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#how do you create in the midst of so much suffering?

stil-lindigo · 6 months

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" Is it alright to cling to you? To invent meaning where it is absent? I fear my words won’t grow up with me, still scuffing their knees on cement. I can welcome a lie when it's blinding, But I can’t write like a poet while blinking. I can’t draw like an artist without hiding. I can’t live right now without thinking. "

-words, by me.

#just thinking about the role of 'creatives' during crisis #having to go on during a climate crisis and a pandemic and a genocide #recognising the rot in the system and just having to really come to terms with how far it goes #how do you create in the midst of so much suffering?#my heart just aches #one day palestinians will be free to live in peace on their own land.#free palestine #ceasefire now #i hope this doesnt come off as self indulgent. or attention seeking #i just needed to scream into a pillow #but in saying that.#perhaps a delete later.

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spncvr · 2 months

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could you write something with spencer and childhood bestfriedn to lovers?? haven't seen you write angst! but ik it'll be good 🤣❤️

glorious | s. reid

summary: leaving spencer isn't easy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: angst? and, again, english isnt my first languageLMAO its also too late to be writing so i hope this makes sense

a/n: IVE BEEN WAAAIIITTTINGGG FOR ANGST REQS this is so bad thp girl (gender neutral) im sorry i didn't do u justice

masterlist

YOU LOVE THE darkness.

There, you feel as though you hold the entire world in your grasp. The light, however, falters under your grasp, almost as if it’s causing itself pain by being in between your fingers. You can’t help but think that it’s almost like yourself, loud and bold (maybe, you think humorously, that’s why you’re not particularly fond of it). The light is chaotic, boisterous, and overwhelming, and it burns out your mind and soul.

The dark is a contrast to the light in every way. It is solitary, silent, and careful in its movements against your skin. You feel a sense of power amidst it, as though you can control it with the mere flick of your wrist. The darkness brings a sense of contentment to you, as if you belong there, among its shadows and stillness. You revel in the power and peace that the darkness brings you, and for a moment, everything feels just right.

The wind dances around you, a melodic tune that you can never quite decipher. It hums on your cheek and creates an illusion of harmony in the bustling city that you know isn’t really there. It is akin to light, even in the darkness. Everyone is constantly bumping into someone, everyone’s always got somewhere to be. Because the city lives and breathes in constant distress; so much so that nobody seems to notice how the sky shifts from a light blue to a tranquil orange and then to darkness, even if the city never truly gets dark. There are always lights, stars, and the sounds of nightlife and parties that can last until dawn. Despite your disdain for the city and the way it makes you feel, you can’t help but smile as you study it from afar. Perhaps it’s the allure of the city’s chaos that keeps you here, or maybe it’s the thought of what you could make of yourself in the midst of it all—but that didn’t matter, not anymore.

You’ve always promised yourself when you were younger that you’d leave.

One day, you had whispered to yourself in the darkness, when you were six, your favourite stuffed animal tightly tucked between your arms, one day, we’ll go away. You can’t remember whatever caused you to tell yourself this at such a young age. You think it was probably something silly—a classmate’s admonition that some activities were simply reserved for boys. Or maybe it was because your parents had refused to let you get ice cream after you’d finished all of your green vegetables (all that suffering for nothing, really). But the mindset had continued to stick in your mind; an ember of determination that refused to fade away.

One day, you say again, when you’re thirteen because your teacher had failed you in your first ever physics exam, one day this won’t matter. We’ll go. We’ll leave. You say it so firmly and so surely that it scares you sometimes. Because, really, you’ve never been anywhere but here—so you ask yourself: What if it’s just the same? What if it’s just as bad?

One day, you say again, when you’re seventeen because you have been looking at universities far off and away from your city far away from the constant distress it emits. You’d stare at the campus pictures on the website and study the student’s bright wide smiles, and sometimes, you’d picture yourself in those hallways, with a group of new friends—you’d be the smart, and the witty one. You’d laugh a little harder, and smile a little brighter. One day, We’ll be there. Anytime soon.

“What are you smiling about?” his voice pulls you out of your small reverie. He looks good in the darkness. Specifically this kind of darkness, one that isn’t just quite completely dark. You find that kind of darkness here, where you could see the entire city live and breathe, where you could see some underlying beauty within the city.

You offer a meek shrug, eyes never leaving the city, “It just— feels so real now, no?”

He rests his chin on one of his bent knees, sighing. “It’s always been real. You’ve wanted to leave this city forever.”

“Well,” you exhale, “I didn’t expect to leave so soon. I always thought maybe I’d stay in this city a little longer. I don’t know.”

“With me?”

You frown at him slightly at the question. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“For me?”

The question is cruel. You don’t need him to make you question yourself because you have spent your entire life yearning for nothing more than to go and leave. You hate him for it, kind of. Because really, what did he expect you to do? Stop everything, and stay with him; for him? I’ve got dreams too, damn it, you want to yell at him, scream at him, I’ve spent my entire life hating nothing more than the god-damn fucking city, and you’re here to mess all of it up. “For me?” Yes. Yes FOR you. Everything’s FOR you!

You can’t dispute the truth, though. Yes, you’d stay with him. For him. Whatever.

Yet as you sit with him by your side and gaze out over the city, you suddenly realise —almost as if you had never thought about it before—that leaving this city meant leaving him as well. The very notion of leaving him felt so alien to your mind. Somehow, you had subconsciously imagined that you’d be going away with him —it’s always been one day we’ll leave, we’ll go— besides, you’ve always known Spencer. In a way, he was like… God, you can’t even say it. You just needed to leave. You can’t look at him when you answer a soft: “Yes. Yes, for you.”

i have like a pt. 2 of this but i hate it so heres a cliff hanger LMAOAIOSVUSBD

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youremyheaven · 9 months

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Beauty & the Beast: The Path of Venus (Vedic Astrology Analysis) 🌸🔥

Beauty & the Beast is essentially a "bad boy meets good girl" esque story, although that is oversimplifying things.

Love is a transformative tool and it is true love that lets both individuals transform. the Beast turns into a prince and Beauty understands the true nature of beauty, which is not shallow or superficial.

the reason, beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder is that, when you look at someone or something with love, it becomes beautiful to you. Their character and essence transcend their physical form; beauty becomes a sentiment that is deeply felt; its profound and moving, like the beauty of nature or of ancient monuments; its beauty that is beyond the mundane; such as perfectly symmetrical features or adhering to every "trend".

Yun Hyongkeun, the esteemed artist once said, "True sorrow is connected to true beauty"

He had Purvashada Moon and Venus in UBP (Venus exalts in the sign of Pisces)

Here's an excerpt from an interview:

“What is a beautiful thing? It’s associated with the humanity’s inner world. To live most beautifully means to survive after experiencing extreme suffering and hardship,” Yun said.

imo, this is a very Venusian sentiment; Claire Nakti in her video had mentioned how Venusians are "externally splendorous but internally corrosive"

this is to say that these natives create beauty, are drawn to beauty and perhaps are physically beautiful but more often than not, it does not come from a place of ease or comfort. just like how the beautiful lotus blooms in the mud, Venusians create beauty in the midst of chaos and ugliness.

Fun fact: Namjoon has a song called Yun dedicated to the artist which paraphrases this sentiment as "true beauty is true sadness". Namjoon himself has Purvaphalguni sun so it makes sense why he feels connected to this sentiment.

something that is truly beautiful affects us deeply. be it certain people or certain places, it almost makes us melancholy. now why does beauty make us sad?

innately, we understand that beauty, like life, is ephemeral and being in the presence of it, triggers our own sense of life/time passing and mortality. everything and everyone one must die; including the beautiful things and its almost painful to accept that.

now we must first understand that there is nothing shallow or superficial about beauty. Belle does not love the Beast DESPITE his ugliness but perhaps because of it. she finds him intriguing, his character, and his essence all appeal to her. if she were repulsed by him truly, she would not have wanted to marry him. although she was put off by him initially, she warmed to him after that, if that weren't the case, this story wouldn't progress the way it does.

in Claire Nakti's video about Venusian men, she mentioned how Venus's influence gives these men "true masculinity" but they're also often not considered conventionally physically attractive. She cited Pete Davidson & Travis Scott as examples and how what's appealing/sexy/magnetic about them has to do with how they carry themselves, their personality, their vibe, etc

so, we understand that Beauty & the Beast is not about a young woman who in her kindness and generosity, agrees to marry a Beast; she is attracted to him; but what makes him attractive to her is his essence, his nature etc

Now that we've established that, let's look at the story of Psyche & Eros; there are many parallels between this tale from Greek mythology and Beauty & the Beast

like all tales, this too, is a spiritual and philosophical allegory

i will quickly sum it up:

Psyche was a princess famed for her beauty, so much so that it made Aphrodite (Goddess of love & beauty, equivalent to Venus) jealous. She decided to send her own son, Eros (aka Cupid) to shoot Psyche with his arrows of love, to force her to fall in love with a hideous Beast. Much to her dismay, Eros himself fell in love with Psyche and decided to marry her.

now remember that Psyche is a mortal and Eros is a God. This union is not easy. back in her kingdom, people are in mourning because according to them, she's marrying a winged beast. after a while, she's with Eros at their abode, living a life of marital bliss, however, Eros can only visit her at night and she is commanded to never set her eyes on him. so she literally has no idea who or what he is.

one night after her sisters convince her that her new husband is a ghastly and terrifying beast, she decides to take a look at him. however Eros wakes up and realizes that she betrayed him and loses his trust in her and subsequently abandons her.

Psyche has to face several trials and tribulations before she can redeem herself and unite with Eros again; this time in the presence of all Gods, including Aphrodite, they get married, she ascends to the status of a Goddess and later on they have a child, Hedone, Goddess of Pleasure.

Psyche is the Greek word for "soul" or "mind", curiously, its also Greek for "butterfly" or "moth"

Eros means "love" and "desire"

Hedone means "pleasure"

Aphrodite is associated with love, lust, beauty, pleasure, passion, procreation and prosperity.

This is essentially a love story. Psyche is the personification of the soul, which innately longs to unite with the object of its desire. Like all mortals, Psyche despite finding it, does not trust it or understand it. It is only when she loses what she had, that she realizes how precious it was. Psyche must undergo a painful process of self-realization and undertake several trials in order to redeem herself and prove worthy of Eros.

Desire is the source of everything and Eros is the first god to have come into existence; he is self-formed. it is desire that got Psyche into this mess but its love that will get her out of it.

Thus, the quest for love finds its end in the union between soul/mind and love/desire; together they create pleasure (literally)

looking at it as an allegory, the trials that Psyche undertook were necessary because they led to her growth and development as a person. if you're familiar with Carl Jung, you will recognise this as the process of individuation.

Jung saw it as the process of self-realization, the discovery, and experience of meaning and purpose in life; the means by which one finds oneself and becomes who one really is. It depends upon the interplay and synthesis of opposites e.g. conscious and unconscious, personal and collective, psyche and soma, divine and human, life and death. (link to the article)

the story is one of Psyche's transformation; she leaves behind her kingdom to marry a complete stranger she has never seen and is later abandoned by him, then must strive to redeem herself and win him back. metamorphosis is synonymous with butterflies and Psyche is symbolised by butterfly wings.

so what does this story tell us? Psyche was a renowned beauty who harbored doubts that her new husband was a ghastly beast. but it is she who goes on an arduous and challenging journey to win back the man she feared was a beast, not the other way around.

the soul evolves, matures, and develops, and comes to unite with their love/desire and that creates pleasure. this is essentially a Venusian story.

Venus concerns itself with love & beauty and the story of Psyche & Eros, or its fairy-tale rendition, Beauty & the Beast both explore these themes.

in the same video, Claire also mentioned how Venusian influence often manifests as ugliness in men, but they are also said to possess "true masculinity" the kind that women deeply desire.

Venus creates elitism; Venusians attract each other but Venus being a corrosive planet means they have to prove worthy of each other's company.

the Venusian nakshatras are : Bharani, Purvaphalguni & Purvashada

also, keep in mind that Venus exalts in the sign of Pisces

its interesting that all 3 Venusian nakshatras are Ugra nakshatras that are "cruel" in nature, assigning the native qualities like fierceness, a tendency to be torturous and cruel. the gem associated with Venus is the diamond; they are beautiful stones that come into being after being subject to immensely straining conditions of heat & pressure. this is imo, very telling of the nature of Venusian natives. they endure so much suffering in order to create the beauty that others know them for.

one of the earliest screen adaptations of Beauty & the Beast is Cocteau's 1943 adaptation, in which Josette Day plays Belle.

She has Venus & Ketu in Purvaphalguni

Penelope (2006) is a gender reversed retelling of Beauty & the Beast and it stars Christina Ricci who is Purvashada moon

James McAvoy has an exalted Venus in Pisces (UBP) which is a placement signifying ultimate devotion to the lover, its interesting how in this story he's the one who must help Penelope ("the Beast") break the spell she's under. the whole thing is sooo Pisces coded ngl

Emilie de Ravin plays Belle in Once Upon A Time, she has Moon and mercury in Purvashada

Kristin Kreuk, Purvashada sun played the Belle based character in the tv series, Beauty & the Beast

in 1997's Beautician & the Beast, Fran Drescher plays a Belle inspired character. She has Ketu in Bharani

Jane Eyre is considered by many to be loosely based on Beauty & the Beast.

To begin with, Charlotte Bronte who authored Jane Eyre, was Purvaphalguni rising with an exalted Venus in Pisces (UBP)

As such we'll look at the actors who have played Lady Jane in its film & TV adaptations.

Zelah Clarke played Lady Jane in the 1983 miniseries Jane Eyre. She is Bharani moon

Ruth Wilson who played Jane Eyre in the 2006 tv series, has Purvaphalguni moon

Sussanah York who played Jane Eyre in the 1970 adaptation has Purvashada sun, Purvaphalguni moon with Ketu in Bharani

A Court of Thorns & Roses, is a highly popular fantasy novel that is a retelling of Beauty & the Beast. its author, Sarah J Maas has an exalted Venus in Revati as her amatyakaraka

Anthony Trollope’s Ayala’s Angel features a heroine who rejects the honourable Colonel Stubbs because of his appearance and ugly surname, until she is persuaded by events that he is “the real Angel of Light” she has been seeking all along.

Trollope has Ketu in Purvashada

The Tiger's Bride is a post-modern retelling of the Beauty & the Beast. its written by Angela Carter who has Sun & Moon in Bharani.

The Beast must learn to express his heart and mind to become worth loving. He has his own journey of growth, acceptance and forgiveness.

It’s a pattern echoed in many Jane Austen novels, including Pride & Prejudice in which the proud, rich Mr Darcy must reveal his true goodness to win the witty and sharp Elizabeth Bennet.

in its perhaps most famous adaptation, Liz is played by Keira Knightley who has an exalted Venus in Revati, with Mars & Rahu in Bharani

in another adaptation of the same, the Liz character is played by Aishwarya Rai who is Purvashada moon.

to an extent, Marianne's character arc in Sense & Sensibility, also by Jane Austen is very similar. she initially falls for the handsome, young and ultimately found to be shitty John Willoughby and later realises her love for & marries Colonel Brandon, who is much older and an amputee but who truly cares for & loves her.

the 2011 movie From Prada to Nada is a retelling of Sense & Sensibility. it stars Alexa PenVega as Marianne. She has Ketu in Purvaphalguni

the 2000 Indian adaptation, titled Kandukondein Kandukondein stars Aishwarya Rai in the Marianne equivalent character. She has Purvashada Moon

Conclusion:

Beauty & the Beast focuses on Belle’s awakening to the Beast’s virtue rather than the Beast experiencing a change. it is a story about the path of a Venusian woman.

it is a quintessential Venusian tale about the union of two equals. true to Venusian nature, they have to undergo several trials and tribulations before this becomes possible.

Thus when the body (the beast) unites with the soul (beauty) it creates pleasure and harmony, thereby fulfilling all the promises of Venus.

#venus #venusian #venusian nakshatras #bharani #purvashada #purvaphalguni #feminine journey #beauty and the beast #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #astro observations #nakshatras

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marvelmusing · 4 months

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Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Theories about merzost, the very boundary of your powers, and your relationship with Aleksander are all put to the test as everything comes to a head.

Warnings: canon level violence, mentions of death and violence, animal death

A/N: this is a pretty hefty chapter, but I hope it makes up for the wait - enjoy!

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The fox is absent from your mind and Aleksander is nowhere to be seen when you wake in an unfamiliar patch of forest. Ravka is in the midst of a cold spring, but the flowers around you now are in full summer bloom. The stone beneath you, the ruins of a small fortress, is warm against your bare feet.

When you stare too hard at the distance, everything blurs into a haze of generic woodland – trees and thick greenery. A blue butterfly flutters across your vision, swirling in a cheerful loop around you that makes you too dizzy to follow.

“What is this place?” you ask your only companion, the girl who had been by your side when you awoke. She turns away from the rose bush she had been admiring, pale blue eyes wide and curious as she looks at you.

“You’re the durast; I was hoping you would have an explanation.”

“You’re Grisha?” She nods with a small smile, her eyes falling onto your hand. There’s a freshly healed scar across your palm, where you had cut yourself to reverse Morozova’s blood lock. “A healer.” She nods again and you close your fist, flexing your fingers. “Thank you.”

“It’s the best I could do. I never quite had the time to master tailoring before I died.”

“Died?” you repeat. She nods and you feel the blood run out of your face. “Am I dead too?”

She tilts her head, examining you for a moment.

“I don’t think so.”

That doesn’t reassure you. Desperate for some answers, you slump down onto the stone steps, tucking your knees up to your chest.

“What’s your name?” you ask her.

“Luda.”

She sits down beside you as you give her your name.

“Do you mind me asking, how did you die?”

“I was stabbed by one of the King’s soldiers.”

“When was this?”

Her brows crease together into a small frown, her head tilted aside.

“I’m not sure. I think time works differently here.”

History lessons at the Little Palace weren’t always your favourite, but perhaps you could figure out when Luda was still alive.

“What was the name of the king?”

“Anastas.”

