick move. "How am I the annoying one?"

You let out a sharp gasp, your hips rocking against her hand with zero shame or hesitation. You're already so close to falling apart, the coil in your stomach embarrassingly close to snapping already. In your defense, it's been a long time since your last hookup.

"Not so mouthy now, are you, sweetheart?" Her amusement is more than clear and, even though you'd love nothing more than to wipe the smirk off her face, you're a little preoccupied with the mounting pleasure.

"Kate..." You whimper, attempting to pull her impossibly closer to you. "Fuck."

Her teasing energy is quickly replaced by satisfaction. Satisfaction that motivates her to speed up her movements, effectively replacing all your thoughts with the feeling of her hands on you.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" She asks, her lips trailing a path from your neck to your jaw.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice a breathless, needy, whisper. "...please."

"Such a good girl. Go on, let me hear you fall apart for me."

Her words are exactly what you need to let go. It's a little embarrassing, and the lack of full contact makes it a little less satisfying than you'd like, but your orgasm crashes into you almost instantly. Your hands grip onto her shoulders as you ride out the waves, her soft whispers guiding you through the overwhelming sensations.

You're shaking and panting and absolutely spent after such a rush of emotions and Kate is right there, holding you close through it all. Somehow, the affection and care she's showing you feels even better than the orgasm you just had.

"You okay, baby?" She asks as she leans back just enough so your eyes can meet again.

You nod, still too shaken to find your voice.

"You're too cute."

Despite your breathlessness, she gives you a quick kiss, pouring far too many feelings neither of you want to think about right now into it. The alcohol must be draining from your system because you're already starting to freak out about this.

About how difficult it'll be to act like nothing happened. Like you're not completely in love with your best friend.

There's no way for you to deny it now. Hell, Kate herself can't deny it anymore either.

And yet you both try.

"Do you want to go back to my apartment?" She asks once you're able to pull away from each other.

The intention is behind her words is more than clear and it somehow manages to bring your confidence back. "Only if you let me repay the favor."

"I think we can definitely work something out," she replies with a genuine smile.

That's all you need to take her hand and drag her out of the storage closet. Her laugh rings out in your ears as you make your way to the exit.

True to your word, you spend the rest of the night returning the favor and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of Kate. It's not enough to make you believe you'll be together the way you want to and yet it's more than enough for ythe moment.

It's more than you ever thought you'd get from her.

Unfortunately, morning comes too quickly and it brings the realization that you severely underestimated how much things would change. How quick Kate would be to sweep everything under the rug and deny it even happened.

It hurts but it's not a complete surprise considering the way the archer reacts to most things.

You manage to work through it, silencing your desires in favor of making her comfortable and keeping her in your life. It's not the healthiest thing in the world but you manage.

Your friendship only suffers for a few days before you're back to normal. No one would even notice anything if it weren't for the major heart eyes you throw her way all the time.

Everyone knows, though. Everyone cares except Kate.

Instead of talking about it like a normal person, she decides to make things worse by getting a girlfriend. You don't even know who she is and the archer doesn't give you any real details, she just mumbles something about a coffee shop and a cute dog.

You've never known Kate to be particularly reserved but she is this time. Not just that, she actively ignores you. Dodging your questions expertly and pretending there's nothing weird about how little time she spends with you.

You had always assumed it would be your feelings that ruined your friendship but Kate managed to ruin everything on her own. It's almost a skill.

Somehow, even as your heart breaks and endless questions swim around your mind, you manage to keep going. More than that, you match Kate's energy and pretend you don't even notice the change in her attitude. You're not sure who's more hurt by that but you don't even care.

You treasure the brief moments you get with her and mentally shout at her every time she cancels another movie night. Her excuses are endless. One day, she tells you she's too busy with Avengers work, the next she's too caught up with Bishop Securities.

The only thing that brings you some sense of comfort is the fact you're not the only one being lied to. Her so-called "girlfriend" gets the same excuses as you, at least that's what Yelena tells you. The Russian has no reason to lie, though, so you believe her and ignore the rising thought of making Kate jealous.

That's the only thing you're able to do: ignore Kate and the feelings you still have for her.

It works for a while...until the archer finds her way back to you.

It's the middle of the night when you hear frantic knocking on your door. You suppress your fear long enough to make it to the door, baseball bat in hand.

You open the door and come face to face with those same blue eyes you've tried not to think about for over a month. "Kate?"

"Hey," she mumbles, nervousness instantly creeping into her voice. "I, um...can I come in?"

You're tempted to say no and slam the door in her face. You're honestly half-way to doing it when you notice the way she's swaying and clutching her side."You're not drunk, are you?" You question.

Your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat but she smiles anyway. "No, I'm unfortunately sober."

You hum in response before stepping aside and letting her come in. There's a voice in the back of your head that warns you not to get caught up in the past. To keep your distance until she, at the very least, apologizes for being such a jerk to you.

Kate manages to make it to your couch without tripping while you lock your door and put the baseball bat back in its usual place. You brace yourself for the uncomfortable conversation that's bound to follow as you follow after her.

"So...what happened to you?"

Her only response for a few moments is a groan and you do your best to stifle your laughter. For someone who's the human embodiment of a golden retriever, she looks a lot like a grumpy cat right now.

"Stupid mission," she grumbles while attempting to stretch her sore muscles. "I don't know where someone can get the money for that many henchmen."

"Says the rich girl," you reply with a smirk.Kate rolls her eyes but some of the tension in her shoulders disappears.

"Oh, shut up."

Your cross your arms over your chest before raising an eyebrow at her. "I don't think you're in any position to talk to me like that."

A barely noticeable blush spreads across her features. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I just...I've missed talking to you like this."

You wish it didn't but your heart skips a beat at her words. It's stupid considering the fact she's the one who put you guys in this situation yet there's nothing you can do about it. Your heart still belongs to her.

"Is that why you've been ignoring me lately?" You ask, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. "Why are you even here, anyway? I'm sure your girlfriend's worried about you."

Your words cause the smallest of changes in Kate's body language. She hunches down almost as if she's trying to sink into herself and disappear. You've seen her like this far too many times to not know how she's feeling.

"She would be if she didn't hate my guts right about now," she replies with a sigh. "Can't say I blame her, breaking up with her and leaving on a mission isn't the most mature thing to do."

"Wow, you're finally self-aware," you tease her, more out of habit that anything else. "A lot can change in a month, huh?"

The lack of annoyance in your tone allows her to relax again. As much as you might like to be petty, she seems genuinely sorry and upset. "Okay, I deserve that. I've been an asshole to you."

"Yes, you have, but it looks like karma finally caught up with you."

There's an edge of concern to your words that you can't quite hide. She doesn't seem to be in excruciating pain which hopefully means she's not badly hurt but with how stubborn she is, you wouldn't be surprised if she was blatantly hiding a gunshot wound.

Kate chuckles as she leans back against your couch, the movement allows you to search her suit for bloodstains and, thankfully, you find nothing except a couple of tears in the fabric. "Karma's a bitch..but I probably deserved it."

"Probably?" You ask.

"Okay, fine," she grumbles. "I definitely deserved it. It just...seemed like the right thing to do."

You can't hold back the scoff that leaves your lips. "On what Earth was ignoring me after hooking up with me "the right thing to do"?"

She grimaces, the words hitting her a little too hard. You feel a little bad for her even though these are simply the consequences of her own actions. "I was afraid of ruining our friendship. I didn't...I don't want to lose you, y/n. You mean too much to me."

A part of you wants to keep being petty about the whole thing but you've missed her far too much to push her away now. Even though she probably deserves it for being such an idiot.

"You have a very weird way of showing it." You finally allow yourself to close the distance between you two, walking over and taking a seat next to her.

Kate's hand instantly finds its way into yours, her head turning to look at you. There's a thin layer of tears in her eyes that tugs at your heartstrings. "I know...and I really am sorry."

"I know," you reply, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "You're my best friend, Kate, I've always known you're an idiot."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything more, allowing a comfortable silence to fill the room.

There's a lot more you both still want to say and yet neither of you makes any attempt at breaking the moment. It's almost comforting how quickly you fall back together like two slightly damaged magnets.

Finally, after minutes go by, Kate allows herself to tell you the truth.

"It's you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's always been you and I'm so sorry I tried to pretend it wasn't true."

Her words bring a wave of relief, and a slight bit of annoyance that you do your best to supress. "Can you just shut up and kiss me before I kick you out?"

She laughs, a real one this time, before leaning forward and stealing your breath with a kiss.

It's not enough to fix all the damage but it's a start. And you're more than happy to flip the page with her.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #kate bishop fanfiction #hawkeye #hailee steinfed #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 days

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Hello! I enjoy your writing. Could you write something about Donna and reader already being in a relationship and someone trying to break in at night or something and hurt reader, therefore hurt Donna? Donna tortures and kills the intruder in front of reader, kind of scaring her but reassures her she would never hurt her. Angst/fluff perhaps?

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words!!!! Thanks for your request too, I hope it isn't too dark... Anyway, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Safe and sound

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, slightly dark Donna, Minors DNI, mentions of violence, angst but with a happy ending, Donna being Donna, fluff

Word count: 8,639

Summary: You were really scared...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

A walk through the woods was always reassuring. Feeling the fresh air, the snow, the sunlight, brought a smile to your face. Your steps were slow and your hand was intertwined with hers. Everything was perfect.

You were never a lucky girl. Your past was complicated, it had shadows that few people knew about but, luckily, they didn't devour you. Fearful and shy, those were the words that defined you. Apart from that, you were a normal, ordinary villager. A normal life, a normal family, the blessing of the Black Gods... There was nothing that could explain why that woman was walking hand in hand with you, why you were walking next to Donna Beneviento.

Perhaps it was the glint of normality in your eyes, the passive and conformist attitude of any ordinary villager that caught the attention of the youngest Lord. Your smile was nothing special, but for her it was something precious, something she should treasure, something she wanted to be hers.

You, of course, were also curious, attracted to that woman in black, to that covered face, to the serene darkness that always accompanied her. Little by little you achieved the goal of getting to know her, of discovering that most of the legends that spoke of Lady Beneviento were wrong, most of them.

