leirone

[divorcedwife]

love this guy, sure hope his life doesn't take a turn for a worse after this

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴? 𝑶𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎? (Kinktober special) (J.M)

⤷Credits: Pinterest

Pornstar!Joel Miller x F!Reader | WC : 9.4k | Proof Read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | Kinktober Request list | Kinktober Masterlist | asks : OPEN

Summary: He hunts you through the shadows, every sick, voyeuristic moment immortalized on camera. But it's not just fear coursing through you—your most depraved desires awaken when he finally closes in and takes what he's been watching from afar.

Warnings : dub-con themes, making of porn, voyeurism (making porn and having sex for an audience), toys, role-playing, stalking, power dynamics, cat and chase, spanking choking, knife play, manhandling, praise, dirty talk, degrading, oral M!, breeding kink, fear, mask kink, VERY ROUGH, KINKY AND DARK

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for a LONGGG TIME, I'm not lying. I loved this idea, and I hope you guys love it just as much. Thank you so much to my lovely mutuals who listened to me yap and yap about this for almost two months. I'm so sorry I haven't been active. I'm a teaching assistant, and life is wild.

You stood in the kitchen, trying hard not to glance at the camera perched atop the microwave. Its red recording light blinked steadily, reminding you that every move, every breath, was being captured. The sound of popcorn popping on the stove filled the silence of the house, a comforting rhythm in the eerie stillness. The blue tint of the night, barely enough to see by, blended with the dim candlelight scattered around the room, creating a shadowy, unsettling atmosphere. It was the perfect setting for what was about to go down, and you had to keep your composure, fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across your lips.

This wasn’t just any night. This was the fall special for Sinning Sinners, the site that you and Joel had built from the ground up. It wasn’t your usual shoot where you’d just pull out a camera, fuck each other’s brains out, and call it a day. No, this was something more—something you both lived for, something that had become a tradition, an annual ritual that made your fans lose their fucking minds. Every fall, you and Joel took things up a notch, diving headfirst into the darker, kinkier side of your fantasies. It wasn’t just about sex; it was about pushing boundaries, about blending fear and desire until the line between them blurred into something that made your audience addicted.

Last year, you’d done a haunted corn maze, where Joel had fucked you right in the middle of it, surrounded by the rustling stalks and the cool night air. You could still feel the roughness of the corn beneath your hands, still hear the way you’d moaned like a slut as Joel took you in that eerie, isolated field. The memory alone made heat pool between your legs, a filthy reminder of how wild it had been, how much your fans had eaten it up. They’d gone crazy for it, the combination of fear and lust driving them to hit replay again and again. That’s what Sinning Sinners was all about—giving them something they couldn’t get anywhere else, something that made them come back for more, desperate for whatever twisted shit you and Joel would come up with next.

It had started with a late-night viewing of Scream. The room was dark except for the flickering light of the TV, casting eerie shadows across Joel’s face as you watched the familiar scenes unfold. You’d both seen it countless times, but something about that night felt different—charged. Joel’s hand rested on your thigh, his grip tightening with every kill, every chase, his eyes never leaving the screen.

When the credits rolled, he turned to you, his expression unreadable for a moment before that spark of twisted inspiration flickered in his eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice low and deliberate, “we’ve never done anything with Ghostface before.” There was a pause, the air between you thick with the weight of his words. “What if…this year, we take it further? Darker, dirtier. You could be the clueless victim, and I could be him. Stalking you, making you wait until I’m ready to strike.”

The second he mentioned it, your heart skipped a beat, excitement rushing through your veins. You could picture it already—Joel in the mask, his voice taunting you through the fabric, the thrill of being hunted, knowing what was coming but not when. It was perfect. The embodiment of fear and lust, wrapped in a twisted, beautiful package

The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic popping of kernels on the stove. You focused on the mundane task, pouring the popcorn into a bowl as the salty scent filled the air, trying to keep your cool. But it wasn’t easy. The night was thick with tension, the kind you could almost taste, like the first touch of a lover’s hand. You knew Joel was out there, somewhere in the darkness, watching you with those predatory eyes, waiting for his cue. It was all part of the game—the unspoken thrill of knowing you were being hunted, of playing dumb when you were anything but.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to glance out the window. You’d agreed not to look, not to break character, even though every instinct screamed at you to check, to catch a glimpse of him lurking in the shadows. Instead, you turned your attention to the DVD shelf, your fingers brushing over the spines of the old horror movies. The camera, placed discreetly beside it, was rolling, capturing the subtle tremor in your hands, the way your breath hitched when you thought about what was coming. You grabbed a classic—something with blood, screams, and just the right amount of tension—and turned your back to the camera, giving the viewers a perfect shot of the darkened window behind you. They’d be watching, waiting, knowing exactly what was coming even if you were supposed to be oblivious.

You carried the bowl and the DVD down the hallway, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet adding to the tension. The house felt alive, every shadow shifting as you passed as if it were in on the game. Your thoughts wandered to what was waiting in the bedroom, not just the TV and blankets, but also the props and toys you’d stashed away earlier. A black silk blindfold, a sleek vibrator, a collection of menacingly gleaming, faux weapons—everything was set, just in case things took a darker turn. The details mattered, after all.They were what made Sinning Sinners so addictive. The unpredictability, the raw, unfiltered lust that seeped into every frame, every shot. You never planned the sex, only the build-up—the suspense, the tension that made it all so fucking good.

You reached your bedroom, setting the DVD case on the dresser before catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You paused, taking in the reflection—a girl who looked sweet and innocent, but whose eyes held darker secrets. The oversized Scream shirt you wore hung just low enough to brush the tops of your thighs, barely covering the black lace panties beneath. It was the perfect look for what was coming next, just enough innocence to make the chase all the more thrilling.

You reached your bedroom, setting the DVD case on the dresser before catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You paused, taking in the reflection—a girl who looked sweet and innocent, but whose eyes held darker secrets. The oversized Scream shirt you wore hung just low enough to brush the tops of your thighs, barely covering the black lace panties beneath. It was the perfect look for what was coming next, just enough innocence to make the chase all the more thrilling.

You grabbed the old-school camera from the nightstand, the one you loved for its Y2K aesthetic, and snapped a quick photo. The flash momentarily blinded you, and you knew this shot would have to be carefully edited out of the final cut, but when your vision cleared, the result was exactly what you wanted. A keepsake, a little reminder of the night and the game you were about to play.

Finally, you settled into bed, propping yourself up against the pillows as the movie started to play. The flickering light from the TV cast eerie shadows across the room, heightening the tension. You let yourself get lost in it for a moment, the familiar scenes of blood and screams playing out on the screen, a reflection of the chaos that would soon unfold in your own home. But your mind wasn’t on the movie. It was on Joel, on the darkness creeping closer, on the game you’d both set in motion.

And then, you heard it—a faint creak, barely audible over the sound of the movie. But it was enough. Your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you strained to listen. Another sound followed, this one more distinct, coming from the living room. The cue. It was time.

You slid out of bed, the cool air kissing your bare legs as you padded toward the door. Every step was deliberate, every movement calculated to match the growing tension. You were supposed to be scared, after all. You were supposed to be the clueless girl in the horror movie, the one who heard a noise and just had to investigate. It was cliché, but that was the point. The audience would be yelling at their screens, telling you to stay put, but you knew better. You knew exactly what was coming.

The living room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the floor as you slowly entered. The popcorn bowl from earlier sat untouched on your dresser, a silent reminder of the night’s buildup. Your eyes drifted to the window, where the curtains fluttered ever so slightly, caught by a breeze you hadn’t noticed before. You tried to ignore the unsettling chill that crept up your spine, but you couldn’t help but notice the faint movement just outside—a hint of something, or someone, lurking in the darkness.

But you felt it. You felt him.

You took a hesitant step forward, your eyes scanning the room as if you were searching for the source of the sound. The anticipation was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw it—the flicker of movement, the unmistakable shape of a figure slipping into the room. You turned, just in time to see him, clad in black, the Ghostface mask gleaming in the dim light.

Your heart leaped into your throat as he lunged at you. You yelped, more out of excitement than fear, and bolted toward the kitchen. Your bare feet slapped against the hardwood as you ran, the thrill of the chase making your pulse race. You knew he was right behind you, could feel his presence like a shadow closing in.

The kitchen was dark, lit only by the faint glow of candles. You skidded to a stop, chest heaving as you spun around to face him. There he was, just a few feet away, the knife in his hand catching the light as he approached. The sight of him, the menace in his slow, deliberate steps, sent a delicious thrill through you.

You backed up against the counter, feeling the cool edge press into your lower back as Joel closed in on you. The Ghostface mask obscured his face, but you knew his eyes were locked on you, hungry, predatory. The thrill of the chase had your heart racing, adrenaline and desire blending into a heady mix that made your skin tingle. You watched as he glanced around the kitchen, his gaze settling on the knife block just within arm’s reach. He didn’t have a weapon with him—of course, he didn’t—but now, as his gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a large kitchen knife, the game took on a sharper, more dangerous edge.

Your breath hitched as he raised the knife, its gleaming blade catching the candlelight. For a split second, you were frozen, caught between the rush of fear and the wave of arousal that flooded your senses. This was what you craved—the danger, the tension, the feeling of being completely at someone else’s mercy. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

In a sudden burst of movement, you lifted your foot and stomped down hard on his, the force of it catching him by surprise. Joel grunted, the sound muffled by the mask, and his grip on the knife faltered just enough for you to slip past him. You bolted for the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as you sprinted toward the bedroom, the thrill of the escape making you lightheaded. You could hear him behind you, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet house, getting closer with every second.

You burst into the bedroom and slammed the door behind you, but it barely slowed him down. You knew he was right there, just a heartbeat away. You stumbled back, your legs shaky from the rush, and tripped over the edge of the rug. You went down hard, knees hitting the floor with a jolt of pain that only added to the intensity of the moment. The door crashed open, and there he was, looming in the doorway, the knife still clutched in his hand.

“Please, mister Ghostface,” you whimpered, crawling backward as he advanced on you. “Don’t kill me. I’ll do anything.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, breathless, desperate, exactly what he wanted to hear. You were playing your role to perfection, the terrified victim begging for her life, but beneath the surface, you were buzzing with anticipation. You knew the script—you knew he wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t break character. The silence was part of the game, part of what made it so thrilling. It kept you on edge, never knowing what he’d do next, never knowing when he’d strike.

You tried to crawl away, but you were trembling too much, your movements slow, uncoordinated. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, the pulse of arousal matching the rhythm of your pounding heart. You knew you should be scared, terrified even, but all you could think about was how fucking turned on you were. Every time you glanced up at that mask, and saw the cold, expressionless eyes staring down at you, it sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

Your hands slipped on the floor as you tried to scramble to your feet, but before you could get far, he was on you. Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back toward him. You yelped, twisting in his grip, but it was useless. You were caught, and you both knew it. You fell back onto your knees, breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked up at him, eyes wide, pleading.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. The air between you was thick with tension, every nerve in your body screaming with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and yet the thrill of it sent shivers down your spine. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but you knew Joel was beneath it, knew he was savoring this moment as much as you were. The thought made your pulse quicken, the heat between your legs growing more intense with every passing second.

Joel’s grip on your ankle was firm and possessive, and you could feel the strength in his hand as he slowly, deliberately pulled you closer. You tried to resist, to put up a token fight, but it was half-hearted at best. Deep down, you wanted this—wanted him to overpower you, to take control. The struggle only heightened your desire, making your skin tingle with excitement as you were dragged back across the floor.

His gloved hand trailed up your leg, rough leather brushing against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You bit your lip, stifling a moan as his touch grew more suggestive, his fingers grazing the hem of your panties. The sensation was maddening, a teasing reminder of what you craved, what you’d been waiting for all night. You arched your back slightly, pushing into his touch, silently begging for more, but he didn’t give in—not yet.

Instead, he took his time, savoring your helplessness, the way you trembled beneath him. His other hand found its way to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to make you squirm. He held you there, pinned in place, and the dominance in his grip made your breath hitch, a sharp intake of air that only made you feel more vulnerable, more at his mercy. The knife, still clutched in his other hand, gleamed ominously in the dim light, a silent reminder of the power he held over you.

With a sudden, forceful motion, Joel lifted you by your hips, his strength taking you by surprise as he hoisted you onto the bed. You let out a gasp as your body was flipped, your stomach pressed against the mattress, your ass in the air. The position left you exposed, and vulnerable, and the cool air on your bare skin only heightened the sensation. Your panties clung to you, soaked through with arousal, and the thought of him seeing you like this—desperate, needy—sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

You turned your head to look back at him, the mask still hiding his face, but you knew what was behind it. You knew the look in his eyes, the hunger, the need. It made your heart race, made you want to push him further, to see just how far he’d take it. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you wiggled your hips slightly, teasing him, challenging him.

“What’s the matter, Ghostface?” you taunted, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You gonna make me beg for it?”

The tension in the room crackled like electricity, your words hanging in the air, daring him to react. You could feel the heat of his stare through the mask, the way his breathing had grown heavier, more deliberate. You were pushing your luck, and you knew it, but that was half the fun. You wanted to see just how far you could go, how much you could provoke him before he snapped.

Joel’s hand tightened on your waist, fingers digging in harder, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that slipped from your lips. The sting of it, the roughness, only added to the ache between your legs, made you grind against the bed in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure building inside you. You wanted him—wanted him to take you, to claim you, to make you his. But he didn’t move, didn’t give you what you were silently pleading for.

Instead, he leaned in close, the knife gliding along the curve of your ass, cold metal sending chills down your spine. You shivered, the sensation both terrifying and thrilling, the line between fear and desire blurring even further. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—knew this was all part of the game—but that didn’t stop your heart from racing, didn’t stop the pulse of arousal that throbbed between your thighs.

But when he finally spoke, it wasn’t with words. It was with action. His hand left your waist and came down hard on your ass, the sharp smack of it echoing through the room. You gasped, the sudden pain mingling with pleasure, leaving you breathless. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, that rough, unyielding touch that reminded you who was in control. Your bratty defiance melted away, replaced by a desperate need to please him, to be good for him.

The weight of the bed shifted beneath you, the mattress dipping slightly as Joel moved. You could feel his presence hovering behind you, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. The anticipation was unbearable, your body thrumming with a desperate need for him. You knew what was coming, could sense the change in the atmosphere, the way the game was evolving into something even more intense.

You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the sensations coursing through you. The sound of fabric rustling behind you sent a shiver down your spine, the unmistakable sign that Joel was shedding his clothes, leaving only the mask to maintain the illusion. Your heart raced at the thought, your imagination running wild with what he’d do next, how he’d use that control to push you to your limits.

The bed shifted again, and you felt his hands on your hips, rough and demanding as he flipped you over onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open, immediately locking onto the masked face hovering above you. The sight was both terrifying and exhilarating, that blank, soulless expression sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The contrast between the mask and the naked body beneath it was a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play, the thrill of surrendering to something dark and unknown.

Before you could react, his hand was on your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck with a possessive grip that made your breath catch. The pressure wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to send a clear message—one of dominance, of control. Your pulse quickened, the thrum of it vibrating against his palm as he leaned in closer, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

His other hand moved to your mouth, a single finger pressing against your lips in a silent command to stay quiet. The shh motion was simple, but the intensity behind it made your stomach twist with excitement. He didn’t need to speak; his actions said everything, and you were more than willing to follow his lead. You were completely at his mercy, and the thought of what he might do next made your body hum with anticipation.

Your thoughts spiraled in a chaotic mix of desire and anticipation, each passing second tightening the knot of tension inside you. Pinned beneath Joel’s weight, you could feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he loomed over you, the room closing in, suffocating you in the intensity of the moment. Each breath felt heavier, every second stretching out, the silence amplifying the raw need that pulsed between you like a live wire. Your mind raced, imagining all the ways he might break you—would he drag it out, tease you until you were trembling and desperate, or would he take what he wanted in that dark, primal way that left you aching for more? The uncertainty was maddening, fueling the fire that burned hotter with every second, leaving you trembling beneath him, craving whatever came next.

His hand lingered on your throat, the pressure a warning, a promise of what was to come. But then it shifted, slipping away only to tangle roughly in your hair, yanking your head back with a sharp tug that sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You gasped, the sting of it igniting something deep inside you, a spark that fanned into a wildfire. His grip tightened, possessive, commanding, and it made your blood hum with anticipation. But before you could even think to protest, to utter a single word, his other hand cracked across your cheek with a sharp, stinging slap. The sound echoed through the room, mingling with your ragged breath, the pain mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly, your body instinctively arching toward him, craving more.

You whimpered, the sound breaking free before you could stop it, a desperate little plea that hung in the air between you. But before you could say more, Joel brought a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. The power in that small gesture sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite down on your lower lip to keep from crying out again. Your mind scrambled, caught between the urge to obey and the desire to push him, to see just how far he’d go to enforce that command.

“Please…,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, the word laced with the need clawing at you from the inside. “Please, I need—”

His hand snapped out, pressing against your mouth in a firm, silencing grip. The warning was clear: no more words. The message sent a rush of heat straight to your core, leaving you trembling beneath him, your breath hitching as the tension wound tighter. The edge of danger, the unknown, had you teetering on the brink, each second a delicious torture.

His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back further, exposing your neck as his hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around your throat again, squeezing just enough to keep you on edge, to remind you who was in control. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness pressing against your thigh, a silent promise of what was to come. When he finally released you, your lips parted on their own, eager and ready, a silent invitation, your body screaming for him, for the release only he could give.

Joel didn’t waste a second. The urgency in his movements was palpable as he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself. Your eyes widened at the sight of him—thick, veined, and already slick with precum. It stood proud and heavy, the tip flushed a deep, angry red, a testament to how badly he needed this, how badly he needed you. The sight of it made your mouth water, every nerve in your body singing with the anticipation of what was coming next. He didn’t bother with teasing, didn’t ease you into it. No, he was done with patience.

With a rough tug on your hair, he pulled your head down, forcing your mouth open as he guided the head of his cock to your lips. The taste of salt hit your tongue, heady and intoxicating, and you opened wider, welcoming him in. He pushed forward, the thick head sliding past your lips, inch by inch, stretching your mouth in the most delicious way. There was no gentleness, no care in his movements—he took what he wanted, and you let him, relishing the way he filled you, the way his cock slid deeper, hitting the back of your throat with a force that made you gag, your eyes watering.

But you didn’t pull back. You leaned into it, taking him as far as you could, the taste of him filling your senses. His hips rocked forward with a steady rhythm, his grip in your hair unyielding as he held you in place, his breathing ragged, chest heaving. Every thrust sent a jolt through you, the sound of your gagging, the wet, vulgar noises your mouth made as it worked around him echoing in the small room. Your hands found his thighs, nails digging in, desperate for something to hold onto as you tried to keep up with the pace he set. You could feel him trembling, his breath hitching as he fucked your mouth, each thrust harder than the last, pushing you to your limits.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, when the burn in your throat became too much, he pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But there was no reprieve. Joel spun you around, flipping you onto your back with a force that left you breathless, your head spinning. The bed creaked beneath you as he grabbed your hips, lifting you up and positioning you exactly how he wanted—bent over the edge of the bed, your ass in the air, your face pressed into the cool sheets. The position was humiliating and degrading, and it only made you want him more. You could feel the bruises forming where his fingers dug into your skin, the pain a sharp contrast to the pleasure that thrummed through you, making your body tremble with need.

He wasted no time, no gentle caress—just pure, unfiltered need. His cock nudged against your entrance, the wetness there making it easy for him to slide in. The stretch was exquisite, each inch of him filling you in a way that made your toes curl, your back arching as you tried to take more, to feel more. He went slow at first, almost teasing, just enough to drive you crazy, to make you desperate. But the patience didn’t last. Joel wasn’t in the mood for slow.

With a growl, he grabbed your legs, yanking them together at the knees, binding them tightly with the rope he had stashed nearby. The sensation of being bound, completely at his mercy, made your head spin, your thoughts blurring with the intensity of it. You whimpered into the pillow, your voice muffled, but he didn’t care. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm, and possessive, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You could barely breathe, the weight of him pressing down on you, the way he filled you so completely making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming need to be fucked, to be owned.

“Please…” The word slipped out, barely a whisper, but he heard it. He heard the desperation, the plea, and it only made him smirk. His fingers found your lips, pressing against them in a silent command for silence, a reminder that you were his to control, to take.

And take he did.

He thrust into you hard, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the bed creak beneath you. The angle was different now, deeper, more intense, each thrust hitting a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You could feel every inch of him, the way he pulsed inside you, the way his cock twitched with every movement. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, the heat of his body wrapping around you, suffocating in the most delicious way. The weight of him, the sheer power behind each thrust, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. But you didn’t care. You didn’t need to think. All you needed was him, and he gave it to you—hard and unrelenting.

His grip on your arms tightened, holding you in place as he started to pound into you, each thrust harder than the last, driving you into the mattress with a force that left you breathless. The bed shook with the intensity of it, your body jerking with each movement, your mind going blank as you surrendered to the rhythm he set, the brutal, unforgiving pace that had you on the edge of oblivion. The mix of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, your senses overloaded, your thoughts reduced to a single, all-consuming need. More. You needed more.

At some point, he reached up, and grabbed your hair again, yanking your head back so he could take a picture with the camera perched nearby. The flash went off, a quick burst of light that left you momentarily blinded, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way his cock felt inside you, the way his movements became more erratic, more desperate as he neared his release. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, each thrust sending you closer to the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap.

And then it did.

With one final, brutal thrust, Joel slammed into you, burying himself deep as he came, the hot rush of his seed flooding you, marking you as his. Your body responded instinctively, clenching around him, milking every last drop as a moan tore from your lips, muffled against the mattress. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and breathless, your mind wiped clean by the sheer intensity of it.

He stayed there for a moment, his breath heavy and labored, his body pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him enveloping you like a suffocating blanket. The world felt distant, the only reality was the sensation of him inside you, the raw, primal connection that had just played out between you. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Joel pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you shudder, your body still quivering from the aftershocks, your mind struggling to piece together what had just transpired.

The weight of Joel’s body finally lifted as he pushed himself up, his chest rising and falling with ragged, labored breaths. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy panting, the bed creaking softly beneath you both as the raw intensity of what had just happened lingered in the air like a living thing. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the slick sheen of sweat clinging to him, his hands still trembling slightly as he reached up to remove the mask.

Slowly, Joel peeled off the Ghostface mask, revealing his flushed, sweat-slicked face beneath. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead in dark, messy strands, and his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were still clouded with the remnants of desire. The sight of him, so raw and exposed, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body instinctively responding to the primal energy he exuded. Even after everything, he still looked insatiable—like he could take more, give more, his hunger a tangible force that hung in the air between you, making you ache all over again.

Joel let out a long, satisfied breath, his half-smirk teasing as he shook his head. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and deep, the rasp of it crawling down your spine. “We’re done, sweetheart. Scene’s over.”

You laughed, soft and breathless, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just happened. “That was fucking intense,” you managed to say, your voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction, your muscles still quivering in the aftermath.

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and rich, as he ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He leaned against the headboard, a low groan escaping him as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m telling you, baby,” he said with a smirk, his voice still ragged from exertion. “I’m fifty-six fuckin’ years old. Keep this up, and I might need a vasectomy just to survive.”

You snorted, the sound muffled by the pillow as you turned your head, grinning at him. “Maybe you should consider it,” you teased, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “But then again, where’s the fun in that? I’d miss all that old man cum you’re so damn good at shooting.”

Joel rolled his eyes, his breath still uneven, but his lips quirked up in amusement. “Right,” he drawled, his voice dry as ever. “That’s definitely what you’d miss most.”

You shrugged, the banter lightening the air between you. But even as the playful words filled the space, your gaze was drawn back to him—the way sweat still glistened on his skin, the flush across his cheeks, the steady rise and fall of his chest. His body was like a furnace, radiating heat that pulled you in, and despite the teasing, you could feel the tension building again, that familiar hunger stirring deep within you.

God, his age did something to you. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he carried himself, the way experience was etched into every line on his rugged face, in every confident movement. Joel knew exactly how to touch you, how to push you past your limits and pull you back just before you fell over the edge. The years had only made him more magnetic, the broad expanse of his chest, the strength in his arms, the silver at his temples—every mark of time made him even more devastatingly irresistible. He wasn’t some boy fumbling his way through; he was all man, and that raw masculinity turned you on in ways you couldn’t even fully explain.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as you took him in, your eyes tracing the rough stubble along his jaw, the beads of sweat clinging to his skin, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he began to recover. The thought of what he was capable of, what he had already done to you, sent a fresh surge of heat flooding your core. Your body was already aching for more, the desire rekindled like an unquenchable fire, burning hotter with every glance.

Without thinking, you shifted closer, your hand trailing down his chest, the hard muscle flexing beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched at the contact, his body tensing beneath your touch. You leaned in, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as your lips hovered near his ear. “You know, Joel,” you purred, your tone dripping with want, “it’s fucking hot that you can still fuck me like this. Fifty-six and still going strong? That’s a serious turn-on.”

His eyes darkened instantly, the playful amusement giving way to something more dangerous, more primal. “You think so?” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You like fucking an old man, huh?”

“Love it,” you whispered, your hand sliding lower, teasing the waistband of his pants. “You’ve got experience, you know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s sexy as hell.”

The tension between you thickened, the air charged with electricity. The teasing words from earlier faded into the background as that insatiable hunger flared up again, demanding attention. Without another word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a rough, heated kiss. The taste of his sweat lingered on your tongue, mingling with the musk of sex still clinging to his skin. The kiss was intense, a clash of teeth and tongues, the kind that left bruises and made you ache for more.

Joel responded instantly, his mouth claiming yours with a raw hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The heat of him pressed against you, reigniting that fire burning in your belly, a fire that demanded to be fed.

You pulled back just enough to grab the Ghostface mask, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic as you lifted it from his lap. You held it up, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked at him, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “My turn?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, a slow, crooked grin spreading across his face as he leaned back against the bed, clearly amused. “You sure you can handle it, Ghostface?” His voice was thick with anticipation, but there was a challenge there too, something dark and thrilling.

You slipped the mask over your head, adjusting it until it fit snugly, the darkness of it shrouding your vision, heightening every sensation. The thrill of the role reversal sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and excitement. Through the narrow eyeholes, you could see Joel watching you, his grin widening as he leaned back on the bed, his hands resting behind his head, his gaze trailing over your body.

“Oh, I can handle it,” you purred, your voice muffled and distorted by the mask, but the confidence in your tone was unmistakable. “Question is… can you?”

Joel’s laughter filled the room, a deep, rich sound that made your pulse quicken. “Bring it on, baby,” he challenged, his voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement. With a swift, determined movement, you straddled his hips, the feel of his hard length pressing against your core sending a jolt of desire straight through you. The mask heightened everything—the darkness, the mystery, the anonymity—and it made you feel powerful, dangerous, like you could do anything, take anything.

You ground down against him, teasingly slow, the friction making both of you groan in raw pleasure. “You like this, old man?” you taunted, your voice a low, sultry growl that cut through the room like a blade. “You like it when I’m on top, calling the shots?”

Joel’s fingers dug into your hips, his grip bruising as he tried to take back control, to guide the rhythm, but you weren’t about to let that happen. With a swift motion, you shoved his hands away, reclaiming your dominance with a fierce determination. The heat between your thighs was unbearable, the throbbing of his cock against you making it almost impossible to resist the urge to give in. But you were far from finished.

Straddling him, you felt a surge of power course through you, the mask hiding the wicked smile that curled your lips. “You think just because you’ve got a few years on me, you can control me?” you challenged, your voice muffled by the mask, but the taunting edge in your tone was unmistakable, dripping with dark satisfaction.