“Oh.”

She’s quiet, eyes watching your reaction intently.

“Was that a long time ago?” she asks, though you suspect from her tone she already knows the answer.

You nod.

“Before the Fold.”

“What’s the Fold?”

You blink at her. The Fold is such a vital piece of Ravka’s history. A key feature on every map. A shadow that has been hanging over your country for your entire life. The idea of someone not knowing about it, of living in a Ravka without a mass of shadow dividing it, baffles you for a moment.

Luda listens intently, eyes wide as you describe the Fold and the state of your modern-day Ravka. There are tears in her eyes when you tell her about the Little Palace, your voice filled with nostalgia as you recount stories of your childhood – vastly different from hers. She’s sympathetic when you explain your struggles with helping Aleksander.

She tells you about the witch hunts and how she was cast out of her village at the age of six. With a melancholy smile on her face, she tells you about the man she loved, who had helped her rescue countless Grisha. It reminds you of Aleksander, which you mention to her.

It takes quite some time for the two of you to realise that her Aleksander is the same man as your Aleksander. But once you do, you’re both stunned. Luda is desperate to hear about him and you can see her heart break when you tell her how much he has suffered.

“Baghra warned him not to use merzost,” she admits. “Countless times.”

“Morozova used it,” you reason.

“Only to create his amplifiers. Aleksander is too selfless. He won’t see an issue with killing himself to keep the people he cares for safe.”

The two of you are quiet as you consider her words. Aleksander is selfless to a fault. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you and the other Grisha safe. He has proved that time and time again, killing him piece by piece each day. You only hope that you might be able to save him from such a tragic fate, if you ever return to reality.

“I think he’s here for you.”

Frowning, you turn to follow Luda’s gaze and find the fox – your fox – at the edge of the woods. He trots over the grass, heading directly towards you. It feels like a piece of your soul has clicked back into place as the fox threads his way through your legs.

Luda seems cautious despite her curiosity, her hand hovering above the fox’s body.

“Go on,” you encourage her softly. “He won’t hurt you.”

“He’s beautiful,” she whispers, tracing her fingers lightly over his shimmering fur.

He tilts his head, looking up at you with his amber eyes.

“It isn’t our time yet, is it?” you say to him.

He shakes his head, taking your sleeve between his teeth and tugging you in the direction of the forest. As you stand, intending on following the fox, Luda calls your name.

“Aleksander,” she says, her voice wavering as she grips onto your hands. “Tell him… tell him he did everything he could. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve made my peace with the time I had.”

Swallowing hard, you tighten your hold on her.

“You should have had longer.”

She smiles softly, cupping your cheek with a fond affection in her eyes.

“I can see why he loves you.”

You don’t quite know what to say to her. Aleksander himself hasn’t even told you that he loves you. His actions have shown how much he cares for you, but he has yet to say the words themselves. Having someone state it so confidently makes you bashful.

“He still loves you,” you say. Her expression turns dismissive, but you shake your head to stop her next words. “He isn’t the kind of man to let time or death stop his love.”

The corner of her mouth twitches with the hint of a smile, tears gathering in her eyes. In this moment, she looks delicate and emotion tugs at your heart, encouraging your own tears.

“If he ends up at the making before me,” you adjust your grip on her hands, staring down at them. “Take care of him.”

She nods, her smile unfaltering despite her tears.

“I have a feeling I won’t be seeing either one of you for quite some time.”

»»---------------------►

Sunlight warms your face, and you blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. A small groan catches in the back of your throat and you stretch your aching limbs and push yourself into a sitting position. From her seat at your bedside, Genya discards her book with a gasp, tossing it away in favour of throwing her arms around you.

Somewhat disarmed by the hug, you look around at your surroundings, slowly recognising the bedroom you had been using at the Grand Palace.

“Genya? What happened?”

She pulls back, examining your face. There’s a tension in her features and a heaviness in her eyes. Genya is always meticulous in maintaining her appearance, but now she looks almost disheveled. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she brushes a lock of hair from your forehead.

“Ivan found you and the General in the woods. He said you had escaped a fire.”

“Ivan?” Ivan is alive. Deep down, you’re thrilled for Fedoyr, but at the moment you have more pressing concerns vying for your attention.

“You almost died.”

Her statement has concern for Aleksander mounting in your chest.

“Where’s the General?” Her expression drops slightly and your stomach twists fearfully as your fingers curl around her wrist. “Genya? Tell me, please.”

“He’s still alive. We’ve had heartrenders monitoring him constantly-” Instantly, you push the bedcovers aside and begin to climb off the mattress. “-and a durast keeping the merzost from reaching his heart.”

Genya settles her hands on your shoulders, attempting to keep you in bed.

“I need to see him.”

“Let me get a healer to see to you first.”

You shake your head.

“No. I need to see him, now.”

Dressed in a velvet robe, you stride through the corridors towards the royal chambers which Aleksander had claimed as his own. Genya hurries to keep up with you, despite the burning ache in your lungs. The fox skitters nervously at the forefront of your mind, scratching anxiously at the frantic thoughts of Aleksander.

Four oprichniki stand guard outside his rooms, opening the doors for you immediately so that you can rush into his bedroom unhindered. Ivan and Fedoyr stand at the foot of the bed, with David sitting at Aleksander’s bedside with a tense expression, his hands clasped together as he keeps the merzost from entering Aleksander’s heart.

Then your eyes fall upon Aleksander himself. The urge to cry like a helpless child chokes you. Moving towards him slowly, you can’t find the strength to breathe.

He’s sickeningly pale, cold to the touch as you reach for his face carefully. He doesn’t stir like he usually would, seeking out your touch subconsciously, and you experience the horrific thought that you might be too late.

His amplification still reaches for your power and nausea fills you at the feeling of strength that flows from his weakened body to yours. Closing your eyes as you sit by his side on the edge of the bed, you attempt to redirect the power, hoping to find some way of giving him enough to fight off the merzost.

The arteries in his neck are dark and thick with merzost, throbbing beneath his skin. There’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, his dark brows furrowed with pain. Clasping your hands together, you focus on the merzost in his body, gasping when you feel the vastness of dark poison tainting his blood. It makes your lungs tighten, the back of your head pounding with each weak beat of Aleksander’s heart.

Emotion closes your throat as you lean over Aleksander, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Gently, you smooth his hair back, threading your fingers lovingly through the matted locks. He’s still so motionless, and your hands shake as you trace your fingertips over his scars which have darkened considerably. Kissing his cheek, you whisper quietly against his ear,

“Hold on for me, Aleksander, please.”

Blinking back your tears, you straighten up, addressing the room,

“Bring me the sun summoner.”

Fedoyr nods, giving Ivan’s hand a squeeze before he moves towards the door to obey your order. There’s a large, jagged scar stretching across Ivan’s neck, directly over the apple of his throat, which you suspect is a token from his escape from the Fold. He – like Aleksander – is lucky to have survived the volcra.

“Thank you for saving us, Ivan.”

He nods in acknowledgement, his expression softening slightly as he observes you and Aleksander.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Genya asks you, wringing her hands lightly.

“Not entirely,” you admit, rolling up the soft sleeves of your robe. “But I have a few theories.”

It isn’t long before you hear footsteps in the corridor outside as Fedoyr returns with Alina in tow.

“Fedoyr, hold her still.”

“What’s happening?” Alina asks, eyes bouncing frantically over each person in the room. None of you look at her.

“Quiet,” Ivan says firmly.

“Ivan,” you say. “Only stop me if he is about to die – and only then.” He nods solemnly. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Closing your eyes, you tighten your hold on Alina’s wrist and take Aleksander’s hand in your own, creating a physical bridge between the two of them.

»»---------------------►

It takes a few moments for you to realise where you are. The Little Palace. The sun is low, descending over the horizon as you walk down the corridors. The increasing darkness doesn’t scare you, this place is your home. There is only one place you can think of finding Aleksander.

During your time living at the Little Palace, you never actually set foot in Aleksander’s rooms, as an ordinary durast, you were never considered important enough for an audience with the General of the Second Army.

Pushing open the door to Aleksander’s chambers, you walk towards the figure seated in the armchair by the fire.

“Aleksander,” you sigh, filled with relief. “I thought it would be so much harder to find you.” He doesn’t turn at the sound of your voice and your stomach sinks as the silence rings between you. Each step you take is tentative as you move towards the chair, eyes trained on the dark head of hair. “Sasha?”

The figure stands and your steps falter.

“Alina.”

She’s wearing a black kefta and you feel sick at the sight of her in Aleksander’s colour. She frowns at you.

“It’s you, from the Spinning Wheel. Who are you?”

You shake your head minutely.

“No one.”

“Kirigan isn’t who you think he is.”

“I know exactly who he is.”

She lifts a hand, summoning a ball of sunlight which dances around her fingers. Her light is cooler than when you first saw it at the winter fete.

“And you stand beside him – knowing what he’s done?” Her voice is hard with anger and you know there will be no reasoning with her. Straightening yourself, you nod.

“I do.”

Small sparks flutter around her, the power fighting to be released. Then you realise, she doesn’t have full control of her second amplifier, meaning she is so much more dangerous than you anticipated. Slowly, you begin to back away.

She brings her hands together, wielding the light into a bright blade and you turn tail, running for the door. It slams shut behind you and mere seconds later the Cut slices through the wood.

Splitters burst from the broken door as it shatters from the force of Alina’s Cut, but you don’t dare to look backwards as you continue running. Knowing the corridors of the Little Palace so intimately gives you an advantage that you are quick to make use of, leaving Alina behind in the wake of her destruction.

As you lean against a window frame, attempting to catch your breath, your eyes are drawn to a light outside. There’s someone in Baghra’s hut. Aleksander. Rushing towards a door that opens into the courtyard at the side of the palace, you freeze in the doorway, staring out over the grass.

The open ground between the palace and Baghra’s hut means you will be vulnerable from all angles. Without the speed or heightened senses of the fox, you have no way of knowing if it is safe for you to move.

After a moment of steeling your nerves, you push away from the door, running as fast as you can across the courtyard. As soon as you make it to the grass, hope begins to fill you that you might make it to Baghra’s hut undetected and unharmed.

Then, there’s a galloping sound of hooves against grass, dirt spraying upwards, and you stumble at the sight of a stag barrelling out of the woods towards you. Halting your sprint has you swaying backwards, knocked to the ground by the momentum as you scramble away from the stag.

He’s large, colossal antlers raised aggressively at you as he snorts a warning. His pale fur stands out against the darkness, almost glowing in the pale moonlight as he stamps the ground territorially, blocking your route to Aleksander.

Despite your hurried retreat, he continues to stalk towards you and fear prickles over your skin. There is no way you can outrun such a creature. Mud sticks to your hands as you crawl backwards, eyes fixed on the stag as he begins to pick up the pace again, charging towards you with his antlers lowered to impale you.

There’s a flash of red fur and a familiar protective snarl. The fox. He’s come to save you. He barks and growls at the stag, weaving between his legs.

Terrified for the creature that has been a part of you for the last few months, you hold your breath and watch anxiously as the fox snaps at the stag. He turns to look at you, amber eyes locked on yours as he tilts his head as if to say: what are you still doing here? Go get him.

Shakily, you stumble to your feet, running around the warring creatures towards the hut at the tree line. Aleksander is sitting by the fire when you throw open the door.

“Aleksander,” you gasp.

He stands, wide eyed, rushing towards you as you throw yourself into his arms. He catches you immediately, coiling himself around you tightly as you grip onto him.

“You’re alive,” he murmurs, breathing deeply as he nestles himself closer to you.

“You are too,” you whisper, before adding, “Barely, because you used merzost again.”

He shrugs lightly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“It was a small price to pay, to ensure you lived.”

“Aleksander. The only reason why I was able to create this tether is because you are frightfully close to joining the making at the heart of the world.”

“Is that what this is? A preliminary afterlife?”

You nod.

“I think so.”

His expression shatters, his knuckles stroking your cheek.

“You’re here to say goodbye.”

“You think I would let you go so easily?” He stares at you in confusion, and you lean forwards to press your forehead against his. “I’m here to save you.”

“How?”

“Merzost requires balance. The only solution I can think of is to reverse what happened in reality.” He frowns and you continue your explanation. “We get Alina to kill the stag, and I give you the antlers.”

“Kill the stag? What do you mean?”

“Look outside.”

Aleksander’s legs are shaky, and you need to keep your arm around his shoulders as he moves over towards the window. The fox and the stag are still fighting outside, their positions now reversed as the fox stands protectively at the entrance to Baghra’s hut.

“You certainly know how to pick an amplifier for someone,” you remark quietly with a wry laugh.

“He’s just as loyal as you,” Aleksander says in a soft murmur and heat warms in your chest.

Then you spot Alina approaching, her eyes fixed intently on the fox.

“I have to help him.”

“My love,” Aleksander says, curling his fingers around your wrist to prevent you from leaving. “Be careful, please.”

You nod, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his scarred cheek.

As you close the door behind you, Alina is tossing the Cut wildly in the direction of the fox. Instantly, you clasp your hands together, summoning your power to bend the stones and scraps of metal beneath the ground to create a makeshift shield for the fox. It shatters as soon as Alina’s light hits it, though it gives the fox the opportunity to escape. He scampers towards you, weaving between your legs.

“Are you alright?” you ask him. He nods, tilting his head back as you stroke your fingers through the fur beneath his chin.

Moving your attention over to Alina, you find her eyes bouncing between you and the fox – struggling to piece together how you hold such power over him. To get what you need to help Aleksander, you need to goad her into attacking the stag.

“You think Aleksander is the one mad for power, but you hadn’t even mastered your first amplifier before claiming another.”

She raises her chin at you.

“The stag chose me.”

“Did he?”

Doubt flickers over her face as she glances at the stag. He doesn’t seek her out like the fox does for you.

“The fox chose me. You’ve seen what we can do as one being.” Even in this tether space, where the two of you are physically separated, you and the fox are of one mind. He prowls at your ankles, keeping his eyes on Alina. “Claiming an amplifier is an exchange. They offer you their life, but you have to be the one to take it.”

She straightens herself, resolution in her eyes.

“Fine.”

Alina turns towards the stag, raising her hands slowly as her light shimmers around her. A shiver runs down your spine, and guilt settles in your stomach for a brief moment. Time seems to stand still, as a great blade of light shoots towards the stag. There’s a bright flash, as the light meets its mark and an earsplitting crack echoes through the air that makes your ears ring.

You don’t have to tell the fox your plan. As you sprint towards the unmoving body of the stag, the fox charges at Alina. The sound of them fighting makes you nervous, but you keep your focus on the task in front of you. Summoning a small Cut between your hands, you remove several pieces of the stag’s antlers, gathering together as much as you can carry before you stand and run back into Baghra’s hut.

In response to your arrival, Aleksander lowers himself onto the bed as you drag a chair over to the bedside with the antlers.

“Where do I need to put them?” you ask.

“Collarbones,” he states weakly.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, you pull the fabric away as he loosens the buttons to reveal the top of his chest. As you settle the antler pieces over his collar bones with shaking hands, his fingers curl around your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?”

Shaking your head, you place your hand over his, squeezing it softly.

“Not at all.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of his lips, then he nods.

“Do your best.”

Weaving your two hands together, you reach for your power and begin to merge the antlers with his bones. Aleksander grits his teeth at the foreign sensation, and you feel lightheaded at such an exertion. Relief prickles over your skin as Aleksander’s body seems to begin accepting the antlers. Most of the material sinks into him, leaving only a few sharp edges poking out.

There’s a sudden pain bursting over your face, that has stars sparkling over your vision and the sound of the fox whimpering outside has you glancing at the window, distracted. At the thought of Alina Cutting the fox, or burning him with her light, anxiety blooms in your chest and you’re tempted to check on him.

The pattering of paws against dirt soothes some of your concerns, as the fox comes barrelling into the hut. He scrambles into your lap, pressing his face against your chest as he pants heavily. Aleksander strokes his hand limply over the body of the fox, threading his fingers absentmindedly through his fur as he blinks heavily, staring unfocused up at the ceiling.

“You’re okay,” you rasp, lowering your chin onto the fox’s head as your heart pounds wildly, hands shaking as you focus on sealing Aleksander’s skin over the antlers. “We’re okay.”

There are only a few stray notches of bone, healed gnarly beneath Aleksander’s skin. The amplified has accepted him. With your hands free, you grasp onto Aleksander and the fox, holding onto them both in relief. Sweat drips over you both as you press your forehead against Aleksander’s. He kisses you breathlessly, a proud smile on his face as he murmurs,

“Take us home.”

»»---------------------►

Indecipherable voices overlap one another. Your vision blurs. There’s an ache in your head, throbbing as you sway in your seat. It takes several seconds for you to realise where you are, perched on the edge of Aleksander’s bed. The people around you are blurry; only one of them brings your vision into focus. There’s a hoarseness to your throat as you whisper,

“Aleksander.”

He blinks at you, sitting up in his bed as you move towards him. He curls his arms tight around you, griping onto your body with every ounce of strength he possesses. He breathes deeply, and you begin to sob when you realise there’s no unsettling rattle from his lungs. There’s a healthy flush over his cheeks and the dark skeins of merzost are nowhere to be seen.

Aleksander rocks you back and forth, tears in his own eyes as he presses his face into your hair. His words are muffled, but they hold a familiar sense of command as he addresses the room,

“Thank you for your assistance, everyone. Leave us for a moment.”

They are all quiet as they leave the room and Aleksander pulls you back down under the covers, guiding you into his embrace. He strokes your hair, holding you close as you bury your face into his chest. He watches you blink tiredly, exhaustion making your limbs heavy as you cling to him.

“Sleep, my love,” he murmurs. “You’ve done so much for me.” Sleepily, you tighten your grip on him.

“You’re not going to die, are you?”

His lips brush against your forehead in a delicate kiss.

“Not today.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

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#keep your judgement au #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #the darkling fic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone au

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 8 months

Text

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 6

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 10/04

Word Count: 5.8K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5

You dropped your head into your hands, sitting at your desk in your classroom. You'd just dismissed the kids after having felt like the end would never come. The day had been so long and you were exhausted but you just needed a moment of solitude and quiet before you headed home. You needed just a minute of peace before you trekked out on your bike amid all the chaos of people and vehicles in their hectic scramble to get home after work.