Yes, she was a disturbed, sick woman, but she was also charming, she never gave you any reason to relate her name or her appearance with the word monster. Kissing her, confessing your feelings to her marked the beginning of the best stage of your life. You left the village behind, the shadows of your past, to enjoy the present.

The love you felt was intense, inexhaustible despite the jealous and extremely possessive nature of the lady in black. In any case, you would never abandon her. You would strive to make her sick mind understand that you were hers, only hers.

Despite those flaws, surely due to years of horrible loneliness, Donna was everything to you, just as you were to her. She was beautiful, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Her scar was of no importance. Visible or not, you all had some kind of scar, a memory from the past that would be hard to forget.

None of that mattered to you, you simply loved her, you couldn't live without her. There was nothing more important to you than love, which can do everything, which cures everything. Little by little those jealousies became less and less frequent, although to think that they would disappear completely would be foolish.

“I love these walks,” you murmured, getting closer to the lady, leaning on her as you walked.

She leaned down to kiss you through her black veil.

“Technically it is not a walk, tesoro,” the lady whispered, laughing shyly, with that hoarse voice. Too many years of loneliness. “You are just accompanying me.”

“Yes, well…” you sighed, shaking your head. “But we’re walking at the same time, the two of us together…”

“The three of us!” Angie shrieked, Donna's irreverent doll, who walked nervously next to you. “Learn to count!”

“Yes, the three of us,” you said, rolling your eyes but not losing your smile. “Donna”

“Mm?” the lady in black murmured, looking at you through the cloth, slowing down her steps.

“Do you know what the meeting is about?” you asked curiously, sighing as the village came closer and closer, putting an end to that quiet and romantic pace.

“No,” she answered dryly, looking ahead again. “Why do you ask? I thought you weren't interested in meetings.”

“Oh, and I'm not interested in them, at all,” you joked, with a mischievous smile. “I just want to hear your voice…”

Donna laughed softly, moving out of the way, grabbing your waist and lifting her black veil so she could give you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Tesoro…” she sighed, caressing your cheek as you tried to steal a few more kisses from her. “(Y/N), the, the meeting…”

“Sorry, I can't help it,” you apologized with blushing cheeks, walking back to the village. Her response was a romantic laugh, playing with your hand as she resumed her walk.

“I don’t understand why you insist on coming with me,” she said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “You could have stayed home.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really like being alone in that big, dark house…” you said in a joking tone. Your heart started to beat faster.

“You don’t like being at home then,” Donna said, in the same tone as always, one unable to reveal for itself the feelings of the lady in black. Interpreting what she said, what she felt was the most complicated task in your relationship. You didn’t even know if one day you would be able to do it.

“Donna…” you said rolling your eyes and moving her hand in a reprimand. “You know I don’t mean that. I just don’t like being alone.”

“You're never alone,” she said, firmly establishing a comfortable truth for her, the assurance that your love wasn’t a lie. “Even if I'm not here, I'm always thinking about you, always.”

“That's romantic… And disturbing,” you whispered with a mischievous smile.

The lady in black put a hand around your waist, pushing you to walk faster.

“Me thinking about you is disturbing?” she asked distrustfully, forcing you to roll your eyes again and lean over her shoulder. “Sei la mia ragazza…”

“You know what? Let's enjoy the walk instead of talking in languages I don't understand, okay, darling?” you asked, shaking your head as you bit your lip.

Of course, Donna was a strange woman, but you loved her more and more.

“Oh Mihaela,” you said once in the village, letting Donna go and walking towards your best friend.

Well, at least you wouldn't be alone wandering through the snowy landscape. You didn't know why, but the subtle growl of the lady in black made you think that she didn't like it.

“(Y/N),” the young woman said, cautiously approaching you, lowering her head before the lady in black.

“Who is this?” Donna asked with a dangerous hiss.

“Oh, right, this is Mihaela, she's my best friend,” you said with a smile, extending your hand towards the girl, who smiled politely. “Mihaela, she's…”

“I'm sure she already knows me, (Y/N),” the lady interrupted, clasping her hands in front of her body. You didn't know if it was a polite posture or on the contrary, an intimidating one.

“Y-Yes,” your friend stammered, with her head bowed. “It's, it's a pleasure, Lady Beneviento.”

“Mm,” the woman in black murmured, pulling your arm slightly to move you away from the girl.

“What's wrong?” you asked, giving Mihaela an apologetic look. “Hey, let me go, you're hurting me.”

“I'm sorry,” Donna apologized. “I thought you came to accompany me, not to hang out with that... Girl.”

“The truth is that I found her by chance. We've been friends for many years, Donna, there's no place for your jealousy here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Come on, repeat after me: there's no place for jealousy, I like you spending time with your friends while I’m in that boring meeting,” you said jokingly.

The lady sighed deeply, shaking her head.

“Va bene…” Donna murmured, bending down to pick Angie up from the ground. “But I hope to find you here when I get back.”

“Aye, mom…” you mocked, causing the lady to turn around abruptly, growling in annoyance at your comment. “Honey…” you said in a lower tone, moving closer to kiss her over the black fabric.

��Should I stay and watch the fool?” Angie asked, while the lady ran the back of her hand over your cheek, as if she was thinking about something.

“No, it's not necessary,” she finally said, pinching your skin affectionately.

“Donna,” you said when the woman turned around, walking away from you. She turned slowly, looking at you from afar. “I love you.”

Her response was a slight nod, surely followed by an imperceptible whisper that said: me too.

Laughing in a loving way, you walked back to your friend, who kept her head down.

“Hey, can you raise your head, your neck is going to hurt,” you joked, pointing ahead so she could start walking next to you.

“I'm not used to it,” Mihaela said with an embarrassed smile. “I still can't believe you're living with a Lord.”

“Bah, it's not that big of a deal,” you said, making a gesture with your hand to make it less important.

“Don't be offended, but your girlfriend is really scary,” Mihaela commented, sitting on a nearby bench.

“I'm not offended, I'm quite used to hearing it,” you said amused. “Besides, Donna is a sweetheart, it's just that people don't know her.”

“That must be it...” your friend sighed, looking at her hands, which played with each other, nervously.

Mihaela was always your best friend, you both lived close by, you played together when you were little and you shared many joys, and also suffering, one that you barely remembered.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked when you saw your friend's attitude, a bit stranger, as if she was extremely tired. “You don't look well.”

“Oh, yes, yes...” she said, avoiding your gaze. You knew her, she was lying. You raised your eyebrows to let her know that you didn't believe her words and finally, she sighed. “Well, the truth is that I don't sleep well lately.”

“Have you been having nightmares again?” you asked in a lower tone, rubbing her back in an understanding way.

Mihaela shook her head and looked around, as if she was scared.

“It's, it's nonsense,” the girl said, shy, with the same serious expression, one that was not very common in her. “It must be my imagination.”

“Ahem, you should take advantage of the fact that I'm here to tell me everything that worries you, like we always did, remember?” you said, starting to worry yourself, you didn't have a good feeling.

Your friend had a simple life, there was only one thing that could worry her that much.

“A few days ago I was taking a walk with Igor, you know, near our house and... And... The cabin on the hill, you know... The house of...” she explained, lowering the tone of her voice.

All the nerves in your body were on alert.

“Yes, I know what house you mean,” you interrupted, not wanting to bring back the ghosts of your past, some horrible ones. “What's wrong with that house?”

“Um, I... I don't want to scare you, (Y/N) but, but... I, I thought I saw someone inside,” Mihaela whispered, biting her lip.

“But, but that's impossible, it's-it's been years since anyone lived there,” you said with a trembling voice, just like your hands.

“I know, I know but...” your friend said, looking at the sky. “(Y/N), what if he's back?”

You shook your head effusively, unintentionally letting all the traumas of your past come back to the present. A knot in your stomach, cold sweats... Symptoms that you already knew began to punish you.

“N-No, I don't think so, he, he died,” you said nervously.

“You know as well as I do that it’s not true,” Mihaela said with a fearful whisper. “I'm scared, I think, I think he'll come for me.”

“No, no, no,” you denied, taking your friend's hand. “He, he hasn't come back and, besides, he, he didn't have anything against you, his target always was me.”

“Tell it to my sister,” the young woman murmured, with an air of sadness for that tragic memory. “I envy you, you know?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing at yourself.

Mihaela nodded with a fearful sigh.

“Yes, he probably won't dare to do anything to you because you live with Donna. You're very lucky to have someone like her who can protect you,” she explained, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I wish she wouldn't protect me that much…” you murmured, looking around in fear. The ominous silence of the village accentuated that old fear even more. “Hey, don't worry… I-I'm sure it's just nonsense.”

“I have a bad feeling, (Y/N)… I know it's stupid considering your situation but… Be careful,” your friend said, with a worried look.

“Eh, nothing's going to happen… He hasn't come back, I'm sure what you saw was a shadow, or an animal or… Whatever,” you said, trying to reassure yourself. “Besides, you know, you know he's coming for me, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I hope, I hope you're right and it was just my imagination,” Mihaela commented, causing silence to reign.

No, he died… Did he really?

You thought that this talk with your friend could be beneficial, but it was the opposite. Fear, an almost forgotten fear returned to your mind, to your body. As you walked back home with the lady in black, you looked at the forest as a threat and not as a romantic refuge.

“Stop squeezing me so much,” Donna protested, loosening the strong grip of your hand on her arm. You obeyed, as if you had just come out of a dream, or a nightmare. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm sorry,” you said, looking everywhere except at the lady, who growled annoyed by your strange attitude. “I'm just, I'm just glad you're with me.”

“So that's why you intend to tear my arm off?” she asked, holding you tighter, pulling you so you could keep walking. “You're very sweet, tesoro…”

“Yeah, well,” you said, laughing fakely, getting a little closer. “What was that?” you asked, digging your feet into the snow and looking at a nearby bush, one that moved suspiciously.

“Mm?” Donna muttered, looking at the same spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I, I heard something in that bush,” you stammered, cowardly taking refuge behind Donna. “Can you, can you take a look?”

“The bush? What nonsense!” Angie protested, laughing at your irrational fear.

“Go,” the lady ordered the doll, who obeyed with a grunt as the lady held your shaking hand.

Angie moved the bush, even crawled inside, coming out again and shrugging.

“Nothing,” Angie said. “What’s wrong, silly?”