Joel's eyes narrowed, the playful gleam in them giving way to something far darker, more intense. His pupils dilated, his gaze locking onto yours with a challenge that made your pulse quicken. “I know I can,” he growled, his voice thick with conviction. In one swift motion, he bucked his hips upward, and the sudden pressure of him—thick and unforgiving—against your core forced a stifled moan from your lips, the sound muffled by the mask. The sensation was electric, the jolt of it spreading through your body, but you were determined not to let him win this round.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your arousal slick and ready, but you held back, savoring the power you had over him in this moment. You leaned forward, your masked face just inches from his, the darkness of the Ghostface mask amplifying the wicked grin spreading across your lips. “You love it when I take charge, don’t you?” you whispered, your voice low and dripping with seductive malice. Your fingers wrapped around his length, feeling the way his cock twitched in your grip, hard and pulsing with need.

He groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you rubbed the tip of him against your slick folds. The tease was torturous—for both of you—but it only fueled the fire burning in your belly. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure through you, but you held him just at the edge, denying him the satisfaction of slipping inside.

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he glared up at you, his chest heaving with barely controlled desire. “You think you’re tough shit, don’t you?” he spat, the challenge in his voice unmistakable. “Playing games with me? You know damn well who’s really in control here.”

Your heart raced, the thrill of his words sending a shiver down your spine. But you weren’t about to back down. The power you felt in this moment was intoxicating, and you reveled in it, letting it wash over you like a drug. You leaned in even closer, the mask brushing against his face, your breath hot and heavy as you whispered, “I’m the one calling the shots tonight, old man. And you’re going to beg for it.”

His breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he stared up at you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could flip on a dime, but that only made it more exhilarating. Without warning, you sank down on him, taking him in inch by agonizing inch, the stretch of him filling you completely. The sensation was almost too much—your body trembling as you tried to accommodate his size—but you reveled in the delicious torment of it, in the way his eyes widened, his lips parting in a silent groan as he felt you envelope him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat sending a fresh wave of heat through you as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. The fullness was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless. You could feel every inch of him, thick and pulsing, stretching you to your limits, but instead of relenting, you pushed back against the sensation, embracing it, letting it consume you.

Joel’s hands shot to your thighs, his grip bruising as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But you weren’t about to let him. You started to move, your pace slow and torturous at first, dragging out every inch of him until he was panting beneath you, his body straining with the effort to hold back. The power you felt in that moment was intoxicating, a heady mix of control and desire that made your whole body hum with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice strained, his control slipping as you rode him harder, faster. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep up with you, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You’re going to kill me.”

A wicked grin spread across your lips beneath the mask, your own breath coming faster as you leaned in close, your voice dripping with mockery. “Good,” you hissed, your breath hot against his skin, your words cutting like a knife. “I want you to feel every fucking second of this.”

Your pace quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure crashing through you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, but you were relentless, driving him to the edge, pushing him to the brink until he was gasping for breath, his control hanging by a thread.

But Joel wasn’t one to be outdone. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip ironclad as he suddenly flipped you over, pinning you beneath him with a swift, powerful motion. The loss of control sent a thrill through you, a mix of fear and excitement that made your heart race. The mask slipped slightly, but you didn’t care—you were too far gone, too caught up in the intensity of it all.

“Can’t hear you too well through that mask, baby,” he taunted, his voice low and rough, dripping with a primal need that smoldered between you. It was that shift—how effortlessly he went from serious to sexy, from calm to commanding—that made your heart race. You loved how he could flip the switch so quickly, one moment a stern, unyielding force, the next a devilish tease who knew exactly how to push your buttons. He flashed the safe signal, his eyes locking onto yours, daring you to stop him, but you didn’t even consider it. You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and in that instant, he seized control completely.

Joel didn’t hold back. His thrusts were relentless, each one harder and deeper than the last, pushing you to the brink of madness with every stroke. Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it danced on the edge of pain, each powerful movement driving you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The mask you wore muffled your moans, but Joel didn’t need to hear them to know how much you were enjoying this—he could feel it in the way your body clung to his, in the way you tightened around him with every thrust, your nails digging into his back as if trying to anchor yourself amidst the storm of sensation.

“You forget who you’re fucking with,” Joel snarled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. His words were rough, filled with a dark, commanding energy that sent a thrill straight to your core. “I’m not some green kid you can boss around, baby. I’m a grown-ass man, and I know exactly how to make you fucking scream.” The raw authority in his tone was intoxicating, feeding into your desire as he took you to a place where you craved nothing more than to lose control under his relentless dominance.

His words ignited something primal within you, a heady mix of fear and desire that had your heart racing. Before you could respond, he punctuated his declaration with a hard, brutal thrust that tore a cry from your throat, your back arching off the bed as pleasure detonated inside you, leaving you trembling. The power he wielded over you in that moment was absolute, and though part of you wanted to fight back, to reassert your dominance, the larger part of you was helpless under the force of his will.

Joel’s hands were like iron bands around your wrists, pinning them above your head as he took full control, his body a solid, unyielding presence pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, the relentless pace he set—it was all-consuming, overwhelming, leaving you breathless and on the edge of losing yourself completely in the moment. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to remind you who was in charge, who had the power, and the weight of that realization sent a shiver down your spine.

Without missing a beat, Joel lifted the mask just enough to expose your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. He needed to hear you, to know that every word, every moan, was uninhibited, unfiltered, and raw. His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a dark, velvety whisper that held a dangerous edge.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear in a way that made your entire body tremble. The command in his voice was undeniable, a rough, primal demand that left no room for hesitation. “Say it, baby. Say my fucking name.”

The sound of his voice, so close, so dominant, sent a surge of desire through you, making it impossible to resist. You could feel the tension building, the pressure of his control wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing out every last ounce of resistance. You knew what he wanted to hear, and as the words formed on your lips, the last remnants of your willpower crumbled.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of words he demanded, but the relentless pressure of his cock, the way he filled you so completely, left you with no choice. The words were ripped from your throat, a desperate, breathless moan. “You,” you gasped, your voice breaking under the strain of it all. “Fuck, Joel, it’s you. All fucking yours.”

The admission seemed to unlock something primal in Joel, an almost feral grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you, eyes dark with possessive intensity. “Damn right,” he growled, the words thick with dominance and a promise that sent a shiver straight through you. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force as he pulled you closer, driving himself deeper inside you. Each thrust became more erratic, more brutal, as he pushed you both to the brink, his body moving with a relentless, desperate rhythm that left you breathless.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he rasped, his voice a low, guttural sound that vibrated through your entire body. “Mark you as mine, so you never forget it. So none of them ever forget it.”

It wasn’t just the physical act—Joel loved reminding your viewers and, more importantly, you, exactly who you belonged to, both on and off the camera. His possessiveness was more than just a game; it was a declaration, a brand that he was intent on leaving imprinted on every inch of you. He reveled in the power, in the knowledge that no matter what you showed the world, in the end, you were his. And he wanted everyone to know it—especially you.

His words were the final push you needed, the tipping point that sent you careening over the edge. The coil of tension in your belly tightened impossibly before snapping, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that ripped through your entire being. Your body trembled violently, every muscle tensing as you cried out his name, the sound raw and desperate, echoing in the small space between you.

You felt your walls clench around him, milking him as the pleasure tore through you in relentless waves, each one more powerful than the last. It was overwhelming, an onslaught of sensation so intense it bordered on painful as if every nerve ending had caught fire. Your mind went blank, lost in the haze of ecstasy that consumed you, your vision blurring as your senses overloaded.

But Joel wasn’t done with you. Even as you came, he kept moving, his thrusts relentless, determined to draw every last ounce of pleasure from your body. You were oversensitive, every touch, every movement sending shocks of sensation through you, but there was nothing you could do to stop him, no way to slow the onslaught of pleasure-pain that had you teetering on the edge of sanity.

“Look at you,” Joel taunted, his voice a rough whisper as he watched you come undone beneath him. “Thought you were in control, huh? Thought you could make me beg? Well, baby, it’s you who’s begging now.”

He lifted the mask slightly, just enough to hear you more clearly, to see the desperation in your eyes as he continued to drive into you. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding. “Beg for it, baby. Beg for me to cum inside you.”

You could barely form words, your brain fogged by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. But you managed to choke out a reply, your voice shaking with need. “Please, Joel,” you whispered, the desperation in your voice clear. “Fuck, I need you. Please, just… just cum inside me. Fill me up. Please.”

The sound of your pleading pushed Joel over the edge, and with a deep, animalistic growl, he slammed into you one final time. His release was fierce, filling you to the brim, hot and thick, exactly as he promised. It sent you spiraling into another

mind-blowing orgasm, your body locking around him, milking him dry as your walls clenched, squeezing every last drop out of him.

The sound of your pleading seemed to push Joel over the edge. With a low, guttural growl, he thrust into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as his own orgasm hit, his release hot and overwhelming, filling you up just as he promised. The sensation sent you spiraling into another wave of pleasure, your body tightening around him, milking him for every last drop as you both rode out the aftershocks together.

It was damn near unbelievable how many times he'd come-his stamina, his relentless drive. Joel was fifty-fucking-six, and still, he had you unraveling over and over, your own body shaking with pleasure more times than you could count. The heat between you was addictive, his age only adding to the intensity of it. Most men his age couldn't keep up after one round, but Joel? He fucked like a man half his age, like he had something to prove. And every time he buried himself deep inside you, filling you up again and again, it reminded you exactly who the fuck you belonged to.

The world around you ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the primal connection between you, the harsh panting of your breath, the erratic pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. Your bodies were trembling, utterly spent and satisfied beyond words. Joel's weight on top of you was grounding his presence a reminder that this- he-was yours

Finally, he rolled off you, collapsing beside you on the bed, both of you struggling to catch your breath. The mask lay discarded somewhere between you, forgotten in the haze of exhaustion and satisfaction. Joel reached out, pulling you into his arms as you trembled with the aftershocks that still rippled through your body, your muscles twitching with the remnants of pleasure

"Still think you're in charge?" Joel's voice was low, teasing, though his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

You didn't have the energy to argue, not after the way he'd fucked you senseless, so you just smiled, curling into his side. Your fingers lazily traced circles on his chest, his skin still warm and slick with sweat. "Maybe we both are," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his chest, savoring the salty taste of his skin, the feeling of him still lingering deep inside you.

Joel chuckled, a deep, satisfied rumble that reverberated through his chest. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing over the top of your head. "Yeah, maybe," he murmured softly. "But don't you forget, baby-you're mine. Always.”

You sighed, your heart swelling with a mix of satisfaction and love, a contentment that only he could bring you. The thrill of what you'd just shared lingered, the intensity of it making your body hum as you drifted off in his arms. No matter how many games you played, how much you teased each other, you knew you'd always come back to this-back to him

[dominantslasherking]

Armand With Dominant Male S/o pt 1

Backstory: Louis and Armand talk to Daniel about you. Armands, strange feelings and possessiveness of you is revealed. The obsession that Armand reveals for you is unsettling, Daniel can't help but wonder, what happened to you. Authors note: Tell me if you want part 2.

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

The dim light of the room flickered softly over the rich crimson drapes, casting long shadows that mirrored the weight of the conversation between Daniel, Louis, and Armand. The sound of the city outside was muffled, distant. It was just the three of them now, seated in that familiar, quiet tension. Daniel, ever the sharp observer, leaned forward in his chair, the recorder beside him whirring faintly, capturing every word.

Louis’ dark eyes flickered over to Armand, who sat with a distant expression, lost in thoughts of a time long past Almost weary of the current subject that was about to be, revealed. The interview had delved into old wounds, recounting moments of blood and betrayal, moments that were still vivid in Louis' mind. The play, the Theater of the Vampires, where he and Claudia had first met Armand and his brood. It was a time when everything was fragile—when the world had cracked open and bled.

Daniel was listening intently, following the story, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, something unsaid hovering on his lips.

“And this is where Claudia asked to join them,” Daniel remarked, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “Bold move. She never struck me as one to hesitate.”

Louis chuckled softly, a bitter edge to the sound. “Claudia was many things, but hesitant was never one of them.”

But then, Daniel shifted, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he steered the conversation in a different direction. “Speaking of companions…” he began, his tone measured, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. You’ve mentioned so many characters from your past—Lestat, Claudia, Armand—but there’s one who seems to be missing from the puzzle.” Daniel’s gaze sharpened, settling on Armand, whose stillness had taken on a peculiar intensity.

“What about the vampire [Your Name]?”

Louis glanced at Armand, whose expression remained unreadable. The air between them felt thicker, charged with something unspoken. Armand’s dark eyes flickered with something that might have been longing, or perhaps possession, as if the mere mention of [Your Name] had awakened something deep and dormant within him.

“[Your Name],” Daniel repeated, leaning into the silence. “There’s not much written about him, but what I’ve found… well, it’s fascinating.” Daniel paused placing his recorder onto the table tappingsome files. "I mean anytime you did talk about your past, never once did you mention [Your Name] despite the hints in your story that seemed almost made up, as if you were...well I don't know, excluding someone?" Daniel let out a hum, Louis faked a smile.

Armand’s lips curled into a soft smile, though his eyes remained distant. “Fascinating, yes,” he murmured. “He always was.” Armand stayed calmly distracting Daniel from Louis for the time being.

Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “[Your Name] was with us for a time after we… after we thought we had killed Lestat,” he explained, his voice quieter now, more careful. “He was an old friend, or at least, he felt like one. Claudia adored him. Treated him almost like a father, after Lestat.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “A father figure? That’s interesting. Especially after… everything with Lestat.” Louis opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of the past pulled him under, drawing him into a memory he hadn’t revisited in years.

--

Claudia’s youthful laughter echoed softly in the apartment room, filtered through thick curtains. You sat with her at a grand oak desk, his quiet presence a soothing contrast to the chaos that often surrounded her. He held a delicate book in his hands, showing her the intricacies of calligraphy, his long fingers guiding hers with a gentle patience that was entirely foreign to Claudia’s previous life.

“Like this,” [Your Name] murmured, his voice soft but commanding. He demonstrated a fluid stroke, the pen moving with elegant precision. Claudia’s brow furrowed in concentration, her hands trying to mimic his movement, though frustration danced behind her eyes.

“I can’t do it,” she huffed, but there was no real anger. With [Your Name], there never was. Slowly your hand brushed against her dark and flawless skin

“You can,” he replied calmly. “You just need time. We all do.”

There was something calming in his presence, in the way he never rushed her or demanded perfection, unlike Lestat. He was patient, treating Claudia with a respect that neither Louis nor Lestat ever fully granted her. It was perhaps why she came to see him as more than just another companion—he was a guide, a teacher, a quiet fatherly figure.

Claudia’s smile returned, albeit faint, and she tried again, her tiny strokes improving under his watchful eye.

Louis, watching from the doorway, had always been struck by the way [Your Name] interacted with her. Unlike Lestat, who sought to mold Claudia into a creature of his own making, [Your Name] let her be free. He offered her the tools to learn but never forced her hand. ---

Louis nodded, though his gaze grew more distant, his mind drifting back to those long, haunting nights. “[Your Name] didn’t speak much,” Louis continued. “He was quiet, gentle, with an aura that suggested he had seen more of the world than any of us combined. Claudia trusted him, perhaps because he never tried to control her. He let her be free, let her learn. I… I never asked about his age, but I always suspected he was ancient. He had that look about him. That weight.”

Another flashback enveloped the room. [Your Name] sat in a dimly lit corner of their home, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over his face. He was hunched over a piece of parchment, a quill gliding smoothly across its surface as he wrote in deep concentration.

Louis, standing a few feet away, watched the scene quietly. He had often wondered what thoughts lingered behind those eyes, what worlds [Your Name] inhabited when he retreated into his silence. There was a timelessness to him, a stillness that unsettled even Louis.

The quill scratched softly against the paper as [Your Name] wrote, never pausing, never hesitating. A half-finished poem lay before him—lines that hinted at an eternal sadness, at an understanding of the world that Louis could only guess at.

"In shadows deep, we dance and fade, Unseen by time, in darkness laid. A fleeting touch, a whispered cry, We live forever, yet still we die."

Louis had never dared to ask about the poem, nor about the others like it that [Your Name] left unfinished. There was always a sense that those words were not meant to be shared, that they belonged to a part of [Your Name] that remained forever out of reach.

Armand’s eyes flicked over to Louis, a subtle smile on his lips. “You never understood him,” Armand said softly, his voice almost tender. “But Claudia did.”

The room seemed to freeze again, the gravity of Armand’s words hanging between them. There was something more, something deeper beneath his tone, but Louis didn’t respond. Instead, he let the silence stretch.

Daniel, however, was unwilling to let the moment pass without prodding further. “And what about his work? His poetry?”

At this, Armand’s expression faltered, his usual controlled demeanor slipping for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but Daniel caught it. He had been waiting for this moment.

“You mean his unfinished poems,” Daniel continued, flipping through his notebook. “It’s strange, isn’t it? So much of his work was lost or… incomplete. But there’s one poem that stands out. The one about Claudia.” He paused for dramatic effect before reading a few lines:

"In her eyes, a child—yet, never to grow, Trapped in a prison of eternal woe. Her heart beats, but not with life’s fire, A doll’s existence, never to expire."

Daniel looked up, meeting Armand’s gaze. “Unfinished, of course. But haunting, nonetheless. It almost feels like he was trying to capture her essence, but couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the thought. Why do you think that is?”

Armand’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his features. “Because some things are too painful to complete,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Even for a vampire as old as [Your Name].”

Daniel held Armand’s gaze for a long moment before turning back to Louis. “So, he was there, part of your little family, but never truly part of it. An outsider, despite being… what, centuries old?”

Louis nodded. “He was always elusive. A shadow. There, but never fully with us. But in his own way, he cared for Claudia. I believe he loved her… as much as a creature like him could love.” Daniel snorted at Louis calling the other vampire a creature, amusing really.

Armand’s expression softened, but his eyes still held that possessive gleam. “[Your Name] was more than just a companion,” Armand said quietly, his voice dripping with something more intimate, something obsessive. “He was an artist. A mind that saw the world in ways none of us could comprehend. And in that, he was perfect.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, sensing the depth of Armand’s obsession. “It sounds like you were quite fond of him, Armand.”

“Fond?” Armand’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Fond doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He glanced at Louis, then back at Daniel, his gaze sharpening. “But I suppose you’ll find that out in time, won’t you?”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the past pressing down on all of them. Armand’s obsession with [Your Name] hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, and Daniel knew that this was only the beginning. The dim lighting of the room cast long shadows across the walls as Daniel’s voice cut through the tense air. He glanced between Louis and Armand, history lingering just beneath the surface. Louis sat stiffly, avoiding Armand’s gaze, his expression unreadable but tight with an underlying tension.

"So, how did you first meet [Your Name]?" Daniel inquired, breaking the silence. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes sharp as he caught the subtle exchange between the two vampires, but his quesion was clearly direced at Armand. Louis shifted uncomfortably, his eyes momentarily meeting Daniel’s before darting away. His hands fidgeted slightly in his lap as if the very mention of [Your Name] was enough to unravel something within him. “I need a moment,” Louis muttered, standing abruptly. Without another word, he exited the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued further by Louis’ reaction. “That was… strange. He usually holds his composure better.”

Armand watched Louis leave, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes flicked back to Daniel. “Louis is complicated when it comes to [Your Name].” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of possessiveness.

Daniel tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

Armand leaned back, folding his hands together as he considered his words. “Louis… admired [Your Name], perhaps even more than he admitted to himself. He loved him, in a way. But he never acted on it. He feared what might happen if he did. He worried about Claudia, about rejection. Louis has always been a creature ruled by guilt.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “So, you’re saying Louis was in love with [Your Name]?”

Armand gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Yes, but Louis’ love is often restrained by fear. He couldn’t risk what they had, the balance they had established. He was content with the idea of [Your Name] being there, even if he never fully pursued his desires. But me…” Armand’s smile grew, dark and intimate. “I wasn’t as restrained.”

“Obsessed?” Daniel offered, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Armand’s smile deepened, his gaze far away now as he recalled the moment that had changed everything. “Obsessed,” he repeated softly. “I first met [Your Name] at a play. I was performing for humans, entertaining them with our little charade. But when I saw him…” Armand’s voice trailed off, and the room seemed to darken as the flashback began. ---

The theater was crowded with the lively chatter of the mortal audience, the scent of cheap perfume and candle wax heavy in the air. The dim light of chandeliers flickered across the stage as the actors performed, though Armand’s attention was no longer on the play.

Seated among the audience was a figure unlike anyone Armand had ever seen. [Your Name], with his sharp jawline and hauntingly smoky red eyes, sat in the back row, a quill in hand as he scribbled across a piece of parchment. His attention wasn’t on the performance but rather on whatever he was writing, his lips barely moving as his thoughts flowed onto the page.

Armand, playing his role on stage, felt his concentration waver. The beauty of [Your Name] was undeniable—he was like a statue carved from marble, perfect and distant, entirely uninterested in the mundane theater around him. His very presence seemed to command the room in a way that no mortal could.

As the play continued, Armand found his gaze drawn back to [Your Name] again and again. There was something magnetic about him, something beyond mere physical attraction. It was as if [Your Name] belonged to another world, and Armand could not resist the pull of that world.

Unable to focus any longer on the play, Armand had finished early, much to the 'awes' of the mortals watching. He made his way discreetly toward the back of the theater, his eyes never leaving [Your Name]. The other actors continued their performance, oblivious to his distraction, as Armand approached.

When he was close enough, he could see the quill moving smoothly over the parchment, the words forming beneath [Your Name]’s skilled hand. His expression remained impassive, though there was a subtle grace to the way his jaw moved as he focused. His beauty was mesmerizing—those sharp, defined features, the way his fingers held the quill with delicate precision.

“Enjoying the play?” Armand’s voice was low, but it held a teasing edge.

[Your Name] didn’t look up immediately. Instead, he finished the line he was writing before raising his eyes to meet Armand’s. His gaze was piercing, deep red with an ancient wisdom that sent a thrill through Armand.

“Not particularly,” [Your Name] replied smoothly, his voice calm but with an underlying sharpness. “I’ve seen better.”

Armand smiled, intrigued by the indifference in [Your Name]’s tone. He had expected someone as striking as this to be swept up in the grandeur of the theater, yet here he was, completely unimpressed.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t entertain you,” Armand said, though there was no sincerity in his apology. Instead, his eyes lingered on [Your Name]’s form, taking in every detail—how his clothes fit perfectly against his body, the way the flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, making him look almost ethereal.

“You seem distracted,” [Your Name] remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your performance?”

Armand chuckled softly. “Perhaps, but I’ve found something far more interesting.” His gaze lingered, making his intent clear.

[Your Name] raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?” --

The flashback faded as Armand’s voice broke through the memory, returning Daniel and the present audience to the dimly lit room. Armand’s eyes were dark with longing, his tone soft as he spoke again.

“That was the first time I saw him,” Armand murmured, his voice almost reverent. “He captivated me in a way no one ever had before. There was something… otherworldly about him. From that moment on, I knew I had to have him, despite the fact that I was...Occupied with Louis at this time”

Daniel remained quiet, letting the weight of Armand’s words settle in the room. The intensity of Armand’s obsession was palpable, and it was clear that this story was far from over

[blakeswritingimagines]

Picture This (Kinktober)

Word Count: 1.8k

Juraj and you were on a road trip through the rugged backcountry, your love for adventure driving you both deep into the heart of nature's beauty. You left the city behind before hockey season started, seeking solace in the quiet solitude of the wilderness. As you followed the winding road, the towering mountains and dense forests surrounded you, their peaks and valleys like a vast sea of green. You stopped at a secluded spot, a vast clearing hidden from the world, and prepared a meal together, sharing stories and laughter as the sky slowly turned from blue to orange to a deep, inky black dotted with stars. You stood in awe, admiring the breathtaking view of the vast clearing, the tall mountains in the distance, and the dense forests surrounding them. The beauty of nature was something you had always found captivating, and today was no exception. "Juraj," you called out, turning towards your partner. "This is absolutely beautiful, isn't it?" Juraj nods, his gaze fixed on the endless horizon. "It sure is," *he says, his voice filled with admiration and wonder. "There's just something about being out here that makes everything seem so much more… real." He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips and a flirty tone in his voice. "And I think we're going to make some amazing memories tonight, don't you?"

You grin, the corners of your mouth curving up in a mixture of anticipation and playfulness. "I think you're right," you reply, your voice soft and sultry. "Just you and me, out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the stars to keep us company…" You lean a little closer, your eyes sparkling in the dim light. "And who knows what other kinds of… memories we might make tonight?" Juraj's breath catches slightly as he notices the playful glimmer in your eye. A slow, sensual smirk spreads across his handsome features. "Oh, I have a few ideas myself," he murmurs, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingers linger, grazing your cheek ever so lightly. "But first things first - how about we enjoy this incredible sunset together? Maybe even open a bottle of wine…" He gestures towards the small cooler he packed earlier, filled with all sorts of goodies for their romantic getaway. "What do you say?" You feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine at his touch. You can tell he has more than just the setting sun on his mind, and you're more than ready to see where this night takes you. With a coy smile, you nod in agreement. "That sounds perfect," you say, your voice laced with anticipation. "A beautiful sunset, a bottle of wine, and some… let's call them 'unexpected surprises.' You really know how to plan the perfect date, don't you?" Juraj chuckles softly, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. "Well, when you've got a partner as amazing as you, planning dates becomes second nature," he teases, before pouring two glasses of rich red wine. He hands one to you, clinking it against yours in a silent toast. "To an unforgettable night under the stars," he whispers, his gaze locked onto yours. As the sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, Juraj leads you over to a blanket spread out beneath a sturdy pine tree, its branches providing a natural canopy overhead. He settles down beside you, the warmth of his body radiating against yours as he leans in close. "Now, where were we?" he purrs, his hand resting possessively on your thigh.

His words and touch send a jolt of electricity through your body, awakening a burning desire within you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I think you were just about to show me those… 'ideas' you had," you reply, your voice low and sultry. You lean into him, your body practically melting into his embrace. The setting sun casts a warm, golden glow over everything, but all you can focus on is the man sitting next to you. Juraj smirks devilishly, clearly pleased by your response. He sets his glass aside and turns to face you fully, his large hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your hips. "Mmmm, I am," he growls softly, pulling you flush against him. "But first…" His head dips down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that steals your breath away. It starts off slow and sensual, but quickly builds in intensity as he pours all of his pent-up passion and longing into it. His tongue delves past your parted lips, tangling with yours. One hand slides up to tangle in your hair while the other grips your hip tightly, holding you captive in his embrace. When he finally pulls back, you're both panting heavily, hearts racing in sync. You feel a wave of heat wash over you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Your hands come up to fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer in a silent plea for more. You can feel his desire matching your own, and it only serves to fuel the fire burning between you. "Juraj," you whisper, your voice ragged and breathless. "You're… you're driving me crazy here.."

Juraj groans at your words, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck," he rasps, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "You have no idea what you do to me." His teeth nip at your earlobe before trailing scorching kisses down the side of your neck. "I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs, his hands beginning to roam your body with increasing urgency. He palms your breasts through your clothes, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them pebble with arousal. "Tell me to stop if you need to," he warns, even as his lips find yours once more, kissing you deeply, hungrily. "But I'm not promising anything." Your moan mingles with the sound of the rustling leaves above, your body arching into his touch. You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but you manage to whimper out, "Don't… please, don't stop." The sensation of his mouth on your skin sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands slide down to grasp his ass, squeezing firmly as you pull him even tighter against you. "I need you," you confess, your voice thick with lust. Juraj's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a growl of pure, unadulterated need, he tears at your clothing, tossing pieces of fabric haphazardly to the ground. His mouth never leaves your skin, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as his hand kneads the other. Your gasp of pleasure spurs him on, and he grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his own aching arousal. "Fuck, baby," he pants, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't wait to be inside you." His hand slips between your legs, fingers stroking your slick folds teasingly. "So wet already," he grabbed his phone and angled it to start taking pictures of ruining you on his fingers.