It had been one of those days where everything that could go wrong just did. Johnny would not stop talking all day. Maddie called him annoying during writing time when she was trying to focus so he threw his pencil at her which missed its mark and hit Brodie. Brodie in turn threw an eraser at Johnny and then they were yelling at each other across the room. You'd had to calm the situation down, speaking to both boys about using their kind words and soft voices, but the chaos hadn’t ended there.

Gracie skinned her knee at recess and was a dramatic mess, acting as if she’d just suffered a horrible trauma. She insisted that she couldn’t walk so you had to carry her into the nurse and the girl was not exactly small. Gracie was one of the tallest kids in your room. You were surprised your back had handled it as well as it did. Hauling around a third grader was quite different from a first grader.

Lance had been picking on Charlie again, this time about his long hair. The boy had hidden behind a tree to try to keep his tears from view of the others. You had spoken to Lance about how his words made Charlie feel but that kid was difficult to reach. No matter what you tried, he didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with his behavior. Quite the opposite actually. He often looked proud of himself. Unfortunately, you had a feeling that was coming from home. His dad was quite the piece of work who also never saw anything wrong with his son being mean no matter how many times you'd called him or asked to speak to him after school.

You'd dropped a piece of lettuce from your salad on your favorite shirt during lunch and now there was a bright orange stain from the salad dressing. A bee had gotten into the class in the afternoon, creating absolute pandemonium as all the kids screamed and ran to the far corner of the room, swatting and jumping. In the midst of you racing around, trying to catch the bee so you could release it outside, your principal had walked in to have you sign some paperwork, observing your completely out of control class. He’d simply raised his eyebrows at you as you tried to explain about the stinging insect that had sent your class into a panic.

You could not wait to go home, put on your sweats, pour a glass of wine, and curl up on the couch. You grabbed your bag, stuffing the paragraphs the class had been working on for the last two weeks inside to grade later while watching some mind-numbing thing on television that wouldn’t require too much of your focus. Heading out of the room, you locked the classroom door behind you, taking a deep breath, reminding yourself that you had a whole blissful evening of nothing ahead of you before you had to do it all over again.

“Rough day?” asked your colleague, Leslie as she locked her own classroom door that was right next to yours.

The woman had been a godsend when you'd started at Hawkins, helping you navigate third grade, something you hadn’t taught yet. You had been nervous taking on a grade level you didn’t know, in a building where you didn’t know anybody, but Leslie had stepped right up, offering you assistance as a teacher as well as a friend.

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed, hefting your bag up higher on your shoulder.

“Oh, I know that look on your face very well. I think every teacher knows that look well because we’ve all looked like that,” Leslie answered, walking alongside you as the two of you headed out the side door to the parking lot. “You look like a glass of wine and possibly a nice, long bubble bath is in your very near future.”

“Something like that.”

“You do what you have to. Self-care is so important in this job if you don’t want to burn out. Have a good night. Tomorrow’s a new day!” Leslie called with as much positivity as she could muster and a wave over her shoulder as she headed for her car.

“You too!” you called back.

You walked around the side of the building, toward the bike rack, pulling up short when you saw someone leaning against the rack casually, looking as if he were waiting for you. It was the last person you expected to see, the last person to show up at your work. But he had no other reason to be here, no reason to be hanging around an elementary school that you knew of. He didn’t have any kids, right? Someone would have mentioned that at some point, especially when they found out you taught at the school.

You paused about eight feet away from him, your hands clutching your backpack straps, instantly on the defensive, wary of his intentions. “Are you lost or something?”

Eddie’s tongue slipped out, running over his bottom lip. He looked at you with a wry smile, his eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners but his expression otherwise revealing nothing. It was as if he were trying to hide the fact that he was amused by you right now. Heaven forbid he actually let someone see him being anything other than surly. You really wanted to know what had caused this man to be so guarded.

“I don’t think so,” Eddie replied, pointing over to the school building. “It says Hawkins Elementary on the front of the building. That’s where you work, right?”

“Yeah, it is but that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

Eddie’s hands slid into his front pockets as he pushed off of the bike rack, standing straight. His eyes moved down toward the ground and he kicked at the pavement with the toe of his Reebok. He looked back up at you, opening his mouth and then closing it, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out.

You stood silent, confused but unwilling to utter a word. You would not be the first to break the quiet. He was the one who had come here and he could explain why. You had no intention of making this situation any easier for him. He certainly hadn’t worried about making anything easier for you.

You were completely flummoxed, growing more and more so with each new interaction with him. Only a couple encounters and your head was swimming with thoughts, too many thoughts of him, none of them making any sense. Everything was a jumbled mess of questions and half-answers that you could not string together to make a coherent picture of what Eddie was doing here or what the hell he wanted from you.

“So, a little birdie may have told me that you’re in need of a car,” he finally explained, one of his hands slipping from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. “I may have something for you. Well…I mean, my uncle might have something for you. I mean, if you wanted it.”

Stunned, you shook your head, “I’m sorry. You came here because you found me a car?”

“Uh…yeah…that’s what I said, isn’t it?” asked Eddie, his expression filled with annoyance as if you were incredibly stupid and should understand why the guy who couldn’t seem to stand the sight of you was suddenly waiting for you at work, telling you he found you a car.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you try to find me a car?” you demanded, tilting your head, the pieces of this puzzle just refusing to fit together. Jesus, this man was exasperating.

“Because you needed one, obviously. And I didn’t exactly try. When I heard you needed one, it made me think about my uncle selling his car,” he snorted, again looking like you were stupid for not getting this very complicated gesture. “Look, if you don’t want the car, that’s fine. I was just trying to be nice.”

“Since when?” you shrieked.

Eddie spluttered in offense, his head shaking. “What do you mean? I can be nice. I was nice last night when I said I would lay off you with all the comments and then I did.”

“Yeah, until you got all shitty with me again and then just took off.”

“I had to take off. I told you I had to work early this morning and I was not being shitty. Excuse me if I didn’t want to watch some stupid ass movie with everybody. I didn’t think you’d care if I stayed or not. You looked plenty cozy on the couch all cuddled up next to Harrington. Why? Did you miss me?”

His head tilted, a teasing smile playing at his mouth as his lips pouted together in the corner. You fought the urge to slap it right off his face. So, not only was he rude, he was also egocentric. He must really think himself some kind of ladies man, probably got all kinds of girls playing in a band. Well, you were not one of those girls. You were not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing what kind of effect he had on you.

“Ugh, you wish. I barely know you and what I do know I am not a big fan of. I don’t even like you so why would I miss you?”

“You tell me, Prom Queen. You’re the one who’s got her panties in a wad because I left.”

Every single feature on your face twisted into a grimace of disgust. You looked as if you had just eaten something horrible and was about to vomit. Every inch of your body language was filled with repulsion, not caring whether Eddie saw it or not. In fact, you wanted him to see how disgusted he made you. You were so beyond done with him and all of his bullshit.

“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you had any effect on my panties or anything else. You are such a prick,” you scoffed, pushing your arm against him in an attempt to get him away from your bike. He didn’t budge but simply crossed his arms, looking entertained as he watched you struggle. You growled in frustration. “Would you move out of the damn way so I can get my bike and go home?”

“Someone’s got an attitude today,” he snorted, still not moving.

“Yes, I do! I have had a shit day and you have somehow managed to make it even worse! All I want to do is go home, put on some comfy clothes, and have a glass of wine so if you don’t mind, get out of my goddamn way already!”

“What about the car?”

“I don’t want your fucking car, Eddie. In fact, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t even know why you came here when you obviously hate me.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, his arms dropping to his sides, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would have said he looked wounded. But you did know better and that couldn’t be the case. He couldn’t stand you. He’d made that perfectly clear over the last couple of days so why would he care at all what you said? The tendon in his jaw tightened for a moment and then he cleared his throat.

“I don’t hate you,” he said softly, so softly that you almost didn’t hear him. He began pressing his thumbnail into his other thumb, pushing back the cuticle as if he were nervous. “I don’t even know you. How can I hate you?”

“Well, I’ve been wondering the same thing but somehow you’ve managed because it’s glaringly obvious you don’t like me very much. I thought maybe we’d come to some place of at least tolerance last night but then you left like you couldn’t wait to get away from me. What the hell else am I supposed to think?”

His eyes slipped closed, hand covering his mouth, running down over his jaw, the jawline that had monopolized your thoughts for the past couple of days. The jawline that curved down to that neck. You hadn’t even known you had a thing for necks. It was just a neck, something that was required to attach your head to your body. You'd never given them much thought until he came along and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it, the way that tendon along the side bulged when he was frustrated or annoyed, that Adam’s apple that bobbed when he swallowed hard, that dip just above the neckline of his shirt that you'd dreamed of pressing your mouth against…

Jesus Christ! You were doing it again. You shook your head in frustration, trying to rattle out these thoughts you didn’t want to be having. You needed to get the hell away from him. You definitely needed therapy or a self-help book at least. How to avoid toxic men.

“Look, just step away from my bike so I can go home and you can leave. We’ll both be much happier then.”

“Would you?” he asked, eyes opening, piercing you like a knife to the chest. Those eyes that were deep and rich like that perfect piece of chocolate that melted on your tongue, eyes you could easily get lost in for hours, if only he would let you.

“Would…huh?” you asked, your mind struggling to process anything as he held your gaze, almost imploring you.

“Would you be happy to get away from me?”

“I…what? That’s not what I meant. You’re the one who…” You released a massive groan of irritation, your fingers curling into claws, hands in front of you. “You are so damn frustrating! I have never known anyone as frustrating as you!”

Eddie laughed, the sound rolling around you like thunder, shocking you. It was that laugh, that genuine laugh you'd heard one time and wished you could hear every day for the rest of forever. You felt a deep desire to be the reason he laughed like that all the time. It felt like something special, something that didn’t happen all the time. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world as much as that laugh. It made your heart feel light, it made your soul sing, and you were left flabbergasted once again as to why this man affected you so deeply, why you cared so much about his moments of joy, as fleeting as they seemed.

“Why is that so funny?” you demanded, coming back to your senses, remembering that you were supposed to be annoyed at him.

“Because, sweetheart, you are not the first person and you certainly won’t be the last to feel that way.” He held his arms out in supplication. “Come on. You need a car, right? Just let me show you the car. What do you have to lose? It’s a couple hours of your time. If you don’t want it, then fine.”

“Look, I don’t have a lot of money for a car. I’ve been saving but I can’t afford much,” you admitted, embarrassed to have to speak the words out loud, hating that even after your ex had dicked you over, he just continued doing so, leaving you with nothing. “I…I’m not exactly flush with cash at the moment.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. You don’t need a lot of money for this car,” Eddie assured, those plush lips puckering, one shoulder lifting. “It’s nothing fancy but it will get you where you need to be. It’s lasted my uncle for a long time. So, what do you say? A couple hours tolerating each other and maybe you get a ride out of the deal.”

Your mind flashed to exactly what kind of ride you wanted from him, your cheeks blazing with heat as the image burned against the backs of your eyes. You averted your eyes quickly, hoping he didn’t catch your embarrassment, sure you were as red as a tomato ripe for picking. The thought of being alone in a car with him was not helping you lock down those thoughts you didn’t want to be having anymore. But you did need a car.

“Alright, fine. I suppose I can stomach a couple hours with you as long as you’re playing nice. But my bike…”

“I’ll take it along,” he said, grabbing the handlebars and immediately wheeling it toward his van. You stood still, watching him, just as confused as you had been when you first spotted him, maybe more so. He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Your cheeks puffed wide as you blew an anxious breath out and hurried off behind him, wondering what the hell you were getting yourself into. You had to be a glutton for punishment. There was no way this was a good idea but you did need a car, a cheap car, and if he had one then you should at least go look.

For the second time in three days, you found herself in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, not wanting to be here anymore this time than the last. This man made you feel like you were riding the Gravitron at the fair, so dizzy that you had no idea which way was up and which was down. You still had no logical answer for why he was trying to help you when he’d given you the impression that hanging out with you was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe he didn’t actually hate you but he didn’t act like he was eager to get to know you either.

As ‘One’ by Metallica came on, Eddie’s fingers found the volume knob, twisting it even higher than it had been before, the sound completely filling the space, swallowing any chance of conversation. With each head bang of Eddie’s brown mane, the van began to rattle. The drums vibrated your seat, his thumbs pounding against the steering wheel in time with the rhythm. As Kirk Hammett’s guitar solo hit, it felt as if the van would tear itself apart.

You watched him, transfixed, a metalhead and his music, the rest of the world simply ceasing to exist inside this metal sanctuary on wheels. You couldn’t keep from smiling, feeling like this kind of moment might be fairly rare for him, like music was his therapy, his escape from whatever dark shit he had in his past. It was nice to see him at ease after you'd experienced nothing but tension and anger from him.

“You like Metallica?”

You jumped, his voice startling you, as he turned the volume back down to, not exactly conversation level, but not eardrum shattering level anymore. He was looking at you with undisguised surprise, his eyebrows racing toward his hairline. Shit. Had he noticed how you'd been staring at him like some lovesick teenager? You quickly became interested in the thread hanging from the sleeve of your shirt, praying that you weren't as red as you felt.

“Yeah,” you shrugged in an attempt to play it cool. “I mean ‘Justice for All’ was a kickass album and Kirk Hammett’s guitar solo on ‘One’ is pretty damn epic. But honestly, nothing will top ‘Master of Puppets’ for me. That whole album is a goddamn masterpiece.”

His face was the picture of absolute disbelief, “Well, well, well, you are just full of surprises, aren’t you? You mean to tell me that you, the former Prom Queen, third grade teacher in her cute little sweaters and jumpers, likes metal music?”

“You know, you really need to stop making snap judgments based on how people look,” you reminded him with a small smile. “I just happen to appreciate talent when I see it or hear it and you can’t deny Metallica’s talent. Why is it so surprising to you that I would enjoy this if you obviously do?”

“I just didn’t see you as the type of girl who would want her music all loud and aggressive,” Eddie explained, a wry smile playing over his lips. “I saw you as more of a Mariah Carey type of girl. You know, safe and sweet, the type of stuff you’d slow dance to with someone you love or bop around to with your girlfriends at the club. You know, mainstream shit, what everyone else listens to.”

“I do like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson. They’re all extremely talented artists. But I also love Metallica, AC/DC, Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Dio. I also love The Beastie Boys, Green Day, The Smashing Pumpkins, and Jane’s Addiction. I happen to also love Aaliyah, TLC, Lauryn Hill, and Tupac. My taste in music is endless. I listen to just about everything.”

“Damn…well, okay,” Eddie nodded, impressed, and then his nose scrunched up as if he smelled something bad. “Country?”

“Not so much but I do like Garth Brooks and Reba McIntyre,” you told him. “Does that negate all my other musical choices? Is that the line for you? Country music?”

“Nah, not really. My uncle listened to a lot of old country so I know some Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings…that kind of shit. He’s also a Garth Brooks fan and listen, you ever tell anyone and I will deny that shit, but he’s not so bad. It’s nothing I would ever choose to listen to but at least it doesn’t make my ears want to bleed. But Jesus, it’s depressing shit. Someone’s always losing their wife or their dog or their money.”

You laughed, pleasantly surprised at the turn this conversation had taken, the ease with which you were chatting about music. You weren't sure what had happened since last night but you were glad for it. And no, this was not because you were attracted to him, whatever the hell that was about. Obviously not. If you were going to be friends with his group of friends, then it would be nice if you could at least get along. Yeah, that’s all it was. You didn’t need to be besties but the ability to carry on a civilized conversation was necessary at least.

“Your secret is safe with me,” you teased, bringing your finger up, making a cross over your chest. You were silent for a moment, Eddie’s eyes focused on the windshield but you didn’t want to go back to stilted silence so you wracked your brain for another topic of conversation that seemed safe. “So, uh…last night when we were talking about books, you seemed like you wanted to say something before Steve did his awful Inigo Montoya impression.”

That muscle in his jaw jumped again, his teeth clenched for a moment, his knuckles whitening as they gripped the steering wheel. You thought maybe you had picked the wrong topic, one that wasn’t safe after all. Books seemed innocent enough but apparently they made him angry for some reason. But Eddie inhaled through his nose and his jaw relaxed, his hands loosening, the sun catching those rings and sending pinpricks of light dancing across the ceiling of the van.

“Did I…I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” you asked hesitantly.

“No,” he breezed as if he wasn’t wound tighter than a clock just a moment ago. “No. It was nothing, really. You mentioned Lord of the Rings and those are, like, my favorite books of all time. It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“I seem to keep surprising you,” you mused, unsure how you felt about how satisfied that made you feel.

It was a subtle movement, barely an upturn at the corner of his mouth, but it was there. A small smile, a smile you'd caused and a million butterflies erupted in your stomach at once, swarming and swirling, making it suddenly hard to breathe. That small smile was positively radiant, filling your heart with joy at the thought that you could make that happen. Something about him stirred up a strong desire within you to make him happy, to chase away those dark clouds that hovered above him all the time.

“Yeah, you certainly seem to be,” Eddie admitted, turning as a sign for ‘Forest Hills’ trailer park came into view.

There was a certain charm to this trailer park, despite the fact that a lot of the trailers were run-down and looked like they were in need of some work. The closeness of the homes gave it a uniquely cozy feeling. Eddie pulled up to a trailer that was in a small row of them that all looked newer than the rest, the paint fresher, no signs of the weathered look some of the others had. It was like half the trailer park had been built years after the other half. A small red Honda sat to the side of the trailer with a For Sale sign in the window. A big silver pick-up truck sat next to it.

“Here we are,” Eddie announced flatly, his face suddenly hard, almost as if he were daring you to say anything negative. “Home sweet home. This is where I grew up.”

“You lived with your uncle when you were growing up?” you asked, feeling it was a fairly innocent question but obviously not as his eyes darkened, jaw clenched once again.