“I just, I just thought… Ne, nevermind,” you muttered, running a hand over your forehead.

Donna turned around with a confused sigh, placing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Amore mio, you're shaking, what's wrong?” she asked softly, taking your hands and squeezing them tightly.

“It's nothing, it's just that... I just didn't realize how sinister this forest is,” you said, faking a smile in a pathetic way.

“We'd better go back home then,” Donna said, with a tender laugh, caressing your cheek and leading you by the hand. You looked at that bush, at all the places where a person thirsty for revenge could hide.

That was just the beginning.

Your friend's words haunted you during the day and harassed you during the night. He couldn't have gone back, it was impossible, but you weren't able to accept it. In every dark corner, in every gap you saw the danger again.

An unpleasant return to the past, ghosts haunting you, whispering to you that you were in danger again, that the horrible man had returned.

Your character changed. You always enjoyed the outdoors, the forest, the surroundings of the mansion, but you didn't anymore. You preferred Donna's arms to the insecurity of the outside world.

She never knew, you never talked to her about it. She simply, as expected, welcomed this change in your personality as something good for her. You couldn't blame her, really, you couldn't. She didn't know and you never wanted her to.

A perfect afternoon for a walk turned into a boring afternoon of reading. Well, at least it would be boring if you weren't hugging Donna, if her soft caresses didn't pass through your hair, without her perfume soothing your fears.

Her kisses, the only moment when the lady interrupted her reading, were like a reminder to your frightened mind: she was with you and nothing would ever happen by her side.

“We finally meet again...” That terrible voice reached your ears and you panicked.

“No! It can't be! Help!” you screamed, running without moving forward, at the mercy of that monster. “No, no, no!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N)...” a soft voice interrupted you as you moved your arms, while hitting the body of the one you thought was your enemy. It wasn't.

When you opened your eyes the nightmare was over. Sweat ran down your body and your wrists were held by the lady in black, who looked at you with a frown.

“Donna...” you sighed, throwing yourself into her arms irrationally. “Donna...”

“Tesoro, calm down, it was just a nightmare,” the woman in black said, holding you tightly against her. “Shh, that's it, I'm here with you…”

“A…? A nightmare?” you repeated scared, filling the black dress with tears of terror.

“Yes, you've fallen asleep,” she said, kissing your head and grabbing you by the shoulders. “Look at me, look at me, tesoro…”

“Shit, I… I don't…” you stammered, shaking your head.

“You've been behaving strangely for a while. I'm worried about you,” she said in a serious voice, wiping the tears from your face.

“It-It's nothing, I…” you murmured, stopping shaking due to her caresses, her gestures of affection.

“You're soaked…” Donna whispered, checking the sweat that wet your clothes. “Come, I'm going to prepare a bath for you.”

“I, I… Thank you, Donna,” you said, nodding gratefully.

The hot water relaxed you, but the fear was still very present. The nightmares haunted you even when Donna held you, even when her body gave you the security you needed. Nothing worked and nothing would, maybe it was time to tell her the truth, maybe then you could forget about it.

“Bellisima…” Donna said as she lovingly combed your hair, something she loved to do, of course, covering you in kisses in the process. “You're calmer, aren't you?”

You nodded, looking at your face in the mirror. The black shadows that had settled under your eyes were the last sign to embolden you to confess what it was that scared you.

“Donna, I have, I have to talk to you,” you said with a broken voice, turning to look at her and getting up from the stool, sitting on the bed and pointing at the mattress for her to do the same.

“Mm,” she murmured with a confused look, leaving the comb on the dresser and obeying your signals. “I’m listening.”

Her voice wasn’t an understanding one, it was rather fearful. You didn't know if that was good or bad.

“There is one thing I haven't told you…” you said, playing with your hands, separated by one of hers, which she squeezed tightly.

“You're scaring me,” she said, staring at you, her breathing altered. “Have I done something wrong? Do you want to leave me?”

“What? No, of course I don’t,” you said frowning and taking your hand away from hers, annoyed by her fears. “It has nothing to do with you. It's, it's something about, about my past.”

“You fucked that slut, didn't you?” the lady asked in a haughty tone, with darkness conquering her gaze.

“No, Donna! What's wrong with you?” you said angrily.

“There's nothing you haven't told me, (Y/N), so I guess it's something I’m not going to like,” she excused herself awkwardly.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the sheets with your hand, making an effort to tell her the truth.

“Actually, there is something,” you said, looking away. “But, but let me explain it to you before you start with your paranoia, can you do that?”

She nodded indignantly, crossing her arms.

“Va bene, talk,” she indicated to you, with an unpleasant gesture of her head.

You ignored that possessiveness, that arrogance, and took a breath, expelling it slowly to relax.

“I was about 8 years old, I was, I was very little,” you began, remembering while clenching your teeth. “I always went out to play with Mihaela, with my friends, you know, kid stuff, running through the woods, playing tag…”

Donna nodded for you to continue.

“There was, there was a man… A villager who, who was always there. No matter what I was doing, he was always… Watching me. At first I thought he just lived there but… It wasn't true,” you continued, earning the full attention of the lady, who didn't take the darkness away from her gaze.

It was the first time in years that you were that nervous. You thought you would never have to tell it again, that you would never have to live it again.

“That man followed me everywhere… He watched me from afar. I didn't give it any importance until that distance began to decrease,” you said, shaking your head. “The, the years went by and… When, when I was 14, that man kept spying on me, watching me… He was getting closer and closer, I felt his eyes looking through my window at night.”

You had to take a breath again.

“I, I can't forget that sinister smile, those eyes that seemed to… Undress me…” you sighed, with tears in your eyes. “I thought he would never go that far but, one night he, he caught me while I was coming home and… He tried… He tried to…”

“(Y/N), calm down, speak clearly, please,” your girlfriend said, getting a little closer, listening to you attentively.

“He wanted to hurt me… He said that I was his since I was a child and that he could finally… take me,” you murmured, embarrassed.

“Did he get it?” Anger burned in the words of the lady in black, her breathing became agitated again.

“No, luckily my father went out to look for me and scared him off before he could get any further,” you explained, relieved to remember how your father pointed his shotgun at that monster. “But that wasn't enough for him, because that same night… He k-killed my best friend's sister. It didn't matter that there was no evidence, I knew it was him, we all knew.”

“What happened then?” the lady asked again, with a calmer tone, lifting your chin.

“My father and Mihaela's went after him. They chased him through the forest and… They say, they say he fell off a cliff and died.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, frowning. “If he died, why are you worried?”

“Because I never thought he would really died but… Time passed and I never saw him again, so I stopped worrying until, until the other day, when Mihaela told me that she had seen someone in his old cabin,” you finally said, holding back a sob. “I'm, I'm scared, Donna, what if he's back?”

“Why didn't you tell me before?” she asked, ignoring your fears, with a somber but a not-too-dark look.

“I've already told you, because I never thought he would come back or… Or that he could. Donna, I'm, I'm so scared…” you sobbed, leaning towards her so she could hug you, so she could tenderly press your head against her chest.

She sighed but gave you that protective hug, those soothing kisses on your hair.

“You must forget about that, amore mio,” she whispered after a few minutes of crying, gently pushing you away and wiping your tears. “You have nothing to fear.”

“He swore he would come back for me… He swore it…” you stammered.

“(Y/N), stop it, stop crying,” the lady scolded you, in a harsh tone. “It's absurd.”

“Absurd? Didn't you hear me? He'll come for me,” you protested, shaking your head in disbelief.

“No one is going to come for you,” Donna said, cupping your face with her hands. “You're mine, tesoro, no one will lay a hand on you, do you hear me? I protect you, I will never let anything happen to you, besides, surely that friend of yours is stupid and she just imagined it.”

“Do you mind stopping insulting my friends?” you asked with irony, moving away from her and crossing your arms. “Mihaela would never say something like that to me if she wasn't sure. Donna, he killed her sister.”

“That man is dead, (Y/N),” she sighed, struggling with you so she could caress you again. “You have to forget about that. You can't live scared like that.”

“I can't believe you don't understand…” you said with an offended look, open-mouthed. “You don't know what it's like to feel these things, to feel someone stalking you.”

“I can't believe you trust me so little that you can’t stop being scared by silly things,” the woman in black responded, with a haughty gesture. “You're with me and nothing and no one will ever hurt you, do you hear me? So, forget about it and try to relax.”

“It's very easy to say,” you murmured, calmed by her caresses.

“You don't trust me” she said with a soft, tender tone, tilting her head slightly. “You don't think I can protect you?”

“Yes, yes, but…” you said with a sincere smile, caressing her cheek too, relaxing her incipient madness. “You know what? Y-you're right Donna, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Mm, come here,” she said, smiling in the same way and kissing you slowly, moistening her lips with yours, relaxing your spirit a bit.

Donna was right, with her by your side nothing would happen to you.

Of course that should have been reason enough for you to stop thinking about it, but it wasn't. Yes, your fear calmed down, but it was still present. You were still reluctant to leave the house if it wasn't with Donna by your side, every corner was a danger, every moment of solitude was a risk. The nightmares had diminished, but the worry was still impregnated in your mind, that was something you couldn't avoid.

The days passed quickly, the nights were slow, as if time itself was mocking and scaring you.

“Did you like dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, completely calm, smiling like every time you tasted one of her dishes. “(Y/N),” she said in a more impatient voice, seeing that you were distracted, looking at the darkness through the window.

“Oh, sorry, yes, Donna, it was delicious,” you said, pretending you weren't watching your surroundings.

She smiled pleased, looking at you with a tenderness that always won you over, with that bright, loving eye you were addicted to.

“You're beautiful when you smile…” the lady murmured, with a seductive look, making your cheeks blush little by little.

“That's because I'm with you,” you said amused, looking at her in the same way, feeling how the warmth of your chest hid your fear.

“Mm, maybe you want to tell me those things while we watch a movie,” she whispered sensually, biting her lip. “Or while doing other things…”

“Tempting,” you joked, nodding slowly. “I like the plan.”

“I like you,” she said with her voice filled with desire, with the love she felt and never get tired of showing you. “I'm going to pick this up and... Well, we'll see what we do, okay, tesoro?”