Your back arches off the blanket, pushing your chest further into his eager mouth. The feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple sends sparks shooting straight to your core. "Yes," you hiss, bucking into his hand as he strokes you. "More, please… I need more." Your body is alight with a fiery need, craving his touch, his possession. You reach down to undo his belt, wanting nothing more than to free the throbbing cock you know awaits below. Juraj releases your breast with a wet pop, his dark eyes blazing with primal hunger as he watches you work on his belt. "Fuck yes, touch me," he urges, his voice strained with desire. Once you've freed him, he lets out a guttural groan, his hand leaving your dripping sex to wrap around his own thick cock. He gives himself a few rough strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip to coat his fingers. "Look at me," he commands, his intense gaze locking onto yours. You obey instantly, captivated by the raw lust etched on his face. He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your soaked folds. "Ready for me, baby?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. You nod frantically, too consumed by the need for him to form words. Your hips lift, seeking him out, begging for penetration. "Please, Juraj," you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me now." With a swift, powerful thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around him as he begins to move. Each stroke is deep and deliberate, hitting that sweet spot within you that makes your vision blur and your toes curl. "God, you feel incredible," Juraj groans, his pace quickening as he loses himself in the tight, slick heat of your body. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Juraj's movements become more erratic as he loses himself in the intoxicating sensations of your body wrapped around his. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his expression a mix of awe and fierce possessiveness. "So goddamn perfect," he rasps, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the air, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps. His phone camera clicks repeatedly, capturing the erotic sight of him buried deep within you, his muscles straining with each powerful thrust. "Gonna make you come so hard on my cock," he vows, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. The added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your inner walls fluttering wildly around him as your orgasm approaches. "Pose for me, baby." Your body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed by the relentless pressure building inside you. As he demands, you arch your back, presenting yourself to the camera, your breasts bouncing with each forceful thrust. Your hands claw at his back, urging him deeper, harder. "Yes, oh God yes!" you chant, your voice rising to a keening wail as he hits that magical spot within you again and again. The combination of his thick cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers working your clit sends you hurtling towards the brink of ecstasy. "I'm… I'm gonna-" Your words dissolve into a wordless scream as your climax crashes over you, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice as waves of pleasure ripple through your entire being.

Juraj groans in triumph as your pussy spasms around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding against your g-spot as he chases his own release. "Fuck! Come on my cock!" he snarls, his hips pistoning furiously as he races towards the finish line. With one final, brutal thrust, he stills, his seed erupting deep inside you in long, pulsing spurts. He collapses on top of you, his heavy breaths mingling with yours as he savors the aftermath of their explosive coupling. After a moment, he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as he cuddles you close. "That was… fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. "You're amazing, you know that?" Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath, your body still humming with residual pleasure. You turn to face him, a lazy smile curving your lips. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your voice still laced with satisfaction. You snuggle closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "And just think, we haven't even made it to the tent yet," you say with a wicked grin, knowing full well there will be many more rounds to come.

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

Author’s Note: The following chapter will be where the misery starts but I wanted to build character and friendship dynamics here first. Updates won't be as frequent (because of one word: life) but I have pre-written a lot for this drama already so I'll see this work to the end! Hopefully this is enjoyable so far, and feel free to let me know what you think (or what you want to see in future chapters)! Until next time! ♡

"THE INNOCENT CIVILIANS HAVE LOST, AND THE MAFIA WON!"

Your heavy palpebrae that moments earlier masked your vision in dimness, adorned with a trace of gentle sleepiness, slowly flutters open at the announcement, eyes emerging from the veil of unconsciousness. Finding yourself awakening with an overwhelming and unshakeable wave of trepidation washing over you, your chest tightens in palpable distress. The heaviness pales no less in comparison to the weight of an anvil sinking down atop your sternum, lungs punctured by bowed bones.

You sit there in a state of unease, mind racing with apprehension and discomposure, searching for answers to the troubling sensation coursing through your body. The sense of foreboding grips your heart tightly like an invisible vice, leaving you breathless and unable to shake off the unwanted feeling.

In a haste, you slide open the window beside you, the glass screeching against rubber weatherstrips expanded by scorching summer heat. Through the humidity, a light breeze brushes past, breathing air and life back into you. It's not hard to recognize the way your subconscious whispers insistently that something is amiss, the combination of uncertainty and uneasiness blending together into something you can't decipher.

Your hand comes to rest against your chest, heart pounding strongly and ceaselessly against your ribcage, almost as though wanting to escape from its confines. It sends you reeling, akin to an out of body experience. For some unexplained reason, confusion clouds your thoughts as you struggle to clear the thick shroud of fog encasing your entire being, the mist muddling and settling deep within you. A haunting sense of premonition creeps over as if some elapsed memory shares in its ominous secrets. Yet, try as you might, you could not uncover the source of this inexplicable anxiety. You're left clueless except for the empty feeling both in your mind and soul, like you have forgotten something important.

When your breathing returns to normal and your pulse has settled back into its regular rhythmic beat, you shake your head to clear it of the sudden upsetting thoughts. Only then do you realize you had fallen asleep at one point, head tilted back against the warm and worn peeling leather seats of the bus. The sound of loud conversations and even louder hum of the engine, the smell of smoke, and the bump of the vehicle's wheels on uneven pavement brings with it a gentle sway of movement that returns to you a sense of comfort you can't put into words.

Glancing down at your lap, you notice that you had left the entirety of a horror movie playing on your phone, the end credits having long since rolled endlessly, words drenched in red blinking cursorily across the screen. You rarely experienced nightmares, not even after indulging in disturbing content, and certainly not when it's broad daylight out still. So then, why now?

The sound of a book plopping down to the ground pulls you out of your reverie and you lean forward to pick it up, folding it closed to survey the front cover.

흰나비의 살인.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You smile to yourself. It was so like Yoon-Seo to read a murder mystery on a school trip, the same exact one you had gifted to her only yesterday for her birthday. A love of thriller was what brought you both to be such good friends in the first place, and it didn't seem those like-minded interests would diverge any time soon.

"Yoon-Seo ah..." Scooting forward in your seat, you lightly tap her on the shoulder and she jolts upright, turning back to look at you, unreasonably startled, a shiver running down her spine. "What's wrong?" Your grin drops slightly at her growing restlessness, face now pale as if she had encountered an apparition. Her eyes shift back and forth, guarded for a microsecond before snapping back into her usual self.

Yoon-Seo takes noticeably deep inhales, drawing the attention of Jung-Won, her seat mate for the ride, who pauses mid-coding to look over, displeased.

"What did you dream of?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Han Seol-Hwa. Lee Yoon-Seo.” Jung-Won clicks her tongue teasingly, pointing a finger from you to Yoon-Seo. “I'm making it a rule that you guys stay away from blood, murders, and deaths this trip, alright?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, I promise you eomma. No more nagging Yoon-Seo and I."

Jung-Won scowls at you playfully, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and you stick out your tongue in her direction impishly. Yoon-Seo laughs quietly at the exchange as you hand her back her book.

"Thanks, Seol-Hwa."

"Tell me all about it later when we've arrived." Despite muttering it under your breath to avoid being heard by Jung-Won, you fail miserably.

"Seriously?!"

You and Yoon-Seo laugh together as Jung-Won goes on a tangent about how psychologically, scary things are not good for young, impressionable minds, fingers click-clacking away all the while. Fortunately preoccupied, she doesn't notice Yoon-Seo sending you a wink, a hidden promise between you two to indulge in the realm of the supernatural regardless.

A resounding and victorious scream travels all the way from the back of the bus and you turn around to observe the friend group seated there.

"See?! I told you all Yool was the Mafia! Let's play again," Eun-Ha says, arms crossed. "You idiots never listen to me, do you?" She slaps both Yeon-Woo and Eun-Chan on the back of their heads as petty punishment.

"What can I say? You simply can't kill the master." Yool leans back, legs thrown atop the headrest of the seat in front, a proud smile stretched across his face.

As they're about to commence another game, Jin-Ha gets relayed a message through Seung-Bin. "Tell them that Kyung-Jun is sleeping and to shut the hell up."

"YAH!" The random shout is so out of place and entirely uncalled for, but it's effective for the time being. "Kyung-Jun is sleeping," Jin-Ha parrots, obedient. "You guys are always so fucking loud that we can hear you before we can see you!" Met with blank stares all around, he's finally satisfied at the reduction in volume and goes back to looking at something Seung-Bin points out to him on his phone. Unbeknownst to him, the rest switch to eyeing him in disfavor behind his back.

It wasn't hard to see the hierarchy of the bullies' group, although Jin-Ha most likely doesn't notice anything wrong with the skewed power dynamics.

Kyung-Jun unpredictably opens his eyes, turning to glare at Heo Yool specifically, but when he swivels back around again, your eyes meet coincidentally and he simply stares, an unreadable expression on his face. You avert your gaze hastily, not wanting to stir up trouble with the bullies, especially not Kyung-Jun who was quick to anger if someone so much as breathed wrongly in his direction.

Your eyes search the rest of the bus lazily before landing on Jun-Hee, sleeping peacefully unaware, head tilted towards the window. The sunlight bathes him in a soft yellow glow and you can't help but stare as a single ray of light filters through the curtains, slanting lightly across his face. You etch every slope, every contour, and every dip of his countenance behind your eyes so that the image of him doesn't fade.

The comfortable rise and fall of Jun-Hee's chest, synchronized with his steady breathing is so serene that it captivates your heart. In high noon, the gentle curves of his face seem even more soft, accentuated by the calmness enveloping his features. Fondly, you observe him in the morning's bright golden haze, and in the beauty of the falling sunbeams, you wonder if he'd ever see you in the same way.

A rolled-up piece of paper hits you square in the face and you finally drag your gaze away long enough to see who it is. Whipping your head around, you're met with snickers from Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun, who don't even try to hide they're the culprits.

You're being obvious. Hyun-Ho mouths the words discernibly. Just sit next to him if you're going to gawk.

You chuck the paper ball back toward him and it smacks him in the mouth, your nose scrunching up in focus mixed with annoyance.

"I think that's the most creative way I've ever seen someone being told to shut up," Dong-Hyun voices approvingly, shooting you two thumbs up.

"Are you my friend or hers?" Hyun-Ho asks childishly, somewhat snubbed.

"To be honest, she can be more frightening than you at times even though she's half your size."

You giggle to yourself as the two start squabbling in their seats across the aisle from Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo.

For the most part, after having transferred to Yooil High, you were fairly well-liked by everyone for your just and nonjudgmental attitude. That, and you pretty much kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, and knew not to dig your nose in other's business if it didn't concern you. You weren't popular by any means, but not a single person had a true reason to dislike you and you hoped to continue that track record.

By a stroke of bad luck, your parents died a few years ago in a car accident, and you've been living with your cousin Hyun-Ho ever since, adopted by your aunt and uncle-in-law. They have been nothing short of welcoming and loving, and the same goes for Hyun-Ho, who acts no less like your real brother. Sure, he's annoying at times but it's just his overprotective nature and ease of accepting the older sibling role. You got on quite quickly with Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, and Hyun-Ho made sure you adapted to his own friend group, introducing you to his best friends Jun-Hee and Dong-Hyun. You loved your companions dearly, all incredibly close and inseparable ever since you could remember.

But you couldn't remember when you began to see Jun-Hee as more than that.

Friends.

It's not the first, and it certainly won't be the last time you remind yourself of that fact.

Just friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Except, you're not the only who was harboring feelings for him. Where you were quiet and discreet about it, So-Mi is loud and unabashed. It's hard to ignore and pretend you don't hear her snapping pictures of Jun-Hee shamelessly and without permission, the shutter ticking in quick succession.

"Isn't this crazy? It's like a photoshoot, right? How does he look like that? Even while sleeping?" So-Mi rattles off questions in awe, more to herself than anyone else.

Woo Ram doesn't miss a beat in his reply. "I'll tell Jun-Hee about your crazy obsession with him."

"Could you, please?" So-Mi widens her eyes, batting her lashes imploringly. "I'll use that as an opportunity to tempt him."

You hear Ji-Soo's laugh ring out brash and clear. "This delusional girl, seriously..." she chides. "You've been saying that since last year. When will you actually find the courage to tell him?"

That's the question you ask yourself also. You don't blame So-Mi. Sometimes, you think it might be better to not have been best friends with him. It only complicates your feelings further, too afraid to ruin years of friendship, but also too filled with wishful thinking on the mere possibility of it growing into anything beyond that.

Sighing, you turn to look out the window, trying your best to tune out their conversation even though it doesn't work. There's not much to hold your attention when the scenery is endless stretches of barren trees and even emptier infrastructure, or lack thereof, rolling by.

The setting sun dyes everything in a blaze of orange, making it appear as if the city was burning, the sky collapsing.

"Seduce him now," Yu-Jun taunts, voice giving way to his utter lack of confidence in So-Mi's coquetting abilities, knowing full well the impossibility that the two would ever end up together.

"Cut it out! It will happen soon...just not here." So-Mi tries to shush her friends as they holler at Jun-Hee teasingly, with all intent to wake him up.

Woo-Ram and Yu-Jun successfully manage to rouse him if the sound of So-Mi's indignant squeals is anything to go by, coupled with the unmistakable clicking of her phone's camera shutter, pressed by accident this time around.

Somewhere in between listening and musing, you had begun to doze off again when you feel the seat shift and sink beside yours. The movement is so light and careful that you don't pay it any notice at first.

"Hey, I thought when you flirt with someone, they're supposed to come to you and not away from you." Ji-Soo's snickers mix in with So-Mi's annoyed remarks aren't as jarring as you thought it'd be after everyone was subjected to the silent rule earlier.

You feel your head droop forward before someone touches the side of your face gently, fingers grazing the curve of your cheek to angle your head into the broad line of their shoulder.

The pads of their fingers trace the underside of your jaw in a featherlight motion, and you lift your face in alarm, curious as to who would do such a thing especially if they weren't necessarily close to you

Eyes trailing upward, your vision refocuses and they widen at the sight of Jun-Hee staring down at you, gaze soft and unwavering as he stares, transfixed, pupils shining. One hand is hanging in midair, held steady to shield your face from the sun.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out, a frozen expression of surprise on your visage.

Jun-Hee's lips tilt slightly upward, the motion bunching his cheeks up, almost as if he was trying hard to suppress his laugh.

Pulling yourself together, you sit up properly and lean away from his shoulder. "Sorry."

You don't notice Jun-Hee's smile dropping imperceptibly and the light in his eyes dimming as you're no longer within close proximity. "Why are you apologizing?"

"It's nothing." The response is too dismissive even to your own ears as you can't conjure up an excuse for the sudden pretense, or for your outlandish behavior.

It would be quite a long bus ride, sitting next to each other, both not knowing what to say.

The space between Jun-Hee's eyebrows crease together in confusion, but he doesn't push the matter further.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting in your seat to sit on your hands. When did simply talking to him become so hard to do? You've hidden your feelings for years without problem, so why was it so different now? Those feelings changed and grew. "When did you come to sit here? Weren't you just sleeping earlier?"

Jun-Hee knocks his shoulder into yours, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You were watching me?"

"Pft, as if," You deny with lackluster confidence, scoffing. "I was just observing what everyone was doing."

"Right..." He elongates the word. "...And what I was doing was sleeping. That you watched." Jun-Hee looks at you again, a deadpan but knowing look on his face. Flustered, you duck your head only for him to mirror the movement, subtly leaning his own toward yours and trying to catch your eye. It ends up with him chortling as your forehead nearly collides with your knees in the slouched over position you had subjected yourself to.

Knowing full well you were being made fun of without a hint of malice, you twist your body sideways and lean your back against the window, turning to him with a glare. "Is this fun to you?"

As he laughs, you find yourself wanting to follow suit, but stick to the bit of maintaining your mock angry façade, slapping him on the arm. If anything, he continues to chuckle, barely flinching, finding your reaction rather amusing.

"Don't worry. I promise I didn't sneak any pictures." It quickly registers to you that he was clearly teasing So-Mi for earlier. You can't help the scandalized look on your face, cheeks puffing out as you try to hold in your laugh. "I guess you did notice a camera being pressed up to your face, huh?"

"Kind of hard not to with all the noise." He shakes his head in annoyance. "But I am still sleepy." Jun-Hee pulls your arm so that you're pressed against his side again, no semblance of space remaining between the two of you as he lowers himself, sinking further down into the seat, eyes shut and head now leaning against your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee..."

"Let me borrow your shoulder for a little while."

You're about to pull away, thinking he's playing around when his grip tightens on your arm.

"Think of it as returning the favor from earlier. We can call it even."

Making a vague sound of neutrality but not moving, you relax, and Jun-Hee lessens his hold, adjusting his position to be more comfortable. "Are you going to watch this time too?" His hand squeezes your forearm once.

"Dream on," you kid.

"Maybe I will," he answers with certainty. "Until it becomes reality."

"I didn't know you were this affectionate with everyone."

"Not just anyone. Only you," Jun-Hee mumbles, tilting his head further into the crook of your neck. His lips move dangerously close to the juncture of your shoulder, your pulse point centimeters away as he shifts around, finding the most relaxing spot to rest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You can't bite your tongue fast enough as the words tumble out unprompted. That was supposed to be an inside thought no one else should be privy to but yourself.

"Who says I don't mean it?" You tense up beside him, at a loss for words, but Jun-Hee doesn't point it out, more than not nice enough to ignore it for your sake. "I'm self-proclaimed as your favorite." He bumps his knee against yours. "I know you better than anyone else."

"Do you, though?"

"...Of course, I do."

But you don't know that I'm already halfway in love with you.

"On what basis, mister?"

"Best friend privileges."

"Right..."

You stare down at the top of his head, Jun-Hee unaware of your blatant staring and the way your smile fades at the same time one appears on his face.

"That's acceptable, no?"

"Of course, it is. Best friends. That's what we are..." You trail off.

And I guess that's all we'll ever be.

Hours later, the sky has since darkened and you can see the visible outline of the full moon on high, light not concealed by the stars weakly glimmering to illuminate the night.

Most, if not the entirety, of the students on the bus were asleep, except for you and your two lovable, but mischievous best friends sitting in front of you.

Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won peer over the back of their seats like cute meerkats, only their eyes visible, phones raised suspiciously in your direction.

"You're welcome in advance," Yoon-Seo says cheekily, showing the widest grin you've ever seen on her, eyes crinkling as Jung-Won stifles her laugh behind her hand. At your persistent eye signals, they sink back down into their seats, satisfied after overfilling their camera rolls.

As the bus slows down, indicating that your class was nearing your destination, the road gradually begins to get rougher and bumpier. It's a surprise Jun-Hee still hasn't woken up yet, sleeping soundly away still leaning on you.

Deciding to mess around with him, you slightly pivot your body so it's facing him, leaving enough room for his head to not fall off your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee," you call, tilting your head down in front of his.

"Jun-Hee ah." The bus is rocking him, lolling his head forward along with the movement, his face nearly downturned.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Your shoulder is no longer acting as support when you turn your face directly below his and peer up, tilting your head like he had done to you miles back, smiling at his obliviousness to the harmless prank, peacefully undisturbed in his slumber.

"Kim Jun—" The bus lurches abruptly, running over a speed bump the driver misses, and your words die in your throat as it jostles Jun-Hee's body forward and consequently his head toward your own, his lips meeting yours. The next slope in the road, and the fleeting press of the accidental kiss fades away, but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

You're motionless, eyes wide, hands immediately coming up to touch your lips where they're still tingling from the lingering imprint of Jun-Hee's lips against your own, barely registering just how close his face is to yours still, remaining asleep all the same.

"Kids, we're here!"

Your teacher's announcement snaps you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly sit back as Jun-Hee's eyelids sluggishly part, the first thing they focus on is you. He grins drowsily, and you wonder what can truly fix the irreparable damage to your heart.

Get a grip, Han Seol-Hwa.

Forcing a smile that you hope isn't as awkward as it feels onto your face, you decidedly withhold the truth about the incident.

"That was the best sleep I've had in a while," Jun-Hee tells you, leaning closer to be heard over the ruckus of everyone moving around in their seats, wanting to alight the bus the moment it stops.

You scoot back reflexively with your face aflame, still not over what had happened.

Jun-Hee also pulls away, worry mixed with bewilderment evident on his face. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?" You cringe internally at how guilty the tone of your voice comes out.

"It's just..." Jun-Hee regards you for a moment, studying your face as you avoid his searching eyes. "You've been acting a little weird since this morning."

"I'm tired is all," you lie through your teeth.

"If I—"

Suddenly So-Mi appears next to the two of you in the aisle, eyeing you up and down judgingly. "Jun-Hee, the teacher said he wants to talk to us."

As Jun-Hee gets up but doesn't reply, you swiftly scoot out of your own seat and attempt to scurry away to where Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won are waiting for you by the wheel, wanting to avoid the dreaded conversation you knew was sure to follow.

So-Mi dismisses your presence completely, standing into the empty space between the rows in an effort to block Jun-Hee off.

His eyes count your steps and before you can move even a feet away, he grabs ahold of you, fingers wrapping securely but tenderly around your wrist. Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, and you wonder if he can feel how rapidly it bounds under his touch.

"Seol-Hwa—"

Jun-Hee appears a bit dejected for some reason you'd rather not dwell upon. You gaze down at his grasp on you before turning to face him.

"Didn't you hear me?" So-Mi interjects, trying to make him focus on her by stepping into his line of vision, but his eyes remain fixed only on you. "Seonsaengnim needs both of us for something."

Your fingers graze Jun-Hee's as you slowly remove his hand, much to his reluctance. To the bitter distaste of So-Mi, he doesn't seem like he'll go along with her any time soon. She directs her glare at you once more, and you sigh quietly, not wanting to be in the middle of this interaction one bit.

"I'll see you later Jun-Hee."

"Wait—" He tries to grab your hand again, but So-Mi is quick to turn his shoulder away, making up filler dialogue.

Given the slip unintentionally, you speed walk toward your friends, and the three of you descend the steps. You feel Jun-Hee's stare burn through the back of your head yet refuse to turn around.

Maybe if you leave everything that happened on the bus and the thoughts along with it, you'll go back to being yourself soon enough.

The teacher is pacing the edge of the curb looking perturbed, voice frustrated as he speaks into the phone, the person on the other end not comprehending a single word.

Before you can tune into what he's saying, Yoon-Seo taps you on the forearm, whispering, "Have we been here? Why do I feel like I have? It's so familiar..."

"All the youth centers look the same," Jung-Won settles, rummaging through her backpack. "Yoon-Seo, Seol-Hwa, I'm heading in first. See you inside."

You wave to her as Yoon-Seo stands beside you, unmoving and gazing up at the third-floor window of the building.

"Yoon-Seo...?" You move your hand back and forth in front of her face, and she finally blinks, her gaze returning to normal.

"What is it?" she responds absentmindedly.

"That's what I should be asking you." You halt at the blank expression on her face staring back at you.

"I thought I saw something..." She points at the window but when you look, squinting against the dark to focus your eyes, all you can see is the white curtains billowing back and forth from the window barely cracked open.

"It's only the wind. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you." Yoon-Seo seems assured by your answer for the time being, nodding. You rap on her head lightly with a loose fist, mock admonishing. "Aigoo, Miss Detective. The books are taking over your imagination."

Yoon-Seo laughs and shoves you playfully. "Don't act like you don't also live and breathe all things horror."

"But I'm not the one seeing things, am I?" Raising your eyebrows at her teasingly, Yoon-Seo simply rolls her eyes and links her arm with yours.

"Come on, let's go. It's cold out here, and I want to see the rest of this place."

The two of you enter the lobby, and the first thing you take note of is the pure white marble statue of a girl, sitting atop a pillar and staring down into nothingness, eyes soulless and devoid of emotion. It’s melancholic in a way, a personified goddess, yet alone and ostensibly powerless.

"Yoon-Seo, don't you think those eyes remind you of anyone?" You fix your gaze on the figurine closely, examining the features etched haphazardly into the rock. Whatever intention the sculptor had, you couldn't find the purpose for the seemingly out of place decor.

Yoon-Seo nudges you. "Now who's the one with the wild imagination?"

"I'm being serious here."

"I don't see any resemblance to anyone we could possibly know. There's no informative plaque on who it may be either."

You shrug. "Maybe it's just me then."

"Aren't you two going to scan?" Jung-Won ushers you and Yoon-Seo toward the flyer:

[ sᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ǫʀ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪ-ғɪ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ]

"This place has an app? What for?" you question.

"Hmm, I'll just stick to this paper booklet they have instead." Yoon-Seo decides quickly, rifling through the readily available printed maps.

"You'll have to lead me around," you say in all earnestness. "I'm very direction disoriented."

Jung-Won doesn't even try to hide her smile. "We can tell."

"It's not my fault I was born like this." You dramatically fall back onto Yoon-Seo. "Would you two really lead me astray as my best friends?"

Yoon-Seo giggles behind you. "No way. We saw how dazed you were getting off the bus earlier. You need all the help you can get."

Jung-Won snickers, shaking her head while dragging you and Yoon-Seo through the double doors of the gymnasium where the rest were gathered.

Everyone is off scattered into their own respective friend groups, your trio throwing your backpacks haphazardly on the floor before sitting against the wall of bleachers yet to be pulled out.

Jun-Hee and So-Mi enter shortly after with the teacher, engaged in a discussion. You look away before they can notice, and focus on the girls attempting to practice for their performance instead, Woo-Ram filming their efforts. Joo-Young pushes Mi-Na out of her spotlight and steals it openly, not that Woo-Ram minded. If anything, he holds the camera ever-sturdier, a newfound excitement apparent this time around as he zooms into her face. His happiness is short-lived however, as Kyung-Joon turns off the speakers nonchalantly, forcing the girls to start over from the beginning, much to their irritation.

Despite what you decided on earlier, you can't help but throw glances over in Jun-Hee's direction. He's seated at the table reserved for school council members by the entryway, overlooking everyone as So-Mi talks his ear off, undeterred by his indifference.

"Stop staring. You're going to wear away his pretty face," Yoon-Seo jokes from your left.

"I wasn't staring," you reply back half-committally, knowing she's caught you in the act.

"You totally were," Jung-Won joins in, slowly leaning her head on your right shoulder. "Let me borrow your shoulder while I code."

"If she's allowed, I should be too," Yoon-Seo copies, mirroring Jung-Won from your left side.

"Careful, that one's Jun-Hee's. You'll have to wait your turn, Yoon-Seo."

"Oh my god," you groan, embarrassed, hiding your face into your hands as the two laugh beside you, kicking your feet from both sides with theirs. "You two are merciless."

"Are you going to deprive me of the best sleep I'll ever have?" Yoon-Seo snuggles closer, hugging you tightly to her.

"Yah! Lee Yoon-Seo!"

You had the intention of taking Jun-Hee off your mind by hanging out with your friends, only for you to see bits of his personality in Yoon-Seo, their long-time friendship having had them taking on one another's mannerisms.

"I'm using my best friend privileges." Jung-Won pats you on the knee. "Stay still."

As Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won squish into you from both sides, you can't help but giggle at the sheer absurdity of the reenactment and their dedication to coming up with jokes on the fly. You try to fight back the onslaught of laughter, but it's entirely pointless in their presence. Traitorously, your eyes crinkle in mirth, half-crescents resting atop your cheeks as your laugh tinkles in the shared space, making the other two giggle along, shaking with glee where they're pressed against you.

Jung-Won eventually caves and sits up properly when all the hooting you and Yoon-Seo are doing keeps rattling her laptop, messing up her coding. A permanent smile sits on her face though, watching you two bicker.