“Yeah. I did. I was the kid whose parents were deadbeats who couldn’t be bothered with him so his uncle took pity on him and took him in. The trailer park trash that the whole town thought was a freak,” he muttered, pushing his door open and stepping out. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

You sighed, a deep sigh of defeat, a noise of irritation because here you were again. His hackles were up, his defenses in place, all ease of conversation gone. You'd thought you'd, if not broken through, at least chiseled a little crack but just like that he’d sealed it off. You had no idea what you'd done yet again. Eddie was a damn minefield and you kept stepping in the wrong places, setting off little explosions.

You got out of the van, slamming the door behind you a bit harder than was necessary, earning an annoyed look from Eddie. Whatever. You'd already offended him, obviously, so what was one more?

The door of the trailer opened, an older man with a weathered face stepping out onto the porch. He held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, a smile that was even brighter than the light that was blinding him appeared on his face when he spotted Eddie. The lines on his face deepened in delight as he came down off the porch and pulled his nephew into a bone-crushing hug.

“Eds, what are you doing here? I didn’t think I was going to see you again until Wednesday dinner. Not that I’m complaining, kid.” He pulled back, suddenly noticing you standing there quietly, your hands clasped in front of you, feeling like an intruder, an unwelcome party crasher once again. “And who is this pretty little thing?”

His uncle grinned, his eyes going from you to Eddie, a glint of hopefulness in them. Your stomach curdled at the sight, knowing this would probably only make things worse for you. Was he hoping Eddie was bringing a girl home to meet him? Because you hated to burst his bubble but nothing could be further from the truth and it would probably only piss Eddie off more and it would be your fault somehow.

“This is Y/N,” Eddie said dismissively, his hand flapping lazily in your direction as if you were just a book sitting on a shelf. “This is my Uncle Wayne.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure young lady,” the older man said warmly, extending his hand, so opposite from his stiff, cold nephew. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around town before.”

“That's because you haven't,” you explained. “I just moved here a few months ago, actually.”

“Oh, well it’s nice to see a fresh face around this place, especially such a pretty one.”

Your cheeks blazed at his complement, “Thank you.”

“Ease up there, old man. She’s a bit young for you,” Eddie teased, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you stop it. Anyone with eyes could see how lovely she is. You spending time with my Eds, here?” he asked, hands tucking into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels eagerly. “It’s about time he got himself a girl. I’ve been on this boy to start dating but he’s so damn stubborn and…”

“Whoa, you got it all wrong,” Eddie insisted, shaking his head emphatically. “It’s not like that. She’s just here to see the car.” He nodded his head toward the Honda. “All she’s got is a bike right now. She needs something cheap but she needs some wheels so she’s not walking to work when winter hits.”

Wayne’s face scrunched up, unsure, “Oh sweetheart, I mean it is cheap but it needs some work. That old girl has lasted me thirteen years. I would get the work done myself but I don’t need it anymore. I’m only selling it because I could finally afford the truck I’ve always wanted.”

“How much work?” you asked carefully, looking over the car. The red paint was faded, rust around the wheel wells and the door frames, but it didn’t look like it was in the worst shape ever. Of course, you didn’t know a lot about cars but depending on the cost of the car, it might be worth it to buy it and get it fixed up.

“Well, the head gasket could be replaced and the oil pan needs sealing. You see that dark spot under there? The oil is leaking. It could use some new tires, possibly a new battery. That’s why I’m selling it for so cheap.”

“How cheap?” You really weren't sure why you were asking. You had no idea how much all that work would cost you so you had no way of knowing if this car was in your budget or not.

“I’m selling it for eight hundred bucks. I mean, it’s a steal if you know how to work on cars but if you’re taking it to a shop, they’re probably going to charge you a pretty penny with labor,” Wayne explained. “Eddie’s friend, Mike, works at the local dealership, sweetheart. Maybe you should go talk to him and see if you can find yourself a nice little used car that doesn’t need all this work.”

“Oh, okay,” you replied, instantly trusting him. You had no idea why but he had such an honest face and a kind smile. How had Eddie been raised by this sweet, warm man and turned into such a jerk?

Eight hundred dollars would be a dream number but not if you had to sink another couple thousand in repairs. You only had a couple thousand for a car period. You weren't picky. You weren't looking for anything fancy. Beggars couldn’t be choosers but you did need it to run. There was no point in forking over money for a car for it to sit in your driveway when you couldn’t pay to fix it.

“Thanks for being honest with me. Maybe I’ll give El a call and see if I can meet with him sometime this week,” you shrugged.

“She’ll take the car,” Eddie stated.

“Now, son, you know any mechanic will take one look at her and take advantage. They’ll charge her more than they should just because they can. I don’t want to see this sweet girl get in over her head.”

“She won’t. Are you forgetting who always fixed up this car for you, old man?” Eddie asked, pointing to himself. “She happens to know a certified mechanic.” He turned to you. “Look, I’ll do the labor for free if you buy the parts I need. And I’ve got tires for this thing so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You found herself once again suspicious of his intentions. This man was giving you serious whiplash. Why would he offer to give up his time, for free, to help fix a car for you? Wayne snickered softly, shaking his head as he looked down at the ground. Was there some kind of joke you werent in on?

“And why exactly would you do that?” you asked.

“Jesus Christ. I’m just being nice,” Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes.

“For now? And what? Next week I’m left with a car that won’t run because I somehow pissed you off, you’re being a jerk again, and you don’t want to help me anymore?”

“Look, I’m trying to do you a favor, Prom Queen. You don’t want a car that is going to be in perfect shape when I’m done with it and way under your budget, then that’s your choice.” He folded his arms, staring you down, as if you were the unreasonable one in this…whatever the hell this was.

Your eyes narrowed. You might be the dumbest person on the planet for agreeing to this but you really did need a car. Walking to work in January and February on days when the weather didn’t allow you to use your bike had been awful. Your teeth had been chattering, fingers frozen, nose bright red by the time you got to school. You'd spend ten minutes shivering under your winter coat at your desk before you were warm enough to remove it. You could not go through another winter of that.

“Fine,” you muttered, knowing you would probably live to regret this. “I guess I’ll take the car.”

“Well, alright then,” Wayne chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Looks like you got yourself a car and a good mechanic to go with it. Let’s get this all sorted and I’ll get you the keys, honey.”

Eddie smiled smugly, clearly feeling like he’d won, though what he thought he’d won was a mystery to you. He was giving up his free time to fix a car for someone he barely knew, someone he didn’t even seem to enjoy being around. You groaned, only imagining how badly this could go as you followed the two men into the trailer.

Chapter 7

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @strangerfreak @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

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physalian · 1 month

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Crutch Tropes #1: “I just want to be normal.”

One cannot write a sensical story that is completely devoid of tropes, much less completely immune to the audience presuming tropes whether you intend them or not. In short: Tropes are not, and have never been, the “problem”.

The problem isn’t even that some become clichés. The problem is when writers use tropes in place of actual character development and detail, because they think just stamping the trope on the page suffices. This isn’t usually done maliciously, either, it’s from inexperience at best, or ego at worst.

Every trope can be a writing crutch—as in, its mere existence gives the illusion of depth where there isn’t any—but there’s a whole subset of tropes that become annoying and exhausting clichés when they don’t have to be. I think they can still be implemented as solid story and character choices with a little TLC thrown their way.

I already wrote about lacking buildup for major character beats and how they’re clearly written to make the audience angry or scared or to pick a side or fall in love, and here is one of the most egregious.

—

No one who’s just been shown the secret otherworld of every fantasy reader’s dreams wants to be “normal”. This line gets thrown around to drive early conflict between the reluctant chosen one and their new badass friends, as if entering this new otherworld or accepting these new powers or responsibilities in any way makes their generic and “normal” life worse.

The writer knows this, otherwise they wouldn’t be banking on the super cool awesomeness of the world they just created to sell books.

The best instances of this trope are well into the story where the character can see and has likely suffered the downsides of this otherworld. Or, a seasoned veteran character comes to terms with the fact that they've given their life to this entity and never got the chance to be normal. By that point, the audience is already endeared to them and right in this mess with them. At the start of the story, we have no idea who this person is.

How to fix: These powers/attention/responsibilities are actually a serious threat and detriment to the character’s ability to live their life and being “normal” is something they have actually never known. “Normal” becomes a gift. Or, the character has a very clear idealized “normal” and the plot is in the way of it.

Without this addition, “I just want to be normal” feels empty and cheap, because most of us readers are “normal”, and can’t empathize with a whining protagonist who we all know will come around eventually.

This trope also loses its teeth when the character cannot define what “normal” they want. Many chosen ones are already written in the midst of their tragic backstory and already don’t live an average life compared to the average reader, but they don’t complain about not being “normal” until they’re dragged out of their miserable existence into the way cooler plot.

But many chosen ones are also just average people, who inexplicably turn down amazing adventures because they just… really want to be homecoming queen, or really love slinging burgers, or taking the bus to school, or doing homework. No one with that life wants to be “normal”, and none of those characters ever articulate just what’s so special about this life.

—

Perfect example of both versions of this solution:

Princess and the Frog: Tiana wants to open her restuarant and wants nothing to do with romance or an adventure. Naveen stands in the way of her "normal" every chance he gets. Tiana's quest is never for romance, it's to undo the magic spell that she got dragged into on accident, and romance is just a happy byproduct.

The Lightning Thief: Being a demigod sounds cool, but the survival rate of these tragic heroes into adulthood, much less 16, is very low, and the book narrative makes it very clear that these so-called heroes are really just beasts of burden doing the gods' dirty work. Percy may not want to continue living exactly the way he is, but at the start of the book, he doesn't give a damn about helping his deadbeat godly dad. When he yearns for normalcy, we can all see why.

—

What is their normal and why do they want it? What are they already doing, or what do they wish would happen, to obtain that idyllic normalcy? I wrote this post about humanizing your characters, and if you’re going to write this blip in the hero’s journey, this is your chance to get as vivid and specific as you can about what this character sees as their perfect life.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character design #character development #hero's journey

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actuallyevilgay · 5 months

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The Apathy (Part 3)

Astarion x Male Reader/Tav

DNI if you are a minor. Dead dove don’t eat. Please read my about before replying. Content: Astarion x Male tav, this is post epilogue.

Summary: Your escape from the guard did not go unnoticed, trouble is brewing and Astarion is searching for you while a familiar face visits Jilvy's cute little tavern. Reminders: Astarion is the vampire ascendant, Tav is not a heroic figure. Contains headcanons for several characters, contains headcanons for illithid brain alteration but not evolving. Tav uses daggers and magic. Astarion is an Arcane Trickster Rogue. I created several npcs. Some Neverwinter lore is mentioned but might not be lore friendly. Content Warnings: Tav suffering from depression / ptsd, self-neglect. A/N: Link to previous part. Trouble be brewing.. I have a lot of ideas for this mini series. Hope you don't mind my story pacing too much, I do read my stuff back before posting but I don't have time to go back and fix every typo. Remember to leave a follow so you don't miss out on it!

...... Even when everyone was aware of the location, it was unclear if his old friends all intended to look for Tav. Astarion bet on it that Gale and Karlach would certainly try, but both had busy schedules. Karlach simply was busy trying not to die, so she had to remain in avernus until Dammon could do something about her engine permanently. As for Gale, he had students to attend to, a full schedule. Only the holiday season could free him from that disaster. Which may be soon, so the vampire lord had plenty of time.

The only other person he could imagine going right into the chase was Jaheira, if not to gain advantage over him. Some nosy harper that old woman is.

Astarion had made note that he could potentially run into any of them, and personally.. He’d rather avoid that entirely. If anything, he’d hoped to just see Tav. Talk to him before anyone else could. Perhaps that way he could convince him to come back, take his place at Astarion’s side. Like how it used to be.. Together.

Vandelion and Tyselius both disguised themselves as adventurers, and with a simple masterful glamour spell, Astarion fit right in. He had picked the appearance of a blonde half elf, attractive, but plain enough to not draw too much attention to himself.

Certainly not even his old friends would notice… Could he still call them friends?

There was this distance put between them in the last six months. Everyone had moved on from the adventure to live their lives. The trip to Neverwinter took almost 20 days, even with the more convenient methods of travel, horseback, carriage, or by boat.. It all went by in a blur. There was this consistent anxiety that in the time it took to get here, Tav could’ve left.

If he hadn’t, certainly Neverwinter would not have swallowed him whole. And so, to focus his stress Astarion made sure to remember every tiny detail of his lost lover’s face.

His voice, the colour of his eyes. The way he looked over his shoulder…

It made him smirk, even on this disguised face.. There was this familiarity to Astarion’s smile. Not that anyone who knew him was here to notice except for his bodyguards.

As astarion’s gaze got lost in the snowy streets of neverwinter, he remembered Tav’s eerily piercings eyes in the midst of one of their past battles. He recalled the scent of adrenaline in his lover’s blood, when the Grymforge Golem crawled out of the forge.

Astarion’s eyes glanced up to the mountains in the distance, spotting the resting volcano. Without trying, the smell of the magma mephits exploding near his face came flowing back with a sense of nostalgia and absence.

Absence.

When Tav darted forwards to plunge himself into that lever, everyone was flailing around from the quake. Sweat dripped from his forehead, he struggled to breathe.

‘’The hammer! Keep luring it towards the hammer!’’

Visions of the fight interrupted his daydreaming. This was when he first realised he felt for Tav, craving for something more than what he pretended they had. Something real.

Everyone nearly died that day, the night cometh.. Tav could not sleep at all.

Astarion envisions it so clearly. The man had wandered towards his tent, only to pace back and hesitate. Nothing happened between the two that night.. There was only this exchange of eye contact that could have lasted for hours.

There was an absence in his eyes, Astarion realises. How could he have missed that? He pondered how many times that look completely overtook his lover’s eyes.

No.. He recalled it. After absorbing Nere’s tadpole, long before that fight, Tav would fool around less. He was distant for a while, the power gave him an edge in battle.. But everytime he took another one of those worms, he took more risks, damage… It drained him just as much as it empowered him.

‘’Someone has to take more hits,’’ Tav always excused his actions, claiming it was for the best. For a time Astarion assumed he was covetting the power greedily- Up until they met the emperor he had assumed Tav would rather keep it for himself for selfish reasons.

The way that thing.. The mind flayer- Spoke, deeply unsettled him. It was utterly disgusting when the thing suggested Tav take the damn astral worm.

Astral or not, nothing good could have come from it, and thus- in a fury of sudden rage, Tav stomped the thing to the ground. ‘’No more! I’m done with this bullshit!’’ His screams nearly send the Emperor in a rage.. The beast contained himself. He needed their party to succeed.. It accepted his losses…

All the while Astarion happily encouraged Tav to make use of the tadpoles as he had.. The parasite granted him his freedom after all...

Neither of them ever set out to be heroes.. All Astarion wanted was freedom. He went along for the ride, and came out of it with more power than he could have ever dreamed of.

Tav on the other hand… Before anyone could even celebrate his deeds, he disappeared.

Baldur’s mouth gazette would only mention the mystery hero for a few weeks, and then forget about it completely. It was almost as if he never existed, his accomplishments didn’t matter enough to these peasants..

The anger Astarion had felt during that time was unreasonable. He so deeply regretted it.

For all the time that he has been thinking about this man with rage and heartbreak, no one else seemed to even worry about him. If his old friends dared to show up here now, it would be an insult. What was even a worse insult is them not coming at all. They could pretend all they want, they moved on with their lives. The notion that Jaheira went looking and came back with nothing felt like a big lie to Astarion. They only cared when he didn’t show up to that stupid reunion.. Yes.. Ironically he dismissed the thought that he too was guilty of this. No, not once did Tav leave his thoughts. Not once.

‘’Sir?’’ Vand’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘’Ah.’’ Astarion sighed. ‘’ Yes. Let's explore around a bit, shall we? Perhaps there is some clue.. There has to be..’’ He wiped some of the snow off his cheek, regaining focus.

Ty’s chirpy persona chimed in. ‘’Would you look at that? There’s a crowd gathering.’’ Convenient timing.

The three turned their heads to the square. There was a noticeboard, and a bunch of wintershield watchmen gathered as something was being nailed to it.

‘’Adventurers, Mercenaries and fellow citizens!’’ The one who seemed to be in charge took the attention of the crowd, attracting an audience.

‘’About Tenday ago, one of our faithful guardsmen was a victim in a murder attempt, any aid towards finding the criminal will be rewarded forthwith. They must be put to justice.’’ The guard steps aside to show the drawing she posted on the board. A dagger with a curled edge was drawn clear as day. Astarion recognised it as one of Orin’s weapons- Wielded faithfully by his Tav, as a trophy.

The wicked thing meant very little to him, it was just a tool.. But to see it depicted here, in a place that has no personal history with Bhaal’s cult was most unusual.

Effectively, this confirmed that Tav was indeed here, and the first clue to finding him was the man who had been nearly stabbed to death with this weapon. ‘’My dear friends, it seems we’ve found ourselves a job.’’ Astarion put a hand on his hip, acting like a confident adventurer eager to aid in solving this problem for whatever pittance of coin the guard offered. He did not need it, but he certainly needed to know what would cause Tav to leave his weapon behind.. Why stab a guardsman out of all people?

First things first, he would have to question the victim, dead or alive.

…

You’ve been working here for at least a week… Maybe two. Slowly adapting to the circumstances. Jilvy’s motherly attitude made you less anxious, quietly doing chores in the background. You liked it here, right? It was warm.. You could hide. You didn’t have to go outside anymore.

Jilvy offered you a place to sleep and eat, as well as live and work- It had been pleasant, if not for the lack of sensation..

Sensation, no- Emotions. You lacked proper responses at times. You knew you were experiencing emotions, even if they felt odd and confusing. Most of the time you could find some comfort in the absence of it. The emptiness, the apathy.

Your facial features did not move very much, unless you spoke- people might’ve assumed that you were an automaton, or a doll of sorts.

Jilvy welcomed customers in her establishment with much glee. It was a pretty niche place, never too busy. All the folk that visited it were particularly characteristic.