“No, no, Donna,” you said kindly, getting up from the table and grabbing her wrist. “You've been cooking for a long time. Let me pick it up...”

“As you wish,” she said, taking advantage of the proximity to kiss you quickly on the lips, a kiss that said many things, that said how much Donna wanted to continue devouring your lips. “I'll wait for you in the basement.”

“Yes, go to prepare the bed, I mean, the movie,” you joked, shaking your head and pretending to be absent-minded.

Donna laughed amused, looking at you seductively before walking away from you.

You sighed in love, slowly picking up the plates and glasses. The creaking of the wood alerted you unexpectedly. You felt like someone was watching you. The plates moved in your hand, trembling dangerously and you looked at the source of the sound, a shadow hiding under the table.

“Boo!”

“Ahhh!” you screamed in fright, dropping the dishes with a horrible sound, breaking the plates and glasses into pieces.

The Angie doll came out from under the furniture, laughing out loud.

“Fool, what a scare!” she shrieked amused. “I scared you, I scared you,” she mocked while you, in shock, shook your head.

“A-Angie, damn it,” you said trembling, on the verge of a heart attack.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Donna asked, running to your side while you bent down to pick up the plates, suffering the doll's mockery. “Che cos’è sucesso?”

“Nothing… Nothing… Angie scared me,” you said in a low voice, embarrassed by that exaggeration. Your heart was beating fast, the fear never went away.

“Angie!” Donna shouted furiously, making the doll run away from the place. “Let me help you.”

“Th-Thanks…” you murmured, looking down.

“You shouldn't be that scared, Angie always does the same,” the lady said, helping you with the plates. “(Y/N)”

“Mm?” you murmured, trying to pretend that you had regained your composure.

The lady in black slowly stood up with a cold look, crossing her arms.

“You're still scared of that man,” she said in a dark tone, looking at you almost with contempt.

“What? N-no, that doll scared me, that's all,” you lied clumsily, unintentionally agreeing with her.

“You know you can't, and shouldn't lie to me, (Y/N),” she hissed, without taking her accusing eye off yours.

“Fine... Yes, I'm still a bit scared,” you finally confessed, looking back at the window, where the trees mocked you by forming sinister shapes.

“I thought I told you to forget about that nonsense,” the lady scolded you, placing her finger on your chest. “Can't you hear what I'm saying?”

“You don't understand that I'm scared? Fuck, Donna, how can you be like that?” you protested, letting out the stress you had accumulated.

“If you're unable to be calm around me, it's because you don't trust me,” she said arrogantly.

“You always twist everything!” you screamed, clenching your fists on either side of your hips. “I haven’t any problem with you! I love you, Donna, I love you...” you sighed, trying to relax. “I'm just scared, fuck, I'm scared, isn't that logical? Are you so insane that you can't even understand me?”

The lady sighed, raising her gaze and turning around to leave.

“W-Wait, Donna, I didn't mean that,” you said hastily, grabbing her wrist, a grip she pulled away abruptly, too abruptly.

“If you don't feel safe with me... Just leave!” she shouted furiously, making you flinch.

“Donna, wait, wait,” you said nervously, trying to stop her. “It's not that, it's just that…”

“You're stupid!” Donna shrieked, approaching and making you back away. “You’re acting like a scared little girl when you should know that nothing will happen to you because you're with me, why is it so hard for you to understand?”

“You're the one who doesn't understand… Donna, calm down…”

“Stupida…” the lady hissed, with a look that hurt you, turning around and disappearing down the elevator hallway. “Porca puttana!”

“Damn it… Arghhhh!” you growled, kicking the wooden floor, unable to make Donna understand your fears, which were insignificant to her.

Getting some air was the best thing.

Trying to calm your breathing, you walked towards the exit, feeling the cool breeze relax your nerves. It was difficult to understand her anger, her rage, it always was. You knew she really wanted to help you in her own way, release you from those fears that were probably absurd.

Poor Donna had been alone for so long, she didn't know how to deal with such things. Your mind excused her for her attitude, as did your heart. You couldn't blame her for feeling desperate, for feeling that your trust in her didn't go far enough.

The fear was much greater. It surpassed the limits of your logic. Yes, that man would never approach the house of a Lord. It was a rational thought, one that Donna tried to make you understand in every possible way.

But you didn’t give in. You were not able to calm down. Maybe the fact of seeing herself unable to help you as she would like frustrated her. It wasn’t the first time that it happened, that Donna's problems came from her inability to cure yours.

Her anger wasn’t towards you and you knew it, it was towards herself, for not being able to help you when you needed it.

While you turned over everything that had happened, you contemplated the waterfall illuminated by the full moon, calming yourself. The landscape was calm, peaceful. Yes, she was right. You had to start to stop thinking about your past. You had to trust her.

To start with, you had to apologize, since surely, she wanted to do the same.

“Okay…” you whispered, moving away from the railing, freezing when you heard the creak of the door, the door you couldn't see due to your position. “Donna?”

There was no answer. A shiver ran down your spine as you approached the door. There was no one there.

“It, it must have been the wind,” you said, looking at the door, now half open.

Slowly, you closed it, sighing, walking slowly through the entrance, looking for the best way to fix things with the lady in black.

“Finally,” that dark voice scared you.

You felt someone grab you from behind, holding your neck with one arm. An evil laugh ran through your ears and your irrational fears disappeared. Someone had entered the house, someone you knew.

“Help!” you screamed, immediately silenced by a disgusting hand on your mouth. The grip was too strong to break free from.

He was back, that man was back, it wasn't paranoia, he had entered the mansion and he had caught you.

“Well, well...” he whispered. “How much time has passed?”

“Mmmm,” you protested, fighting against his grip, panic increasing your adrenaline.

“Don't bother talking... I never liked talkers, (Y/N)...” the man whispered sinisterly, warming your ear with his breath.

Using a bit of strength, you managed to remove his hand from your mouth, taking a breath.

“Donna! Donna!” you screamed, running away from the attacker, something he stopped by grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him.

“Shhh don't scream, no one is going to come to help you, darling…” he said in a disgusting voice while you kept moving, desperate. “I think you stopped being that innocent little girl a long time ago.”

“Let me go!” you screamed desperately, kicking the intruder, looking for help with your eyes. “Donna!”

A strong blow to the head made you shut up. Your forehead was wet against the wooden floor, you were bleeding, dizzy, scared…

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, pulling your hair, satisfied by your inability to move. “Look at you… The little whore of Beneviento… You didn't know you had such high aspirations…” he mocked, laughing sinisterly. “I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'm afraid that nutcase won't be able to protect you… Not when I've been… Looking for you for so long!”

“Donna…” you whispered in a small voice, trying to stop that animal from climbing on top of your body while licking his lips. “Please…”

“Calm down, you'll be back between that bitch's legs soon… But first… I think we have something pending…”

“No!” you screamed when those disgusting hands wandered over your clothes, moving them with a strength you didn't know you had, managing to punch him hard in the face and make him retreat.

“Damn bitch…” he hissed angrily as you crawled on the floor, looking for help. “I've got you!” he said triumphantly when he grabbed you by the hair, pulling it to bend you up. “This time you won't escape.”

You could only cry desperately, until you heard the hurried sound of heels.

“She was screaming, I swear Donna!” Angie's shrill voice was the next thing you heard, along with the sight of the doll pointing at you nervously. “Donna, Donna!”

“Don't move,” the man whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on your hair as you cried, while your blurry eyes watched the lady approach.

“D-Donna…” you said with a distorted voice.

The lady's eye widened, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but there was no shock or panic in her gaze, only serenity.

“Don't take another step,” the attacker threatened, taking out a knife and putting it to your throat. “Or I'll slit her throat from end to end. (Y/N), you disappoint me…” he hissed in your ear, with a sinister smile, surely due to Donna's immobility. “Do you really prefer that disgusting nutcase over me?”

“Shut up!” Angie shrieked. “Donna, do something, quickly…”

“Donna…” you sobbed, looking at the lady, who remained serious, unmoved by the aggressor's painful words.

The lady took a slow step, then another. The grip on your hair tightened even more.

“I said don't come closer,” the man threatened, stabbing the knife into your skin harder. “Back off, you monster!”

Donna stopped, sighing and glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Help me, please…” you begged, stretching your arm out as far as you could trying to reach the doll maker.

“No one touches what's mine,” Donna whispered, darkening her gaze and raising her arm towards the man.

Suddenly the grip on your hair was released, causing you to fall to the floor with a thud and allowing you to crawl towards the lady, who helped you up, hugging you tightly against her.

“Donna…” you cried desperately against her dress, pulling at her clothes desperately, terribly scared. Your body trembled hopelessly.

You moved your head to look at your attacker, who had a lost look, looking up as if he were hypnotized.

“Angie,” the lady said in a dark tone, pushing you towards the doll, who approached you.

“(Y/N), silly, are you okay?” the puppet asked, helping you sit on the floor as you cried inconsolably.

Among tears, you looked at the lady and the attacker. The woman in black went a little closer, with that cold, expressionless look, moving her hand.

The man growled, grabbing his head as if it were about to explode. Slowly, trembling, he began to move involuntarily, picking up the knife he had dropped.

“No… No…” he whispered, moving his arm, pointing the blade towards his chest and slowly sinking it into his flesh. “Ahhhhh!”

You watched the scene in horror. Blood was pouring from his self-inflicted wound as he pulled out the knife, stabbing it somewhere else nearby, into his chest again.

“Ahhhh!” The man's screams of pain echoed in your ears. You looked at Donna, who seemed to smile at his suffering. A dangerous smile like you had never seen before. “No, no, have mercy!”

“Did you have mercy when you killed that girl?” Donna whispered, tilting her head mockingly. “Mm, I guess you didn’t.”

“Ahhhhh!” the man screamed again, stabbing the knife all over his body under the steady gaze of your girlfriend, who reveled in his suffering, bending down and grabbing his hair tightly.

“Mm, you don't deserve me wasting my time with you,” she murmured disinterestedly, letting him go in disgust and moving her hand again.

“No...No...” the man pleaded, with his knife resting on his throat.

You looked away when he began to cut it among screams of pain. Then, there was only silence.

You looked over your knees to contemplate that horrible scene, to see how Donna touched the lifeless body of that vermin with her foot. Her face was expressionless, cold.