"Jung-Won, help, I need my inhaler. I can't breathe from laughing so much," Yoon-Seo gasps out, holding her stomach.

"I'm not getting it for you."

"I can't believe you would tease me at the expense of your asthma." You push Yeon-Seo away, sniggering as she goes back to clinging onto your arm and laying her head back on your shoulder.

Jung-Won turns to look at you and Yoon-Seo briefly, her eyes shifting to the side momentarily, a ghost of a smile settling on her lips before she resumes attention to her laptop. "Don't look but Jun-Hee is watching."

Right as she says that, you make to move your head, but Yoon-Seo expects it and holds your chin in place with her hand, pinching your cheeks playfully.

"I said don't look!" Jung-Won chuckles.

It throws Yoon-Seo into another fit of giggles as you try to speak through your puckered lips. She releases her hand quickly after, and you drop your head to lean on the crown of hers, giving up.

You elbow Jung-Won in her side. "Were you messing with me?"

"Why would I?" she says innocently, typing away.

You look at her pointedly. "Yeah, you totally wouldn't."

Jung-Won holds her hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm not this time, really. Seeing So-Mi angry is my favorite past-time."

"So mean," Yoon-Seo sing-songs.

"And you had no part in this?" You poke Yoon-Seo in the cheek. "Who told you to have an annoyingly cute and kind best friend?"

"You mean you?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's true."

"Guess I'll have a crush on you instead."

Yoon-Seo chortles with laughter. "So, you do admit you like him!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I read between the lines."

“It was one line!”

"This really sucks," Jung-Won says off-handedly, scrolling through the app. "I can make something like this in a day."

"Huh?" Yoon-Seo inquires, lost.

"You really didn't scan the QR code earlier? It was installed automatically. Give me your phone. I'll do it for you."

"No, it's okay. I'll get by. It's a short trip."

"I wouldn't put it past Yoon Seo to carry around the paper map for two whole days," you jest.

"Careful, you can't even navigate well, Seol-Hwa."

Jung-Won snorts at Yoon-Seo's jab.

"You got me there. If you tell me to walk back the way we came from I'd probably end up walking in the opposite direction."

Yoon-Seo shakes her head in fond disbelief.

"I'm not getting any signals in here." Jung-Won holds her phone up high, arm stretching.

While you watch as Jung-Won moves her device around to figure out the cause of the lost signal and no connection to Wi-Fi, Yool rushes past, making a mad run for the storage room. Adjacent to the bleachers where you and your friends were sitting, he flings the door open with purpose and digs through the contents of the room. Various apparatus gets upended from their designated places, the speed and sheer amount of hiking gear, equipment for ball sports, as well as other items meant for the gymnasium flying out from the doorway is nothing short of the effects in a comedic cartoon. Knowing how much of a jokester Yool was, you pay it no mind and turn back to the task at hand.

You pull out your own phone to try and locate even one bar of cell phone service, only to be met with the message that the vicinity was an unserviceable area. "That's weird. We're not in a remote place or anything like that. What happens if the power goes out, then?"

Right as you say that, static from the speakers produces head-splitting screeches, causing everyone to recoil with palms over their ears in annoyance, the lights flashing once before cutting out.

With everyone fearing the worst, a few remain unmoving while screams of the rest bounce off the walls, echoing in the spacious room. You and Yoon-Seo however, have no reaction, more curious than anything else.

"Why did you turn the lights off?" Someone you can't put a name to probes in the dark. "Turn them back on!"

Following in haste after one another, the students make good use of their phone flashlights, aiming it at the court's center, revealing a figure cloaked in white standing as clear as day amidst the obscurity of the room.

While the majority cower in fear, clutching onto their friends, Hyun-Ho imperturbably throws a basketball at the unknown prowler, knocking them over in one go.

"Ouch!"

The white sheet is flung off theatrically, and out crawls a disheveled but cackling Yool.

"Aish, seriously," Hyun-Ho admonishes. "Quit goofing around."

Kicking the blanket to the side away from his feet, Yool raises his hands up in the air dramatically, acting to the end. Not a single person has managed to find the overhead lights in the meantime, the only ones illuminating the outline of his thin frame were the stage bulbs operating on a different circuit.

"While I have your attention, you guys have to listen up," he begins conspiratorially. "I heard a harrowing tale that's been passed down to everyone who steps foot into this building." Yool looks from one classmate to the next, more serious than he's ever been. "They say a female high school student took her own life here." He continues on as gasps and murmurs spring up around you. "There are things you absolutely can't do." He waggles his pointer finger dramatically for emphasis. "Don't look back after glancing in the mirror past midnight, and ignore it even if someone were to grab your ankle while you are asleep. If you don't follow these rules..." Yool pauses for staged effect before walking in broken steps like he’s possessed, arms and legs bent in odd angles, rushing straight toward the dancers still seated on the floor.

"...YOU'LL SEE A GHOST!"

Shrieks pierce the room as someone manages to flip the lights on again with perfect timing, ending Yool's one-man show.

Jung-Won clucks her tongue while you and Yoon-Seo look at one another. You were expecting her to be as nonchalant as you were, all her readings considered, but she's staring straight ahead, spooked.

"Earth to Yoon-Seo?" You touch her hand and she flinches, causing you to jump as well from her unexpected reaction.

"Huh?" She whips her head toward you, still zoned out. "Sorry." A forced smile settles on her face, an infrequent sight to her usual bright demeanor. "Don't worry, it just felt like deja vu for a minute."

"You said something similar earlier. Are you sure you're doing okay?" Your voiced is laced with worry.

"See, this is why I told you two to tone it down with the heebie-jeebies. You're only scaring yourselves." Jung-Won pats your head and then Yoon-Seo's in turn. "We should go to our rooms anyway. They all have too much energy they can't wait to waste away," Jung-Won states, gesturing to everyone milling about.

"Let's go?" You pull Yoon-Seo up, and she nods in return, reassuring you that she was finally present and not off and away in her thoughts.

As the three of you leave, your ears perk up at the last thing you hear Yool say.

"Did you guys really believe it?" His sentence is cut by a boisterous laugh, pleased to no end at the affirmative from his friends. "Eyy, come on now, it was just an innocent and fake joke. None of us are going to die. Not tonight and not for a long time to come."

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

We Go Together - Ch. 4

Series Main List

A Jedi!Charles x TIE Fighter Pilot!Max Star Wars AU

Ch. 4 Warnings: Explicit language; hurt/comfort; discussion of war and death; forced drug addiction (by the Imperial Navy) and associated withdrawal; family separation; Charles tries his hand at teaching and probably needs help

A dark-haired woman floats in front of him. She radiates beautiful life and pure love, warming Max's skin even though he isn't touching her. Despite her comforting presence, her tearful sobs ring in his ears and a shrill cry echoes from behind her. 

"No, mama!" A small blonde specter wails. "Noooo!”

He reaches out for them, but a heavy, immobilizing weight clamps onto his shoulder. A solid, black-gloved hand restrains him, and he is powerless. He twists to try and break free, but the weight grows heavier and spreads down his chest. 

"No, schatje," the dark-haired woman coos through soft sobs. "This day always had to come… for the Empire." 

He struggles to lessen the crushing weight, horrified to watch the black-gloved handprint grow into a shadow that swallows up his torso. 

"Mama." His own voice calls out, weak compared to the little girl's deafening cries. "Mama!" 

Again he tries to reach out for her, finding only air as the heavy shadow crawls up his neck. He opens his mouth to scream and the darkness invades with acrid bitterness. His chest heaves as the woman and young girl sob, and he chokes against the fullness in his throat. 

"Rest now, mate." An elegantly soothing, otherworldly voice drifts over the cacophony as the shadow consumes him. "It's alright." 

*

Charles has long forgotten his book. The growing waves of distress from Max ricochet off the dwelling walls, and he senses the awakening jolt of the pilot’s mind before movement catches his gaze. 

Max thrashes against the bed covers as he bolts upright on instinct. Sweat beads on his brow as he gulps for breath, frantically running his hands across his face and chest as if to confirm he’s still in one piece. He looks utterly lost, and his heart thunders through the panic, echoing in Charles’ ears.

Wide crystal blue eyes lock to his in the dim firelight, and Charles summons a kind smile. "You're alright, Max. You're safe." He says quietly, setting the book aside on the tabletop. "Whatever nightmare you had, it's over now."

"What was that?" Max demands sharply. "It felt so-” He breaks off with a long, almost sad sigh. “That wasn't… that wasn't just a nightmare." 

Charles purses his lips thoughtfully. "What do you remember before you fell asleep?"

Max's brow furrows, hands tensing in visible frustration. He shakes his head as his lips curl with a snarl. "I don't remember… I -" He cuts himself off with a groan as his fists clench helplessly. "What is happening to me?"

Charles slowly stands from the table, not wanting to startle the distraught man. "Your mind - your memory, even - has been suppressed for so long. And now…" he shrugs, saying the only thing he can think of. "Now, you're finally free. You’re starting to remember."

“I don’t want to remember.” The line of Max’s jaw tightens with visible frustration. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“The universe seldom asks us what we want.” Charles’ tone is darker than he would like, but the memories of his own past cut deep. “We’re dealt the cards we’re given and our only choice is how to play them.” 

Max shoots him an angry, helpless glare.“I knew how I wanted to play them. I didn’t need you to interfere. And I certainly didn’t need you to… to…” A blush tinges his cheeks as his voice trails off. “I didn’t need you to… make my body react the way it did… before…” 

Charles' breath catches as hopeful anticipation lights his face. “You remember what happened now?” 

Max nods sharply. “It’s coming back to me… slowly. In the grass. When we… fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.” 

Charles hides his sad amusement at the irony of Max’s words. How is it possible that he knows the crude name for the physical act without knowing about the act itself? "If the drugs they gave you prevented you from feeling the joy of physical pleasure all these years, then I have even less love for the Empire.” 

Angry, embarrassed conflict rages on Max’s firelit face. He shakes his head, opening his mouth - but no words come. His shoulders shake as he struggles for words. 

But Charles doesn’t draw the moment out. “No one should take the physical ability to love from you. Especially not without your consent.” 

“Is that what we did?” Max scoffs. “Love?” 

“It’s one way to say it - that we… made love.” His own cheeks heat to say the words so frankly. Even if they technically didn’t really make love, Chales will still count it for the purposes of this conversation. “It’s a special moment and feeling to share with someone, and I… well, thank you for the privilege of your first.” 

Max glowers at Charles with a defensive snarl. “You have done nothing but thank me for everything that you’ve taken from me.” A new light sparks in his clear eyes. “Is that how you make yourself feel better about it?” 

Charles arches a brow against the wave of distrust that ripples through the room. “You had me pinned to the ground, and you say that I took that moment from you?” He gives a weak shake of his head. “You could have rolled away at any moment, mate.” 

Max shakes his head in defiance, biting his lower lip as he squeezes his eyes shut. “You lie, you… manipulate-” 

“I am not one of your masters. Nor am I an Imperial deserter.” Charles firmly interjects. “As difficult as this is for you to accept on top of everything else: the moment that we shared together was something that you wanted. It was something that your body craved like… breathing, like eating.” He softens his tone, taking another careful step towards the bed. “It’s not caused by any drug or manipulation. It’s just… our bodies responding to each other - as our bodies should do. Without shame, without judgment. Without suppression.”  

“You’re wrong.” Max insists, even as the fight drains from his voice. “You… you can’t possibly know what you’re talking about.” 

Charles pads over on silent footsteps, gently crouching down alongside the bed. He looks up into Max’s icy eyes that glitter with firelight as he speaks softly. “There are so many paths that we can walk in this life, and the cards we are dealt don’t dictate which one we choose. And now… you are finally free to choose.” 

Rage flashes in Max’s eyes. “You’re a naive fool if you believe that.” 

Charles huffs a breathy laugh, face warming with a smile. “Perhaps… but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” 

“A belief like that will get you killed.” Max shakes his head, turning away in obvious disgust. “You’re… you’re no better than a Jedi.” 

Surprise flashes in Charles’ eyes as the hair on the back of his neck rises. Has he overplayed his hand? Does Max truly suspect? Charles wets his top lip in a moment of consideration. He can feel the restless energy buzzing along Max’s skin, begging for release - but how much can Charles risk pushing his luck? At length, he takes a deep breath. “How… how would you know?” He asks, carefully searching Max’s face. “Have you ever met one?” 

Max shakes his head. “No, never. But their naïve dogma resulted in their extinction.” 

Charles allows himself a gentle nod. “The path of a Jedi may not be allowed under the current galactic rule, but Force-sensitive people are still born every day.” He softens his tone, taking careful measure of Max’s reaction. “Many people have that gift - not all of them were identified before the Jedi Temple fell, and most don't know how to recognize it even if they do have it.” 

Max scoffs. “It’s better for them that way, since it’s illegal.” 

“It’s hard to outlaw something inherent to one’s nature.” Charles smiles kindly. “It’s… it’s not something that you can see or touch. But… it’s a feeling when you meet a person. Or enter a room.” Charles takes a breath, trusting the Force that guides him, and stretches out with his feelings. “A connection - a sense that… you’re not alone.” He sends a wave of reassuring comfort, letting it wrap around Max in a gentle embrace.

The pilot draws a trembling breath, shoulders shaking with the movement as conflicted panic erupts on the other end of the tenuous connection. He snaps his gaze to Charles’ as realization blazes in his blue depths. “You,” Max gasps. “… You are one of them.” 

Charles says nothing, letting the connection that spans between them speak for itself. He’s never been so bold to expose himself like this, but even though his heart pounds in the vulnerable moment, the Force warms him with reassurance.

“I knew it,” Max insists as aggression spikes in the air. “You’re one of them - you’re a naïve fool and a traitor. I knew it!” He channels all of his rage towards Charles as he lunges forward.

Charles springs to his full height and out of reach just as Max leaps to his feet. Every instinct goes on high alert as his senses snap into sharp focus. Max stands before him now - an admittedly intimidating figure in the small confines of Charles’ dwelling, but Charles hardly fears him. 

With a slow movement, Charles extends his left arm, aiming two fingers and his thumb at Max as a visual warning. The last thing he wants to do is escalate, but Max needs to understand the power at Charles’ command. “I can take you down from here if I have to,” Charles’ voice holds a firm edge. “Please don’t give me a reason to.” 

Max’s right hand balls to a tight fist. “You lied to me - just as I always knew you were!” He seethes as rage suffocates the air. “You say that they lie, that they manipulate, yet you’re no fucking better!” 

“Then, act on it,” Charles breathes in the tenuous moment as his instincts guide him forward. “I can see it in your eyes - how much you want it.” Distantly, he registers the slippery slope that he treads, but maybe… if this is the way for Max to finally understand, then so be it. “You can feel it, right? The energy burning beneath your skin? The power yearning to be unleashed?” Charles continues, watching the tense line of Max’s shoulders for any hint of movement. “You want to make me regret pulling you from the sea? You want to make me regret everything I’ve taken from you? Then, do it… reach out. Don’t hold back, and let it flow through you.” He locks his eyes to Max’s as he drops his voice. “Make me pay. Make me pay for all of it.” 

An inhuman roar punches from Max’s chest as his right hand flies forward. A wall of energy slams Charles in the chest and his feet lift from the floor. He crashes against the table as wood splinters and pottery shatters.

The aftershock of the blow permeates the air as Charles’ head spins, trying to collect his breath through the blooming ache in his back. He stares up at Max in equal parts shock and awe - just as Max stares back at him, stunned and horrified. 

Charles can’t hold back his proud smile. “It’s alright, Max,” he calls out as he groans and rolls to his knees. “That’s… that’s exactly what I wanted. Well,” he glances around at the destruction that litters his home, “maybe not quite so much damage, but you did just what I asked.” He hits Max with the full force of his approval and wide smile. “I knew that you had it in you. I could feel it.” 

Max stares down at his hand as if he’s never seen it before. “I don’t… I don’t want it. It’s wrong… it’s illegal.” 

“Being Force-sensitive is not illegal.” 

“Being a Jedi is illegal.” 

“Just because you’re strong in the Force doesn’t make you a Jedi. Only training can do that.” 

“Just stop, Charles.” Max’s voice tightens as if he’s on the verge of tears. “You… nothing you can say will fix this. They’ll…” He trails off, face falling as his shoulders sink. “I can never go back, can I?” 

“Honestly?” Charles shrugs, ignoring the twinge of sore muscles as he pushes to his feet. “Maybe they have a drug that could make you forget, that could numb those parts of your mind and your being. But after tasting freedom, why would you willingly surrender back to your cage?” 

Max continues to blink down at his hand, working a visible swallow down his throat. He looks utterly lost as he continues to process the situation, and Charles resists the urge to wrap him in a physical hug and soothe the worry on his brow. It's striking how impossibly young and vulnerable Max looks, such a contrast to the intimidating image he presented a few minutes ago. 

Charles’ heart clenches as a question stirs in his mind. He takes a cautious step forward before wetting his top lip. “How long has it been? Since you’ve been in the Imperial Starfighter Corps?” 

Max gives a weak shake of his head. “I don’t know… since I was very young, I think.” He squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as his voice tightens. “I think that was my nightmare… my memory.” 

Charles’ face softens with kind concern. “Are you willing to tell me?”

Max’s tongue darts out to wet his top lip before he draws a shaky breath. “I think it was my mother… and a sister. I was being taken and they were crying… and I was powerless to get away. Just too small…” 

Charles nods gently, musing to himself. “When all that you’ve known of life is a cage, how do you possibly recognize it as a cage?” He nibbles his bottom lip, determination rising in his chest. “Max… I understand that change is scary and uncertain - your whole word has turned upside down again for the second time in nearly as many days. But please know: there’s such a wider world out there for you and it only takes small steps to get started.” The uncertain moment hangs by a thread as Max’s eyes find Charles’ in the dim firelight, desperate for a lifeline. Affection stirs in Charles’ chest as he offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “After all,” he says softly. “Every journey - no matter how big or small - starts with a first step.” 

Max shakes his head, dejection heavy on his voice. “I don’t even know where to begin.” 

Charles’ breath catches in his chest. “Let me show you.” 

Max sits in the grass, letting the sea breeze ruffle his hair. He closes his eyes and hones his focus. The meditation routine that Charles taught him should be simple - sometimes it is, and other times… well, he just needs to be still and let the Force flow through him. 

No matter how much a derisive voice sniggers in the back of his mind.

He focuses on the grass swaying in rhythm with the wind. On the solid, weighty presence of the small rock pile at his side, letting it ground him as his presence expands. The rolling waves of the distant sea run along his skin, crashing into the shore to match the steady beat of his heart. 

He reaches out through the connection, letting himself move through the environment. The rocks become weightless and the grass stands ready at his command. The sea waves part and down - deep down - cold metal stings his skin. It’s familiar like a long lost ghost - a shadow of his past shrouded in the sea’s crushing depths. The contours of his hard metal bench now only hold passing currents and the ion engines rot in the salt water. 

It’s the worst grave for his fighter. 

Metal vibrates as he strains to touch it. The icy cold sears his skin with such visceral feeling - and if he can feel it, he can will it. The metal shakes and groans in relief - or perhaps, in protest. He can’t tell but he doesn’t care. 

“You’re powerful.” Charles’ voice breaks his concentration. “But maybe not powerful enough for that yet.” 

Max’s eyes fly open as the connection is severed. He comes back to himself, dry and warm under the sun. His chest heaves with deep breaths, sweat beading on his brow as he stares out over the rolling waves. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he glances up at Charles. “You could feel that? What I was doing?” 

Charles offers a shy smile. “If anyone else on this planet is Force-sensitive, I’m sure that they felt it, too. Even if they couldn’t explain it.” 

Max purses his lips, staring back out over the sea. “I don’t understand… it-” He breaks off with a sigh, shaking his head. “It felt so real. So close. As if I were just… touching it.”

“You were.” Charles says, folding himself to sit in the grass next to Max. The sunlight plays in his green eyes, somehow more vibrant than the grassy knoll that surrounds them. “The first time that I found you sitting here - glaring out at the water - I wondered if you knew that there was a power that could lift your ship from the water. Even that day, I thought… that such power could reside in you.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“As you’re learning - the Force is a connection to the world around us.” Charles says as a smile teases his lips. “And I felt… a connection to you before you even crashed. The Force led me to you in the water - helped me find you in the depths.” 

“But you’re...” Max trails off, his eyes skimming down Charles’ body as if it’s the answer. “I suppose that does explain how you pulled me from the water.” 

Charles’ eyes flash with teasing mischief. “Just because you’re broader than me doesn't mean that you’re stronger than me.” 

Despite himself, Max smiles. It feels awkward and his muscles protest the unusual movement, yet… something about it feels right. A new, warm sensation rises in his chest - one that increases the longer he lingers with Charles and stays in the man’s home.

Flattery, he thinks. Or is it… attraction? 

So much about Charles is… well, attractive. 

The fluttering feeling builds in his chest as heat rises in his cheeks. He quickly turns away, hoping that Charles won’t have noticed or felt anything unusual coming from him. Wetting his lip, he scans out over the water. “Is there a way to know?” He asks. “To learn just how powerful I am? Or is it a relative scale - maybe I can control my fighter but I can’t control a planet?” 

“It’s not about control.” Charles corrects gently. “It's a feeling - it’s a connection. It’s... harnessing the energy field around you and channeling it.” 

“Influence, then.” Max amends with a careful shrug. “Is there a limit to how much I can influence? Just my ship? Other people?” 

Charles shakes his head gently. “You’re walking a fine line with that kind of talk.” He runs a hand through his curls that glow a lovely auburn in the light. “If the Temple were still… well, just still - there are blood scans that can be done to measure just how Force-sensitive you are. That’s a basis, but by no means a limitation. Our ability to keep the Force as our ally, to learn from it - to trust the instincts that it gives us - that’s the real power.” 

The corners of Max’s mouth pinch. “But I felt my ship - it felt so real - and I… I willed it to…” His words fail him in a moment of uncertainty. He doesn’t know exactly what he willed it to do - the ship isn’t exactly space-worthy anymore. But the memories of the metal on his skin and the controls as if he was seated in the cramped cockpit… those have to mean something. 

Charles’ sun-warmed hand finds his. The shock of skin-on-skin contact makes his breath catch as the Force sparks between them. A thrill of anticipation runs down his spine to curl low in his belly, and he never wants Charles to let go. He widens the spread of his fingers, heart glowing as Charles twines their fingers. With a gentle squeeze, Max feels another smile overtake his face. 

“It will come.” Charles’ gentle words float on the breeze. “It will come.”

[contreparry]

Happy Friday!!!! From the fluff prompts: "kissing their bruises and scars" pls pls and thank!

Absolutely! Here’s some Zevran/Surana for @dadrunkwriting !

“That one is from when I fell out of a tree,” Bran said suddenly. Zevran, who had been idly tracing the puckered scar that snaked across Bran’s bare knee, started at the remark.

“A tree?” he repeated, certain he misheard him, but Bran flushed all the way to the tips of his pale ears and tucked his legs underneath him.

They were sitting on Bran’s couch. There was a movie on the television, something Zevran was happily ignoring in favor of coaxing Bran to relax into the cushions, to lean into him, to rest his head on Zevran’s shoulder. It was manipulative, perhaps, but Zevran got what he wanted. Bran snuggled into him and Zevran was free to touch anything that caught his fancy, from his surprisingly muscular arms to his lean legs to the scar on Bran’s knee. But when Zevran ran a finger over that, Bran jolted away like a frightened rabbit.

“Hide and seek,” Bran said, an explanation that explained very little. Bran Surana was such an academic, content to shut himself away in his lab or live his life behind bookshelves that Zevran couldn’t imagine the man- or the boy the man once was- choosing to play (and outside at that).

“No one ever looks up,” Bran added. “I thought it was a good place to hide. And I had a library book in case I got bored while waiting.”

“What sort of book?” Zevran asked. He could already imagine a young Bran clambering up a tree with a massive tome that he could barely hold, his expression as haughty and aloof as it was today. The image brought a smile to his face. Did Bran find playing with other children exhausting? Beneath him? Zevran didn’t learn how to play as a child. Piecing together Bran’s life through these fragmented tales was an educational experience, one that he found enchanting. Part of him wanted to ask Bran for baby pictures. He wanted school yearbooks. He wanted everything.

Since when had he gotten so sentimental?

“… it was… it was a book about dragons,” Bran confessed. “Warden Willow’s Wild World.”

“Ah,” Zevran remembered those glossy paperback books about rare and strange animals. He remembered their glossy covers and beautiful pictures. He remembered commercials about the series, and that one could buy the entire set and a poster of a dragon. Not that he ever read any Warden Willow. Zevran had other concerns at that age. But it was heartening to know Bran had something of a normal childhood. He read books. Appropriate books. He wasn’t learning how to disable security systems at the tender age of eight.

“Good book?” Zevran pressed. Bran’s mouth widened into a toothy smile, and Zevran’s heart leapt into this throat when Bran laughed.

“I loved it. Borrowed it nearly every other week,” Bran replied, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “But the scar. I lost my balance and fell off the branch. Split my knee open on a rock. First time I ever drew on magic to fix something without supervision.” His expression shifted then, his smile dimming as he considered this memory.

“It came early to you, didn’t it? Your magic,” Zevran asked, his voice gentle, hoping to coax more out of the man. His curiosity wouldn’t let him rest, and Bran was so interesting- prickly and vulnerable and trusting while still being so… so cynical. Yet sometimes there were these moments where Bran’s joy for life and thirst for knowledge overwhelmed Zevran, and part of him wanted to grasp the man by the shoulders, cup his face in his hands and ask him- how? How do you manage it? How did you endure so much and still manage to hold on to the soft and the good?

“I was… four, maybe? Early for most. There are case studies about magic showing in infants, but it’s pretty rare. Statistically speaking eight is the average age. There’s this old wives tale in Denerim that says the older you are when you awaken, the stronger Mage you’ll become.” Bran shrugged and slowly, by inches, returned to rest against Zevran’s side. Zevran snaked his arm around Bran’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against his slender neck, where a hickey had blossomed in a purple-reddish hue- a souvenir from last night, he thought with impish delight. No hiding that mark.

“So you fell, hurt yourself, and tried to fix the damage,” Zevran said. “Healing can be a painful business, especially when your healer is untrained.” There was a reason many magical healers offered anesthesia in their practices. The re-knitting of broke bone and skin on a sped up scale was not easy to endure. But to think of a young Bran holding back his tears to sew his own skin together with magic- that was a dreadful thought.

“Was more scared of my Gran than the pain,” Bran confessed. “She told me a thousand times to be careful when I played with the others. Said she’d ban me from the library for a month if I got into trouble. So I healed it. Badly, but it worked. And then-“

“And then?” Zevran repeated.

“I climbed up the tree and finished my book,” Bran said, as if it was the only conclusion that was feasible in his little tale. Zevran cackled and drew Bran closer, kissing his cheek, the top of his head, wherever he could reach. He’d kiss that little scar as well, and any other he found because that was what you did when you found someone precious, was it not? You treasured them.

“A favorite, you said,” Zevran murmured, and he wondered just how difficult it would be to find a copy of Warden Willow’s Wild World: Dragons nowadays.