From a dragonborn that paraded around in rainbow colours singing throaty songs, to a group of Gnomes reciting some sort of play.. There were all sorts of faces here. None of them seemed dangerous. Jilvy had organised a book club or something in the past, and a lot of her clients were previous club members.

You felt out of place here, they were all so.. Normal. As you peel potatoes, the knife feels too familiar in your hand. You spin it around a bit absent mindedly before returning to the task.

The bell that rings when the door opens loudly repeats twice as two figures come inside in rapid succession. ‘’Dharma, I told you to stop following me!’’ The voice was a man’s, stern, polished. Something about it made your hairs stand on edge, but you kept your back turned to the door as you worked on the food behind the counter. You crafted little chips shaped portions to bake in with salt later. It was a treat Jilvy taught you to make.

‘’But sir- I’ve told you we’d make a decent couple! Ask your mother, she’d agree!’’

‘’That is inappropriate. Not only inappropriate! You’ve stalked your own teacher on his holiday spouting this nonsense. Dharma, I am going to have a stern talking to your parents and I am dropping you from my class effective immediately. Leave. Now.’’

‘’But-’’

Before the debacle could continue further, Jilvy interrupted the conversation. ‘’Oh dear, get yourself out before I get the guard involved, m’kay? I’m running a business.’’

You assumed the student by the name of Dharma left, as the sound of the door being thrown open and closed with much force came soon after.

‘’Thank you.. I’ve been dealing with this headache for weeks.’’ The man replied.

‘’Sounds like a wild time, would you like a seat, handsome?’’ Jilvy would sometimes flirt with the customers, but it was never too serious. Just some mild banter.

They held a conversation in a corner further away from the counter. The man would complain about the student trying to make moves on him during private tutoring sessions. The girl grew obsessed. He did not expect her to follow him all the way to Neverwinter.

‘’What brings you all the way to Neverwinter for a holiday? Waterdeep is such a dreamy location, if I lived there, I probably wouldn’t want to leave.’’ You could guess Jilvy was lying, she was simply showing interest in her customers to make them want to frequent more. Or perhaps spend more money. Something like that.

‘’Oh, nothing special.. Just.. Oh who am I kidding? I’m on a quest.’’ The man’s voice chirped, there was a sense of pride in his voice. The pride quickly faltered as he continued..

‘’A dear friend of mine disappeared after the attack on Baldur’s Gate. I haven’t seen him in months. I should’ve gone after him.. I’m worried.’’

Baldur’s gate..?

Those two words buzzed in your brain.. It’s the name of a city. There was an attack.. The violent visions.. Did this man know you? No, it could just be a coincidence. You were no one. You did not want to be found.

The noise of the background conversation turned into white noise, slightly blurring out your vision as you stumbled. You tried to keep a hold of yourself by grabbing the counter. The fainting spell faded quickly.

Before you knew it, the man had approached the counter, as Jilvy got around to pour him a drink. You could feel his eyes slowly drift from Jilvy into your back. And then.. Nothing.

If he knew you, he’d probably recognise you.

But then again.. You’ve neglected yourself so much, you couldn’t even recognise your own reflection as something familiar. Your clothes were a bit too large for you, fastened with plenty of belts. A coat on top, to make sure people wouldn’t be distracted by how thin you were. Your hair used to be much messier before you started working, it was still a bit longer than you think it should’ve been. Tidied up and cut by Jilvy as much as you allowed her to.

‘’Oh, Tav, could you pass me those herbs? I can’t reach that far.’’ Jilvy’s request made your body move on its own, quietly passing a bottle to her with a turn.

Your eyes met the man’s.

He looked.. Confused. Processing something. He kept staring, even as Jilvy continued to banter towards him about the tea flavour she invented.

‘’Tav, make sure you don’t burn the chips again? The gnomes are looking hungry.’’ Jilvy nudged your side. Once more you moved without thinking too much about it.

The halfling kept talking for a time as you did your chores, up until she handed the man his tea, then she slowly made her way back to you and tugged at your leg, implying she wanted to whisper something in your ear.

‘’I saw the staring. Isn’t he handsome?’’ Jilvy winked. ‘’Oh, Uhm..’’ Your response was lacking. You fought for something new to say. ‘’I guess. He has a nice beard.’’ Did he? Probably. You weren’t sure. A part of you wanted to cower and hide. A headache was coming.. And then, nausea. ‘’I..’’ Jilvy recognised the look you gave her. ‘’Go, shoo.’’

She smiled eagerly into the man’s direction as you darted for the door, running around the corner to find the bathroom, dreading what would come.

As you waited and waited, the nausea left. Your guts slowly calmed, but not without an awful lot of pain shooting through it. How fortunate. Your throat wouldn’t have to deal with this today. These headaches were unbearable.

You rest your head in your hands as you slowly gather the courage to stand back up, dizzy from the tossing and turning your brain was doing.

You walked back to the door, and waited briefly in front of it, watching the man talk some more with Jilvy.

‘’Is your employee alright?’’

‘’Oh, He’s been through a lot. Homeless boy. I’m taking care of him.’’

‘’Ah.. You said his name was Tav..?’’

‘’He thinks that’s his name, is my guess.’’

‘’I see..’’

There was a long silence as the man poured his tea quickly into his mouth in a sudden hurry.

‘’I’ll be back with a book to read tomorrow, you do breakfasts, yes?’’

Jilvy grinned at the fact she had won over a new customer, even if it was just a tourist.

‘’I’ll be seeing you soon, Gale.’’

#bg3 #bg3 tav #ascended astarion x reader #ascended astarion x male reader #ascended astarion x m! reader #astarion #astarion x tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x male tav #ascended astarion x m! tav #male tav #baldurs gate 3

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guanana · 2 years

Text

motherFUCKER! (2)

( part 1 )

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader

genre: smut, angst, f x m, infidelity au

word count: 14.6k+

smut warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex under the influence of alcohol, oral (m&f receiving)

other warnings: it’s obvious but— yuta and mc are both toxic people. this is a morally ambiguous work, don’t expect anyone to be a good person.

manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of absent parents, mentions of anxiety, allusions to verbal abuse, uncomfortable confrontations, alcohol consumption

────── 〔✿〕──────

You’ve been in this position before. One too many times, actually. When your father would stand at your side with his arms crossed, looking down at you with disappointed contrition. He would demand that you repent for your sins. Reciting your wrongdoings and inactions, he wouldn’t allow you to feel any semblance of normalcy until you were folded over and begging for forgiveness.

You sit at the end of the table with your ankles crossed and your hands folded in your lap. If you had a tail, it’d be tucked in pathetically between your legs. The rectangular table probably stretched no more than three feet across the other end, yet it feels like the dark wood could span for miles.

This scene was so familiar. Your mother is sitting wordlessly while you suffer from the consequences of your selfishness. Merely a spectator in your demise. She was never one for confrontation, a gentle calm to your father’s fire. Always standing at the sidelines while you bear the brunt of several harsh words. You tried to understand her, hoping that she was just too weak to argue with your father whenever he went out of line.

You’ve never done anything to truly disappoint her. You aren’t sure what she’s like when pushed to the edge, but that was one of the two blaring differences from your present to your past.

This time you had directly affected her, so she had no other choice but to intervene. Her expression is unreadable yet her body shakes with turbulence. All signs of her past inebriation faded in the wake of her horrid discovery.

Yet the apple never fell too far from the tree. You had inherited her cowardice, and she was your maker— neither of you were equipped with the communication skills needed to express your displeasures.

The other difference was easily more apparent: the absence of your father. Nowhere to be found to reprimand you or make you feel like the failure he always thought you would be. But honestly, you would’ve easily picked any of his scoldings over what you’re dealing with right now.

Instead, you look to your side to find Yuta. Defeated and devoid of any emotion. The difference in their age finally shows when his chin is tucked low, the bangs that usually frame his face elegantly now falling over his eyes.

The marks that you had planted on him were given in the frenzy of your misguided passion. When he was inside of you, he fantasized about an alternate reality where he could flaunt the reddening scratches proudly. A reward from his one and only beloved.

The two of you were in over your heads, unknowingly reenacting memories of your past trysts when you were once lovers— minds much too fogged by lust and a twisted confession of love to ponder the consequences.

But karma decided to work with haste this time, wasting no time in letting your mother catch you two in the midst of your heinous crime. And that’s what leads you to where you stand now. A stalemate to see who breaks first. How deep will you two drown when the dam decides to break and flood you mercilessly?

A daunting, almost terrifying silence creates a distance between you and the last person you thought you truly loved. Two mirror images that refuse to look at one another, completely shattered. The shards of what once held a beautiful picture now remain broken on the floor. Ready to cut, gouge, and slash as seen fit.

How could you even explain yourself? Where do you even start? Is there even any hope of recovering from this? You wondered if there was even anything left to save— or if your relationship with her was as good as finished.

If you could be swallowed whole by the thickness of the atmosphere, you would welcome it with open arms.

“...Why?”

For the first time that night, your mom is able to croak out the one question she had been dying to ask. The only word that she could manage even as Yuta immediately chose to lash out at her. To accuse her and make her think she’s crazy. That she didn’t just see her lover leave your room with scratches along every part of his body. That his lips weren’t swollen red from the intense kisses that were exchanged between you and him.

Had she been any weaker than she already was, she would’ve believed him. Choosing blissful ignorance and living in this twisted fantasy honestly seemed much more appealing than facing the harsh reality.

But no amount of pretty lies could change what she had heard, smelled, saw. Somehow you were able to diffuse the situation, leading all of you to the kitchen to talk this through.

That’s what broke your mother’s heart even more. When you had thrown yourself in between them, how your hand on Yuta’s forearm immediately calmed him down. The way he eased into your touch and how those harsh eyes lowered into a silent understanding.

The nail that Yuta had hammered was sealed with a final hit when he took your side at the table instead of hers. As if he had already chosen his fate with you, as if it was always you.

No matter how she looked at it, none of it made sense. She needed answers.

“Yuta, please look at me.” She pleads. “Please, either of you, tell me. I– I don’t understand.”

You feel Yuta’s body shift next to you, the squeak from the chair he sits in is unmistakable when he shifts his gaze towards your mother for the very first time since you had ended up at the table. From your peripheral it was apparent that he was at just as much of a loss as you or your mother.

He had always hated what you did to him, but he’s starting to despise himself even more.

“I always thought that you two loathed each other… and believe me, I wanted nothing more than for you two to get along.” She says, crescents forming into the flesh of her palm the deeper she digs her nails in them. “But this, I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

When neither of you nor Yuta attempt to make the first move, she feels a nick in her patience. “Am I talking to a brick wall? Do either of you realize how terrible I’m feeling right now?”

“Not really.”

You flinch in your seat, your eyes widening in shock and shifting towards Yuta. He’s now leaned back into his seat, chin tipped high and remorseless.

“Yuta–?”

“You never meant anything to me, honestly.” He continues, and it’s as if every word is a dagger launched straight at your mother. Her mouth clamped shut. “And you’re right— I hate your daughter.”

He’s seething at this point. It was a trait that you always loathed yet envied, how solid he was in his resolve. How he could deflect so easily just because he genuinely believed he wasn’t in the wrong.

“How could you say that?!” Your mom snaps. “You told me that you love me. We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together!”

“Your first mistake was actually believing that I was going to actually go through with this marriage.” Yuta clicks his tongue, head tilted at her condescendingly as if she’s dumb. Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure if he meant what he said. His only goal in all of this was to make you miserable, to drag you down as low as him. Now that he’s achieved it, he realizes that it wasn’t as fulfilling as he had anticipated. So that was all that was left to do. To burn anything that still stands down to the ground, leaving nothing but ash in his wake. It doesn’t matter at whose expense it is. All he needs is to break, destroy, hurt. Maybe then he’ll feel better. “Who would ever tie the knot with damaged goods like you anyways? Especially at your age?”

He can’t help the sly smirk that forms when he sees the fresh dollops of tears falling down your mother’s face, but it’s just as quick to fall when you slam your hands on the table.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You scream, standing up so quickly your chair screeches along the wood floors. The noise causes your mother to jump, anything causing a rush of fear in her veins.

“With me?”” Yuta points at himself.

“Are you a psychopath or something?” You accuse him. You’re in utter disbelief at how remorseless he could be.

“You know, it’s really funny that the two of you are taking all of this out on me. As if what we did doesn’t take two people.” He challenges you before shifting his gaze to speak to your mother. “Guess blood really does run thicker than water, huh? Or are you just not ready to admit to yourself that your baby girl stabbed you in the back?”

You’re appalled at how good he is at this. How he could easily sway others, even yourself, with his words. It’s not like every second since your mom found you hasn’t been full of self loathing and blame, but it was just so much easier to plant Yuta at the root of it all. It was so easy to convince yourself that you didn’t want to feel him again, that you didn’t want him back despite how horribly he’s treated you.

It was harder to convince yourself if part of all this wasn’t some underlying resentment for your upbringing. That the only reason you feel so guilty is that you’ve let yourself stoop so low.

You turn to your mother, your eyebrows creased in sympathy when you see that her head cradles in her hands. Strands of hair laced between the gaps and all around her scalp, a few teardrops that had fallen onto the table reflected by the light of the low hanging chandelier.

Circling around the table, you try to meet her at the other side. Upon a closer look, you can see that she’s shaking. Uncontrollable as the hiccups spill from her, the cries only grow louder with the decrescendo of you and Yuta’s screaming match. “Ma…” You outstretch a hand to comfort her, only to have it immediately slapped away.

“Don’t.” She tries to demand, yet it only comes out as a mouselike plea. “I can’t deal with you either.”

The words wound you, holding yourself as if you’ve just been seared by a fire. You’ve yet to experience the worst of it when Yuta pipes in again, shaking his head at you before chuckling like a man who sits at the front row of a circus. “See? That’s what I just love about you two.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“How self-serving you are. You guys don’t actually care about each other. You just care about how the other person makes you feel– when everything comes crashing down, there’s nothing to either of you but a need for survival. You cling like leeches and suck the life out of those around you until you don’t need them anymore.”

“And you think you’re any better?!” You overpower his volume. “Look what you did. You came into her life with no regard for anyone’s well being but your own. You mooched off of her to bring your piece of shit business up, and for what? Just to bite the hand that fed you?”

“There you go acting like you’re innocent again.” He says. “Go ahead, blame me all you want. That’s not going to change the fact that you’re just as guilty as me.”

Accusations and jaded words are hurled back and forth, resembling a tennis match. As she watches the vein that pops out of your neck, the way you raise your voice as valiantly as it does– she only grows more and more confused. You’ve always been such a pliant child, never one to yell even if you weren’t in the wrong. No one, not even your father was able to bring out such an angry side of you– except for one particular incident.

And when you and Yuta meet in the middle, with you shoving a finger into his chest to push him back and him getting in your face. She catches this look in each of your eyes, and it begins to sink in.

It wasn’t just mindless anger. It was resentment. There’s history between you two.

It all adds up.

She was never the main character in Yuta’s story. She wasn’t even a key player, nothing but a pawn at best. But you. You, who's been gone for over a year and has had little to no contact with her, much less Yuta, stands clearly in the middle of it all.

“You were her boyfriend.” Your mother finally speaks up. Though her voice is bare, it was enough to cause you and Yuta’s attention to shift towards her. The tears have long dried along the creases of her face, the crow’s feet on her temples ever evident. “It was you.”

“Ma?” Your eyebrows knit together as she begins to bring the puzzle together. Your short time with Yuta has surely paid off, because your very first instinct is to deflect, brush off, lie. “What are you talking about?”

You weren’t ready for the laugh she scoffs out, pushed to the brink as she holds her stomach and topples over. “I have been such an idiot.”

“Ma, no.” You were so focused on Yuta, you realized that you didn’t want to reach your final destination with your mom yet. Not now, not ever. “You’re not, I just–”

“Just what, huh?” She looks up at you. “It’s all so clear now, I remember it. That day when your dad went through your room. He was always a skeptic, but just that one time– that one time, he was right. And I’m so sorry that it happened that way, maybe if I stopped him… maybe if I was a better mother.” Her words bring dormant feelings out of you, your chest growing heavy at her realization and your own inner child. Gnawing at her bottom lip, she lets out her final words before it all comes back to you. “Maybe I could’ve saved us from all of this.”

[ “What do you have to say for yourself? Your father looks down at you, the tapping of his foot against the silence of the kitchen plants fear in your body. When he doesn’t receive an answer, he sighs. Pulling a gold packet from his pocket and flicking it onto the table, it lands right in front of you. “Want to tell me why I found that in your room?”

“I’m sorry.” You knew better than to lie to him, knowing that it would only further his anger.

“Sorry?” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t be sorry. It seems that it’s my fault that I raised a complete failure.”

“Don’t be so harsh on her,” The words sting, but you seek some solace in the fact that your mother attempts to intervene. Even if it’s for naught as she backs down under your father’s cold stare, you appreciate the sentiment. “Please, she didn’t know any better.”

“I think she knows more than well.” He tuts. “You’re really going to defend this little sneak? Of course she’s smarter than we think she is. She brought god knows who under our roof and defiled our good home.” He spits, and she immediately averting her eyes when his temper begins to rise. Diverting his attention back to you he asks, “Is this how you repay me after all I’ve done for you? You embarrass me by opening your legs for some loser? I raised you better than this!”

“I said I’m sorry!” You cry, but your words fly faster than your brain can process. “He’s not ‘some loser,’ he’s my boyfriend and I love him!”

“Oh, love?” He tilts his head at you. “So you deliberately chose to disobey the rules that I’ve set for you by getting yourself a little boyfriend. How sweet.” He says with a deceivingly saccharine tone, mocking you for thinking you could get a one over on him. “Who is it? If it’s Mr. Jeong’s son, perhaps I could be impartial to your poor decision making. Or maybe it’s that boy from the Lee family? I wouldn’t be opposed to having him as a son-in-law, his father has told me about his acceptance into one of the best universities.”

They were all well renowned names within the town. Your father uses them merely as potential suitors in the future when he tries to coerce his well off acquaintances’ sons into courting you— into securing a ‘brighter’ future for your family financially.