She had killed him, but not only that, she had been cruel. She had enjoyed doing it. The fear you had for the attack was transformed, heading towards the lady in black.

“Angie,” Donna said, walking towards you. “Call Karl, he has to take care of taking out the trash,” she ordered, to which the doll nodded, quickly going to fulfill her request.

The lady sighed, looking for the last time at that lifeless body bleeding out on a carpet.

“Tesoro...” she said, changing apathy to concern, crouching next to you. “Amore mio... Has he hurt you?”

“N-No,” you murmured, uncomfortable by her caresses, by her hand in yours, the hand that guided the thoughts of that man, that guided him to his death.

“Oh, you are hurt,” she sighed with a sad look, touching the wound on your head, which you had forgotten. “Come, let's go to the basement.”

Helped by Donna, you went down the elevator. The shock was slowly wearing off, but in your head you only had one thing: her smile, Donna's smile as she made that man suffer.

You knew she was dangerous, that she was sick, but you had never had the misfortune of confirming those rumors.

In your head there was no relief or gratitude, only fear, a new fear, the fear of the lady in black.

You knew she loved you, you were sure of it. You were hers. She always made a point of reminding you of it but... What would happen if she got tired of you? What would happen to you if she stopped loving you? Would she make you suffer like that too?

All those questions clouded your thoughts as she sat you down on a chair, searching for the first aid kit in one of the closets.

“Look at me, tesoro…” she told you in a soft voice, as if she hadn't just killed a man.

You involuntarily moved away from her touch, one that you irrationally saw as threatening. The lady growled, grabbing your chin tighter so you would look at her.

“It's all over, (Y/N), that bastardo won't bother you again, relax,” she said to you, changing the strong grip for a caress on your cheek and a tender smile.

You nodded, hissing in pain when a cotton ball brushed your wound.

“You deserve an apology, (Y/N),” the lady commented, sitting in front of you to better heal your wound. “I never thought that man would be so stupid as to break into the house.”

You nodded again, it was the only thing you could do without trembling.

“Mm, okay… It's nothing serious…” she sighed, soaking more cotton in the alcohol. “Amore mio… This wound hurts me more than it hurts you… I should never have let this happen.”

“It's not your fault,” you whispered in a weak voice, looking away.

“Shh, look at me,” she corrected, moving your face again. “I hope you'll be able to forgive me for my carelessness.”

“I have nothing to forgive you for,” you murmured, wiping away a tear that was running down your cheek.

The lady sighed, putting down the bottle and the cotton and grabbing your hand, leaning in to kiss you, something you rejected.

“It's okay, I understand, you're angry with me,” she whispered in a strangely understanding way. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, moving away from her.

“Okay…” she murmured, getting up from the chair with a sad look. “(Y/N) if I lost you… It would be, it would be hell for me, do you understand?”

You nodded reluctantly.

“You don't want to talk to me,” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “Okay, do you want to be alone, tesoro?”

“You enjoyed it,” you murmured in a low voice, gaining enough courage to tell her what was really going through your head.

“Cosa?” she asked, looking at you confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You killed that man, and you enjoyed it, I saw the way you smiled,” you hissed in a dark voice.

“What did you want me to do, (Y/N)? He was going to hurt you,” Donna said, looking at you with a frown.

You shook your head, looking at the floor.

“You could have scared him, you could have made him run away forever,” you said thoughtfully, with your hands starting to shake. “But, but you have tortured him… You have made him suffer.”

“Anyone who dares to touch what is mine suffers the consequences,” she said, with that cold look again, still proud of her actions.

At that moment you exploded.

“So what will happen to me if I stop being yours? Are you going to torture me too?” you asked angrily, getting up from the chair. “You scare me, Donna, I have never been so afraid of you.”

“(Y/N), how can you think that way? Tesoro, you're really upset, let me…” she said, coming closer, something you stopped by cowardly running away from her touch.

“Don't touch me! Get away from me!” you screamed nervously, pathetically protecting yourself with your hands.

“I would never hurt you, I'd rather die,” the lady said, with a sad, pleading tone, one that you ignored.

“I don't know if I can believe you, not with what I've seen,” you said, relaxing the tone of your voice.

“(Y/N)… What's wrong with you? Was I supposed to let that man abuse you? Let him get away with it and let him get on with his life?” Donna said, coming closer in a threatening way. “I was just protecting you!” she yelled nervously, grabbing the collar of your dress, making you close your eyes tightly, expecting the worst.

“Donna…” you gasped in fear.

She blinked, watching as her hand grabbed your clothes, seeing your scared eyes and getting scared, of herself.

“Gods, (Y/N), I'm sorry…” she said, letting you go softly. “Tesoro, please, understand me, I love you so much that… I would do anything to protect you.”

“Leave me alone,” you hissed, pushing the lady away roughly. “Please, I want to be alone.”

“No, wait, wait, please,” Donna said, grabbing your wrist. “Please amore mio… For-forgive me…”

“You can't apologize for something you aren’t really sorry about. You don't regret what you've done, you're a psychopath,” you growled, tears streaming down your face again.

“Don't say that, please…” she sobbed, shaking her head at the harshness of your words. “Please… Stop, stop insulting me…”

“I love you Donna, but you made me think, so it's best that I go to my parents' house for a while,” you said grimly, with all the coldness you were capable of.

“No…” she sighed, opening her eye wide. Her breathing was completely uncontrolled. “No! Don't leave me!” she screamed desperately, throwing herself to the floor to grab your legs, losing her dignity.

“Let me go, Donna… I have, I have to think about many things… I need some time,” you said, struggling with the tearful mess that clung to your body. “Let me go!” you shrieked, pushing the tearful lady away from you, causing her to fall to the floor.

“No, don't leave!” she screamed furiously, her face torn by tears. “Don't leave me!”

“I'm sorry,” you said crying too, turning around only to hear her outburst of fury, how she hit everything with her fists while she cried in agony. “I'll come back when I have a clear mind.”

“No!” she screamed, hitting the floor with her fists, writhing in her madness. “YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!”

Her fury was hard to ignore as you walked towards the door.

“You can't leave me because I saved your life!” she finally sobbed.

Those words did something in your mind.

Saved your life…

You were so blinded by fear, so scared that you had forgotten the most important thing. Without leaving the room, you moved your hand to the wound on your head, unable to take another step.

That wound was not only a reminder of Donna's rage, of her sadism and torture. No, that wound had another meaning that you were beginning to sense.

Yes, she tortured that man. She made him suffer but… What would have happened if she hadn’t intervened? The answer was in the marks on your body, in the sad look of your best friend, in your terrible memories.

If Donna hadn’t been there to protect you, your end would have been long and horrible. Surely that disgusting man would have had fun with you until you were completely useless, and what for? Why leave the witness of your atrocities alive? No, you would have been of no use to him anymore.

You would have died, like Mihaela’s sister.

That terrible truth ravaged your thoughts with horrible images of your body used and abandoned anywhere. That man was not a man. He was a beast, one which would never rest until it got what it wanted.

What would have happened if Donna had been merciful, if she had spared that wretch’s life? You could read the answer before your eyes, he would return.

Maybe not the next day, or the next month, but he would come back. Those kinds of disturbed people always did. And… If that were the case, what would happen to you? Your terrible end.

You couldn't stop thinking about when you were a child, when that beast was stalking you, about Mihaela's tears when she lost her sister. It was all so unfair, so terrible… Did that man really not deserve that torture?

For all the girls who suffered, for all the harm he did, for everything he was, he deserved it. He deserved every stab, even some more.

Then you realized your mistake of misinterpreting Donna's actions as those of a psychopath. Imagining that sinister smile of the lady again, you could see your friend, her sister smiling next to Donna, enjoying revenge, thanking the lady for make that monster pay for his crimes.

Donna had protected you, she had saved your life, she had saved what was hers. She had saved more girls from suffering in the future. She wasn't a bad person. She had her flaws, her illness, but still, she saved you and how did you thank her? By abandoning her, making her believe that saving you was a mistake.

You turned around slowly, looking at the lady curled up unable to stop crying, pulling at her hair.

You bit your lip and approached slowly, crouching down next to her.

“Donna, darling,” you said softly, freeing her from her own grip. She looked at you with her eye red from crying, unable to do anything else but sob. “Donna, stop, stop please, I'm still here…”

“(Y/N)…” she sobbed, blinking rapidly. “(Y/N)…”

“Shhh, it's over, my love… I'm not going anywhere. My place is here, with you…” you whispered in a calm voice. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I behaved like that, I… Donna, I haven't even thanked you for saving my life… I'm, I'm stupid…”

“Don't leave…” she whispered, letting you wipe her tears, staring at you. “Please…”

The lady in black, broken, bowed her head to your chest, head that you hugged without thinking, kneeling on the floor and comforting her crying.

“I won't leave, darling, I won't leave…” you repeated, holding back your tears. “I just got, I got scared… I was, I was scared.”

“How can you be afraid of me?” she asked, with her head buried in your dress. “I would never hurt you, never… E-Even if you leave me I… I would be incapable of hurting you… You are my precious girl, my sunshine, my everything… I love you more than anything… You have to believe me… I would never hurt you… Never!”

“I know, I know, Donna,” you said nodding, moving her away from your body so you could look at her properly, to relax her with a soft caress that preceded a tender, salty kiss, a kiss that ended her fears, and yours. “I love you, I love you… And… I, I like that you protect me, I want you to always protect me… Donna, my love… You are the love of my life…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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brendaareiss · 10 hours

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CAL AND ANDRE HEADCANONS! Finally! I feel like there's some I have already said b4, but idk. Enjoy!

⚠️Triggers⚠️: SA, SH

- Andre furrowed his brows when he was concentrated, Cal poked his tongue out

- Andre was actually a great student. That's why most of the people didn't like him either, whether being because of envy or because they saw him as a nerd and annoying. But bro had +A on everything

- Cal on the other hand, was pathetic at studies. His best ever grade was a C

- They didn't actually hold hands most of the time, just intertwine pinkies unconsciously

-Cal always followed andre everywhere. It was not even a conscious act.

- They both talked shit abt their siblings

- Andre=bpd + psicopathy

- Cal= adhd + depression (duh).