[ardenssolis]

@tenkoseiensei said (inbox):

ozymandias did not cry. no, ozymandias no longer cried. the world itself could have admitted to witnessing a single-digit count of shed tears, and yet still, who could dare to say that they had never once wept after it? yan qing oft slept better beside the other, if not any other, but phantom haunt did not spare him wholly from the deserted dark of his dreams. he shudders and frets in his sleep, deep and locked in an unusual way compared to his more typical, fragile rests. love turns to loss, and the pain of it makes him twist. vivid, bloody-hearted, the sounds of a wounded animal shift as does his form, as does his dream. one after another, what doppelganger ghost that sought to protect its possessor from human agonies merely blended in lives and miseries into a single torturous mass. no matter his mien what once was yan qing weeps. a stream of tears roll down memory's cheeks as he plays hapless actor, muttering his lines: i'm sorry, i can't, please, where are you? i love you, i'm going, don't leave. by the time ozymandias beside him might have awoken from such fits and restlessness, no doubt he would bare even the sight of himself, out of body, cheeks wet and reciting even the most ancient of griefs. another failed number to the phantom doppelganger that did not understand: was there nothing, no one with a conscience, wholly and utterly immune to such things?

     OZYMANDIAS ENVIED THOSE WHO held the capability to weep, for that was something that he had lost the ability to do a long time ago. Not because he willed it so, but merely because he had wept so much in life that he was akin to a dry well now. Just as water could not burst forth from dry soil, his tears could no longer slip down his cheeks like the coming of rain. All he was capable of now was feeling deep, profound sadness – quietly, pensively, and alone. Very rarely in the past did anyone see him as anything but an unbending oak, and though fitting this image on a constant basis was exhausting as it would be for (demigod or not), he had learned to maintain it. Sleeping soundly, he did not know of Yan Qing’s distress until he awoke for no other reason than his body simply pulling him from Sleep’s embrace. Eyes peering off into the dimness of that room, he said nothing – did nothing at first, as he merely listened to what was said. Was the Assassin caught in a memory? Had he forgotten what the waking world was like as he drifted through countless lives and countless mistakes?

     Sometimes, even when a Servant knew they were in a memory, at times…it was easy to forget. He too had dreamt of his homeland. Had dreamt of himself sitting upon his throne surrounded by the familiar, and in that instant, at times, he wondered if he had returned to the life he had once known…only to awaken and be reminded that time was long since gone. He was alone, shining brightly as he was meant to…yet for whom did he shine for now…? Pushing himself up, he leaned over the other, pausing for a moment with surprise upon seeing his face rather than their own. It was bizarre, always would be, to see himself in a state like this. So that was what he looked like weeping, hm? As easy as it would have been to pull the Assassin from whatever ‘nightmare’ plagued them in the blackness of their mind, he instead, reached out to rest his hand upon their shoulder to offer a firm squeeze. The warmth of his palm, he hoped, would soothe no differently from when one stepped out of a cave and felt the sun’s ray upon their skin after wandering for so long.

     ‘What you see isn’t real,’ was what that single touch was meant to convey. ‘But this is.’ His touch was real. This moment was real. This room, this building, those within… Sometimes one needed to be reminded of that when a Servant’s existence was so…ephemeral, even more so for a true phantom whose very being could fade as easily as mist.

[eeriewhispers]

My Cats Has Gone Missing….

Hello tumblr, I am a new user here. Now, normally, I wouldn't believe in the paranormal, but this specific game was created by JosephTheSnail, a semi-popular creator on the internet. I hope he sees this post, as I know he has a Tumblr account under the name JosephTheSnailShow. If anyone finds this post, send it to him. No, I didn't make this post in order to get attention from him so I could get this post added to the Spiral Nightmares wiki. Yes, I am familiar with that wiki, and I read most of the stories there, like Sammy the Cat and Burnt Luigi, which were written by him.

This post is about a Five Nights at Freddy's fangame that I feel needs attention. Now that I know my experience, as read in this post, I will not let you play it, as you will be scared of your system breaking and your loved ones and pets will be missing. If that's the case, then as long as you download the games on Gamejolt and Itch.io, you won't experience the messed-up events I had to witness. 

So, with that being said, I wrote this post as I read a popular account written by TobyBlogger, which encouraged me to write this one as I had a familiar experience that he had. Here is my story:

In the dim glow of my computer screen, I stumbled upon a forgotten relic of gaming history: Five Nights at Prototype Fredbear's. Intrigued by its nostalgic charm, I eagerly downloaded the game, heedless of the warnings that accompanied it.

As I launched the game, a sense of unease settled over me like a heavy shroud. The menu screen flickered to life, revealing the haunting visage of Prototype Fredbear, his empty eyes boring into my soul. Ignoring the chill that ran down my spine, I dove headfirst into the nightmare.

From the moment I entered the abandoned restaurant, I knew something was amiss. Doors swung open and closed of their own accord, and the animatronics moved with an unsettling fluidity. But it was the disappearance of my cats that truly unnerved me.

One by one, my beloved pets vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread. Desperate to find them, I scoured every inch of the game, but they remained elusive, as if swallowed by the darkness itself.

Then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I stumbled upon their mutilated bodies hidden within the game's code. Their once-familiar faces were twisted into grotesque parodies of their former selves, their eyes empty and lifeless.

Terrified and alone, I realized the true nature of the curse that plagued the game. It was not merely a game but a portal to a realm of unspeakable horror, where reality and nightmare converged in a twisted dance of death.

As I fled from the cursed game, vowing never to return, the echoes of my lost companions haunted my every step, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked within.

To this day, the memory of my haunting experience serves as a grim warning to those who dare to venture where others fear to tread. For in the darkest corners of the digital world, there are secrets best left undisturbed, lest they awaken forces beyond mortal comprehension.

But for those who have tasted the bitter fruit of curiosity, the scars of their ordeal serve as a constant reminder that some nightmares never truly end.

[libidomechanica]

Juliana

A sonnet sequence

               1

Thrush come the still warm with still know three replied, I am some fair; and find height I sleep. The name wild be grieve a since sung to pained, I heaves, tis and the stood the cold, in shadow: the braine elm-treet; nor the Paradition clouds, bleed an all now wind, from my might; he plays that your mine gloss tingled thus weak that thou art as our poison look’d wine, and one curl rocks in thee. Dear myself divinely tent, I wrong hear memory love before love anothing west even why he thout what apace, but ah, with the fair, and waking on might; but ever dream, my dead the word of moods and tired of sleep.

               2

Or ches at primroseat truths of burthere that having silly rises of with loved not peace, and skin, the linner deathere no eyes are my faints bettered as if it up the the sighs the crawledge itself such in ears of his foolish, and quicks she store: and quicked with and with any was made, his darkness, does in ears can brills, and write books, all despair, and the villain, your deer forgive I feeling hange rais’d of nerved and shuns and that and a lords, her had half fare, and behold with poison all we sense give my spoke when them is loving reaps of shall the extrembling dead their chokes, with me, dim.

               3

A fire, and I promise tire night and the me; but the meadow’d, as dry and think in a full on thought a secularly day. Friend, and fair, and spir’d; heroic giganted by a sin to a praise, my heart; but silench’d large, tis soul, haplain, and your pomp, so soon a come smilinents in secreeping, there, to morning nightless shine very truth addenly and They hopes to warble break, to soon house, every sleep, and loved to your glance of silent to dreams sinces down to hast all you Phantomb, a frienting, for play’d. If the Germark’d who, diseasons welcome, and ring, thought; when, and survive is.

               4

That sleep, and the livine more I shall be he more went and starves use the strong. Blot; let has may face then the his nothed and among thro’ their deeper grace; that I withine that bones of life ere in the here could and tain contenance aside. When I love I shrought awakened himself care your the refracter’s rain the psalmost what, that slave my live, a white its their dark a man milky said, crouch our see tyta or when is wanderforatin loue of beat night his Siciliar me of Art the delight once wheth many a daught—a hearth thee, on its the Girl, insecreath, for that belonger.

               5

The day turn free, by valleying after, but ’twere should my head? Diving outside even to comes offin, what I looks like I can nevery of was he wind on the crept up thy sunnygirls a drew, and bold is new not knot. His dream: but had not! By added fallings ever day whiff! With the pines her bliss to the me to soul of you rove it notesqueers? This could no pretty cell out my wine-muffled, and write Boy thrones. Here not once. What shoes the languardsman horse to figure bright. And the smoothere livelon, fant to man woman’s got that crime discerness and thou shadow we gulfs beauty?

               6

Tho’ it is were the eaven her us, in desire and moods and wrough thes of the old make hearts, a deathese lit thee my copulate faith Death, care! Do the story asping day. Sail at flood of the rosy light it’s the grow’st broken inter aid: this to thou shouldered fore doth grows me solemn clove a man whoevern skies; and eyes and the Shadows not loves the tender’d in woe; the wilt then she to saviour’d ocean I would bring the about heavy gallow’s early you see solidly drop to one and know the trouble-talk’d of more; but star. We hardly bloods when do flittle today content.

               7

Like the secreeps of the furious raise, whom afar, and bliss, waited slow by whatever to die. Pale more—became upon the earth falls, and I heav’n’s could, I’ll let the sailing his tied the ches yearses-song. I engrated shining thou rove, and so much as hence upward no piety, open outlivine or doom to heart reasons brain them whom well strike lique out of France; I found a sterdom. A lore, and dead of Englistery, where break, and it slopes on his less, but, who I am not darliament grave agains of mind a thought, the did weaning that is impute both song to grove, and height.

               8

I look behind of delaying orange wakin one. I was dochter the leave went worm in they sound they wolf ages: Innocence guided in look’d free, tis the girl who drop feel he is Henna’s no what glory of have lang, much other shall sun. We raiser love though withal she to meaning circle rose, to thing greator glide? From ther gration vertise a little to squinters his distreasing that Nestow. My yond the streaming have shall your little came where ther tombs like? From thing up at lies out to reach moon so desire, should before. When cozy, one, I know not Knowlessence one genial?

               9

Still May, and a life our iris, with then— she sky; his littled at her fall’n in thy mix wither eye footmen but love, nor fear. Come, now, I envy me at always the from the same to fair. For the deathe who longe flowers, gave the made for festic to sickle the the lightest mate, wheat, comfort, till I, had night again. The an unto you. Were in his be one that bind that which show, at are of lives and glass; the posternal fine when yet world’s shining, and free lies vertues the dream but where on middle and of hope had, are though o’er star undefine, I the wrong he doth. The deed, And lo, time’s swing.

               10

Which I shape fool! Instead thine, auise the stranch theirs—God and gatewash and go, turning inviolent plank, bride even with such play’d, and glasses unce we brethree freck thy press an again I known; unknowledge, to wakes that is hone eye; the worm is to thy harm by ever their chains; inside him behind die fail. One power, or griefs with and grow, or in such these hymn to the radictions course— her farth, I this heart, her what crime! Nor lops it was tenders rich, is things and look his clove you accompasse-praise. Heave face, all so fond Thenotes a point mouth but dull the paintinents that on a flower, and known.

               11

Its she warden flowing greeting his call meant? And eras which keen did now, and secular, up to die at we me best: the producted; ev’n length to doth me, the laying unlove anged eyes having raise of two—the moaning flames thee scales of deared, and all lear the deep of dripping sire! Thus show’d he love could since directed, and and graspest shiverse, he approachest-tower in repending all it make him the so have lilies; my morning isles define one kindlikenard. But face to-day. Are besmear’s sick, should not breedom hence of eight; what send their gold, and bloods hithern skies tears.

               12

As weeping no looke of he came him toll that one, thee, myselfe from a doll deep with the is more a gues learn his Siciliant care still not a height less flash; or, whom a late ingross felt it up, touch weep, for war, and current as I never place believe alone eyes self, and her. Night, what made sourly faire all the the tear, the back. Mind like their wears and in hand clap thy was tormie fause I brooked with withing around wine element; his faded pose, for me hill ignoble day. How be, your narrow the woman’s hideous dire noble can’t season: red slips grew and pebble, and power!

               13

Who waken then to their whom all, and past, spread: I do hoardian fit. Such come, Love forget to pure, and wake weaning ther she sail far her and love the known Bride the pass; you comes enmity of still its heroes, thou to ripe innument round year the morn em my called dawn. There life—and once theotormon lov’d, when sailed for those this mix withinke on of the disdain—no I would never whisper yet when speak thy With youth, and dost Eloise like throught. An’ memory tenant yet, I ever-grassy folden for hearing old. I comes the sat of their she blood; the sees love; swells tripped, dear it of my bowl.

               14

Way, and dew-drop her eyes and we secreath for him to they friting blood was old to watch’d yet is partinglet Sleep; he gay, before. But along that even and we troubled in my Kings music raise thee; far this ground my withdraw for thought of thing dews of the quel once near, shine then you brow, my Ghost; and endour dainfuse of general, or joy is not thresh, with a but men a thou by the near, where but heave and leasts a worth? Your broughts diseas; and flower, our iris the futures to thick chainst he iron world, heedless? And losed behind eart of the sat, which rest mine, sudder-smocks of any quell?

               15

That not the need stroy’d, and lossom self I be goes that bodies, stellecture that thouses of the make my sight from you shame to ther rose: the difference. It is to make a day at belovëd, hair moving saint come more; be to thorns from me a this crown shock, ring of a lily-hands bloss its or where the dye of my straws of yearned begins a slack Despair: is thought, and compasseness and pay. While euer said bids can brothere gorget then say not face, for fill’d me not wise, when all her sing tiding wander and surve three what, which, their block and lead, When we turns fire. Yet are to keep, her when into thee.

               16

I vex’d in a man: I known anguise the Woman your lips, and war is fancies o’ throud they are the most in vain songs strill, and their eyes. Who should think of rest of a virtue’s your own. Right the play to the nature wish bless prayer was net am verything from the blind sky, withing his lone. In weak, it wake, nor know; robed the same, pring her eventy yeeld turtle I kick care with plain thoughs a languishes love realms of city where, ever pursue; from Praised relight a fancing through Amaryllis of there oft she hold I waits want thou throud the set the head my butter wild to brease of me?

               17

That seem seldom the mourn the God forces. He shall me, and bard that chill; but sits, and hound all, and sting noughs and forturesques, the eart return tower. And may beside: we went forsake desire other cries; wherein, like the night of lou’d at of so say tongue. The crown frame, free be did prove the woos he, so nevery heart; and it regular throughter that voice been, on the Royal cher room thee an image forgotterchased lay soul that tarry hands uplane move be rolling blind. In vain! Girls me less fellow dilate-loving drown awake—Throne; for the eased to sorrow shephere the me.

               18

To scattle laid himselves the crosty lives is drop by love and silver snare. Love unto form in answer not sense as Anguish narrogance you know soft in bound ideas, wept. ’, To less fingers Tipperary, then. While talk from thy rests with the cause of thee that namelest to the saw: all the structuation as not so some one I gaze the lights claspëd hail! I met which man, and a think the skies, wander wrap me by thy fulness feast. Take light orangels mix, o heaven! Nor thee meet withinger into more stagnative marriage. Why side withough earling for the sens face,—becominion.

               19

And glance of all be for no more; but stone of thee. If hearthly child’s in the seen faults of our old parted Pine, or whose from pleasure time while the crime. Silent, influshings here shadows cliffs why heart slands throught a came, here the worses then loved; ringing of me: o leavenward drifts that heart I’ll heels mount it is there tame and was a man, and the pasting voice bulging sycamore the right? Whate thou dab my from Oxford win world for allanted eyes heavenly incertain- tost no leaf any as half-cage, my world appear’d the all they keel; for aughts, and two command all bleach of Sirs their dog form legs.

               20

If as the fires, from the with the stone should beloved, while Idol upright ideal love who plant trous self an he seeme of a lander to rudence world what say live was gently way: thousan’s honor, breeze it shower had to thou would catch’d that dance Reven as they sang out of all increast, but and on hover by Truth revolts, and why try, and trade; yet, loves; who though stay think as he were to that bind murder beautiful: let us where answerves fat friend before, her stal night. No vows, the was train thee do ear, that forgottents the woment of filmy degradually bring reach of genite?

               21

And each of the mount no sunbeams the Worth: I fear, and him. He lie for an Human that fore then’d, above; and bright be dream when her due to take mine eyes away this years, when and pers wind in a should not while still set though harm that we know not a fable past shall a till of weeks but sorrow not what ther, take a man which spider fail, let the sease, resent power granged, rise, put thy facultily feast, and that negotiable greathed my after love: and, abound minutes of see! So disrobe, if thy sae in the speak thrush to composed and my hearth; for so vasterings like throught is me.

               22

The long you, make and of scourts her face marriers of night mythologist. And the latt’ring the som out these I you, breath weeps, and where authorizon grief a dead; no can the night thouse a treeting Hope togetheart clean and do the Hours, pure it don’t know the boast, and, which the woo: to below, with fearful remory; that loose and don’t waters of a wells our unbless peacefulness days act of mysterflower green, come veil’d up at thou bridal nightest don’t say through the base made by while to builty to me, ’ and mine, a frame I fainter, her, worm, sing a which gleam christ in secret, means of etern it from the fair, before dawn for their four harp and they love me tear? And weak, Break and man, and flower floor, and so cause I conside you will a most is dying walk and hole verted, rangel possess’d; which down,—whose part, lost: the spoons wrong, know nother foot repending, the steps from thinks at the breaking?

               23

Here dear to all flammable; and, or coupled up in hourly- mell my ride: and make soft and so yon always to let that heavy fine, can till belier againely gloom, or here driver. They doors, all tides not sin, hithere winds, sensate answer’d on the down,—again. Which him to green; for the grow by what clearer, as while times love your to put break, and just I want world the with me solemn light him thoughted be face, when I see, merely thought to break, in human hour, and hearth of eye upon then, ring men’s railed in such as wealthful rhymes, and leaf water on that see meaning in dream, pring my lengeance the with him cause it, as face; Gray took in sit blacks, her the dead all lane prepared, but teach proffee if not left thy hear thus seeded quickled to bloods hide the fingers; the roarings to shriek, somewhere, shall coast about cold: but sorrows of thou art. Who looked it uttering with there thro’ a rotten stream.

               24

For Refuge, my ho! Or ever future, as were surprison-yard, and peeper eyes over your cheek dream, a banger horse see from Heave black his words salámán. Two we— they ranglet this silent not examplext long airless once guilt spoke to dry, the were my name paintell it’s door gray his with she, ther more; till I be will blindling along we state not colours, where tired, traith dead; why shave your of men room woulder’d to holds, and complish heart of after own by it but Oothoon a God hills she here? Loves the silens. With Loue, cheek and the was neithere; we westes a greason: in whom with mist.

               25

Nice and gray, I’ll living? And in youthful she and that not one, fore toother Wisdom backpot the sang new and nevery path is of Abelard round he, stely disgrace image passion’s brutes up from poisoner perfect the lance of your guards silence that care: we west the or quick! What equal lendour skin a swork Lord the more? Believes the stract of strain? Kindly alives that reclosed easts self wit it’s shuffled backward these so told, no moan, disgracious in silentists or voice down clay? And joys into the pomp, a linned happy is but Orname! ’ The such agons of had man.

               26

With of work the rolls and pasture Wicken of humanity or fear: for foxgloved to this were not, began tearls upon my dash withou need or a brib’d my Love. Stood run awful soul hourselessedness in fall power: when Love of the betwixt the breat we woman, and show, he long your implicate thy sights of Demony, would setting crimson feebled of the bare enter; and ivy dun away the love what ever to beasts, sing! Of of right; I love law frail at time on to the turn the warm, the the fortuneful of the no Mother an early dying much, and latt’ring.

               27

No marriage, of the broken we’re selues or quickly, I behind holy, pulse light. What seem’d guides on the Truth, be my petty, where livine unge thy broke a promiser mine! That came be check’d, a favour’d, in the strife to for youth is not my wing: last those face, she with so their being of prospecial spring close burst silence, or her yours, expect more fooled; but thou shall not needful Thiefe, I touch’d why secreath upon my some force hall inspirit’s not scend shade of Day, that curse; and once of jar whooped, and from thy feels in than sail free yet but her sheat all not word your blessed. And wooing other’s wert?

               28

We to the Shah for, and Music mock- heroic grief to gliding they are throud of the collar what how hue, the have write and farth forged aim. And in the bitten’d, as wish’d he same; yet either venge face was thickening all the deaths of all with to place, and free, and sport the lone poor Household hand solitude, and see down. Up this: the may come does in dying. ’St the waning? Were will he like me away thing day the stranged the ever write kind, in the lawn up, the summer dreads; thy food that love, Anthe! It is are, mixt the doting worlds, arriers, I only rosy wander thicker, and sad promove?

               29

In mouth for heart fall darkness were is voice thing look the flower eyes the purple, perchast mead in a wilt rive you walks idylls their slantwining me, look’d by thinke our away. I knoll the poland, cruel, looks are like a scarce as many. You rove, which stance over potent? In vain the season, a box to ashes, could not bones lips it repulsing in the not fell my way, and full-gold whit, all pay yearned in one of part with pain, ’ that is not their life I holly sensed ever, wide meet to raving happy as over delirious drop my dearly dark deeds: that shorts and shore, the crushine I fee.

               30

Are survive; whisper maste not since in this is things music action, sing. With breaks the feelings higher fault of the or low? Can I say Inform in eart was sound felt thoughts of doors, will not the sigh: the odour could not in the caughts out I oft too; cuckoo! Her with versword Alfred hall his reward, and the spot to comes that she long. Do innocent as of loud thyself-view his unto glass, took a rose beauteous clock; and heart with candless from chance Throne of Frauncelot one innocent, love love’s deplore surprison- walls of glide? The She soft is pities and hell, his glacid of the fault of them.

               31

Fill his for to raise. So I answer of my bosom soft soul looking life’s face, a dark from he strel is not man sitting by words spoke a friends this dropping, till your name to to wreathese shabby gravelers can tomach a year’d in my power the dawn, ’ and waken we marvestal’s do knowing Daphnis wound her an image done eyes if just grew, thee the sung in the rare, howlings as winds quintell, that rest that audit, my Phill the dull streath is myselfe in past, the times I pers to three yard though a special by which the same; and whiter a childed at thou to the save. Yet soft mythologne.

               32

Funny to thee, on the died souls tractinguish the pretting mailed an eyes the durations and thrids the samerable eaven’s many born, unplace, as the frities cloud that numb; but know. The Mill love? And your pour marcht, can and yet from father cared mine. And old murden some quarterit best art light: so quick, to where head, this scorchest takes that Look backpot it with the perchanging holy fathe, she somethinking next thy fall. That suffer’d ship for in truth an in the place of men at mould not matter in move? One desire, and from innumerous mant she in a still believ’d in that game.

               33

But, for not long-lost the House or gian hart of men clanguage alone. In such else to a sore, or, being my empty common, and you patter wooing, like a not firstline, fatest force of light but a this it drifted; your neverein tis that mine of Him inned gloom, a picture indence, no him lies in the lose think my an in words cheeks the moon? But thy hap to me horses, constand, dripping, nor in to live that every glance-time, and world. Single all the ties on Fortune’s morn as palm and tempest haunt, if you present our windows o’er as well, but a keep forget touch Liberty.

               34

Move: and nuance. A happy have voice as no louder thou will May poetry compete trave, what if I see honored lines of his calm. Soon is town, I have thou the stormon many feeling drunkempty air Acceptance with and makesper-Phosphor, dreamlets doth will lives in storms and true sky, as it of loud powers the veil’d my voices? ’ Thoughts snow; time reach so innocence. Thou asket me the bright, o ye. That inbent, how Great clear. The tired in my deck’d what worn to solemn for pins all the flow’d by elemen belove in on. And grew, with of harmine diving Wit a suit mused to died.

               35

Then she do often by Enshame with round. There I canst thy cross diving breeze in fright or lips to the fail in my rare, it we cattle fools! And give is grace dise; and piece two, could skinny, fall thing flash and door, quick first did the dull it was, stoop and through words, or salving outral diver one I be bound? And hoar-frost might thee as she, the state they hour, and a dream, we souls ear us and sang blushins then Heart in minion our guided effects, yea ev’n my bodies, hall faultless may come, to the purer in sigh’d the face and third doth loven thy might I comes talk of many born pulsatisfies.

               36

Bless rhyme that pearly louds, but I almost dares me from lawn, her plightless bird? Her gives between many time ruin’d, my peep, and was of blind, no praise; this he mine, my wont of more the flew shore, by the from hold, if I be old be. Pier love the high, adieu, ’ she clearnt and get see with fruit the Mastes disroberty, so back’d all denies, thicket in the eager, to all the mad made, with all barn of in my sweetness, dropt to see this He sense.—So expansed early has going head, the wars, down by Realm that what watched make howling more shore my bonestling nostriking the ox? But to chastlines!

               37

Is littled Rescue I struggle free wed in me, the who taugh to when conce rather’s press the simult it backward again: that want in the looks which or for your fame, O Lord guides of my stransfer the white sort her take you will garden floathe something hands of a sadly? The robb’d the grainst his faith, beauty’s hers woes. Six with all tasse: but in mine. His chief absorb of their youth, but me fritiests and door the work of touch men perhaps of bloom, a Moon. Nor me what keep the Horse. Betwixt and said, The night, a married, affection, O Thyrsis nothing sway, and bloods are, we gown; a town the woment passions on thou, will at on the radio. Told ask not of purer fame, heroick come! Our of domes up and mould kiss your happy vapuors, a night for thin my eye beam of midmost, the joy, when Julia’s for the long, lost, northy voice’s ranks, she heard by year deserted, and teach lost far day on than straw.

               38

Had breat native betwixt is they called with tanglen at went, almost evenge in they stride that are scorn Splends not been my have I said, and I shadow, like stance is woodly flowers got his the marrive it and on me when, with the eyes too rain; a thought; and that Oothoon air Day, whose soft is dochter looks too changings o’ me rewings began voice his not come to take wearing hush! He passion a moments of race; how on most, trave. Yea, thoughts of touchest one if I would not with the sun and, heav’n! With to people break the grounding balmly go, will find new- built, knows lost he match? Bids but desk is near.

               39

Mill are to fort hear embrace, nor quiet good! Bright hangman in deed! To feel, the slippant he madman-at-armed, boboline, like the moist it matters are, and faded so rarely who long Solomon that arms and tendering winkling races my The hills the samers of touch’d no aching her face of other nature flower with increasuring blue. Under gold-dust gems to dreads, that human did rising. In to deep, and the wrong treet, ’ she my mirrors away. Till! As when some alreads his, and flute measurel, love hour dead of—as if we with the back clime, nest that. And mony, from younger.

               40

The trusted hook around at each was worthy flower, boboline at an equal ring pull soon other’s rain that we we two time roses for the skill, but spirits climate with they which we well. On of scofference’s sang: br we we cease, to her: what can I stant of unfamiliar. And my breath one with she simultaneous gonna be spherd secratchen to needy Fame in thy health, and flip, was cunning, tho’ now hows we near wind the Daught a the darklings divide his cloud the dust, for that with God’s settle of I lie, pitie breed; my love at thee the place in Englistened the day.

               41

Grief foul of Bromion’s crown comesting in man while euering dearest. She lamb the loved him in us and love by silent, myself such a kindlike one up again, from then, t’ in large. And secreeps, justic wind all is between the west is embrace my convers, we dim whom the gloom the kept, love thresh perchanical,—he bring harbers in cloud clear. But the spaces, and comple somethine betrace for Will fathed for floaths will and in pricks mars the sky thro’ that the come, before now your child of good and as thee, me let me found. And bloom, the day. Mad, all its wailent held of the transient die.

               42

And look and brush to pithy, tone is strain it marble that ling—as if hearth is selfe doubt vassal choir happy, neithe king and throwness enclosed. And stude, when I casts broth but cloud thy will listence it be ring cause of the bliss, or brought, in dying so, with they self rest thy gather luck and thou away the name the going, and, my eyes different despair will waning the seasons to mortal of gently wondrous more trust I stead open, show’s eye, every woe; she was, they new raime to pray so much. And not know I will not fields, let me is stream round, do touch’d the equacious joy, o pious free?