You know that at the mention of Nakamoto Yuta and his humble home near the marketplace, home to only him and his grandmother that he helps run a restaurant with, your father would blow his top. If he doesn’t completely lock you away, he’d most definitely laugh in your face. It’d be an insult to him, his precious daughter choosing someone as dirt poor as him.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, answer.”

“It’s none of them.” You look away from him.

“I thought so,” He says. “I was hoping one day they’d take interest in you, but it seems like that’s not going to happen anymore— you’re tainted now.”

His words make your skin crawl uncomfortably. Every point proves to you that he has never seen you as a daughter, but rather a piece of property he can hand off to whenever he sees fit.

“So tell me then, who is it?”

You freeze in your seat, unsure of how to go about your next move. When he gives you an expectant look however, you’re left with no choice. “I… I can’t tell you.”

He hums at your answer, intrigued by the possibility of who could have swept you off your feet. “I’m guessing it’s some nobody then. How sad. What happens when he throws you away? When he leaves you behind and you’re left with nothing, not even your dignity? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“He’d never do that.” You shake your head, infuriated at such accusations.

“Of course. Because I’m sure the two of you are just so in love.” He fakely sympathizes with a strikingly smug face, only for him to fall back dead in the eyes. “That’s why you will.”

“What?”

“End it. I won’t have my own daughter making an embarrassment out of me just because she can’t control her hormones.” He says with finality. When he sees that you’re seething with a sudden anger, he chooses to add salt to the wound. “Don’t look at me like that. You know how small this town is. People will talk, and I will not have it.”

“You don’t know anything about me or him.” You bite. “He’s a good man. He’ll take care of me.”

“I know enough. I know that he’s not the least bit respectable if he’s willing to influence you to sneak around.” He says. “I said what I said, and I won’t repeat myself again. End it, or I’ll end it for you both.”

You wish your mother would help, but all she does is stand idly behind your father with her hands folded one over the other. She looks down with remorse, but otherwise lets you receive the verbal lashing. “Wh— What do you mean?”

“You know better than to not know how many connections I have in this town.”

“Papa, you wouldn’t.” You plead, now sitting up from your seat and tugging at his sleeve.

“I would. End it, or I will find him. I’ll make an example of him, even– let everyone in this area to know not to fuck with my family.”

His curses cause you to wince in fear, recoiling back when he plucks your hand off of him. You know what he means– he knows every family in this town. Both in positions of power and with the brawn to handle extremely messy situations.

When he begins to go off on a tangent full of vile curses, your mother flinches. She attempts to put him at ease once again, planting a hand on top of his shoulder. “Dear, you really shouldn—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shrugs her off of him immediately, his face scrunched in disgust like she was the dirt beneath his shoe. “This wouldn’t have happened if you did your job and watched her more closely. I know that I did my part, so she obviously must have developed this kind of behavior from you.”

She recoils back as if she’s been shot. Such an accusation causes any confidence she had to plunder. It’s hard to forget that their relationship was the byproduct of the same fate your father wants to set you up with, an arranged and loveless marriage.

You think about Yuta. Your starry-eyed and beautiful smile Yuta. He was a fighter, you knew that he wasn’t one to back out of anything without having the final say. But images of the worst case scenario under the instance your father does sic his ‘friends’ on him terrifies you. They would make his life hell, both physically and mentally.

The thought causes you to choke up. You want to believe that he was just calling a bluff just to keep you in control, but it was just that. He was willing to go to the greatest of lengths to control both you and your mother’s lives. Building up an image from the ground up to come off as the perfect nuclear family, to gain favors and status as he sees fit.

“It’s your choice,” He concludes, making the move to exit the room. Right before he leaves he makes a point to look back before heading upstairs. “And don’t even think about lying to me. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you won’t fail me again.”

When he leaves you with that, you're left defeated. You know that there's no other option but to end it. Even if it means hurting Yuta in the process— it was an easier fate than what your father had threatened you with.

Anger unfurls throughout every vein in your body. A grudge against your own blood for valuing his stupid image before his own daughter. Frustrated tears prick at your eyes, and you hold yourself in consolation. When you hear your mother's heels click against the tile beneath her slowly to follow your father closely, you can't help but feel a bit of resentment for her too. ]

“He did all of that to you— to us.” Your mother shakes her head. Laughing yet again in disbelief at the ridiculousness of it all. “He went that far, and for what? Just to leave us a year or so later for some bitch he’s been sleeping with.”

“Ma, I’m sorry.” It finally comes out in a pathetic cry. Your attention is transfixed on her, you don’t even notice that Yuta could care less about her current state of mind. You’re too focused on the wrong things, not realizing that he’s watching you. “I’m so sorry.”

Even after everything he’s done. Even if this is exactly what he had wanted in the first place. Why does it still hurt to see you like this?

Of course she doesn’t accept your apology, her anger is more than justified. Conflict brews in her furiously. The line between right and wrong, good and bad, they all blur into each other so seamlessly that she has no idea what to think anymore.

“You know the worst part in all of this?” She asks. “My luck. My actual dog shit luck.”

Turning towards Yuta, it’s hard for her to believe that she’s gotten herself into the middle of this mess. No more than a few weeks after her divorce, it was as if he was sent to her like a present topped with a ribbon. After the anonymously sent photos of her ex-husband sneaking around with someone else’s wife had been so conveniently made its way to their mailbox.

But whatever you saw in Yuta, she saw it too. He was too good at pretending to be in love with her. She thought she was finally being taught what real love is, absolutely willing to face any adversities that came with dating a younger man of little to no status. All he had to his name was a fixer upper restaurant that he had inherited from his late grandmother. She was willing to give him everything.

Yet it was like a river, her love flowing constantly and smoothly.

But where she was water, you were fire. Yuta’s passion burns for you endlessly. Yet as it grows, it only sears and scathes everyone that gets caught up in its flame.

“I understand now, this was just some ploy. You wanted to get back at her.”

Yuta nods briefly, the trajectory of this conversation finally starting to move in a linear fashion rather than a sporadic journey with no destination. “Looks like you’re starting to get it.”

She sighs at that, now looking down at the palm of her hand. She’s dug so deeply that the skin has peeled around the surface. Slipping the ring off of her finger, she places it on the table. Sliding it in the direction where both you and Yuta now stand.

‘’I do.” She says, the words not coming out during the time or place she had originally anticipated. “I understand completely. That’s why I need you to leave, now. Pack up everything and get out.”

Yuta can’t say that he didn’t put himself in this situation. He knows he’s a piece of shit, that he’s successfully destroyed everything. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse for the woman he’s broken the most. Being self aware doesn’t equate to being on a higher moral ground, but he can at least acknowledge his wrongs and take accountability for them. Clicking his tongue, he agrees that there’s nothing left for this farce of a relationship.

“Alright.” He concludes, a small nod before starts making his way out of the partition that leads to the stairway. You watch him wordlessly, and he passes you by without so little as a glance.

But just as he makes his way past your mother, she catches him by the crook of his arm. When he stops in his tracks, you can see that she’s struggling to get out her next words. “She’s… I can’t say that I’ll ever be able to forgive either of you, but she’s not the person who you think she is. Anything that she did to hurt you so badly that you had to ruin this family–”

Both you and Yuta look at her with widened eyes. After everything that’s happened, she still sees the good in you.

“She did it to protect you.”

You see it, the way that everything begins to resonate with him when he stills. Taking everything in and putting two and two together. Yet it makes no sense, and even if it did? None of it matters.

What’s done is done, and there’s nothing that can change that.

With a sneer, he tugs his arm away. Continuing on to get the minimum amount of supplies required. He’s got enough money to settle at an apartment, but for tonight he can seek shelter in some dinky hotel. But the words still affect him, he needs to clear his head first.

Now that the room is left with just you and your mother, the tension seems even more excruciating than it did with Yuta around. You have to try, even if all of it is for naught— even if nothing remains, you just have to try.

“...Ma—”

“You should go too.”

And that was it. The last of your heart that still remained intact breaks into little shards, adding onto the rest of the pieces that litter the ground.

“What you did tonight is going to stay with me for a very long time, if not forever. I don't think I'll ever be able to see you in the same light ever again.” She admits somberly, proving her point as her gaze never meets yours.

You didn't have a father to love, Yuta had gone haywire, and now your own mother wants nothing to do with you—

You've lost everything.

“So please, pack your things and leave. I’ll even pay for your flight back home… but I just can’t look at you.” She sighs, and the cloudiness in her gaze indicates some semblance of guilt. “You’re still my daughter, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done today.”

Though it kills you on the inside, you know that she’s right. Remaining here would only increase the tensions and hurt even more. Whether there’s anything you can do to salvage whatever remains between you two— you’re not privileged enough to be granted such leniency. Not at this time at least.

You hear the front door slam shut, indicating that Yuta has already taken his leave. Wherever he ends up? You don’t know, and you shouldn’t care.

But as always, all proper judgment flies out the window. Your body betrays you once again when you grab your barely unpacked suitcase and follow both your maker and breaker en suite.

You turn one last time to catch one last glance at your mother, unmoving from her same spot at the kitchen table. Where you stand, her back is facing you through the partition of the hallway to the kitchen.

For what it’s worth, you repent to her one last time.

“Mama.”

You see her flinch, her hand grasping at the edges of the table for leverage.

“I’m sorry.” You say with all of the sincerity you could muster, even if it’s nowhere near enough. “I’m so, so sorry.”

With that, you take your first step out of what was once your home for good. It was bittersweet and short lived, but you take it in full stride.

You don’t see the last of her strength finally snap when the door shut. Nor do you see her sobbing her eyes out, praying that this was all just a horrible nightmare.

What hurts her above all else is that she still loves you both. How she still prays for your safety and well being, how a part still yearns for Yuta. How she just wishes just once in her life she could be someone’s first choice.

But such is life when you’re no more than a secondary character.

——

That same obnoxious luggage follows right behind you, it’s such an eyesore. Yet your feet move faster than your thoughts. You tell yourself that you have no fixed destination, that you’re walking aimlessly with no end goal in mind.

Yet you take a turn and walk past the familiar gates. The sidewalk dwindles down into cobblestone, and the further you travel, the harder nostalgia hits. Several trees begin to cave in on you and the trail grows even brighter under the illumination of the bright street lights.

Half of you wanted to believe that you came here because you had nowhere else to go. The other half was smart enough to know that you wound up here because you knew that of course—

He’d be here too.

Along the trail was a single bench. You always found its placement to be a bit awkward, but it was always the perfect resting spot. When you and Yuta were younger, happier, you would walk along these lines. Exploring every nook and cranny of the trees that surrounded it.

Years later it remains unchanged. And just as you knew you would, you find Yuta resting right there. He’s still infuriatingly gorgeous, even after the course of events that had just taken place. His head is leaned back as he watches the stars above him, hair flown along to where you see the slight red that tickles his cheeks. Strong jawline taut with all of his unspoken worries, and his long fingers that are stretched along the neck of a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

It makes you sigh, how he always turned to the most self destructive methods whenever things went wrong for him. You feel a mix of yearning and pity stirring in your chest, watching him somberly as he hums to himself.

Dazed eyes trail from up above towards you, and in the midst of his drunk state, he realizes that there’s not a single drop of malice he holds for you at this moment. It’s why he hasn’t drank in so long, he hates how weak he gets. He doesn’t see the person he’s forced himself to hate, rather he sees you. The you that used to love him so dearly, who knew him before he fell into his lowest self.

“You following me?” He tries to sound charming, yet it comes out in a slurred drawl.

You shake your head, taking a cautious step towards him before taking the empty seat a few inches away. There’s a gap between you two, but your skin still crawls being so close to him. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.” You say, taking the bottle that dangles dangerously between his fingers. You hold it up before peeking into the bag, scrunching your face at the scent. “Ugh, Crown Royal? Gross.”

“It’s okay to admit that your taste in alcohol sucks, you know.” He snatches it back before taking a swig, releasing a most definitely forced ‘ah’ when the burning liquid slides down his throat.

The quip causes you to sneer, taking back the bottle once again before downing a hefty amount. You blech at the way it goes down. It’s nasty, it burns, and it’s much too strong– but it serves well in putting any thoughts of your mother at bay.

He raises an eyebrow at you before snickering, slyly covering his grin with a closed fist. “See? You can’t handle it.”

“You never change.” You gripe after another helping of the whiskey. “Even your pretentious choice of alcohol hasn't changed.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re annoyingly predictable,” You start, and when you think you’d be starting another argument, you’re mistaken when you receive a look of curiosity. “Of all of the places you could have locked yourself away in this dinky little town— you choose here.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. Despite the inebriation, he’s calculating. Looking down at his free, ringless finger, he says: “I had nowhere else I could go.”

That causes you to straighten in your seat, and you watch him with an urgency that silently goads him to continue. “I’ve got no friends, no family… you knew this.” His head falls slack against the bench once again. “Plus, I still come here often. It’s a great place to clear my head.”

“You do?”

“How could I not? It was our spot, after all.” He shrugs, and you fail to acknowledge that the bottle has made it to its last drop. The two of you shared the liquor between one another along with your woes. Once it’s empty, he tosses it into the trash next to the bench.

Now that there’s nothing to keep you two occupied but the growing buzz, the silence returns. Yet this time it’s not unwelcome. It’s oddly cathartic. Until Yuta calls for you, breaking you out of your daze.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna show you something,” He stands up first, long legs just a little bit wobbly, but he’s quick to regain balance. When he looks behind him to see that you’re still sitting at the bench, he scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t trust me?”

“Is water wet?” You deadpan.

“Okay, fair,” Yuta tuts. “But give me the benefit of the doubt just this once.”

“And why would I ever do that?”

“Because you’re already here with me.” He answers with pure confidence, as if his system isn’t clogged with alcohol. “Plus, could things really get any worse than they already are?”

Well, he’s got a point there.

Brushing off any debris off of your pajama pants, you follow Yuta into the forest. You've got a slight idea of where he's headed, more visions of the past flooding your mind. He guides you carefully, making sure your hair doesn't get caught on the planks when you duck under some long rotted gates.

Soon enough, he proves you right. The two of you reach what seems like the center of the desolate forest, your only source of light being a few lights from far away. A tree stands tall in front of you, and it all comes back. A rush of bittersweet nostalgia causes your chest to ache when you close in on it.

“It’s still here,” You gape, your fingers tracing over the bark so sullenly. Yuta comes behind you to peer over your shoulder, a somber adorning his face. “You’d think it would’ve been chipped away or overgrown already.”

“I don’t think the tree was going to go anywhere,” He laughs.

“You know what I mean,” Your eyelids flutter at his sarcasm. “I’m talking about the carving.”

A long arm stretches past your shoulder, and you look behind to see that he’s bent to your height. Reaching past you, his hand cups over yours, and he too lets his touch linger along the tree. “Some things just can’t change,” He says, admiring the piece of work that rests on the trunk of the tree. “You remember that night, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” You scoff, hating you ease into his tender touch. Just a few hours ago you were under him and inflicting actual damage, releasing all frustrations you had on him through your connected bodies. But the way his fingers lace into yours in this moment– it’s intimate.

“It’s one of my dearest memories,” He begins, and traces your hands along the indentations of his work. “I’m glad that it’s still here after all this time.” You don’t blame him. Seeing it now, you’re sure you feel the exact same way as you did when you first came here.

[ “Hey! Don’t do that!” You catch Yuta’s wrist when he jabs his pocket knife into a tree, a few chunks of bark flicking off when he starts to drag it downward. “Bad Yuta! You don’t hurt the trees!” You smack his shoulder.

“Oh lighten up, would you?” He shrugs you off lightly, making it a point to switch his hold on the knife to the hand that’s farthest away from you. Showcasing his back to keep you at a safe distance away from the blade, he continues with whatever he’s doing. “You’re such a goody two shoes.”

You gasp at the jab, genuinely offended by such teasing considering the setting and time of day it was. “I am not!”

“Are too.”

“If I were such a goody two shoes, I wouldn’t be here at the park right now with you at–” Your eyes glance over the watch on his wrist. “One in the morning.”

While he’s crouched over and jabbing at the trunk, your hands remain on his shoulders. Peeking over every now and to try and catch a glimpse, only to be blocked off by his shifting. Luckily enough you’re able to sneak a peek at the smile that grows on his face when you remind him of your most recent act of rebellion.

It was something you’d never thought you’d be able to bring yourself to do. The way Yuta had slipped the rope into your bag during school hours. How you waited until after your mother kissed you good night, waiting even longer until you heard their snores for good measure. How you tied the same rope to your bed frame and flung it out of your open window.

Of course you were scared of the possibility of rope burns on your palms. Of course you were scared of falling over and breaking several bones if you didn't slide down and land correctly. Of course you were absolutely terrified of your parents finding you and never letting you see the light of day ever again.

But when you stand at your window with one foot already out, all you can see is Yuta looking up at you like you’re worth every star in the galaxy. His arms spread wide open, ready to take you far away from your cage.

Every doubt in your mind is put at ease when you catch sight of him, you’re full of nothing but warmth and certainty. From where you are up above you can’t hear him, but you can read his lips as clear as day.

“I got you.”

And when you take hold of the rope and fly down, your ankle length skirt flouncing up with every inch you descend, Yuta runs towards you and meets you in perfect time. Catching you in his arms with ease. A burst of his sweet laughter resounds when you trap his face with your hands, having to shush him with a finger despite the impossibly large grin that encapsulates your features. He holds you close and immediately makes a break away from your house. A getaway to where the world knows no one but the two of you.

It was a profession of love. Each time you strayed further away from the strict rules your parents had set for you and chose him instead. How you fared the disapproving looks your school friends had shot you whenever you walked hand in hand down the hall.

You were a golden child, someone who was not to be tainted, especially by the likes of him. Yet time and again you proved your loyalty, that you could never do any wrong to him.

Yuta was sure of it. You were made for each other.

“Come on!” You shake Yuta out of his focused state. “Let me see what you’re doing!”