- Andre paid attention on the smallest details and had rlly good memory. Like, something stupid Cal said years ago, andre remembered it like it was yesterday. Or he knew what things Cal liked or not, even if Cal hasn't told him, he knew it because he paid attention to what Cal was doing

- Cal was a chronic nail biter. Rachel tried putting nail polish on him to make it better, because Cal reached the point where his whole finger was covered in blood

-Cal has had many addictions in his life. It was all because his depression, he couldn't get happiness (dopamine) in anything in his life so he tried to get it somewhere else. That's why he started doing weed at a young age, well, until the possession charge. After that, he went straight to cutting. It wasn't as good as to get high, but at least it worked and wasn't illegal. He used to get blackout drunk too, trying to get dopamine from where he could.

- U can't tell me they didn't explore each other's bodies. Ofc they did (I like to think they would refer to that as "favors"), but they never rlly knew what the fuck they were. Were they boyfriends? Were they just friends with benefits? That's actually where the term "the army of two" appeared, trying to give what they had a tag or a "name". But they knew rlly well they weren't just friends. They knew each other too much, they were too similar and too connected to be just friends.

- Cal was sa'd from when he was 7 years old until he was 14 by his cousin, who was 8 years older than him. He never told anything to anyone, not even Andre, but he eventually figured it out. He was paranoid and very protective with his siblings (even though he didn't like them, it doesn't mean that they weren't siblings, Cal cared for them a lot), making sure his cousin NEVER approached them. And if someone older talked to them he would get rlly anxious and freaked out.

- Andre always cared too much about Cal. He knew the state of Cal's mental health and physical health (anemic ass) so he always was there for him. And I like to think not only andre, but his family too. Feeding him until Cal couldn't physically bring the fork to his mouth (I'm sure Andre's mom would be the one to say: "Cal, you have to eat more! You're so thin!")

- Andre was not always seen with the Gabriel's (because Cal's sister HATES andre with all her guts) but Calvin was ALWAYS seen with the kriegman's. Andre's dad always knew that when he mentioned "family vacation/trip", Cal was tagging along.

-Cal learned to stay calm when Andre had his bpd splits (extreme anger most of the time). There was a time when he actually felt rlly bad when Andre said what things to him or just screamed and pushed him around, but as time passed, he learned it was just another normal thing on Andre. That's why in the car scene, he at first didn't take him seriously, he then shut the fuck up and tried to get out of the situation as quickly as he could afterwards.

- Andre never really knew what the fuck was wrong with him. He wasn't like Cal, he didn't get diagnosed with shit and didn't even went to a psychologist. He thought he was just really aggressive and nothing more.

- Andre was low-key an alcoholic. He never got blackout drunk though

- The only thing Andre didn't clean, was his car. Maybe once in a month (or a week if there where a lot of empty beer cans in the back seats)

- Cal rlly liked sour candies.

- Andre slept A LOT.

- idk if I said this b4 but Andre's hand was always on Cal's thigh while he drove

- most of their hangouts were sleepovers. They seriously couldn't live without each other

- OF COURSE the reason why andre didn't like Rachel it's because he was EXTREMELY jealous of her. He felt like she was taking Cal away from him. He also felt that she talked shit about Cal when he wasn't there. The night Cal ditched Rachel for him, Andre's ego was 100% fueled

- Andre had migraine. Yeah. He didn't throw up though

- Following, andre NEVER puked. Like, he probably just threw up 1 time in his life. Cal on the other hand, every time he got sick, he vomited.

-Cal ALWAYS forgot his things EVERYWHERE. His parents didn't even make him his own keys, because they knew Cal would probably lose them too.

- As kids, Cal adored sharks and Andre lions and bears. (Cal adored sharks all his life though)

- Andre's grandparents who lived in Germany, had a bigass house with a garden. They had ALSO, a bigass dog. Of course Andre as a kid spent most of the time in the garden, playing with his brother and the dog.

- The only thing that made Andre calm down when he was angry, was changing the situation, making him forget about it, talking about another thing or doing another thing that isn't related to the reason he's mad. Distract him and make him forget why he was mad in the first place.

#zero day #cal gabriel #calvin gabriel #zero day 2003 #caldre #zero day movie #zeroday #andre kriegman #anemiccaltruther #bpdandretruther

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awildtei · 3 days

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people who think kevaaron are boring just don't get it i'm afraid. like:

imagine you are the best at what you do and everyone worships you and/or uses you as their focal point in life and/or projects so hard onto you that you're not sure who you are when you're alone... except for this one guy. this one guy has seen you at your worst, drunk and messy and crying and throwing up and panicking and feeling sorry for yourself. he's seen you at your bitchiest and most insufferable. he knows exactly how broken you are. and all along he's rolled his eyes at you and been like 'this asshole? really? this is the guy everyone is always tripping over themselves to impress/save/psychologically torture? he's Just Some Dude (derogatory)... could never be me.' he doesn't idolize you. he thinks you being the best at exy is, like, at most fifth on the list of most interesting things about you. he lets you talk about history and actually listens. he doesn't think you're pathetic for grieving your abuser. he looks at you and sees you. nothing more. (nothing less). when you get closer it's because he's interested in you (kevin) and not You (Kevin Day). when he falls in love with you there are no expectations to fail to meet because he. knows. you. all of you. and somehow wants you anyway.

and imagine you have been 'the less interesting twin' since you found out you were a twin at all. no one sees you, no one cares. you're filled with anger and resentment and keep being told you're in the wrong for feeling that way. that you should let it go and move on. your abuse pales in comparison to that of the people around you, and as such is dismissed and forgotten. you want to be someone so badly you are killing yourself in the process. you are not talented like your brother and you don't have his memory but you have this. your two hands. your hard work. a need so profound to amount to something that it keeps you going even though you're exhausted all. the. time. and no one cares... except for this one guy. he chews you out on the court but admires and respects how much effort you put into everything you do. he doesn't think you're weak for needing your weekly dose of dust. he doesn't think your ambition is silly or pointless. he doesn't think you're stupid for grieving your abuser. when you get closer it's not because you're the less compelling half of a fascinating whole. it's because he finds you interesting all on your own. he looks at you and sees you. nothing more. (nothing less). he doesn't flinch at your sharp edges. he calls you an asshole but smiles like it's a compliment. when he falls in love with you it's not with a softer, more talented, more palatable version of you. it's with you (aaron) and not you ('the normal one') because he. knows. you. all of you. and somehow wants you anyway.

#and that's barely scratching the surface!!#do you get it??? do you??? get it????#anyway i'm normal again.#tei's #kevaaron #kevin day #aaron minyard

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on-a-lucky-tide · 14 hours

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"You need your ACL reconstructed."

Price stared at the doctor as she leafed through the scans of his stupid bloody knee, blinking rapidly as he tried to process just exactly how fucked he was. He was running the calculations and the answer was coming up: significantly.

After it had given out on a recent yomp with Bravo Company, he has given in and skulked into medical like a whipped hound. There was only so much ibuprofen a man could neck with his coffee before it became farcical. His stomach was beginning a small revolt. Eventually, his mind unable to accept what it had just heard, he cleared his throat. "Come again?"

She sighed, running a hand through her neat crop of grey hair. After dealing with his bullshit for nearly twelve years, she had no patience left for it. "You're having surgery John, and I'm signing you off for four weeks after. From there, it'll be six months before you return to the field."

"Not happening." Price pushed off the gurney and did a rather shite job of hiding the wince as his knee gave another unwelcome spasm when his foot hit the floor. He remembered the landing that had finally done it; a routine jaunt through Belgrade. Nothing too taxing. Uneven ground, some loose gravel and a distraction because of static through Comms, and he'd gone arse over tit. Gaz had been amused until he realised Price had been struggling to get back up again.

Fucking embarrassing.

"You can huff and puff as much as you want, captain. My decision's final," she said, emphasising his rank to put his impending tantrum in perspective, and then, for good measure, "also, your cortisol levels are high, which is probably why you're getting a bit soft in the midsection. The time off is needed."

"Olright, Janie, bloody hell, no need to go for the throat." He placed a hand on his belly, prodding the layer of give with a sad sigh. "What the fuck am I meant to do for four weeks?"

"Read, go fishing, binge Netflix, catch up with family. You know, what normal people do for R&R..." She glanced up at him and rolled her eyes at the deep frown on his face. "Stop thinking of ways to bribe and blackmail me. I'm booking the surgery for a week's time."

"A week isn't long enough."

"Tough shit. Lost your appetite recently? Belching like a retired general at a Number 10 dinner?"

Price squinted. "Yeah."

"Congratulations, you gave yourself a stomach ulcer by slamming the ibuprofen like Polos," Janie murmured, turning over her notes to annotate her recommendations. "Four weeks--

"--fockin' hell, come in with a limp and leave in a fockin' body bag--"

"--so that's five weeks enforced leave."

Price opened his mouth to argue the toss but it clicked shut when she raised an eyebrow at him. He knew better than to push his luck. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me marm, John. It makes me feel old." She tapped her biro against the clipboard and then gripped it against her stomach, her head tilted, as she considered his miserable sulk. "You need to consider that promotion in the next few years."

"It'll take me outta the field," Price grumbled.

"If you snap something else at the wrong moment, then a bullet's going to take you out of the field. Think it over."

Nikprice Hurt/Comfort?

Yeah, it's Nikprice Hurt/Comfort.

#captain john price #nikprice #cod #call of duty

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smallestapplin · 2 days

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hi so i just saw your castlevania stuff and i LOVE what you do!!! im FEASTING over here!!! can i get Vlad fluff please i love my husband so much, can be anything; fluff, first meeting, wedding; im gonna love it either way :3

*cracks knuckles* I got you homie

Reader is gender neutral ^^

Despite the castle being surrounded in an eternal night you can still feel the morning in your bones as you awake, the moon light still being all that peers from the windows. Your room is warm with the sound of the fireplace softly crackling from the foot of your bed, illuminating the dark room with a gentle light.

And yet you still feel groggy, your bed far too cozy for you to get up just yet. You roll over, hoping to snuggle up to your husband, only to be met with nothing just more bed.

A displeased groan leaves your throat as you open your eyes, squinting at the empty spot that now offends you. You know Vlad doesn't need sleep or at least as much sleep as you do, it would be wrong to demand him to stay put while you slept for so many hours.