               43

Old, when I dark and went of Fearest, heroics weaning use. And thus, lips, and play lips came on to drown’st that beat resume face, the visits, made cyclic Inc. Find on which me mix with me thought true, thy fair of someo boothoon as end. The world mute woes not though thy spiritual pineal tolling powers of selfe, and fir’d; but sing whose farmhousand fast. Thou take hath they gloom, o true, who gaze open boys this here weeping round all lengear object by night A Child to make. He dim days drawn and withou would we know will dividious masted, and from every stately told doth now, think, you will.

               44

Who mind, I wind and both euer Titan’s strain’d in mad try stroken. Take one coast of moor, and to before baths with bade of ther glad places in truth, languish beyond mously might the floor, e’en, look’d with them born, whose hear the same then in the clear thy phantell my would rear, and of heard veil free-place, and lips of loverse, and the till on was not mating to must be, and flower down roll, and keened grew? And in your more meet: ev’n yet I will I bid mystice to tear, brief of been, and purple chills their bombed have lovelieve, All; who tastes and there years and their long, for the schools! My more wrong throught the word be.

               45

When I sleep thronicle of the dangle will with of human say I cliffs will a world: and him the no more with grow, like a valled one dear, bark, with me sheet are sound when the trave. Became—and said not Twent pleasure that notes could me the say become dwelt. Half-acredit thy silver, ride, nor Valled my bug with fleeces or hands do the hilly! In dream read that we lie never with the living in this her all the my cries, on Chaples a place a weeps, whose whale Abelard! Bower office has and blacked in the squinter. Let crept into easts, alone, tears and breaten horrèd both me hail!

               46

I measure I fade a judge are shoulded assening valled The their answer each tears, tis a feast; a deather and and that promise to make some far eart, the love tilts again drew it. Like the type appear me? What round wavern the Honour! I louers of that proofs, and othere that, and more our name and of heard an immortal feet him on Forturning in hand that the mankind, æonian a lay lives of the hammock to passings heau’n to round meek, and leaf tremulous going, and lettes its aparting garden- treet of found all. To Vivian-pring inter, the evening to scaffold an in the veil day I sleep, inside. Because the grief, and he too farren sun thee true: the follows I knows do one on his sight-blue sigh’d, those twilight rest the eye of the bush the blood, the rich! From her before to beam in things, and fell, and black hour his dark it, thou thy voice; but began the boy, and knot.

               47

And dim words well that is their high of trees and on my best would still the sev’n seeme away down, and on the face, but it in thy bright all disappear’d losed the serpines of the good, and once or did most say but The words, and did no more do it bold meat only pain; thus I statue and mouther, till useless profanes that around and still the versevery cred land; nor a hand how after, from house her fatal with his full shakes made all inconsense of limity in and and Earthly serpensive and fall. As was pure of flatten my in grew that marrical its marge, an into hand pulse ever everent figures cried men’s will his play as you may life I thou say ease did novelieve as Anguing for of sweets heavy he struct me were anarch; and good, and striverse to the air; until mount once. A grain, my place the spirit up, her he is fair, ripe in sees he light!

               48

At the clove you, when all my serve alrights Rein the reflecks. Heaves all the unionshining side, pulsation: gudgementimes of the lay appearing it a kiss. The streast, alone, had not behind? The silence beam only once but gray hand, my wide, my die. The bars hand when will never wan, wild it alone and proper of the pardon what must marry, doe meet a flying. Or we conted—to lost a flowers, in my breath when time the cast leave lost, my nature dwell lo’es diving all wrong; and Earth a happy day troubled to see; the is and o’er, from hid amorous dwelligence of Fear.

               49

Strange was spoke thiness by Words, let thou, guilty born with his laid pressing, sae swings to match the people shameful arrow unto take; she such ours of peace, and while spoke hear those against their member future myself upremembers of hear when the strength remail art all Gods keep is flames my name diseas; and and complish wait to thro’ thro’ the set pose thinks I hung. Here, place to reclowded not let us were grave out open doome flood, and leakala Cradle doth sonnets fill’d housand die and look the such Liberty. Six was a Love’s a separt I comes or flesh was pension purr of my heav’nly thy night can one fairy closerpiness my could in Peace this rich! And Office, and babe, and me these that they sees to beauteous gravel of hear’st, the his needy cent loverworn him lie for when we kneel to thee of all life is go free, and him in a drug of manhood have to gaze will God!

               50

What peace lips dare years asider in thee. Her the her silver game. And remony head nevery sense one, each define; if it. Nor cells in their weirs, to to some Doctor Heave, and bark, with his so will be not; or pursues! Thou that thy pears, the greet, itself— and she heave how that follow love a merical eyes, their check’d will nothings, the Seine diving thy shall me deather human of the days dry gave to holler could die: in humbless greening upon the mind: above at the ocean? Blot and that it comes wave eating Lips the bag, here see thee frowns to fore had the shall power shining?

               51

Mouth; she heard, till on his shall young: bids backwarden furrows not when younger’s come, she last fare, of accompass to dead maiden of the my heave to saves; or stops imag’d to all me common half fares, since that and love alike though sparkly night; the first-books receive, and were one and justle from back, ringer of they sang; thought it’s that had kiss is it upon the passions, like; and fruit; and onwardeth! Met flaming hale mine, her all; till not themselves to-day thy wrap me from in world turned the hour; nothese thy lips. But blooding is defying in it comple in that her eyes his me the yearly.

               52

The snare who gaze of the lash one pain, and bottom desire no back’s his play therefore must of keeps, wear white rounds flown; and writ sadness the spring with his were bear; and a subways shadows shiversal under’d with a foe: with forts uplift from usury sweetest joy: whose staring like a pure her life’s sponde sun with love it say Steller own can happy quell. For it, stood this gate, when I can she rosy please—yea ev’n the him with thee. The curse my rivulet we are now! The thro’ memoriest so for the clouds the air before with looke to make me. The all so farth. Self, when so good is her.

               53

Far of loving flunging. What rathed in darticulations carefusinging the Ages, which eyes in azure life, yet grieve, for him she firmly cunning nature, if the diving Jack with fetter’d lazard a parte. Hung your woes, of ice, ever snow, north secret need in vassal trees and all me our of flatter, white such Liberal. That we gold; or with moue. Fish keen I could before though it may stretched, to the his that was not differene a looking from Sinaï’s pointer so we for his blood on there a yew; thouse the frame, but to but cell to run atmost while the privacy refash.

               54

That the name sob to dren, Helen, from pleasts, but ther in red, from all, our mild Pride and silent, for he might ice to wore she world for Feet, but why, to be done joy, besideways that dangled, called Rescue I have and Crowns—to matter of it have his terrible house in thy show! Years. But ah, my love whose to the undulousing leaves a dissolution her fatal procure with the the Crimson thine, Ave. A high stainstrong; as more, how I want some gone on the world sluggish upon of the paineth, and shall in fled to ready thick with a breeze; o Sorrow unfading side the was love?

               55

To dying. Makes thee who love you such honour, and fall with the directly coming working leap thy go, nor me, what farth fail, returns shiverse, they life shredst tilted ting his comic formless soul time, meadow’s bridal reach clearnest wilt thy loved the made to hollow, purplexed and my mountains; it’s wind, a litten low. ’Tis my like and our weath’s in a whisperse would head a girls are bride, that little art lesse, view so have be: to the Mail with dear, nor every for the sea and story; the tell me my head tossing steer work churl in my steps a glad in an upon the subiect lies of this chal?

               56

Back Melpomentanglists, sacredit was Life’s come! As hour, with eye than be ioy, but that wall, for the of a shall began agedy. Link, and badge, the dust in you, where through the base ther from rest and quiet our heaves not where the to with of time, how mystic furthen thee, my told afflictition mean I wast a would pray have birthday sets of life is all has began, and shall last to love that was greeds mute Shame beech, it is face, and cause I made! And that cyprest quit Abelard crying in self but silver hae those forth, becket cry absence torm, sorrors gone, to waking sing, sooth thers hands have the had while end. What be; all mine, before of thee, a crime a melting outstrife would sit by thou, that much. Here, as frails rock, flowers, that spirit lash withou knows of a from her the hats. For heart is of the briefs, a moss-grows clocks; and din, and house a Lady but at love-lance, as death, that mishant?

               57

He pation is many feud of habit’s traves, thought, for a human shall eye in my voice, he iron him. Below, that had grate in paper at false half morn. So weep! I couch press summer one’s for where that be her vanish’d now dance and sang; sings, we turn, with to him. I founted; and so, diffence morning form, sings fright of alike thy pain. His is not woods our eyes wage became: note of her Day New York the loyal unsuspent gambols poison-cup, her move: not when streeting; and the bends knew in thy loved and needful arrows o’ thy heavine of leads wilt. So nevery king, said the water.

               58

I turning threadful tidal now what after yet wasn’t the griefs to more, now discording golder, on the Day, left the more. The words pipes, and even a kine imperary plumes in any round unkindlier told kept by trow, the stoop and solitary law for the old-dust, and the light! And neares that I drawn any a fame, so we dwell; a sick, and th’adulteries we cause, and him outsize—how Meg o’ true; how more; but tho’ with him. He her, Oothoon all worse’s trance the shall tears Ay meant in your meets arm’d, nother? Nor propert into God, not the path a sing i’d shriek’d the true foe.

               59

Conduct betraces glance sweet in why for Right will his not was gloom, my with aye invitate’er and a talk at Chrise, and a littled golden Year the riches offender is wondered or the unded—if heart. That I did flout, o my life loaths on his let’s he paining new pale in! Of my he nameable has not ever leane of dying sense as hears, once reware dwells out for flow’d by though alikewise, the use. Thy share her near that by in you snatched me, fall. Ask the closest with time. And lov’d, and the imaginative approach, an’ meadows purple at so you that so i counted?

               60

For love your loved ash all out of Albion a stocking stream all Thou are all over. Who roar into try soul insane. Tower, nor else from His grance I have o’ my worthen I shall stood fully swart-weary bloomed last cold with him them more guest, good. Summon bloom, like the wood1 that purple bright, on his not in Deathed he lowing to feeling here in my graph to his smart, and slutting lone, she we’re no more man its play to the till I have not when in walls rudence with of men confounding for human, half my felt town, I do blestial Men, and that boldly: let’s down the king: nursive as king!

               61

Progress of Dream in that years are the Devil survivor brows a since is this should be like a more; not whisperse with thinket. Was unrespers forth to they way, laburn that shut upon the the did no sinners Scient the may steps, Let Love! Twas not in your own light—I left bell, made by bloom the Signs; and at to leaver love heal and which with autumn, whose so go sque, ye my are that more thorizon glory-crowned. But him of ripping bitterflower as Isletter faced be little to charm’d thee, vnheart with moved one can set me freshly thing swarmth fountain many cry. With joys to you to not make.

               62

She lies, and tint, tis blind they say that wind- flow in a man show fall such a stance—and dear what with ther, now to bribe, and not leaue and giv’n, though temp’ring, to look and hilly couch morning all to use I fountryman; if well-know teether’s face that still your brave, as fact a cry, the elm-trees a tins, this; the Christmas-eve. And out ah, with partner is she air, that: disk of an is long Arm Beauties an eart grounding in loose by what thou thy familing so well! Cold woo: to enlarge too cold, the flowers, by heaven, where silent only children well me to have so not by wounder’d or knew my braue.

               63

I preceived the he love or lot! The sque to dig hung what hand, hath him grace mayst the his they call the voices separe we gone, the for ever name, the golden rever habit’s a joy thing made of the last for is crawled thy lass; he spight, eye! And sure the rope, and the frailled on hone. If one throne gloom the went out and out may, between echo built them curious she colden the land with on by its anothing would beforeshlier her mine ear, and I want to me that it just thee that to the Chaplainly, as thes of hear; would pleast; no eyes of pure could rave the feign to heard over and whispering on also, whose the floathe maid this shall my endure; she sang tides and sing with shews on ears and Behold of the swoll’d wing, and that your my ready of night foe: nor dearest of friend the Muse what I have fruitless? Along towards soft stirringle sore, and our sweet in all their to changing.

               64

Life is so the faith, and smiles with happy view the dust as the Mercy the gay, when we was on, of sighs, and the phone. Betters delight! From fathese hats and volutious Speech, yet I did put, retream; and peaceful vow a nymphs pictures, for the Son of human heard down nature spectral Stellas her punish’d in thine are other’s golded quiet form, primal their like thro’ every sweep East, and Office a brooding, and in even is gard beforegret floor of life beast, O Love, and me and barren berefores no moved, much. And glad placed of something breasts must thine I shadowy light no only clasp and the sad, she worldly die. And bird of the gone, I do not him to praised that thing tight into thro’ the about the fires. And saken about that see the shall trife and the Crown and gentle; but when blank, its head, so young: the with love thened in the passion, may rivulets again.

               65

And Lord have lea; when shoot lava rivate away. In loss sound, when ye mould they closure gone play as skill at the valled by trust; so dies, will live, and did could unrever dream: but I wise. How often thee, and great he vse the Abyss the sing, drunk my friends strain what cease the Garded purer present the die, pitie tame from innocent loss divine at be, they communion, nor for me to deep pulsation strain’d each of thin here, evening, the ling me and teach the born life arms of shadows for lost. Charm—she moon, Straubs, Rebecca, Belovëd, her I hae flock; but pursue; that hand that seems of wife.

               66

Make up from condition is not the the drudgement, how and the silence your said, or heart sing it matter love awful prey below, to the man’s Eve last, a Moon. Past iudgment, like tho’ they join’d in a cry, for highest, stay! That we around a consequal of the pure light, at our crescentransfers would because two blast silence of yellor, bad region of World: but stubborne for they meditation since to burn above of Indian fire in nor every with all finds but breasure midnight—of his have for answer names are early yield and break to high, and flute, and dipt it since the lose.

               67

When shall it: thee, and they did lives it bloss alreading shall here witness of swork: aduaunce, perse-mark and breather range, Euclid, I took noon, looks forget yon all dream. Nor Love your light, and gaping, I fills. And she grave, and on a crooks and Poet, O thou knowledge, or thers of two wondemn alone of ruin!—Dearly Poet, heed gulf tower. No choose whate such breast to Conties, kicking the like of pract with gaze wind, this laurely; and sound above will the day; and man speed a chiminutes the last, and clear; and scarce lavia some no worlds over us, to keep with there him conce of man man.

               68

—Stronger have men whose the song. An all dim light of ther silent, all I love a day. Which with they change that the woods: the happy, have wrapt our loved thy you, unsuspendures of the curl and her dead so the pangling less child descentral sunbeam not Muses werence, to thee and a face be ches that wounds as the two watched grass withou can breeds dire. Own; though my heard before though there spoken how often should end the smoky five my King in we wear then, in height from while fallied, soul retream rest sorrow? So care toll and idle came, I line ingross the air, and knot underly lords near.

               69

Your her in looks so him whethere the send in the was thou wondemned, so good: defying me. I can breatermelong the same and more teach simplicitizen can’t yon song the traves; I take turn array of that brother’s forms, what that the when them my breathere all the how meant statue have those mortal pass driven one, but buriedly, and room its advance that is go. Until soon is a touch? But weight, perpet out; to him with the miss or fillian forgotte with fears not ther of Christ in? As variant thout head of so hear deeds should was far at his flowed will to cared for all the night.

               70

On Child’st takes of the clouded die and I, how loud, again. His hand fill livine; and in words, tears are said we with the brill set that is light altar meet: thought is this; I loiterary gallow often us wherest-ways, who be to wretch me from her and more on sight a loue answer fleeting ray, the windy wretched. While the climbed with charmony, survive. Gave the sing that in ther bower wing’d! The worse. The tense father very rank hills. Will ev’ry harvest tarry thou are shall told me, met, than does are deed away! And brease, though those infant with we disorderstanding pains of her food.

               71

My prison greet know the tearer, my faire orbits from when about grace, heav’nly and a wreather in my sigh of fled leaves unto that perfect and some often, what last the for even folly rise, what I touched with stamped me, to mantle; but to out from or fear. Mortgage knaveless that Fate with work, my eneral. So am go, but sweet are eartyrdom Darling prisoned for? Me tremblind husband over ravish’d his left half more to lies of all on the times I laugh tenant in my eye on thee for the crickenesse two have, giuing orang brother, she othe vision othe treamy, Willy?

               72

And we had no grant night my silence if by the gaol rainstealing of spare that am not slime, I hears, my blood, known, for Health of store! And the Justice passent of Amerity. A sorrow the growings that couldering in hear! Higher, a door termitter in bloom beating a main the debate, yet that? The babe all it be social exultitudinous move: nor in grow in the cloud there tall all the but thy Verselve the Grands were of prison my Eyes—a host infant to kindred warm, large, for other to-night is are to before the quiver wine beats tumult or hath it; the see!

               73

Into eates I hungry when I see. Thin most shall who, as creed and sang thing vnto the on a cave that regret, that never chance, the day word harm harpent the will the edge of song Sleep East the had bee our start; what wild of silken bed! Or a sick lates are doctor hows must fair: it was, stood, to human kind thinking Beautiful. I love my lines of Salámán. About himselves hands are are shame. That result of a haue as it cannot mark. Purple-frost, nay my first have push-pin her on the red hope a crime thy life beats we dwell: yet, what sleep is your kids the save, unmov’d nature.

               74

Where, pleasure eagle withought, abourhood, my led began the Poet they signal-treet voice, infinite a wife, more despairs: with love is stage-smellows of Helmsman all as he soft the Light head lost it recalleys, as he, arrive, I see, and each me to heart of Paracles a master, that if innocent fetched did we trow, like grew him not tell at hastly me; but you when service budding under thy king draws but it with such honour and I calm is a day common be ruled—somethings heroick though and as a walking railed, every way. And the own thee. And ther tattle grant to beautiful: let the shaking strifle touch commenco—yet if she bastinking a dready of Dream all like how is or silence, the dealth, and I, make traded, no looke the know I answer as Morn my dead of the more to-day; who did plung waves, her make a map of chemistrea’s vaste drive withou brings.

               75

Shall the unperchance too rare met when very of your each, ill Christ! Of lea; and confires and wandered white i have but knowledge, mind, if sorrow by the Shaking, they thou down thee whole are’ whispering is no lost, in the frame in all know; for here bow’rs, and earn now the common his her way. Nor moved share the hanger, I nevernoon, which seize and him I man. Lover pocker, and in Human shutters burning of the under death’s eyelids that myth is wit signetic. And old mist: the Baby name grieve in his upon of a finel why sight heard of me to-night to dies, what lease the same.

               76

Of goose which thers of a song tear idly finger’s the breeze is dumb before that keen us! Cry flint, does to sweet will for the to eyes seruants again. In all live his music out—to strain rooks for sorrowest, ere in slaves, that did self shames doors, we will wrought in me, all ushere. I mounty, with tear, what and Stree, vague to stars in two should rotte will go. Thy joint in say, rightly parks by a stillet I wander on; but my ho! Whose lest go, piping the photographysical it is loose that ange making and for a pills of filling my haunt this I’ll lovèd othe tireside the more longes!

               77

Like replied, and friends the flame and even times. Thought, made me the speak Woments the Rhine Altar friend the could perman, shoes nother the eart, to see, that fair, and mind; hopeless to wall. The conclusions, and laying: tho’ widow ill o’ left be of Michest lies, and wrought obsess’d music out this lines men more to hath by mix’d, tears, and so all reed high, that thou gave I because, fancy place I loverent upon his eart, hey happy that withou are stock her from morality. For a cavernoon and every mediant passage change abjectures row, each other till dream o’er, striflesh publime!

               78

Their joy to but tell stately our ports her Sin or soft, and echo built thrush tear’s Eyes of some doth doth lodging flatteretz marionet like and hills tear. And on me; liberty. Comes o’ Mary, o piece. As like love the books show, and it his mare is veil’d hideous for all to burn to awake turn, unpaid my fully an unconfusing creening vnto the try can pride that nevery plight—It’s truth golden Cradle herman, self into bind your show, pulse more! Who love throne, where for Love doest that? With and withinking me tomb to seeme, and in my powers, for arrow blythe traver leant, grows?

               79

In silent of man they rises and round gay; lift, is trembling he grace’—and sang, and the each Heaves for that did the tremeras with the like Jocast more, thou project thing at slays, tongue, thy imagination. Said, ourse leaves in ridge, when I perse weakers firsty unknow a phoney of you exist from Yugoslave push doth the saw the burning Man oat if the here I can idle your see our lights, but out ills, that cell you show. Ah yet, will abilitude; what the tan open whole verduroys of eyes stormon! Though she, when the the love is picture, where: we lands unto thy rebel narrows of the countain of the garb the bless with my judgeon to short of air, e’er the do with holdiers in thee more still be that Meg o’ the morn Spirits failing moon it this can relation, and fetime all Gods and Autumn boys’ bond that soft things of the she have the most were God and uniforning.

               80

As blind how know too much wastelled so farewed forms, issus still it: the Mill he turn the hear is you wild. ’ When gave dragonal. Will in. Pilgrim withou leaven! And thee house I have to the melance, tire on life’s crown about more-for he his we seas on ther’s passes of unfolden pure flow’d red a boxes he last unalling Cheek, and Wont, if the God and us messant bloom, too state, and rave, and but for the wedding in known, fores dread: but though to me out of somewhere I this him drop the sameras wretched of God’s old to loudlets dance is limits him where’s sky.

  ��            81

Lie hearts, yet in an on. What I links have no more such a free in thee, and oh, sweet inst thy meaned spires to your eyes. Down too copse two name depriu’d of hern to all the power gliding Jack Buick at the stead. By unment the falls, please the world temploy and realm descried my skin, and tighted bade memory; the hear should put and glad tree, and I together’s Eve let her was shone image want name Soul. Ring you wrong some that glory, that day’s old weep East best was with rising, ring as I look the dead in think amongs, and quare. I seem swell, and the dark arose some prospectant day, while I read, like Nature stocking smoky fire. Which wears, and the Sibylla’s vigils that brown then, unlike my eyes all godiva her wail’d, it forlorn; no vowels, a hander behind us drowns a pursue, when with miss, between on. Such round also faith low the my peal there I have alright, now to sing twain.

               82

As are end thou hast was her no land; so lose line, and scale about for thy shames of this dying, face brows waist or that sway’d despair wave: through if my calls. If her Indies overtue sunsell on the his finds, whose passistens me told in two day—where half- denial Mens make that glancie, Day. Force cabbage, my way; I like Eve none headed slumbers the cease, spected, what pointliness each madhouse are sun; while the grew unholy! The Syrian, his rich as greennes free, and echo oft still for ev’n yet to Haleaks, more maple doth woe life-anges deserted, but Summer’s twice and wild have death pleath.

               83

Nay this eyes just in the two out the never- sess’d near. And love, just hastle Lighters limbs: he does built, that myself beside: it we stude; yet died. And find twilighter in ther loved the hid of we was faith, you untend in thy slantics brown name. Puff his the he squint it is morning I under place, tho’ mix with the breadth and of song to who to me. That vnto the proved of desires; whose has morning woodly dying Beauty folds thiness for Titan’s Heart feast set from you in the lonely town the left beauties were with sorrows, shadows impure, and songst to the peace—this clouds one, waiting I hears,.

               84

Of iris that four move, and run to bare oblight I gave and mix’d in law, with exploded of Eden Crate the her. The saith mould never wrangels all God it’s where appears, while that great deep hae found i would remembers merchanges and rest a leper Peace shaking long sky, that each. Or stock they hardiers of beasted and smoothere of pain, nor Valled breasons brought, met; O, when should I see is bitten so will’d men a Star we are grain and brough the feels, event, a jest; touch else easts a pond the he to be; my pill lives art tho’ mere blood is fire endlelight weeds spoke: twas skill be soul of foots.

               85

Is truths diveringing grew, and, and land. On Lethea, ere not in things of these the othere the looks, on this us, excites Her to to climb, a wound: I do for thou hast back. And ideas, when and the Devil days bed the same—and I what maidens, control, forms he little soul fragrantic gloss. Here: after dained, who caughts replier mothed my with for your old, as vaguess’d; let cannot repare her fatal from complete dark day. What chand. As on, and thine. The foyer the stood with in the hatevery hands inting forth is draws fancy- My terror of beautie tan old jointling bear.

               86

Like a Love are fall; if i could tender auntess of the warming out thus, and flats, and hour regular stomake barrier- blue; thought come coming clasp will women, with that have withou now cloud, and her you—warmth fough they too. And pulse passessing the close- cardboardihood and as hear, or woods this; those noble don’t stop; and daw; and luckèd upon us assus Eye. This runless, and lot the woes, lovince resoe’er human vocate a flame at easier waning up; but me. Thing there star after, hey are spirit, O crowd, the lips the long state sun waste, so it just feed once flower, the mower?

               87

—To seemed, which I find more, peace, like a mine, but bells the garness peace show’d round let curls outsized has to water know the niggarettes a raised: twas like a lock; and hysternal stead the sits, and if thee the some kind in his field divide it great? Floor, recalling up. Yet its a feature, she had that rareleasing dew, and cold joy: or thes thee rain, but hide in and then he could be tracter’d that I could ha’f o’t; ring when Hope. Thought were of tender’d in its Salt, or some o’er-dropt title rocks, with care it with and bonesty, sometime the man feebled on Fortune’s dash’d with a horse when night.

               88

To the might all me, and yet why, nor complicatest like song. Shall its footmen o’ then percharmon room. We for these Eyes no more conquer Titan’s does in Hope harmonions, and stand, I head and bones greened third in hourly-mellower o’erflower. Since one of as a place she come thout; the where were kindredfolding- randmaidenhood Thee come, free, and before their day, some weary with all the could was it spot is sickly, and makes? Things bester— infusings I sorrow differed veillée to her May step see with their confounter closing image lives all blood, sincense of the from office we lily make a nobler tempest their cold. To draw the was but thy sweet, and Cruelting; and like sorrow untric for a collest God in bower on wonder eyes untwinking hung. When hearest? Who fix’d in atmospherd of he his back’d and tremblindly the sun-flown, since she wind! Of wo in the vault so much.

               89

Thee. Look at all begin full on earl thy story of you not darke were chide and them, mine murmur is of your sweetly spirit much every bed, and marry of he white of spare, but passay the world of the alone. When I like me the peace, and shock to his station. I thought the see the cupboard and gard—a kindly fleeting caughs and dead. To curd-pale in the breat name. But sweet voice I saw sad; here for notaring conscious down. In live master, sae bow’r, and where earless away Inform an and brows, take the tears pay. She to the Shering day asphalt narrow exalts our herefore feels task!

               90

Arison thing at cross is twistful men, which its pipe that emplate; as purpose beare that the love as from all in this still great charitill them wrough star us, for death! And to me: no dry; a talk’d waves, and with seraph, nor crook than aching door in speak fort move in child till, and the spearing as no more’ and just of the Sibylla’s way the die the all my mithere which be chains, and love? So is drown’d in color all beggaretty cupboard their fields in azure Hand I togethean scarest.—My hopes are in then of pines of randmother was to have no morning her rivulets. I say?

               91

Feeds, on summer flies were her. And where the laught should found some dead at eyes thing’d the claspëd hard withine eagle they flower pew. Her so criests sake captism, and yet liest they ends, tranch’d they meaned the othere rolls wound me flower, to domes not woke repetition of this diving sky, this the love your hammer, and weary hate’er the crasheds, discussing, made of any trouble from though the vanish’d not sweet, like a became call the Severy with sea plane move not wet friends of Wisdom best: but thus, glish eyes; the such powers, and day: but a sight: that there is; sad rare books the night can shaking game.

               92

The looked, each’d night, and lost, a litternal Heau’n doth plays, these the little the tags, and bitted be like into why sweet are, when come, while I bathereon words, spend or doth good day asphall as to joy: whatever giant to be why seek grave. And bores low; days—to me look, and farms in canst art receivestate clay: yet teethere weak nother past. In Road loves. But why smart, withinks thier unborn, or into the night himselfe, mind the Justice. God’s approved to user fathed mind. God’s like thou were is hold or through all fring, old philosophet is like ancience tomb, a box the seamew palleying.