“Hold on, just a little more.” He grunts, still maneuvering to and fro to keep you at bay. Digging the knife every which way to break creases into the bark. He sticks his tongue out in concentration, adding just a few more finishing touches. “...Almost there.”

A few seconds later, Yuta leans over to the side to finally let you look. Locking the knife back into its safety before pocketing it, he chuckles when he sees your confused reaction.

“Yuta plus…” You mouth, squinting your eyes to get a better visual. The only aid being the natural light of the moon and a dinky street light several feet away. When you make out the rest, it’s clear that Yuta has engraved your names on the tree. A very pointy heart surrounds the sloppy writing to complete his masterpiece. “Me?” You point at yourself.

“Duh.” He tries to play cool despite the grin that plays at his lips.

“It looks dumb.” You grimace, your fingers tracing along the crevices of your names. Shaking your head and snickering when Yuta yanks at your sleeve to whine. “You’re so corny.”

Your words betray you though. Coming from an almost loveless household, the affection you receive from your boyfriend is overwhelming yet liberating. You were raised to think that asking for just a little bit of attention was too much, but with Yuta? You’re sure he would give you the whole world if you were to ask.

You feel so safe with him. Even in the dead of night, you feel unstoppable with him by your side. It never made any sense to you when people talked badly about him— how he was a good for nothing wanderer. But you don’t see any of that, you only see a boy that has a heart that is too heavy to carry on his own.

“And here I thought you were going to appreciate my work of art.” He grumbles.

“Of course I appreciate it,” You tell him honestly, now crouching down to the same level where he’s at on the ground. “I love it, even.”

“You’re just saying that.” He says with a small ‘hmph.’

“It definitely is corny,” You admit, to which he scoffs in faux offense. “But it still makes me happy.”

“You make me happy.” He tries to outdo you.

“You make me happier.” You gleam. “I’m glad I snuck out tonight.”

His ears go a little pink at your sudden confidence, his lips parted slightly. He shakes his head before clearing his throat. “Who’s the corny one now?”

“Still you.”

“Whatever,” He surrenders, standing up and straightening out before taking your hand in his. Tugging you up with him before leading you further into the night. “Let’s explore. I wanna show you a few spots.”

The hours fly by, feeling like minutes before it’s time to go back home. Yuta showing you all of his getaways in such quick succession, they feel like photographed memories forming on film. Holding you close to make sure you take the proper steps when you cross over a bridge. Pointing out the sewer passaged walls and the stories behind the graffiti on them. Expanding your knowledge on the constellations in the sky as you two lay in the open field of grass.

He brought so much light into what you thought was a bleak life.

When you finally make it back home, you’re relieved to find that all the lights are still off and the rope remains untethered from its original position. Yuta climbs up the rope behind you to make sure you travel back up safely, holding your hand delicately as you shift one leg into your room after another.

“Thanks for tonight.” You say. “I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Me too.” He replies.

Once you’ve made it back into your room, you and Yuta look at each other in silence. It feels like both a millisecond and an eternity all at the same time. Nothing separates you but the wall, the upper halves of your body still reachable to one another.

You’ve only been dating for a little less than a year, but you’re certain of it when you say—

“I love you.”

Yuta says first, not a single crack or wave in his voice. His hands planted on top of yours, thumbs tracing along your knuckles comfortingly against the quiet wind.

“You… you do?” You ask dumbfoundedly.

“I love you more than anything.” He makes it clear, leaning in to where his bangs tickle against your forehead.

You feel a rush of emotions, incapable of accepting the fact that you’re deserving of such adoration— and from someone as wonderful as Yuta at that. Your chest clenches impossibly tight, lacing your fingers into his before resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too,” You admit. “I love you so, so much, Yuta.”

He backs away slightly before taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, a beat or so passing in silence. As always, he looks at you with nothing but fondness.

It wasn’t your first time kissing him, and most definitely not your last— but when he tilts his head and meets your lips softly, it’s like every one of your kisses have been rewritten and compiled all into this very moment.

Sparks go off around you, a torrent of emotions exploding when you lean into him. It’s soft and sweet, nothing but pure intent and promises to protect you for as long as the universe would allow him.

When you part, you frown at the sun that threatens the dusk sky. He knows it too, that your time in wonderland is about to come to an end. With a sigh, he bids you off with one last kiss to the center of your forehead. Lingering a few seconds too long before inevitably retreating.

“I love you.” He says once again. If it were up to him, he would say it a million times a day.

“I love you more.” You say, and Yuta feels like he could die a happy man.

Despite how hard it is to finally leave, he begrudgingly descends the rope. Shooting you a thumbs up from the ground to signal it’s okay to untie it. Shoving it into his bag, he speeds off to his house, and the hours in between the night and being able to see him again at school feels like an eternity.

You think back to the carving that he made on the tree trunk. It’s reassuring, knowing that one day when you’re free from your father’s unrealistic standards— the two of you can live happily together with no interruptions whatsoever.

You’re sure that nothing could come between you two. It was just you and him against the world. ]

“I think about it often, you know.” Yuta breaks you out of your stupor, unlacing your hands from one another before backing away. “How happy we used to be… what could've been.”

You whip your head in his direction, feeling terribly aware of the uncharted territory he was beginning to travel towards. “Yuta–”

“Come with me?” He asks when your eyes connect, and there’s a sort of sincerity that you can make out past the inebriation.

It was a one way ticket to hell with the devil himself as your usher, but when he outstretched his hand out for you to take, you can’t help but take it with no objection. You were able to catch the millisecond long reaction, where he’s surprised at your acceptance. It’s just as quick to go though, because his expression melts into a warm smile.

Just like how you two would travel during your late night rendezvous as teenagers, you leave the forest hand in hand.

——

The time between then and now flies by in a blur, and you and Yuta have found yourselves in the room of some three star hotel.

Your father was right all those years ago, this town was definitely small. You don’t miss the confused stares of the employees at check-in, wondering what the self-made and betrothed Nakamoto Yuta was doing with you in a drunken frenzy. Not that it mattered when the two of you snickered mischievously as you stumbled down the halls.

The keys jingle pathetically into the keyhole before Yuta pushes the two of you in, kicking the door shut clumsily and immediately shoving you against the surface. He immediately connects your lips in a heated kiss, both of your touches fervent as you grip at any piece of exposed flesh.

You run your hands over his forearms, the swollen scratches from your last tryst now in the process of healing make you feel powerful. But in this moment, it’s as if you two were trying to mend what's been desired. He whimpers into your mouth when you soothe endearing circles into the wounds, grazing them with feather light touches.

“Let me show you how much I missed you this time.” His hands crawl up the bottom of your shirt, and he falls to his knees. You’re both still woozy from the whiskey, and you can see it clearly in how clouded his half-lidded gaze is. He pushes the fabric upward, and his lips meet the bottom of your stomach so sweetly. “We can take our time now, angel. It’s just us.”

“Yuta…” You feel your skin heat up at the contact with his plush lips. Your hands seek purchase on each side of his face, thumbs grazing along his sideburns tenderly, to which he nuzzles into the touch like a cat to its owner. When his tongue peeks out to lap at your sternum, you giggle. “Hey, that tickles!”

The vibration of his quiet chuckle aids in the sensation, feeling his hot breath warming you up even more. “I know, these are all your ticklish spots.” He proves his knowledge of your body when his hands trail higher, fingers teasingly twiddling against your sides.

It causes you to squeal in a fit of laughter, toppling over halfway to where you’re folding in on him. “Stop! Stop, stop–” You cackle when he combines his attacks with a flurry of butterfly kisses along the bottom of your breasts. Having completely forgoed a bra, he’s granted easy access when he begins to tweak at your nipples.

“Ahh,” You gasp out when he thumbs at your breasts, forefingers squeezing your mounds eagerly yet carefully. He loves how flushed you look, completely lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Feels good?” He lifts a knowing eyebrow, to which you nod hurriedly, jutting your hips out in hopes he continues. While he’s elated at your excitement, he tuts. “Ah, ah, ah. I told you, we’re going to take our time tonight.”

He might eat those words though, because that sweet look of desperation you give him drives him just a little bit mad. Snickering out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath, he wraps his fingers around the hem of your pajama pants. Though a bit rushed, he’s aggravatingly gentle compared to last time. He ogles the expanse of your splendid legs the more the skin is unveiled, licking at his lips when you step out cutely one foot at a time.

You pout at him when he takes too long to take your panties off, pushing them down yourself with a shimmy of your hips. Yuta feels like he might’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s been years since he’s seen you in this aggravatingly cute state, when you were in a mood to do nothing but cater to his desires.

Once he’s tossed your panties to the side, he looks up at you questionably, despite the growing length in his pants. “I’m going to eat you right here?” He tilts his head, surprised that you can’t even wait to make it to the bed. When you answer with an ‘uh-huh,’ he can’t help but gush. “Whatever you want, angel.”

The last time you had sex, you had completely jumped straight into penetration. Foreplay wasn’t even a thought. So when he’s able to see your glistening folds in true appreciation, he moans out in bliss. He separates your folds by placing one thumb at each side, blinking slowly at the way wetness has already pooled between your legs. Trailing up just a little bit higher, his tongue lolls out when he locks onto your clit.

Aided by the lingering buzz of the alcohol, your senses are amplified tenfold. His appendage is heavily coated in saliva when it connects with your sensitive button. The tip of it uses extra force to push at the center, causing you to keel over. “Yu–Yuta,” You gasp out, gripping at his dark hair to keep from falling over. It’s almost as if he’s making out with it, skillfully applying pressure with each stroke. The seat of the pink muscle laving over your hole to get an ample amount of your slick down his throat, only to dart back to your clit for an extra helping of your beautiful moans.

His arms curl around your waist, and one hand brings you closer by grabbing at your ass. He’s got a fistful of the flesh to bring your pussy even deeper into his widened mouth, his jaw opened up impossibly large to get as much of you in as possible.

When he reaches inside of you, it’s almost as if the essence of your last fuck still remains. The scent of your swollen heat is heady, and his eyes roll back into the head as he laps up again and again. It’s nasty and depraved, but he loves it so fucking much. You were so good for him, to allow his cum to stay in you for so long.

You really were made for him.

He almost loses himself in the pleasure of your taste, because he’s only brought back to earth when your grip in his hair tightens into a fist. The burn travels through his scalp, but it only spurs him to swivel his head to and fro, adding onto the sticky friction that brings you closer to the edge.

“I–I’m close.” You cry out, growing so greedy for that orgasm that you raise a thigh up and over his shoulder, grinding your hips into his face as if he could get any deeper. “Yuta, baby, I’m so close.”

Too busy tongue fucking you, he can only nod to let you know that he’s aware. His clutches on your ass cheek and your thigh leave scratches against your skin, almost like a small payback. Your juices have coated him from his nose all the way down his neck, and it’s grown so egregious that he might just drown if he doesn’t part for air.

When he separates for no more than a second, you cry out like your impending climax was going to run away. But he doesn’t disappoint, because he immediately comes back to help you reach your high. One of his arms circle around your front, inserting his middle and ring fingers knuckle deep into your walls. Letting his tongue trace from your hole back up to your clit in quick succession, he relishes in your cries of euphoria, snapping his fingers quickly and suckling at your clit harshly.

“Gonna cum, Yuta. Gonna– oh my god!” You scream out, completely careless to any other guests that are residing past the walls of your hotel room. It’s a burst of pleasure, and when Yuta puts effort into making you feel good, you realize that it’s much more explosive than that rushed hate fuck. Your cum is sticky as it leaks out of your hole, and he gladly laps up the thick liquid. “Yutaa.”

When he wipes off any remnants from his chin, he looks up at you endearingly. Your eyes are starry with lust and he kisses his way back up. Wincing at the oversensitivity when he delivers one to your clit, he helps lift your shirt over your head. Now completely naked for him, he picks you up from the back of your thighs.

There’s a giddy feeling in your stomach when he takes you to the bed that rests in the center of the room. Plopping himself down first playfully with you right on top of him. You grin at the smug face he adorns, kissing it away instantly when you rut your bare core along the crotch of his pants.

“Look at you, angel,” He groans when you apply extra force to his aching cock, delivering a quick swat to your ass, only to grip it and give it a teasing shake. “You’re making a mess on me.”

“But it’s for you,” You whine, now painfully aware that he’s still fully clothed. It annoys you, so you’re quick to rip his shirt off, followed by awkwardly sliding his pants off from behind you. “C’mon, help me!” You puff when his boxers decide to be a little stubborn, and he heartily laughs at your petty struggle. He aids you either way, and in seconds you feel his erection spring up and make contact with your behind.

He begins to line himself up with your core, but you don’t give him the chance when you push hard against his chest. “What—” He questions before flopping back into the pillows. “What are you doing?”

You travel down the sheets slowly, letting your tongue loose to let the tip trail from the middle valley of his abs down the little trail of hairs that lead to his cock. Your eyes resemble that of a siren’s when they lock with Yuta’s, and he vibrates at the glint of mischief.

“Let me return the favor,” You mewl, a hand traveling down your body to circle against your folds. He watches you intently, how you moan when you collect a bout of wetness. Only to insert your own fingers inside of you once again, pumping in and out a few times before taking them out— giving him a show to see the filmy cum create a web between the digits. “You said we should take our time tonight, right?”

“My fucking god,” He didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get any harder, but it only stiffens even more. “My dirty girl.”

You smirk at the praise, bringing the hand that was fondling yourself to the base of his cock. Now using your wetness as a lubricant to aid in pumping him up and down.

“Oh fuck, angel.” He bucks into your grip, jerking against the stickiness when your thumb plays with the vein at the center. His moans grow in timbre when you circle upwards along the tip, rubbing at the reddened tip just the way he likes it.

You knew it was a comment he made in passing, but you set yourself up for glory when you take his cock in your mouth. His eyes bulge out when your tongue slides all the way down his length, taking as much of you can into your throat before letting your hand take care of the base.

He was so fucking long, an absolutely perfect length that made the hollow of your cheeks burn splendidly. His sweet moans were even more of a delight, a song to your ears when they grow in pitch. You’re sure this is the most vocal he’s ever been.

“Fuck, fuck—” Yuta wails, unconsciously bucking into your mouth before coming to a realization. He stills, but you continue in your ministrations. Swirling along the tip and tasting the salty precum, you only grow more passionate before you’re forced to come to an abrupt stop, his fingers curling in your hair at the base of your neck. “No, not like this.”

He pulls you up, causing the back of your scalp to burn only slightly. “But I want to make you cum!” You whine.

“And you will,” He gasps out, and he pulls you to climb up on top of him. Giving you a chaste kiss, the two of you are heaving out heavy breaths in sync. “But it’s gonna be inside of you, okay?”

How could you ever deny? Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t as he’s already flipping you over. Patting your legs apart, he makes himself comfy right in between.

It’s such a contrast from before, because he’s looking at you for reassurance when he lines himself up with your core. It makes you genuinely smile, how much he’s thought of you in not just this moment, but in the entirety of your time apart.

Some may find it sick and twisted, but between the two of you— it made so much sense.

“Do you want this?” He asks, and it’s as if the two of you have sobered up instantly. The weight of everything now lays on your shoulders, but luckily, you can share this burden together.

“I want it,” You confirm. “I need it, Yuta. I need you.”

It was exactly what he needed to hear, as to him it was another proclamation of love. He’s heard it from you plenty of times before, but to be deprived of it for so long was no different than walking through a desert with no supply of water. He takes your answer in full stride when he pushes into you in one fell stroke.

Yuta made you feel so fucking full. The stretch causes your walls to spread, and his length reaches so deep it could practically kiss your cervix. Inch after inch makes your head loll to the side, and you’re amazed at how lost he is at the sight of your folds swallowing him up with ease.

“My angel is so, so tight.” He says between gritted teeth, the both of you gasping in unison when his cock reaches the hilt. “So warm, so wet.”

“It’s all for you, Yuta.” You moan out, and he takes that as an invitation to take as he pleases. Pulling out all the way to the tip before sliding right back in, and he sets a pace that grows in tempo with every collision of your hips. It’s fast, yet purposeful, and you soon lose any coherency that you had gotten back. “Fuck!”

“I know, baby,” He nods as his thrusts grow in desperation. When the two of you were on the same wavelength, it’s as if the gratification of your conjoined sexes have increased tenfold. You’re even wetter and he’s even harder, and the fervency of it all only serves to make him go harder. He knows that you love it a little rough, so he makes sure to deliver when his hands find their way to your hips. Using your body as a balance when he lifts his own hips up to plunge downward into you.

“Wanna fuck this pussy for the rest of my life,” He confesses. He thinks of your mother for only a moment, but not in a way to where he yearns for her, but rather disgust. He chastises himself for making such foolish decisions, because that woman could never hold a candle to you. You were leagues above any other person in this world. You were his savior, his angel. “Wanna make you mine and keep you forever.”

His words strike a chord within you, combined with the relentless pounding of your pussy, it causes your heart to burn with glee. You loved being wanted by Yuta, it made you feel so desirable and cared for. It was stupid of you to think that you would ever be anything but his first choice.

It’s all too much. The slapping of skin against skin, the way his lips manage to trace promises of the future into your neck, how he sucks possessive marks into the flesh, the scent of sex that floods the room– it’s overstimulating. Wrapping your legs around his slender waist, your nails once again trail down his back. The growl that grinds from his throat causes your pussy to clench against his length, and he begins to rut against you when he loses rhythm.

You stare into one another’s eyes, completely lost in a flurry of emotions. At the beginning of the night you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but whether it was the alcohol in your system or some sort of demon that possessed you, you fail to control yourself when the words fall out of your pretty lips.

“I love you.”

And Yuta stops, the three words that he’s been longing to hear for years now served to him on a silver platter. You definitely didn’t understand the weight of your actions, because you’re begging for him to keep on going, kicking around pettishly. But he remains still.

“What did you just say?” He demands rather than asks, because fuck he needs to hear it again.

“I said ‘I love you,’” You cry out, rutting against him in hopes of finding more stimulation. Yuta now dons the widest grin, almost maniacally when he scoffs out in disbelief. It’s like a drug that spurs him into action, now taking on an especially brutal pace.