But normally he's memorized the times you wake up and is there before you do, happy to greet you from your slumber, or at least lay with you as he reads a book.

You grumble more, taking the pillow from his side of the bed to hold close to your chest and roll back to your side, curling up with your back facing the door. His scent on the pillow is faint, but it's enough to soothe you back to sleep.

You're not sure how long you napped for, but you know you're awoken by the sound of the heavy oak door creaking open and oh so quietly being shut, but you don't move, still processing the truama that is waking up.

You don't hear foot steps, but that's normal when your beloved is King of the night.

"Dear, I know you're awake. Won't you indulge me with your grace?"

You still don't move to face him, pouting as you hug his pillow tighter. Dracula laughs softly, shaking his head at your antics.

"My love, is this about me not being here when you awoke?"

"No, the room is a little chill- of course it is. My own husband, abandoned me leaving me in my lonesome! Such a large empty bed, with my beloved gone-"

You roll onto your back throwing an arm over your eyes dramatically. Your arm his grabbed and pulled away from your face, letting you lock eyes with Dracula's amber ones.

You smile at him, unable to even pretend to be mad at him.

"I'm sorry, dearest, Death required me for far longer than I had anticipated. In truth I missed seeing your peaceful face." Dracula moves his free hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb across it.

His long nail delicately dragging across your skin with every move, it honestly tickles you can't hold back a soft giggle.

You pull your arm free from his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"I suppose I can forgive you, but on one condition."

To think you're making a deal with the king of vampires, Lord Dracula himself, tempting him. His lays his forward against yours, seemingly unbothered by your teasing.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"I get...hmmm....three kisses and one hour of cuddles, cause I know you're a busy man but it's the least you can do after leaving by my lonesome."

His chuckle bleeds into a deep purr rumbling within his chest.

"Of course, anything for my betrothed."

How can he be mad when you look so smug and proud of yourself like this? He tilts your chin up giving him easier access to your lips. You tighten your arms around him, pulling him as close as you can, before your lips mesh in a slow but firm kiss. His facial hair tickling your skin.

When he pulls away your eyes flutter open.

"That was one."

"Oh, are you counting now? Do you only want three, or should I spoil you a little more?"

You perk up at his words, always eager for more of your husband's love.

"Well since you mentioned it, I'm always happy to get more kisses from you."

Dracula chuckles before moving his hands to your hips and flipping you both over, swapping places as he lays back against the large and lavish bed, with you laid perfectly on his chest.

"Who am I to deny my love?"

How he wishes he could stay cozied up with you like this forever.

Your giggles filling the room along side the crackling fire, you continuously kissing him, if not his lips then his cheek and neck, just wanting more and more affection and to spoil him as he spoils you.

#I love Dracula so damn much #castlevania #castlevania Dracula #castlevania x reader #castlevania Dracula x reader #Dracula castlevania #Dracula castlevania x reader #fluff :3 #castlevania fluff #I love that good domestic shit #I hope you enjoy!

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fleshengine · 2 days

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What happened to your friend does sound awful, but it doesn't sound like something that's actually unique to trans women. Someone making false claims after a bad breakup and people believing claims of victimization are fairly normal occurrences across the board, especially since people do generally believe it's praxis to believe all victims immediately. The fact that your friends came around in a matter of days is a better than average result.

Hi Velvet, I think this is the second or third time you've come on to one of my posts where I talked about transmisogyny and tagged it as such. Those posts don't get a ton of traction, do you just like... patrol the transmisogyny tag or something?

Anyway I do not feel a need to clarrify myself to you. But I will add that there were a lot of details that I didn't add to the post, stuff I will not be discussing, that solidifies my belief that it was an example of transmisogyny. I'm not at liberty to talk about some of it, and for the rest I honestly just do not care enough to defend myself to you. I lived my life and you read a rant about it.

That aside, do you know how many transfems I know who have been made out to be rapists/mentally ill after they broke up with their partners? Do you want me to list all the normal occurences across the board that have made me personally terrified to show others intimacy? Why is it that when someone says "that trans girl is a rapist!" people believe her but when trans girls say "we keep getting called rapists, this sucks" we get people like you telling us that it's normal to be made out into a charicature and systematically cut off from your entire social group?

Now that I've got that out of the way, let's dig into your word choice.

"What happened to your friend" this voice is so passive it's going 45 in a 50. "What that guy did to your friend" is much more direct and active, that's a sentence fragment that drinks orange juice with its breakfast. I probably would've accepted "what was done to your friend" because even though it's passive it still emphasizes that someone did something wrong. But you didn't even do that. Instead you completely removed the idea of fault from the equation, no one did it, nothing caused it, it was divine intervention that my friend nearly lost their entire support network.

"does sound awful" it doesn't sound like anything. It is awful, through and through. I hate the man that did it even though my friend has forgiven him.

"better than average result" average what? Messy breakup or transfem targetting rumor mill? It was a better than average result, I can attest to the average and it's not good. I'm glad I was there to sway people back to reality.

Moving on, you only addressed one of the two things I mentioned. I said "break up with a trans woman and unperson her" and "unperson any trans woman who's minorly annoying." You completely skipped the whole "a guy tried to tell people I was a gaslighter because I asked him to stop calling my friend a sociopath" bit. The post wasn't even saying that what happened was specifically transmisogynistic (it was), I was literally just talking about how stuff I was hearing mapped onto my life.

I also find it interesting, how you put this in an ask instead of a reblog. A reblog puts whatever I said on your account, an account I've heard you regularly use to support transmisogynists. I'm happy to talk to you more, genuinely I like to argue and you seem interesting enough. But I want what I say on your account. I'm not going to respond to another ask or reblog on this one until you reblog the original. Here I even got you a link.

#transphobia #transmisogyny #transmisogyny discourse #trans woman #transfem #I add tags because it typically hikes the tags on stuff like this by a factor of ten okay? I'm a hack

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would-you-punt-them · 2 days

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Hope you are doing well and are having an amazing day! You're pretty awesome, don't forget it <3

i'm doing alright (or better, at least)

to be honest i missed most of the last couple days because i've been suffering from extreme fatigue

yesterday i was talking to someone, and they instantly started giving me this weird look

so i asked if i'd said something wrong, at which point they told me i just faceplanted mid-sentence and fell asleep right in front of them, and then woke up and kept talking as though nothing had happened

can someone webMD that shit i don't think it's normal eepy deepy sleepy levels

#asks #not a poll

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mogamuncher · 6 hours

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Heeey I'm back! It's finally time for the full Cakeverse analysis gang!

Ok, so, for a refresher:

There's the Forks, the Cakes and the Plates (normal people), and it goes like this:

Plates are just normal people, the majority of the world population, nothing new here.

Forks: Can't taste and sometimes can't smell either, sometimes they used be able to taste but lost it with age; either way, they can only ever taste cakes.

Cakes: Basically normal people except that they're delicious, everything from them (flesh, tears, saliva, etc) tastes like cake (or other foods if you want). You can't tell who's a cake or not unless you're a Fork that's tasting them in some way.

Now, I have to add some stuff that's really interesting and that the og author said, that we'll be getting into today.

• Forks go absolutely bat shit insane when they taste the Cakes most of the time, that can lead to a lot of things, cannibalism, sex, or (if you're cultured) both.

• Both Cakes and Forks suffer from their own societal plights. Cakes die a lot, and Forks when discovered are instantly pinned as murderers, criminals and perverts, even if they haven't done anything wrong yet.

• Cakes can derail a Fork's entire life, and Forks are like sin and temptation to Cakes.

Now, I want to talk about these because they absolutely fucking vexed me and now I want to make this all of y'all's problem.

「The First Taste」

It's essentially a common rule as said by the author that the Forks go insane after feeling the taste of a Cake, now, let's talk about: Why?

See, Cakeverse is technically an Au based from the likes of Omegaverse, which you can see by the structure being similar to Alpha/Beta/Omega with the three types of people out there. But, in ABO the Alphas going insane is due to a specific event, heats, which are there specifically for reproduction and are said to bring out animal instincts out of people's control, while Forks are based on simply taste, food, and not something as biological.

Of course it's up to the individual writer to an extent, but my interpretation of why Forks lose it when they taste Cakes is more psychological when compared to Alphas in the Omegaverse.

Imagine that you are completely unable to see color, never once have you seen one, you grew up hearing all about how wonderful colors are, you saw others compliment the colors of several works of art, you heard all about the colors of the world around you, but all that you see is beige and grey. Now, imagine that one day you bump into someone, and suddenly you're able to see all the colors, for the first time ever in your life, you can finally experience blue skies and green grass, you can see the same way the rest of the world sees, something that was fundamentally missing from you is finally gifted to you by this stranger on a silver tray.

You're finally complete.

That's the reality of what Forks go through, years of eating tasteless food, seeing people enjoy food wholeheartedly and rant about the tastes, hearing about the differences between expensive food and cheap food, and then suddenly finally tasting cake. Of course they go insane and fixate on it, it's like the final puzzle piece finally sliding into place, something that they've been missing this whole time being manifested with only a taste.

Before, eating was a chore, something simply to survive there was no joy in it, no fun to be found in desserts or snacks, but with only a single kiss the Fork finally feels what it is like to crave food, to want food for the taste.

Cakeverse in nature is oddly psychological, playing with the concept of taking away something extremely core to the human experience, taste. It's inherent and everyone has it, you'd probably feel like a freak of nature if you didn't have something while everyone else has, right?

That's what Cakes bring Forks; normalcy, joy and purpose, it's basically like a shot of endorphins all at once straight into your bloodstream, there's a good chance it'd hit like a truck and fuck you up majorly.

Forks acting rashly probably looks different than when Alphas do the same, because the motive is inherently different, but the desperation is arguably more raw.

A lot can be written on what that reaction would be:

Immediately trying to taste the Cake (kissing, licking, biting), trying to play cool only to strike later (potential kidnapping, manipulation, planning and scheming in general), the Fork can try to resist temptation or maybe the Cake can notice the extreme reaction and run away, maybe the Cake can instigate and bait the Fork to take a bite.

It could lead to fluff, to relationships starting, relationships ending, it could smut, it could be gory cannibalism, hell, it could be both.