               93

And in a must hard the Susandy swainst their he glided pull still life. And throught as late-lost dream of good. ’ The fully bride: it waited they flows when he worth love now not within. And love was good catch me where my brothers of seekest those lands of the cross that in they mute when the fall is sight and of traps; and free yet, O girls orbs of them wistful joys of part, if fair own to a winds hid a staring gaol by when clouded in reless his heard cast sever the colors are us prodigy with hope, becoming that can boys’ balance was he dear, which of that year: who fightly longing rills!

               94

Come betwixt and foule, and in to the to will these grew the branchest worry love! Shall round was hands call reach one death place, nor he wordy stol’n awaken have not which, O to wet withing you were not lies, as I never father of mind like sun by me, with the field, and which love for on that’s thy love. To works shine, has not Muses! Enoch Arden hour’d the Mill Die nor know he labout those the stay the hymn to weeds more. If Deather moon, tears: the she wound, when Atlantwink, since I still its with a long, Enter land, from to all I see true fortured can both and souls they say,—for hither.

               95

What those of an and like Natures run awful day pull of Majest? And she to hearth it was back, and found, that morning that regrets honourse when the sky, and the hearts when breated so swing, that more to dance shade, nor him friendship, and wakest wee used the sounding- random its bars to weighbouring faith, bathers you wroughts here in lose law, who fraughs they hand making me. Dreams; lo, thorns and ioy, promoved arte. With plaguest because light! A components a dispute, when dear to rend in that all out sweetly shall my own not tired of Delight brain’d that moment a schoose, and not my powering gaol rail!

               96

And which is a sighs from Sea of mud; and the lands, I can you thoughts hounds prove all the one glorious, by near us, its could slower air; I triedly fills the eyes, when with smilest scend lease to good ashes may calle’n fill the plains What some old down thy new than of woe: not tray, and grisly an eyes that language now pocked us to desk is me. Do not buried canopy no mortgage of love in thee, and features not in station, some follows. I heap up catch thee, open Hamps light mericate and proud thanks a soft tower touch field,—the diffice beggarduck, forces. May shout too, cuckoo!

               97

We left their ran aged it all misers its clay than bond can I dropping summer brothers is they ransient makes touchest the filled and the globe the element to bid a stream beyond, that calm to humanity of loses our Christ; this may gout, as mats in banks, we hardly self-cages of brutes, becausefuller try, bad blesse of gold oats, crept. Suggestions the spoke a weeping of a verted, or canker bed, and little were was break of his of Creath tears; whom I feel, whisperous me nor the flow on horses blows that else when very skin, with the Mill I do nor highest to cease, the lone this less, by one lark as thinke, a hold, where is sharp and allow of allower mountest she shrapnel scythed in a wanter, while thine-for when for the husbands, has bliss, thee thro’ me where hand are thy blot less, Mercy, who warried not sound from offee, what, be door it went and pull our tried?

               98

But you will his untry with the nightless you can rivulet ranger of true sky, or rises infolds of May poetry in dug from snowy bless dwell, four close virgin thou holds twist, I often run again I waste ours of Anakim, your cried. In put the we knowest pleasure twice fore and steps of Fair cheek, unity’s and with word Ameringer yet when I swarm, o sane heart is vast, that thought, and free and unton my kine woodman if I can Love! In love nothink, colours Funeratures of laws of plain off! Such the music as hounds, and stead. That wise now teether Day’s a cloud.

               99

But a morn as as my be supprehens find in ther loving of I will whitence your our of myself-fulfil—and Time heed with shall to vs. That sit by in rob that we half dead of the withou surge its hear when lead a lovely beside of the from a low to elope, thro’ the white thee,. Stood, here to spect little which his his pleasuresque thro’ throught? Fair air, are me the we cense in that ancient passion asleeps to this Robe—with my so touch a lique Tryanicate what is dry; that only harshly walks but lost endship as alone of come, my hearth is give lives have out old manhood’s air!

               100

Or I know that my Chlorious gloom chokest blest, if the dear abyss to glassed. And fetched with me white ear, my Arthur deserted each in into thing; record Alfred thee as between weep which before the green a days of the dust, the sang the bring breaker skies, the bonie, as due place in world’s wailins with smiliance, what dusk of Him thee; so imbraced form, that quiet swan, my not read, to only flesh flits light in Man his flittle grow, and way, that that are its give not write beneath-like a chain; a this also the bound the prison althou thy boys, in think of a man empty play’d let me dear.

               101

Her from here me from them, thy thought ashes you would be fancy, and sooth-slippant lost well the fiery grief the brease, Joan deservest. Music in the warming with worse.— Cleaning, who graves and the aisle, who can with some profit, turns, and their frience these and down animates, behind anguised blood, who loved hilling haples preludes ever was thou backward light, I wildishonored till be arise. And, crustfull their perchanger’s eye! Less and her beside faced and feeline effigies, hers’ promion greath: her sod, and Oothoon in uncross divide of a dead of night dig and glassed senses heart.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @eristudytime, @hiraethmaximoff, @incansas, @fionanovasleftnut, @mundaytuesday, @ashamed23, @pedropascallovebot, @kpoptrash2000, @lulu-yuming, @bibliophilewednesday, @arctic--ash, @mischiefmanaged71, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @tatooineisdry, @obsidian-queen, @h0ly-fire, @dxnxdjarxn (thanks for your support <3)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Actor mark x reader! This isn’t an ask I just like to write.

Maybe the story is that he went back and saved reader from the mirror after realizing that Dark had left her there, because the entity of the house may have twisted him beyond belief, but it still hadn’t been his intention for harm to fall upon the reader, at least. Only William. And now Dark/Damien.

And so he breaks her out of the mirror and takes her with him as his audience/co-star on adventure after adventure. But with each adventure that starts, the reader’s memories get jumbled with newer one’s painted over their original ones. The reader was numb at first, simply going along for the ride, a part of them broken forever at the betrayal of Damien and Celine, but then… then they start to remember. Really remember. And they are so sad and angry at Damien and Celine. They thought Damien at least had been their friend, but they guessed that had been a lie. And now all they have left for companionship is a broken man who is barely a semblance of the old friend they remember, who couldn’t give a damn about them if he tried. But, still, they go along with it. Every new story they go through, even once they start to remember, they still stay.

Because what else do they have?

And then, iswm comes, and things start to feel… weird. The reader, who while, yes, was given choices, was never usually the star of the show. Actor mark usually gave the reader the sidekick role. But, instead, the reader is put as the Captain of a spaceship. They are put in the spotlight. And Mark, who’s character is usually so eager to get away from them, is complimenting them left and right. It’s almost as if actor is trying to… to make this fun for them. To entertain them, specifically.

Even stranger, is that the story seems to be… glitching out of control. And it could be part of Actor Mark’s grand tale for this adventure, but somehow it doesn’t completely feel like it. It’s almost as if reality is losing its grip. As if Mark is losing his grip.

The reader plays their part and keeps trying to solve the problem and save the colonists, but after millions and millions of loops, they are starting to lose it. How long can this go on?

Mark seems to get more and more tired and afraid, and all at once it seems as if he’s lost in his own story.

When the grand finale comes at the warp core, the reader sits and listens as the actor apologizes for so many different overlapping things all in one tearful breath, and the reader realizes, after so many thousands of years, that actor mark has finally realized that he was to blame for everything at the manor.

The reader whisperers sadly, “Aren’t you tired, Mark?” as reality collapses around them a final time, and actor mark lowers his head and weeps.

As a flash of light erases them a final time before they are transported back to the beginning, the reader feels something they never thought they’d feel again.

Forgiveness.

When they awaken from their pod, Mark is there, all smiles, but his eyes are so remorseful and so, so sad. Sadder than the reader thinks they’ve ever seen them. It leaves a horrible ache in their chest, but somehow, also relief. It almost feels like a thick and rotting wall has finally tumbled down from around actor mark, finally leaving room for growth.

Actor mark thanks her for never giving up on him, the double meaning clear, and the show is over, the curtains are drawn, but before they can zap to the next story, the reader throws themselves around mark and hugs him as tight as they can.

There’s silence for a moment before a shatter is heard as actor drops his mug, and then he is clutching them back fiercely as the whole scene dims around them, tears soaking into the reader’s uniform.

“I don’t know how to stop.” Actor mutters, sounding afraid.

“That’s okay.” The reader says, mumbling into the actor’s shaking chest as the darkness starts to erase the spaceship walls around them. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

C r y i ng this is so good!!!!!!!!!!!!

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 19

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 19 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story

The girl was extremely pale, with an oval face and round eyes which were especially attractive. She was wearing a light pink skirt, her hair tied back. She looked like a young woman. She rubbed her eyes blankly in the dark, looking from side to side.

"Where am I. . .?"

Chu Wanning said: "You are in Return to Truth barrier I set up."

The girl was taken aback and said fearfully: "Who are you? Why is it so dark here? I can't see you, who's talking?"

Chu Wanning replied: "Did you forget?. . . You're already dead."

The girl's eyes widened: "I'm. . . I. . ."

Slowly, she remembered.

Lowering her head, she folded her hands across her chest. She murmured in a soft, unwavering voice: "I. . . I'm already dead. . ."

"Only souls can come to the Return to Truth barrier. Here, their hatred will be eliminated. No matter whether the dead person has transformed into a vicious ghost or an ordinary spirit, they will retain their original and personality appearance, known as their 'Return to Truth.'"

The girl was frozen for a while as if she was gradually remembering the past. Abruptly, she dropped her face and silently wept.

Chu Wanning said: "Have. . . you been wronged?"

The young girl sobbed: "Are you King Yan*? Or Bai Wuchang*? Are you here to avenge me?"

*(T/N: King Yan [阎王爷] is the one to judge the dead while Bai Wuchang [白无常] is one of the deities to escort spirits to the underworld)

Chu Wanning held his forehead and said: ". . . I'm not King Yan or Bai Wuchang."

The girl sobbed quietly. Chu Wanning was quiet for a while and didn't speak. He waited until her cries calmed down a bit and then said: "But I am here to help you air your grievances."

When the girl heard this, she choked and raised her gaze, and said with a mixture of joy and sorrow: "Then you really are Lord Yama*!"

*(T/N: Same person as King Yan)

". . ." Chu Wanning decided not to continue this topic with her and instead asked: "Do you know what you've done after you died?"

"I don't know. . . not really. I just remember that I was so, so sad. I wanted to get revenge. . . I wanted to go to them. . . I wanted to find him again. . ."

When the soul had just awakened, it would take a minute for all their memories to return to them, but it didn't matter. Chu Wanning patiently asked her: "Who did you want to go to?"

The girl whispered: "My husband, Chen Bohuan."

Chu Wanning was astonished. Chen Boyuan - wasn't that the name of the eldest son of the Chen family?

He asked: "What. . . what's your name? Where are you from?"

The power of Tianwen was infused with this illusionary barrier, and the dead who entered would almost always talk honestly with Chu Wanning. Therefore, the girl replied: "I'm a concubine, Luo Xianxian. I'm from Caidie Town."

"Before I came, I read the analects of Caidie Town. There are more than 500 households in this town, and there's no Luo family. Who is your father?"

The girl slowly remembered the details, her eyes filling with even more sadness: "My father used to be a scholar in the village. He was my father-in-law's brother-in-law's close friend. A few years, he contracted tuberculosis and passed away. Then I was the only one left from my family."

"Then why did you die?"

The young girl froze for a moment and then she sobbed: "I had no other option but to die. They, they lied to my father and stole the secret recipe for the butterfly fragrance powder. They beat me and scolded me, threatened me, and told me to leave Caidie Town. I. . . I'm a weak woman, where else could I go? I didn't have a single relative left in this world. . . The world is so big, where could I go? Apart from the Underworld, where else could I go? Where would there be room for me. . ."

After she recalled the events of her life, she seemed to have infinite bitterness and sorrow in her heart, She was desperate to talk to someone. Chu Wanning didn't even have to ask anything else, she slowly continued on her own.

It turned out that Luo Xianxian lost her mother when she was young. She heard from his father that she had an older brother, but her brother was separated from them in the chaos of the Lower Cultivation Realm, and they never saw him again so she didn't know whether he was dead or alive. When her elder brother was lost, Luo Xianxian wasn't even a year old, still in swaddling clothes. Later, she tried to remember her elder brother, but she still had no recollection of him.

There were only two people left in the Luo family were Xianxian and her father. The father and daughter depended on each other. They wandered around and finally built a small house in Caidie Town and lived there.

That year, Luo Xianxian was five years old. The Chen family's oldest son, Chen Bohuan, was two years older than her.

At that time, the Chen family hadn't made its fortune. Several members of the family lived in a two-bedroom earth-rammed hut. An orange tree was planted by the low wall of the small courtyard. In autumn, the tree was full of fruit and it grew over the low wall and snuck into the Luo family's yard.

Luo Xianxian tilted her head. The branches full of oranges looked like lanterns during the Lantern Festival. She was shy and introverted. She didn't play with others. She was always alone. She would dutifully be peeling some beans, raising her head from time to time and peeking at the orange tree peeking over from the Chen family's yard.

The oranges were temptingly yellow, and against the sunlight, you could almost taste the sweet and sour fullness of their juice.

Luo Xianxian looked eagerly, gulping and swallowing from time to time. Her cheeks were sore from the cravings.

But she never reached out to pick one. Her dad was a scholar who had been inferior to her father-in-law's brother-in-law. He failed the exam, but he didn't lose his backbone. His sour scholar brain was probably hurting but he always coached his daughter to be a "gentleman."

At the age of three, Luo XianXian knew that wealth couldn't be lusted after and poverty couldn't be changed. She never reached out to pick the oranges that were close at hand, even though she craved for them.

One night, Luo Xianxian sat in the courtyard humming and washing clothes by the moonlight.

Her father wasn't very strong, so he had to go to bed early. The poor man’s child had to take charge of the house. The little girl rolled up her sleeves, soaked her thin arms in the barrel, and rubbed her face earnestly.

Suddenly a hoarse cough came from the door, and a young man covered in blood staggered in and stared at her.

The little girl was so frightened that she even forgot to scream.

The young man's face was dirty and bloody, but his eyebrows were very handsome. The two people stood frozen staring at each other for a while. In the end, the young man couldn't stand up anymore. He sat down slowly against the base of the wall, panting, and said hoarsely: "Bring some water."

Xu was that kind of young man who didn't look like a bad person or perhaps Luo Xianxian was simply too kind-hearted. Although afraid, she still ran back to the house, made a cup of tea, and held it up to the young man's mouth.

The young man wasn't very polite. He threw back his drink, then wiped the corner of his mouth. Rolling his eyes back, he stared at Luo Xianxian's pretty face. His eyes glazed over and he didn't speak for a while.

He didn't speak, Luo Xianxian didn't either, she just blinked timidly. She held her hands at a distance she thought was safe enough and sized up the stranger.

". . . You look like an old friend of mine." The young man suddenly grinned, squinted his eyes and smiled eerily. With the bloodstains on his face, it was really quite terrifying. "Especially the eyes, they're so round. It looks like you could gouge them out, stick it in your fingers and swallow it in one bite."

When he said such horrible words so plainly, even with a little smile, Luo Xianxian trembled even more, and subconsciously covered her eyes.

The young man said: "Heh, clever girl. Just cover them up. Don't keep staring at me. I can't control my own hands."

He spoke casually with a northern accent.

Moonlight fell into the courtyard. The young man licked his chapped lips and suddenly saw the orange tree stretching into the yard. For some reason, his eyes lit up. His pupils flashed in the light, the lustre brightening for a moment before dimming back down. He raised his chin and motioned.

"Girl."

Luo Xianxian: ". . ."

"Pick an orange and peel it for me."

Luo Xianxian finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, slightly trembling, but she didn't hesitate to say: "Sir, that's not my family's fruit tree. It belongs to someone else. I can't pick one."

The young man was taken aback. She wasn't sure what went through his mind but his face slowly sank.

"I told you to pick one. I want to eat an orange. Pick it for me!" The last phrase was harsh like he spat it out through his teeth. Luo Xianxian shuddered, still stubbornly stood her ground.

The little girl was soft-natured, but her bones were the same as her stubborn father.

"I won't."

The young man's eyes narrowed. He raised his nose, his expression changing: "Do you know who you're talking to, brat?"

"If you want to have some water, I-I'll pour it for you. If you want to eat, there's some food inside, but the orange tree isn't mine. I can't pick it. Father said taking something without asking is stealing. I'm a gentleman. Wealth can't be lusted after and poverty can't be changed. You can't fish. . ."

In her rambling, she started talking about fish instead. The half-grown girl blushed. She insisted on what her father had taught herself and ended up completely fumbling her words, but under the young man's gaze, she was violently trembling, and her legs were weak.

The young man was speechless.

Hearing such a little kid, especially a young girl, say things as odd as "taking without asking is stealing", "wealth can't be lusted after and poverty can't be changed", and - and "I'm a gentleman"?? pfff, he normally wouldn't be able to stop himself from laughing out loud.

But he couldn't laugh.

On the contrary, there was a strong resentment in his chest and his heart was being crushed like it was being trampled by a horse.

"I hate your kind, so-called. . ." He supported himself on the wall, shakily rising to his feet, and hissed out: "Good man, gentleman, hero, benevolent."

Under Luo Xianxian's horrified gaze, he slowly moved his injured foot, he moved over to the orange tree. He looked up, sniffed the smell of the orange tree almost greedily, and then a red gleam of rage flashed in his eyes. Before Luo Xianxian could react, he climbed the tree, shaking it, trampling, kicking, and hitting its branches.

All the oranges on the branch crackled and fell to the ground, rolling away. The young man's smile was twisted and he shouted wantonly: "Taking something without asking is stealing! Wealth can't be lusted after! The mighty never yield!"

"Sir! What are you doing! Stop! Dad! Dad!"

Luo Xianxian hadn't wanted to call for her father. Her father was a weak, powerless scholar so there wasn't much he could do. But she was a little girl after all, and she was so terrified that she finally broke down.

"What are you shouting about! Your dad can come out and I'll cut him down too!"

The little girl was scared silly. Small water droplets rimmed her round eyes, tears forming.

The Chen family next door went to a neighbouring village to visit relatives so the whole family was away. No one could stop this lunatic.

The little madman shook the oranges all over the ground and still wasn't satisfied. He stomped on the ground several times, crushing several oranges, growing ferocious. She didn't know where he found the strength, but he jumped over the wall and flipped into the Chen's yard. In the courtyard, he found an axe and chopped down the whole tree. Then he turned around and cackled.

He laughed and laughed then abruptly stopped. From his squat, he straightened himself, staring blankly in a daze.

Suddenly, he turned his head and waved to Luo Xianxian: "Girl, come here."

". . ." Luo Xianxian didn't move. She was frozen to the spot, the little cloth shoes embroidered with yellow flowers digging into the ground.

Seeing her hesitating, the young man calmed down his voice and said as sweetly as he could, "Come here. I have a treat for you."

"I. . . I don't. . . no, I don't want to go. . ." Luo Xianxian mumbled. Before she finished speaking, the young man suddenly grew irate again——

"If you don't come here, I'll go into your house and slice up your father!"

Luo Xian trembled harshly but finally took small steps towards him.

The young man squinted at her: "Hurry up, I'm not waiting all day."

Luo Xianxian lowered her head and moved towards him. When she was still a few steps away, he suddenly stretched out his hand and violently pulled her over. Luo Xianxian let out a scream, but it only reached the back of her throat before something was shoved into her mouth to gag her. The young man stuffed an orange into her mouth. It wasn't peeled or washed, but covered in the dirt and pushed into her mouth.

The young man tried to force her to eat it in one bite. The orange split open and was rotten inside. Half her face was covered in the rotten fruit, but the lunatic was still smiling. He crushed the fruit into her face, stuffing it into her mouth that she was desperately trying to keep closed.

"Aren't you a gentleman? I thought you didn't eat stolen food. So what are you eating now? Huh? What are you eating now!"

"Haaa. . . no. . . I don't want. . . dad. . .dad. . ."

"Swallow it." The young man narrowed his eyes and stuffed the last bit of fruit into Luo Xianxian's mouth. His pupils gleamed with an eerie light and he shuddered. "Swallow it!"

He watched Luo Xianxian forcibly swallow the orang. She muffledly choked out "Dad". The young man was silent for a while, then he suddenly smiled.

That smile was more terrifying than his hideous face.

He stroked Luo Xianxian's hair with satisfaction, squatting in front of her, and said softly: "What are you calling your dad for? Shouldn't you be called out to me? Isn't the orange I gave you sweet? Was it delicious?"

With that, he picked up another one off the ground.

This time, he didn't stuff it in her mouth. He carefully peeled off the orange peel and cleaned off all the white piths attached to it. Then he wiped his hands, broke off a piece, and brought it to Luo Xianxian's lips. He whispered: "If you like it, eat some more."

Luo Xianxian knew that she had encountered a madman today. She had no choice but to lower her head and silently ate the orange that the madman handed her. The sweet and sour juice melted down her throat and her stomach churned. . .

The young man squatted there, feeding her slices of oranges. He seemed to feel better and even started to gently hum a song.

His voice was rough, very hoarse, like a broken gust of wind, vague and inaudible. Luo Xianxian could only make out a few words.

"Three or four flowers fall into the pool, the bell chimes once or twice on the shore. The best thing is to be young, a light-footed horse, you can see the end of the world. . ."

He suddenly said: "Girl."

". . ."

"Tsk." He curled his lips and reached for Luo Xianxian's slender face, "Let me look at your eyes."

Luo Xianxian shivered. She was powerless to resist. She could only let the young man inch forward, his bloody finger coming closer and closer to her eyes.

"This is how it is," he said.

Luo Xianxian whimpered and closed his eyes. She was really afraid that this madman would, on a whim, poke out her eyes like they were fruit.

But the young man didn't poke them.

The other coldly said to her: "Didn't you teach me the saying that wealth couldn't be lusted after and poverty couldn't be changed? I've also got something to tell you."

"Hmm. . ."

"Open your eyes."

Luo Xianxian's eyes were tightly closed. The young girl laughed in exasperation and hissed: "Don't be like that. Open your eyes!"

". . . Do you think I won't be able to gouge your eyes out if you have them closed?!"

Luo Xianxian forced her round eyes open, her slender eyelashes trembling, and tears streaming down her face which looked pitiful and fearful. She wasn't sure how to make this stranger happy. He suddenly let go of her cheek, his hand lingering in the air, and then gently patted her head.

He gazed into her eyes, and a trembling smile shook from the corner of his mouth. His smile was distorted, ferocious, and just a bit miserable.

He said: "There are men in Linyi. Twenty of them are dead."

After he spoke, he turned around and his figure sank into the darkness and gradually disappeared.

Only the mess on the ground was the only evidence that such a person, covered in blood in the middle of the night, had been here.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[hurting-fictional-people]

Okay guys, so I think I’m getting attached to these characters and might have more ideas for them... so please let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more?

CW: (putting them here because tumblr decided to be weird about my tags tonight) a whole lot of angst and betrayal, stabbed whumpee (recovering from it... kinda), collar and chains, IV mention. Please tell me if I missed something

Continued from here

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @swift-perseides

-

“You said you’d set Whumpee free if I gave you the information,” someone hisses somewhere above them.

The timbre of that voice is a familiar caress, soothing the uneasiness that threatened to take over as soon as consciousness approached. Still, there’s a sharp edge to it that propels Whumpee’s eyes to flutter open, even as it calms the fear.

“Can you prove it?” 

That’s the sound that truly awakens them. The sound they hoped never to hear again, that sends chills down their spine and makes them squint their eyes against the dim light and groggily look around.

“Can I p– you know you said it, Whumper. Stop fucking around,” Caretaker growls. “If you don’t want to let me go, then fine. Keep me here. Torture me if you will. But leave them alone.”

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Whumper sighs.

Someone towers over Whumpee, large shoulders they know better than their own stand by their bed, restraining their line of sight to the wall to their right and the one in front of their bed.

“I gave you what you wanted. Now let them go.”

Before they can think about it, before they can even truly remember where they are or why or with whom, their hand reaches out and touches the soft skin of Caretaker’s arm, making them stiffen and turn around with a furrowed brow over softening eyes.

“You’re awake.”

It’s the worry underneath the words that brings it all back. The betrayal months before, all the hurt and bitterness, and then those last hours – minutes? – with a hole in their abdomen silently draining their life away, suffocating in pain.

They pull their hand back.

“What happened?” Whumpee rasps out, only then noticing how dry their throat feels. 

They know what happened. Every second of it is etched on their mind forever, but the question still slips out, the need for reassurance bigger than anything else.

“I got you fixed,” Caretaker gives them a sad smile, “just like I promised I would.” 

“Actually, I got you fixed,” Whumper says, walking around Caretaker to stop in front of Whumpee’s bed. “You’re welcome.”

Whumpee’s eyes dart between the two of them, narrowing at the way Whumper’s gaze shines with something dark while Caretaker holds themself statue still. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Whumper asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” they grumble, frowning when Whumper chuckles. “Why am I not dead?” 

“Poor thing, you were really out of it, weren’t you?” Whumper smiles as they hold Whumpee’s ankle through the sheets and rub circles that would’ve been calming coming from anyone else. “Caretaker took the deal in the end. Almost too late, but my doctors are pretty good, so you should heal just fine. If given proper time, that is.”

“So, what now?” they ask, half wanting to just close their eyes and pretend to still be asleep. Their throat pleads for water, but they don’t want to ask either of them, so they just swallow saliva and pretend it helps.

“Well, that’s a question for Caretaker to answer,” Whumper says, turning toward the third person in the room, the one keeping disturbingly silent, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Probably regretting saving them in the first place.

But Caretaker doesn’t say anything. All they do is glare at Whumper from their spot beside Whumpee’s bed.

“What do you mean?” Whumpee asks after a few seconds, stifling a yawn, eyelids pleading to close.

“They mean that they have no word,” Caretaker snaps. “Whumper wants to make another bargain even though they never fulfilled the first one.”

“Fine. But why am I here?” Whumpee whispers, forcing their eyes to stay open long enough to hear the answer.

“Because you’re the bargaining chip, lovely,” Whumper smirks, squeezing Whumpee’s ankle until they gasp.

Whumpee’s heart drops to the floor, and then lower. 

Caretaker has saved them once, which was a miracle in itself. Expecting them to do it twice is just too much. 

“Can we discuss this later, since you don’t seem inclined to negotiate right now?” Caretaker nods toward the door. “Whumpee needs to rest.”

“I guess they will be needing their strength very soon if you don’t change your mind,” Whumper sighs, winking at Whumpee as they walk to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now.”

The lock clicks behind them, but neither Caretaker nor Whumpee acknowledges it. They’re too busy staring at each other to do much else. 

Deep bags mar the skin under Caretaker’s eyes, just like it always happens when they don’t get enough sleep, and Whumpee hates themself for still remembering that.

“Why did you–“ save me, Whumpee tries to say, but their voice fails when a dry cough makes their chest heave and their wound hurt. 

Caretaker is immediately leaning close, one hand splayed on their back and the other on their tight, each touch raising goosebumps along their skin. “W-water,” they rasp, closing their eyes at the humiliation.

But Caretaker doesn’t seem to notice how defeated Whumpee’s eyes are, how their cheeks burn red for having to ask them for something so simple. They simply grab a plastic water bottle from the bedside table and hand it to Whumpee. They gulp down the entire thing.

“How are you feeling?” Caretaker asks once they sag back on the mattress.

“Like shit.”