Either way, the sheer amount of character study that could be made out of this tidbit alone is insane, and the story concepts don't stop there!

「We Do, In Fact, Live In a Society」

Cakes don't know who they are until it's too late, but I can imagine that in society they'd be treated with a lot of extra care if they are known beforehand, as they are constantly in risk of dying.

Imagine that they'd also be majorly babyfied, the "nooo poor babies that can't do anything wrong, poor helpless and weak Cakes, they clearly can't take care of themselves, they're so vulnerable, don't worry I'll speak for you to protect your honor" would be insane. Any Cake that consensually and willingly gets with a Fork will be doubted if they truly wanted to do it, think nosy people pulling them aside to ask if they're ok and pressing to see if they're abused, think people immediately thinking that Cakes can't consent to anything with a Fork on principle despite them being grown adults.

Online discourse would definitely have people saying "Cakes are minor coded" or some shit, mark my words.

While Forks would be instantly persecuted for everything. Because of something they didn't choose, that was inherited at birth, they now are fully seem as murderers, kidnappers, rapists and just the lowest of the low. People will gossip, people will get defensive, people will cower any time you slightly raise your voice, you're seen as a predator, treated no different than a wild bear. To society at large, you're an unruly dog, and all eyes will be on you forever, watching, waiting for the day that you take a bite.

In a sense, it's almost like any Forks that do commit crimes instantly have a justification to do so, it's expected, really, you're a Fork, if course you'd snap one day. It's both maligned and normalized, everyone expects it and it almost gives Forks a reason to do so. Forever a self fulfilling prophecy.

Now I'm sorry that I'll keep bringing the Omegaverse up, it's just that it's really handy for comparison, but I find it fascinating that in a way, the societal effects of this are a mish mesh of the societal views seen in ABO, but like, in a way that doesn't make me want to vomit.

Can I be so fr with you guys right now? I don't like the societal parts of the Omegaverse, ever since I was a kid in the early hay days of the internet, that always made me uncomfortable, and it's also a bit lazy in a way. The problems in society with the Omegaverse are basically just Sexism, it's misogyny with mpreg, and a lot of fics end up feeling like a Handmaiden's Tale with mpreg. Replace Alphas with men and Omegas with Women and you get the Omegaverse, though it gets a bit interesting since there technically is a built-in "fuck or die" and aphrodisiac system with heats/ruts, but very few writers do something interesting with it.

My problem is that it's always either uncomfortable or outright boring, very little fics do it well and most of the time authors simply choose to side step it altogether, which I completely understand and actually prefer at this point.

I bring all this up because Cakeverse actually brings a lot of interesting concepts up in it's consequences on the world at large, the nature of Forks and Cakes mirrors a lot of real life concepts, but leaves enough fantastical elements that there's still intrigue in what could be explored and seem from authors writing certain details of it.

Would there be Cake support groups? Would there be Fork rights activists? Would there be people who are both Forks and Cakes, like a hybrid type? What are different relationship types seen as in the eyes of society as a whole?

It's all so complicated and the problems are different between the both of them, also, they're evenly split, which is a breath of fresh air.

Now, it's time to get even deeper into this, what are exactly Forks and Cakes relationship with each other like?

「Would You Still Love Me If I Was Cake?」

According to the author, Cakes can derail a Fork's life and Forks are temptation to Cakes. Now, why is that?

Imagine you're a Fork, living your life trying to do what you can with what's been handed to you, probably being discriminated against if you haven't been able to hide it well, when suddenly you taste someone (kiss or by accident, like a shared water bottle), and next thing you know you lise your mind. Your entire world falls apart, thoughts of dreams, future, your own sense of morality, it all melts away like sugar in water because you just experienced heaven and now it's all you can think about.

Someone completely normal beforehand, suddenly driven to obsession with just one moment, an entire life detailed into the unknown because they just had a taste of cake, thoughts being all about one person and their taste, the inability to stop even you're desperate to do so. It's madness, and almost like a tragedy, doomed by their own personal narrative of Fork meets Cake, the Forks turns into a starving beast whether they want to or not.

But Cakes? Imagine you have someone you love, and they want you so badly it drives you mad, imagine kissing the same lips that want to be stained with your taste, imagine putting yourself in the way of jaws that any of these days can close down on you and swallow you whole. You're constantly in contact with someone that could just straight up eat you, consume you whole and leave nothing behind, but your heart aches for them, you present yourself in a silver platter again and again.

Maybe you want to be eaten, to be consumed. Maybe you like being wanted, maybe you enjoy providing something to to others, you made them so happy that it doesn't even matter to you that they are taking chunks out of you, you'll gladly let yourself be torn apart if it means someone else is satisfied.

It's all about the usage of "Cannibalism as a Metaphor for Love™", it's all about loving someone but constantly wanting to eat them into non-existence, it's about to struggle between your brain heart and stomach.

It's about having your cake and eating it too.

The themes, the metaphors, the opportunities are endless and frankly I'm driving myself insane just imagining all of it, the angst also would be utterly fucking insane, imagine you live someone and you eat them, wouldn't you be upset? You loved them and you killed them yourself, with your own hands, their taste is on your lips and you locked your plate clean.

I'm screaming and crying and throwing up as we speak, the number of things you can do here are endless, soooo. . . Let's talk about some of my ideas!

「All My Fanfiction Titles Are Just Songs」

Last post I basically tagged a bunch of fandoms that I wish would use this trope (I'll also be doing that with this post), so now I'm going to showing some of the ideas I had for this AU that I might or might not write in the future, all of which you guys are totally free to use as prompts as well (just tag me on them lmao)

So, going ship by ship:

「Loveit」: Dead Plate fanfic, Vincent x Rody, Fork!Vincent and Cake!Rody. I imagine that the moment Vincent finds out is during the Best Served Hot ending, after biting Rody's ear, his reaction would show instantly on his face and Rody would notice right away. After that it can lead to a lot of things, fighting, smut and cannibalism galore, their relationship would only get more complicated after such a discovery. Hell, you can even have Vincent find out earlier, if you truly want more juicy drama, maybe Vincent will attempt to make Rody into the meal instead of Mason this time? For funsies you could even reverse it, Rody as a Fork would be fascinating to see, him bonding with Vincent that he also can't taste anything, only for him to find out later that he can taste Vincent himself, holy shit the intrigue.

「Eat You」: Death Note, Lawlight, Fork!Light and Cake!L. Imagine Light both having to hide the fact that he's Kira, but also having to hide the fact that he's a Fork, imagine the never leaving stain that being a Fork would be on his own self-perception of perfection, imagine the so called god that punishes criminals also being considered a criminal by default in society's eyes if he's ever found out. Kira selling out his own kind because most criminals would likely be Forks (whether they were rightfully convicted or not), and then comes in L, a detective, a nuisance, Light's equal and a Cake. Maybe Lights would find that out later on, maybe while they're playing as friends in college or while chained together, and now L had effortlessly thrown another wrench in his life yet again by default, like they're meant to be opposed by fate itself, where Kira is a Fork L is a Cake. L would likely goad Light on, trying to bait Kira out, by any means necessary, even if it means being eaten.

「Eat You Piece by Piece」: Hear me out, Batjokes. Fork!Bruce having to hold himself back from breaking his own morals due to finding out Joker is a Cake, Fork!Joker only getting deeper into his Batman obsession after tasting a Cake!Batman, Both Forks bonded by not having taste, maybe both are Forks that differ on how they react to Cakes (Joker regularly eating them while Bruce retains his morals and chooses to not hurt them), maybe both Cakes that got here because they were almost eating (different Batman and Joker origin stories?). The opportunities are all intriguing and promptly end in bloodshed, expect angst and discussions of what is moral, also just so much angst holy shit this shit hurts.

「I Eat Boys Up」: Dungeon Meshi, Labru, Fork!Laios and Cake!Labru. I'm thinking post canon by accident, maybe something like sharing utensils, and I'm going to be so fr with you right now, this story coming from me would be a lot of romanticism through food metaphors and unending smut, feral Laios is my equivalent of heroin and I could imagine him describing Kabru's taste in detail to him while eating him out. But if smut isn't your jam, exploring how Laios and his monster obsession, especially in the form of food, as someone who can't taste would be intriguing, in a story so closely tied to food, you have to wonder how it would all change if the main character couldn't even taste. Also, I doubt Kabru would take the knowledge of him being essentially prey well, so there's that bag of worms to go into if you want.

「Blame Gluttony」: This one is purely self indulgent but like, Re:Zero with any ship, Cake! Subaru and Fork!anyone else. Imagine Subaru's world doesn't have this Cakeverse nonsense at all, but the world he's transported to has, imagine how scary it would be that one loop he suddenly finds out that he's essentially universal prey here (maybe in the second loop with Elsa), imagine the weight of all the things that already are trying to kill him along with the fact that he's also got a new thing to worry about? Maybe instead of just the rabbit loop, there's now multiple loops where Subaru is eaten alive, maybe there's loops where his dear friends themselves are eating him. Can you imagine if Emilia was a Fork? If he found out after the kiss of death and she commented on the taste of his lips as he was dying, if it came up again after their kiss, Subaru having to tackle with his love and hear belonging to someone that would one day eat him whole. Imagine the witch not longer just wants to touch his heart or kiss him, but she also bites him when he tries to tell the secret. Imagine maybe Rem is also a Fork, imagine that his death by her hands also involved her tearing into him chunk by chunk. What if Otto was a Fork, what if Reinhard was one? Seriously all the opportunities are equally traumatizing and I'm living for it!

Honorable mentions include: Persona Shuake and Shuada (Fork!Protags and Cake!Detectives) for the optimal mutual murder extravaganza, Okegom DSP Satanivlis (Fork!Ivlis and Cake!Satanick) for a rare case of role swapping, South Park Kyman (any way works tbh) for mutually assured destruction, Slay the Princess (Fork!Princess and Cake!Birb) because themes, Soukouku (Fork!Dazai and Cake!Chuuya) for making canon even worse than it already is, frankly any investigrave game would be peak here, Hannigram for obvious reasons.

But that's all I have for now, so, what have we learned here?

We learned that: I'm mentally ill and you need to write about the Cakeverse NOW.

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