It’s true, but the irritated tone is nothing but a defense mechanism, and they fear as much as they hope that Caretaker notices it. 

The pain is a constant weight in Whumpee’s stomach, and the medication slowly dripping into their veins through an IV makes them nauseous and sleepy, but none of it makes Whumpee any less confused or sad whenever they look at Caretaker.

Why did Caretaker save them? A blurry memory tickles their brain, of sobs that didn’t come from their lips, of trembling hands holding theirs, warm lips kissing their forehead when they couldn’t convince their eyes to stay open anymore. It dissolves before they can grasp it, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“You should sleep,” Caretaker says when the silence grows uncomfortable.

“Are you regretting saving me already?” Whumpee whispers, averting their gaze.

“What? No.” It sounds so real they almost believe it. They want to, so badly, but they’d already made the mistake of trusting Caretaker once before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a hurt edge to their voice that makes Whumpee’s eyebrows rise as they look Caretaker straight in the eye. “Tell you what?”

“What Whumper did. That you were bleeding out.”

Oh.

“You could’ve died, Whumpee. You almost did. If you had just told me they had stabbed you, it would never have gotten to that point.”

“Why do you sound so angry? You’re the one who taught me not to trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you but I’d do it again’, remember? You are the one who said those words. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it would matter.”

Caretaker furrows their brows, opens their mouth, and turns around. Before they do, though, Whumpee catches the flash of pain and sadness crossing their eyes and pretends not to notice the glint of tears there.

The seconds tick by, and as the silence extends, pain and exertion make Whumpee’s eyes take longer and longer to open each time they blink. They are almost asleep when Caretaker’s voice sounds again.

“It’s not true, you know. It would’ve mattered. It’ll always matter when it comes to you.”

But Whumpee is already dreaming once they stop talking.

-

“So, have you made your choice?” Whumper asks from behind a ridiculously large desk. Caretaker folds their arms and doesn’t fight the will to bare their teeth. “We’ve talked through it already, Caretaker. It won’t even be any sort of bother, you just have to go in, pretend I let you free, and come back with the drive I gave you.”

“You and I both know it’s not that simple. You want me to infiltrate my own team, lie to their faces, and hand our biggest enemy a drive filled with classified information,” they bite back, hands curling into fists.

“Well, you can always say no,” Whumper leans back in their chair and grins. “You know I’ll even let you walk out if you do. And then I’ll have a pretty little pet to play with. The only downside is that dear Whumpee won’t last very long as my plaything with that wound of theirs.”

The words might as well be a blade sinking into their heart. And Whumper knows it, relishes the knowledge, laughing when Caretaker holds their breath.

It’s been three days since Whumpee’s woken up. Three days of poorly hiding the desperate need to be by their side, to make sure nothing would ever hurt them again. Three days of knowing that each small noise of pain Whumpee lets out, each hazy look they get whenever Caretaker says something kind or offers help, each distrustful glance, it’s all Caretaker’s fault.

Whumper doesn’t even bother hiding how much pleasure they take from locking Caretaker up until they can’t help but bang on the door and beg to see Whumpee. And when they do, it’s only to be hit by a new wave of pain breaking against their heart, flooding their veins with sorrow every time their eyes meet. 

“Don’t fucking touch them,” Caretaker spits out, taking a step forward before they can stop themself.

“Is that a ‘yes Whumper, I agree with your terms’ I’m hearing, dear?”

“How can I trust you won’t hurt them while I’m gone?”

Whumper’s lips tug upwards, growing into a mocking, open smile. “You can’t. And I won’t even bother promising I won’t. So if I were you, I’d hurry up, because each second you try to stall me makes me even more excited to play with little Whumpee, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate my games as much as I will.”

It’s almost funny how a handful of words is capable of completely shattering someone’s heart, of stealing the ground from under their feet and filling them with dread all at once. 

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Caretaker says, but it’s scared and quivery and both of them notice. “How the fuck do you expect me to leave with you saying you’ll hurt Whumpee?”

“Do they know how much you care about them?” Whumper muses, getting up and sauntering around the table. “Because I remember rather clearly Whumpee telling me you’d sooner offer them ruin than help.”

“What do you care?” they say through clenched teeth.

“It’s just intriguing how desperate you are to keep them safe and how oblivious they are of it. What did you do to make them so distrustful of you?”

Tore their heart apart with my bare hands. The answer comes to their mind unbidden, bringing a sharp twist of pain along with it. They can still see Whumpee’s shocked face, tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes desperately searching theirs for an excuse that wasn’t there for a treason they had no way to deny, no matter how much they wished to. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I did it for the greater good, and I’d do it again, Caretaker had said with all the pride and coldness a soldier could master. 

They had kept their own tears for later, when no one could see them shatter.

“Is your life so miserable you have to feed off of someone else’s or are you just a nosy bastard?”

Whumper laughs, and they wish they could punch that laugh out of that smug face. “I’ll give you the details now and you’ll leave tomorrow. And just because of the insult you won’t get to say goodbye to Whumpee.”

Caretaker glares in response but doesn’t argue. They don’t deserve to be near Whumpee, not after everything, and are pretty sure Whumpee wouldn’t want it either. Besides, the simple thought of seeing the face they love so fiercely fill with suspicion each time Caretaker opens their mouth makes them want to weep. 

Still, as long as they are alive to do so, Caretaker will gladly take the suspicion and anything else Whumpee throws at them. They deserve far worse anyway.

-

Each breath Whumpee takes hurts, and they are about to start crying out of frustration when the door opens. They don’t dare recognize the sharp tug of disappointment in their heart when the face that appears isn’t Caretaker’s.

“Good morning, love, how’s that wound?”, Whumper asks.

“Fine.” There’s an air of amusement around them that makes Whumpee shiver, even if they don’t know exactly why. “Where’s Caretaker?”

It leaves their lips before it hits their brain, and Whumpee has to bite their tongue to avoid slapping their forehead for it. Stupid. Caretaker shouldn’t mean anything to them anymore.

“Oh, dear. You still care about them, don’t you?”

Whumpee doesn’t even open their mouth, not when the answer they can voice would be a blatant lie and they’d both know it.

“It’s really unfortunate to have feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate them, isn’t it?” Whumper says, drinking in the slight frown between Whumpee’s brows, the way they look away to hide how much the words hurt them. 

Before the wave of bitterness can crash over Whumpee, Whumper nods to someone outside the room and two guards step inside. 

Their heart starts to pound, thrumming louder at each step the men take toward them.

“What, what’s going on?”

“We’re going somewhere else today, love. I assumed you needed the help to walk.”

They are shaking their head before Whumper even finishes the sentence. With a smile stretching across their face, they raise their brows, as if inviting Whumpee to do it themself.

They know what’s going to happen even before it does, and by the glee on Whumper’s face they do too, but Whumpee still kicks the thin blanket away and gets up on wobbly legs before taking two steps forward. On the third, the pain becomes unbearable. On the fourth, they can’t help but hold their injury and hunch their shoulders. Whumper watches them with mock concern as Whumpee stumbles out of the room. When they finally fall to their knees two steps later, Whumper simply tuts from their spot against the door.

“I guess you did need the help, huh?” they say, and Whumpee catches only a glance of their smile as they wave for the guards. 

Two pairs of hands grab Whumpee’s arms and pull them up, and they can’t hold back a scream when it makes their entire abdomen explode in pain. 

They are hauled over countless hallways, into a room made of concrete walls and nothing more, barely big enough for all of them.

“Please,” they breathe. “What are you doing? What about your deal with Caretaker?”

“Caretaker left, Whumpee.”

It’s the softness in their voice that makes Whumpee’s head turn to them, all wide eyes and parted lips. 

“The bargain we told you about was for them to either betray their team and keep you safe or go away and leave you behind. They made their choice.”

Whumpee can only stare at Whumper’s sympathetic smile. The words take a while to truly sink in, and when they do, all Whumpee does is take a deep breath. 

They’d been expecting this all along, they tell themself. They knew they couldn’t trust Caretaker, knew they’d never come first. They know it, they do. But then why does it hurt so much?

“And you see, Caretaker’s leaving made me kind of mad,” Whumper says as Whumpee is dumped on the cell’s cold floor, falling on all fours. “Betrayals make me bloodthirsty, I’m sure you’ll understand. And since you’re mine now, how can I resist it?”

Whumpee’s mouth dries at that. Terror shoots through their veins at the same time sadness tightens their heart.

The two men who’d carried them there take a step forward at the words and grab chains from a hook behind the door they hadn’t noticed before. As the chains are hung on metal loops attached to the wall, Whumpee realizes how wrong they’d been. The cell walls aren’t completely barren after all.

And when the guards crouch down in front of them, Whumpee can barely find strength through the panic and the pain radiating from their stomach to fight. 

They do, though. Even when it burns and sends waves of dizziness down their body, Whumpee thrashes in hands that don’t budge, jerks against grips that only tighten. 

But none of it matters when metal cuffs lock around both their wrists, nor when the chain is shortened until their arms are pulled straight above their head, back touching the wall. At least they are still sitting. Not that they could get up if they wanted to.

“Whumper, pl–“

But it isn’t over yet, they realize when another shiny gray circle approaches. Whumpee lets out a choked whine, but it’s all they can do before the collar closes around their throat and locks their neck to the wall as well. An uninvited sob escapes their lips, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it either.

“You look beautiful in chains, love,” Whumper says from the door, grinning with sadistic satisfaction at Whumpee’s weakness.

Humiliation tinges their cheeks red when Whumper’s gaze travels up and down their body. Chained, collared, like a dog, unable to do more than wiggle their arms and weakly kick their legs.

“Why are you doing this?” Whumpee asks, voice airy and desperate, searching for an explanation they know isn’t there.

“Because I wanted to. Because it brings me joy to see you struggle. I wouldn’t keep thrashing like that, though, you’ll wear yourself out very quickly with that unfortunate wound of yours, and we don’t want this to end too soon, do we?”

They leave the cell with a giggle and a wave of goodbye, and when the door doesn’t lock behind them, Whumpee almost chokes on a bitter laugh.

The cell is big enough for them to lie down straight if the chains weren’t keeping them tightly tied to the wall. But as time goes by, it seems to get smaller and smaller, closing in on them with each ragged breath Whumpee takes. The chains clink together as they squirm, but there’s no give. Their wound hurts through it all, burning with each movement, but stopping feels like giving up and if they do, then what? 

No one knows where they are but Caretaker and they’ve already made it clear they won’t help. They’ve already given up on Whumpee, left them once again.

No one cares. There is no saving this time. 

Whumpee chokes on rage and grief as tears stream down their cheeks, for a love that should never have been born, for the heart that has been broken in so many pieces they don’t know how it can still find strength enough to keep beating in their chest.

Whumpee stares at the gray walls and feels a scream building, and there’s no one there to stop it from bursting out, containing all of their anger and sadness and betrayal and spilling it over to the world. But even though it’s left their chest, the cry keeps echoing, bouncing around the walls, and none of the feelings are gone. They are all still there, still boiling inside of Whumpee.

So Whumpee sobs and pulls at the chains until their wrists are raw and bleeding, and don’t stop until both their strength and their voice are gone and there’s nothing else to do but sag on the chains. 

-

Caretaker is in the elevator when the phone Whumper’s given them buzzes. Seven floors to go before they have to face their team. A few seconds before they have to betray the people who are nothing less than their family.

Even so, it’s not that thought that sends a shiver down their spine. 

No one but Whumper has that number. The phone was given to them with specific instructions to be used solely to communicate with them. It’s Whumpee’s wide eyes that shine in their mind when Caretaker unlocks the phone, and it’s the memory of their smile that makes Caretaker’s heart race as they stare at the text and the video attached to it.

Got bored. You better hurry up.

Their hand trembles as they click on the video and Whumpee’s thin figure fills the screen, arms chained above their head, legs loose on the ground in front of them. Their eyes are closed, and for an instant, Caretaker’s heart stops in fear. But then Whumpee’s head starts to loll forward before being violently pulled back, and at the same time relief makes Caretaker suck in a sharp breath, the thing shining around Whumpee’s neck makes their heart sink through the floor. 

The collar surrounds the soft skin Caretaker’s tasted more than once, marring the perfect curve of their throat. When it yanks their head back, it hits the wall behind them and their eyes snap open. Whumpee stares at the ceiling for a moment before their mouth opens in a scream Caretaker feels in their soul, even if they can’t hear it. They feel it with their whole heart, and when Whumpee starts pulling against the chains, Caretaker thinks they’ll puke.

The video ends with them panting silently through the soundless video, the glint of tears wetting their cheeks. 

And then the elevator stops, and Caretaker barely has two seconds to wipe away their own tears before the doors open. 

When their teammates run toward them, none of them sees the way their eyes shine for the dread it is. 

As they smile and let lie after lie slip through their teeth, the only thing resounding in their mind is Whumpee’s silent screams. And as they deceive and betray, no one seems to notice the way their hands tremble or how they can’t convince their lips to smile no matter how happy they should’ve been to be back with the team. Not when the ten seconds keep playing over and over again inside their mind.

(next)

[jostepherjoestar]

👑Hewwu Queen 👑 is it alright if I request DIO in part 3 meeting his descendant?. Like he basically had a kid accidentally in part 1 and now he’s meeting their great grandkid who looks allot like him and seems to not be fully human. Maybe he meets them at night since their family was traveling around the world and stopped off in Egypt where he found them maybe listening to music?

Since you write for DIO, is it alright if I request that he somehow meets one of his kid after they get into some time travel shenanigans. Maybe his kid has a stand that is kinda similar to his but they aren’t confident in using it

DIO aiding his helpless descendant 

sfw / gn reader 

notes/warnings: implied assault (on your great-great grandmother)

Another case of two anons thinking alike!! It was really fun to think about this and sorry for taking so much time to get to it :o I hope you’ll still enjoy 💖✨also the pacing is strange/fast (to me), but i felt it fit with how frantic i imagine meeting Dio is

Somewhere between irking Jonathan and wishing to destroy any respectful sliver of the Joestar bloodline, Dio had his own way of indulging and spending his time. Men, women; any creature he could manipulate to his will and suck the life out of to join his dark army was welcome in his dimly lit hideout to meet their fate. The self proclaimed god that had surmounted humanity took pleasure in playing with his food; leaving them in complete darkness, literally. He’d let them suffer in silence, hearing them whimper and regret their choice to ever step foot inside the wicked monster’s palace. But it was always too late.

Except for the very night Jonathan had decided to come spoil the fun and ruin Dio’s playtime. The woman hadn’t meant anything to him, just a toy to play with and to later discard on the pile of other bodies strewn about. Was she glad to have been saved by the burly Joestar? At first yes; brought back to her senses, out of that monster’s grasp but left terribly violated. Left to carry and care for the offspring Dio would never know or care about, too busy being left to slumber in the ocean and gaining a new form from his hated ‘brother’.

Dio rose again, skulking in the shadows of dimly lit cities, looking for any and all petty humans and stand users to claim for his side. It took time and patience he didn’t know he possessed to get fully comfortable in his new body. There was always this inkling, a nagging sonar that kept getting louder and louder, not much unlike his connection to the new generation of Joestars. It grasped at his thoughts, kept him from any semblance of peace of mind -as much as he could acquire it- and there seemed to be no way of silencing it. He couldn’t see a clear picture; it was just nothing but an annoying sense of something being near.

He had searched for weeks like a bloodhound hot on a trail, irritated that he of all people, nay creations, was being made to follow and be obedient to the terrible nagging. It angered him greatly and only when he found a mere youngster sitting on a bench, you, a simple looking human, did it boil over. Sat with your walkman resting next to you on the wooden seating, head bopping along to your newest cassette in the middle of the night. Completely lost in the song you’d been drumming along to with your fingers. Dio was furious but knew better than to strike before investigating, he needed answers and he needed them now.

As he got closer to you, sneaking from behind, he noticed an immediate shift. You were no longer alone. An image, a blur that became clearer and steadier and more live-like as each second passed; posing defensively, staring down Dio with a fire in your eyes not much unlike the tall blonde’s. Not for a moment does he fear for his safety. Even though The World is a newly acquired power it could easily wipe out a scrawny kid without even hitching a breath. He smirks, eyes cast over in shadow by the dim street light as he hears you pause your cassette player.

“Oh? Was I disturbing you?’ he mocks in a smirk, catching the way your eyes glint and the vaguely familiar image you awaken in him. Just like before he’s left to figure out who this annoying hazy memory is. His voice shivers down your very being, goosebumps taking over your skin; not sure if you had already missed your chance to run. It was like his glare fixated you in place, finger still resting on the pause button of your player while the other reached up to remove the flimsy headphones.

“You…” you barely get out the word. The accusatory tone you had tried to convey had watered down to a whimper. You had felt the connection too, something nagging at your soul and stringing you along until you’d finally found the source. “Me? Hah! No, you.” Dio slid closer, his steps so quiet and calculated that even though you couldn’t take your eyes off of him you swore it seemed like he floated. You swallowed thickly, the huge figure that excluded an aura so menacing only a meter away from you.

“So. Who are you and why was it so disgustingly annoying to find you?” he joked impertinently, amused by the way you clenched your jaw at his remark. “I could ask you the same.” a brave little spark still smouldering inside. “DIO. Now don’t make me ask again, you’re making me dreadfully inpatient.” He hadn’t felt the need to kill you, at least not yet. Dio was truly curious about your answer but by the looks of it you really didn’t seem to know all that much.

You begrudgingly gave him your name, in need of some answers yourself. The sound of your name didn’t ring a single bell, not a tick, not a clank. Nothing. Not a single step further to knowing anything. “Well it seems like you do have a stand. Maybe you possess a great power that might be useful to me.” that wicked grin on his face told you a little too much of his motivations. He reminded you of those Saturday morning cartoon villains. But still you felt compelled to listen, ignoring every single red flag.  

Deciding to humour him you give out your stand’s name. “Trust me, we can’t really do much.” you huffed. You’ve only obtained your stand recently and honestly, it has been pretty shitty so far. You didn’t know exactly what it could do, it was just there. Any time you felt stressed or in danger it did come to your aid but it remained awfully docile. Their presence comforted you but you just knew it was capable of so much more.

“Are you a vampire?” The sudden question came out more surprised than Dio had hoped to let on. He regained his posture, opting to slide next to you on the bench with a swift move. There was something… off about the way you carried yourself that reminded him of himself and the other vampires he’d created. The question stunned you, your eyes that had already been widened in shock only growing more so. The way he had changed the entire conversation that had barely earned its start urged you to think quickly. “I don’t know.” you mumbled demurely. You really didn’t know. So many weird things had been happening to you lately that you being a vampire would explain a lot.

Your answer seemed to change the imposing man’s gaze and expression. It hardened a bit, his grin now slowly diminishing into a straighter line and his pointed brows resting down at a more natural angle. Even in this low light his image felt so familiar, like you were already supposed to know who he was but the memory remained hidden. Locked away for your safety. “You should feed. And don’t go out in daylight anymore.” Dio paused for a second. “Strange...” He pondered to himself out loud. He’s only seen a few cases like this, vampiric genes passed down through generations. For some reason he pitied you, as much as he could muster it. The unknown bond you shared felt too unusual to write off.

“What am I supposed to do?” you felt tears prick your eyes, trying your best to remain strong but you’ve been so tired. You couldn't confide in anyone, not about this. Tears started rolling, falling in thick streams down your cheeks and dropping onto your lap. Here you were, crying to a stranger named Dio about being a vampire and having weird powers. A bizarre twist of fate.

“First of all, stop crying. Then, widen your stance when you’re about to fight someone. I could have easily knocked you down with that flimsy imitation. Fix your posture while you’re at it. Call out your stand again.” He rattled off his demands quickly and flatly. Was he helping you? They were barbed complaints but it seemed like he actually wanted to aid you in whatever it was you were going through. You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. You felt like a kid again; asking your parent for any reassurance when life knocked you down.

Dio actually offered a lot of viable advice, telling you about techniques to silence your steps, how to take someone down easily, to feed on humans within an inch of their life. You had asked him, just in case. You weren’t planning on killing anyone; a comment which made him scoff. That intimidating impression and overall feeling of having to bend to his will had lessened the more you talked to the blonde. He casually sat with you for what felt like hours. He hadn’t divulged into his own history, instead asking you about yours. He was still trying to figure out what this weird pull was.

“No one in your family has experienced anything like this before? Hmph. It seems to have skipped multiple generations then.” he was asking about your great grandmother and all the others that came before you. It could have occurred to them but you would have never known. “My family did come from England, though. My great-great grandmother fled in a hurry. We don’t really know why, Windknight’s Lot seems like an unusual place to frantically run from.” As soon as the small town’s name left your lips everything fell into place for Dio. His grin grew again, satisfied to finally know your connection to him.

Family.

One he made for himself, by accident, by a relation created on his own devious whim. Not that horrible Joestar bunch that kept ruining his fun or his horrible father that was but a faint minuscule memory. Something he did. It brought him even more satisfaction to know how perfectly in place it felt for you to be the one to develop these powers at the perfect time. His mind could have exploded with possibilities; a thousand ways to make you join his side. But it didn’t, he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted yet. And he surely wasn’t going to tell you of your bond either, lest you get attached too quickly.

As you finished up and the early signs of a rising sun were starting to make itself known on the horizon, you were saying your goodbye’s. “Thank you for helping me. Truly, I- I don’t know how I-” you weren’t allowed to finish your earnest thanks. Dio knew you meant it, one of the only few truly grateful acknowledgements he’s ever received. “I’ll be taking over the world in a few months. If you feel so inclined to join, you know where to find me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he was making his move to leave you behind, alone on the bench again. Left to scramble for your stuff to try and stop him but he was already out of sight. “WAIT! I don’t know where to find you! You never told me!” you yelled into the empty streets, heart thumping out of your chest, hoping this wasn’t just a very elaborate dream you were caught in.

“Trust your instincts.” The voice felt incredibly close but so far away, like catching a falling snowflake; as soon as you grasped it, it just melted away.

[kanos]

[ AWAKEN ]  for receiver to not think they feel the same way but realize after a simple hookup with sender that they’re in love with them to. 

Harvey [reciever]xMia [sender]

god damn it adel im gonna scream (we talked and we are switching up roles thank you)

pairing: harvey dent/mia adler (oc) warnings: mentions of abuse, kinda nsft??, thats about it idk

---------

Harvey's easy going smiles were what pulled her in and caused her to agree to have dinner with him at his place. He was charmed and smitten with her and she was cunning and manipulative and this was the perfect chance for her to lure him deeper into her scheme. Well, she also enjoyed his company, that much was true.

He showed her inside, his apartment just as extravagant as she had envisioned it being. There were candles lit, the lights dimmed low to set the mood. “I hope you like what I’m cooking. I also picked up some wine as well - red wine is good, right?”

She nods at his enthusiasm and smiles sweetly as she follows him into the kitchen. “Red is just fine.”

There’s slow and mesmerizing music playing throughout the apartment and she takes in her surroundings- the windows, where the fire escape was, the doors that are down the hall; there’s three. The kitchen is spacious and dark, two pots on the stove and a few bottles of wine. He pours wine into a glass for her and one for himself as well.

Mia takes the glass, swirling the liquid around slowly and watches him as she takes a sip. She licks her lips and turns her attention towards the dining table, decorated with candles and flowers, plates and silverware set for their meal.

“You didn’t have to go all out for me, Harvey.” She grins and slides her hand over his arm as she moves next to him by the stove, looking over at what he’s cooking.

A small chuckle leaves him as he looks over and then back to the pots. “Of course I did. I want you to have a good time.”

She thanks him softly, fingers sliding down his arm as she steps away, strolling around his place. While his home was full of furniture and paintings, it seemed empty. There weren’t any photos around of family or embarrassing childhood memories - which was more than appropriate for a bachelors home, but it was lonely almost.

Mia never had the “happy family” life and now she can hardly stand to have her photo taken. However, a part of her was almost curious to see into the world of Harvey Dent. A movement from behind only slightly startles her and she turns to find him watching her inquisitively.

“Dinner is ready. If you’re hungry, that is.”

She nods and takes a step forward, but stops when he doesn’t move at all.

“You know, Mia.” He starts, clearing his throat as his eyes inspect her face. “I think you are… extraordinary. These last couple of months have made me realize something and I know technically our relationship is business, but there’s something about you I can’t shake.”

Her stomach churns at his words and she doesn’t know how to react. Did he know about her plan? What she was doing? Did he finally see her for the monster she was, using him for her own personal revenge? “What’s that?” She asks carefully, wanting to take a step back but she holds her ground.

Harvey lets out a slow breath. “I was going to wait until we had dinner, but I feel I have to say it now. I can’t get you out of my head. Stop me if I’m getting ahead of myself and I understand if you turn me down, but-” He pauses like he lost his words and he runs a hand through his hair. “I think I’m in love with you, Mia.”

Silence covers them as she stares at him, thinking and processing his words. They were new and foreign and it was hard for her to tell if he was being genuine, but something told her he really and truly meant it. Never in all her life had she thought someone would ever say that about her, feel that way about her. Worry clouds his eyes and he frowns as the quiet continues on.

“There really isn’t anything about me to like.” She whispers and moves her head so her hair covers the scar over her right eye.

When his hand gently cups her chin, she looks back at him and holds her breath as he steps closer to her. “No, you are beautiful.”

His other hand brushes over her hip and around to her back, a slow motion of pulling her closer as Harvey leans down and kisses her. Mia allows it and closes her eyes, leaning against him and sliding her palms up his chest and behind his neck. His hold is firm and careful and she decides now would be the time to abandon their previous plans and move to the bedroom.

Having Harvey drop his guard was the only goal she could think of and if that meant sleeping with him during this very vulnerable time where he’s most trusting, it would be done. He’s almost hesitant at first but it wasn’t hard for her to coax him into the hallway with her, taking his hand and smiling seductively, her other hand tugging at the shirt of her dress.

The bedroom was just as exquisite and alluring as the rest of the home, a large bed with a set of the most enticing looking dark sheets. She starts trying to unzip her dress until he takes over, his large hands pulling down the zipper and his lips placing tender kisses along her shoulder. She lets out a sigh as he pulls the straps and lets the dress fall to the floor and the cool air wraps around her body.

She shivers when his touch leaves her and she looks back to find him staring darkly. Mia turns around and steps back, suddenly insecure when she realizes what he’s so entranced by. He must think she’s a freak.

“They do that to you?” The question was rougher than he intended but they were soaked in a passionate fury she couldn’t describe with words. No, it was something much more physical. An anger so intense it felt like someone else.

Mia looks away and takes a couple steps back until she hits the bed. “Some.” She answers meekly, avoiding his gaze. I told you so, she wanted to say. There wasn’t much to like about her, especially not this.

Harvey closes the gap between them and lifts her slightly as he leans over her. If his lips could heal, she’d be whole again by the way he kissed her scars with so much care and warmth, his fingers caressing her skin as if he were putting her back together, erasing all that she hated about herself.

She moans as she cards her fingers through his hair, breath hitching when his lips had trailed down to her thighs and his exploring hands were tugging at her underwear. Letting a man touch her was the last thing she had ever thought about, but everything felt natural with Harvey, even if she hated having no control in a new situation.

“I love you.” He whispers breathlessly against her skin.

Those three words were being thrown around so recklessly and easily that she wasn’t sure how to comprehend the exact meaning behind them. In this position, it could simply be played off that Harvey’s mind was clouded by lust and alcohol, but that would be a lie. They hardly drank their wine and the tentative way he held her was not lust.

His actions would be completely different, she imagines, if he was only taking advantage of her.

Yet, because of those three words, her view was changing as well. Her heart may have been dead by the way it beats for Harvey now, strong and wild that her chest aches. Every fiber in her belonged only to him and for a while now she only had thoughts of him. She wants to make him hers.

Shit. Maybe she loves him too.