“I love you too.” He moans out, taking pride in every fluid that leaks from your pussy. “I love you so fucking much, angel.”

When he manages to hit your spongy wall with precision each time, you begin to shake in anticipation of your last orgasm. You feel that he’s close too, because he grows impossibly harder inside of you, reaching parts of you that even he hasn’t before.

“Cum with me, angel.” He begs, pushing your legs up so you fold in on yourself, your knees almost meeting your ears. “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, want you to know only my name by the time I’m done fucking you.”

“Yutaa!” You squeal when he tweaks your clit with his thumb and forefinger, the already slick button needing no further lubrication when it glides in a clockwise motion with each circle. Your pussy grips onto him for dear life, a fresh layer of wetness coating his cock before grappling on and milking him of his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck!” He yells, spilling his creamy load inside of you. He’s never cum so hard or so much before, the white leaking around the sides even as he’s got you filled to the brim. Once he’s spent, he showers your face in kisses along with the kindest praises that you’d never thought you’d hear from him. He compliments you on your beauty, your kindness, and confesses all of his adoration for you.

Leading you to the connected bathroom, he runs a warm bath for the two of you to rest in. You exchange chaste kisses while he lathers you in the complimentary soap, massaging your scalp and rubbing the knots that have formed in your shoulders. Once you finish and he dries you up, he carries you back to bed.

Cradling you into his chest, he coaxes you to sleep with a soft melody that he used to sing to you before. He’s always had a sultry voice, and you think that if you were dealt the right cards– it would have always been like this.

“Rest well, my angel.” He pecks your forehead, a loving look on his face before your eyelids flutter shut for the rest of the night.

If ignorance was bliss, then you were sure you were in heaven right now.

——

Everything that’s happened, it was between a dream and a nightmare. Being caught by your mother, her kicking you out, finding Yuta and following him to a hotel. Surely all of it was just some insane hallucination that your subconscious conjured up in your slumber. You woke up in an unfamiliar place, rubbing the crust out of your eyes with a closed fist.

It had to have been a dream, but that thought was quickly trashed when you realize a barely clothed Yuta lays next to you. Even when everything rushes back to you like a harddrive, the panic that builds in your stomach, you can’t help but appreciate him in his silent beauty. An arm rests lazily over your shoulders, and his breathing is calm like a baby’s.

But fuck, it all really happened.

You realize that you were barely clothed yourself, save for your panties. And the more it comes back to you, the more you remember your mother’s broken self, you feel like throwing up. You’ve given into your impulses so easily, and you fell right into Yuta’s hand and played with him on an equal ground. You were accomplices in all of this.

Yuta could feel the way you shook around in panic, and it stirs him awake. While you were in your current state, he looked like he had just woken up from a year’s worth of rest. Yawning out exaggeratedly, he stretches upwards to wake up the blood in his body.

He doesn’t register the flurry of emotions you’re going through, because he immediately goes to wrap himself around you, bringing you in for a kiss on your jaw. “Mm, good morning baby.”

It feels suffocating, how he can touch you so normally as if you hadn’t done what you did. “Yuta, sto–”

He doesn’t listen though, because he’s speaking over you with no regard to your input. “So, I was thinking,” He sing-songs, cutely moving his index finger to the beat of his words. “I’ve got enough money saved, and you’ve got yourself a good job. I can sell the restaurant, I know there’s plenty of potential tenants here.”

Your eyes widen at the fantasies he’s drawing up, he renders you silent when he continues on, terrifying you at how chaotic these ideas are. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. But I won’t just move in with you without pulling my own weight. I’ll look up leases in your location, and I know your fancy city will appreciate a nice hole in the wall spot like the one I’ve got over here.”

“You’re not listening.” You try to stop him.

“Stop worrying,” He uses a teasing lilt, and you’re horrified at just how casual he’s being right now. “I would’ve never opened a joint account with your mother, there was way too much risk in that–”

“Yuta!” You screech loud enough to overpower him, and his mouth immediately clamps shut. You have to stop this before it gets any worse, before you fall even deeper. When he finally gives way for you to get a word in, you take a deep breath in.

“Yuta, everything we’ve done. This— all of this.” You motion between him and yourself in an exacerbated fashion. “It’s a mistake. This isn’t right. We’re not good for each other.”

He pauses, an unreadable expression as if you’ve just slapped him right across his face. That almost endearing man you woke up to is gone immediately, and the dark and cold one from last night at the house make his appearance.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?!” Your voice raises an octave.

He’s trying to stifle any curses that threaten to leave his lips. He had the best night of his life with you no more than a few hours ago, and he’d hate to have that ruined by some skittish change of heart. It’s all too similar to those nights leading up to your first separation. Everything that’s happened, he was sure that everything was going to fall into place just as he wanted.

He doesn’t want to lose you again. He can’t.

“You’re running away again!” He yells. “But it's even worse this time, you don’t have an excuse. You’re acting like a coward.”

Harsh words cut like knives into your skin, making you feel even more dirty. You clutch onto the sheets to hide yourself, as if it could actually absolve you of the sins you’ve committed.

“Can’t you see that this is wrong? After hurting my mom, you think that we can just get back together like nothing happened?” You try your best to steady your voice. You don’t want to berate him anymore, you don’t have the energy. All you want is for him to see reason, to do the right thing for once. “I don’t think either of us are going to get better if we’re with each other. The end doesn’t justify the means.”

And there’s that glower in his eyes again. It brings a shiver to your spine, how he sits in a threatening silence rather than exploding.

“The end doesn’t justify the means?” He mocks you. “We ended up in this position because you couldn’t give a shit about her. That’s why you fucked me before and after getting found out.”

“It was— I wasn’t thinking straight, we were drunk.” You try to defend yourself. “It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re the one that followed me to the park. You’re the one who agreed to coming with me.” He stands up from the bed, now caging you against the bed frame. “I offer you an opportunity for us to get away from all of this, and you still want to try and take the moral high ground? Are you serious?"

He hates those big, glossy eyes you give him. Because even as you break his heart for the umpteenth time, he still wants nothing but to make you his and protect you. Even if it means scaring you away from the world, hiding you away and keeping you as his own.

Suddenly, he falters. Sighing when his head drops, those long bangs tickling against your collarbone so slightly. When he looks back up, it’s as if he’s on the verge of tears. To anyone else, they’d think that Yuta was an award winning actor. But you knew better— his feelings were true, as turbulent and toxic as they were.

“You told me you loved me.” He pleads. Nothing else mattered, he would gladly live in ignorance. But he’s not sure the same would hold true if your adoration was fraudulent. “Was that a lie?”

Of course you did. You’ve suffered so much because of him, yet you still came running back every time. Yet that part of your brain is still holding out on you, wanting you to stay strong.

The Yuta you first met in high school. The Yuta you met spent years with until you had to part. The Yuta that always had a spot in your mind throughout the time of your separation. Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. It’s always him.

You love him so much, with the good and the bad.

But no matter how much it tears you apart, even if you’re left with nothing in the end, you still manage to do what you feel is right.

“I don’t.” You lie right through your teeth. If you told him the truth, you knew he’d keep on fighting. But this was the only way you could properly let him go. Maybe he could actually move on and make something out of himself.

The look in his face illustrates nothing but utter defeat. When you had first left him— there was a fire in his eyes that indicated the need for revenge. Now? There wasn’t even a spark. They were dimmed out and devoid of life.

It hurts too much, but it makes it easier for you to collect yourself. Unveiling your body for him one last time, you rise from the bed. Feeling his gaze contradict his current state as they take in your visage for what he knows as the last time. He wanted to wake up to you and hold you for hours more, to inhale your scent until the memory of being in bed with your mother faded away.

You try to avoid making any form of contact while you clothe yourself. Facing away from him as you hear the subtle smack of his lips, knowing he’s trying to find a way to persuade you into staying. He catches your wrist right when you try to pass by. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you.

“Don’t leave.” He’s begging now, laying his last cards on the table in hopes that you’d come to a different decision. “Please don’t leave.”

His hold is strong on your wrist even as you try to tug away. You’re sure if you applied enough force, you could easily rip yourself from his clutches. It was mind over matter though, and you find your defenses falling when those prickling tears start to fall. “Yuta, I can’t.” You shake your head, feeling your own vision starting to blur from your own incoming folly. “It has to be this way. We’re never going to work out.”

“How could you know that when you don’t even try?!” He shouts. “You’re not even giving us a chance.”

You don’t know who or what to blame anymore. “We were doomed from the start.”

“Neither of us have anything left.” He says in a hushed tone, and when you watch as his gaze falls to the ground, you realize that he’s telling himself that more than you.

“That’s right,” You nod slowly. “But that’s just something that we’re going to have to live with.”

He’s convinced otherwise when he shakes his head at you. “Couldn’t you learn to love me? I promise you that I’ll get better, even if it means that you’re only pretending. I’ll turn myself into the man that you’ve always wanted– the one that you’ve always deserved.” He says, and you scold yourself for letting him pull you in by the waist. His left hand comes to cradle the side of your face, the backs of his fingers tracing the side of your temple. “I don’t know what I’m going to actually do without you. You’re a part of me.”

Little does he know the man that you wanted was the one you ruined in the first place, but he was long gone. No amount of growth or change could ever emulate the boy you had broken all those years ago.

Perhaps it’s your fault for that glint of hope in his eyes when you let your hand cover the one that’s on your face. You twist your head so that your lips meet the palm of his hand, delivering one chaste kiss into the flesh. He always exuded so much warmth, even in times like this. You let yourself linger selfishly a few seconds too long– much too aware of the fact that he was going to despise you more than ever soon.

When you separate from his palm, you look at him head on. And there’s something his eyebrows are furrowed in anticipation. But you shake your head, and you’re steeled in your resolve.

“I’m done taking shortcuts, Yuta.” You start, taking a step back to create distance. “You say that I’m running away… and maybe I am. But I’m not going to take the easy way out. Being with you means accepting what I did to my mom, and even if she hates me for the rest of my life– I’d rather spend that time knowing that I’m not adding onto that pain.”

At your resolve, Yuta takes in a shaky breath. He doesn’t accept it, but every time you pull away, he finds that he has less energy to push forward. This twisted game may not have a winner, but he knows now that he’s by far the biggest loser. Trying to use humor as a sort of copium, he chuckles lightly to himself. “To think all of this could have been avoided if we just talked things out.” He combs his hair back, nails subtly digging into his scalp as a distraction.

You realize that in all of this, he’s never apologized once. It causes you to frown, as it was more than telling that any promises for the future would be for naught. “We’re both at fault.”

It didn’t take rocket science to know that in all of this, he was the one who stooped the lowest. He realizes that you’re right even if he refuses to admit it, but he puts everything into this one last request. “Can I ask you something though?”

All qualms fly out the window when you realize this will really be your last time seeing him. The both of you are now clothed, but this is the barest you two have been for one another. As if making for lost time within these final moments.

“Go ahead.” You nod.

And just one last time, he closes the gap between you two. Twirling a strand of your hair with his index finger, taking in every pore, every eyelash, every last whirl in the depths of your eyes. He takes everything in completely, and then his stare travels down to your lips– and he feels that if it weren’t for your righteous words, he would shatter right then and there.

“Even if you don’t mean it,” He lowers his face towards yours in a hush, your lips now merely centimeters apart. “Can you tell me that you love me? Just one last time?”

If you didn’t love him as much as you did, you would’ve declined. But you suppose it’s fulfilling for yourself as well. Tilting into his incoming lips, you let them connect one last time. His bottom lip overlaps yours, tracing along your upper one when they graze against one another sweetly. You breathe him in like he’s a life line, and you take in the remnants of his sandalwood cologne with greed.

“I love you,” You whisper, delivering kiss after kiss, and he wraps one arm around your neck and the other at your waist to pull you in as close as he possibly can. Your bodies are flush against one another, and the three words slip out repeatedly like a broken record. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” He says, and once upon a time these roles of the affirmations were reversed. “I love you more than anything.”

You know, and that’s why you have to let go. When the frenzy of kisses begins to die down, the two of you remain still against one another. Your mouths are still connected, and it takes everything in you to part from him. You know you’ll miss the oxymoron that is Nakamoto Yuta– the man that’s so jagged in his view of life yet so devastatingly vulnerable on the inside. The man who’s willing to destroy everything around him even if it’s in the name of love. The man whose lips are plush yet have just the slightest chapped patch.

You’ll miss your bright eyed and starry Yuta so much.

But from now on, the two of you won’t have anything remaining in the air. You’ll simply be strangers with history that must be locked away.

The two of you separate and watch each other for a while, and several beats pass. You’re both wordless when you heave a heavy sigh, backing away before grabbing the handle of your luggage. He looks you up and down once again, and he offers a sad smile.

It feels like you’ve said enough. The weight of your words were more than impactful, supplying him with enough reassurance to last a lifetime. But as he said before, he could have everything: your happiness, your misery, and everything in between– but it’d still never be enough for him. The both of you could only hope for a better chance in the next life.

If fate had better plans for you next time, you’d cherish the opportunity and cultivate it to what you desired.

“Bye, Yuta.” You say, walking towards the door that’ll break you out of the cage you had trapped yourself in for so long.

He nods, face emotionless as you leave. The creak that follows is screeching against his ears, and though you were gone in a second, your dissipating figure moved in slow motion from his view. The night you two had spent together turned to day, and the sun encapsulates your features so beautifully. You were tragically beautiful, chiseled to perfection by all the adversities that had plagued you.

The moment is short lived, because darkness quickly follows when you shut the door behind you. He’s left alone to his own vices, and for a few seconds he’s quite literally numb. Physically unable to feel anything in his body nor his mind, everything is mush when he travels back to the edge of the bed. Plopping down at the foot of the mattress, he drops his head into his hands. He can’t lie down because your scent is still there. It would be much too intoxicating.

He thinks about everything that went wrong. What could’ve changed. Yet the more he thought, the more he realized you were right. The two of you were doomed from the start with no hopes of ever having a happy ending, and everything snaps like a string when he finally breaks down. Sorrowful tears fall down his face while he wheezes out and begs for another chance, whether it's in this life or the next.

Either way, no matter how much he begged, prayed, or repented– you were gone.

There was only one sliver of hope that reassured him that his love for you was true, despite all of his shortcomings and his vile deeds. Even if you’re never going to be his and even if the shit he pulled was absolutely fucking useless in the grand scheme of things… he wanted nothing but for you to be happy.

He hopes you’re lucky enough to experience normalcy at least once in your life. He sure as hell knows he’ll never have the luxury of that since he’ll be stuck in this jail of a town for the rest of his days.

But that’s just something he was going to have to live with.

No matter what anyone says or thinks, and whether it's unrequited or not, he'll love you until his very last breath.

end

────── 〔✿〕──────

author’s note: thank you guys for being so patient with me, i know it’s been a long time. i’m very thankful for you guys who were fond of the first part and were looking forward to the second part. originally this was supposed to be a standalone, so hopefully i was able to live up to the first one’s hype <3

taglist: @rxcked @starfulmaeum

currently unedited

#nakamoto yuta #yuta smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct u smut #nakamoto yuta smut #nakamoto yuta x reader #kpop #kpop smut #yuta x reader #yuta #nct #nct 127 #nct u

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hiramaris · 9 months

Text

Dusk til Dawn

Part 13

Summary: Following Episode 9. And spoilers for Episode 10.

Author’s note: As Episode 10 is just released I just want to say heads up for those who are not yet finished. Completing the game without spoilers really made a difference, and as much as possible I want everyone to experience that. And for those finished, I’ll gladly welcome you to my domain where MC took a different route.

Disclaimer: I do not own Duskwood or any of the related characters. Duskwood is created by and owned by Everbyte Studio. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Duskwood story belong to Everbyte Studio.

Warning: Mentions of blood, suicide, violence, pedophiles, drugs, gun, murder, sex offenders, kidnapping

Shits started to go down the moment those words left your mouth. What did you expect anyway? You had unintentionally hit a raw nerve. Ted had poured his heart and soul reminiscing that night, and yet you have the audacity to laugh at his misery.

You didn’t really mean to laugh, really. Laughter sometimes escapes us in moments of intense emotion, not because we find something funny, but as a release valve for relief.

It was a relief that Hannah and Richy may not go to jail after all these. Because Ted had already admitted that he pushed Jennifer on the road, thus the crime committed wasn’t actually done by them.

You understood Ted's suffering. Under different circumstances, in a life where you weren't bound by the law, you might have reacted similarly if Jill's death had gone unpunished. Your empathy for Ted's situation ran deep. Yet, you were starkly aware of the reality you existed in—one that demanded adherence to the law, no matter how difficult it might be. They may call you a hypocrite all they want, but your top priority right now is to keep everyone safe.

Ted also needs help, psychiatrically speaking.

You’re not entirely sure, but you can see bits of physiological manifestations of his mental illness. His mental instability could be a potentially dangerous weapon against you all. The unpredictability of his actions was a looming threat. That’s why you need to pin him down— fast.

Something in your demeanor must have given Jake a signal because suddenly, his resistance flared to life. With a swift bite and a kick to Ted's shin, he managed to create enough space to scramble away, taking Richy along.

A stifled laugh threatened to escape you— it was a desperate attempt on Jake’s end, and you didn’t quite envision it before that Jake would have the guts to bite someone’s hand.

The small trickle of blood at the corner of Jake's mouth was evidence of the pain he had inflicted. Ted's angry growls confirm that he’s not pleased with what Jake has done.

So, with Jake out of the way, you launched yourself at Ted without hesitation. The revolver in his hand had just gone off, a deafening bang that temporarily left your ears ringing. But your focus was unwavering, and you met Ted's attempt to regain control with a swift move to disarm him. You managed to deflect his aim, causing the bullet to miss its mark. The metallic tang of adrenaline filled your senses as you grappled with him, determined to subdue the threat he posed.

The dimmed surroundings gave you the disadvantage not to mention the addition of fighting a full-grown man. In the midst of grasping for dear life in his hands and the gun, you caught a glimpse of Hannah, Jake, and Richy. Jake had positioned himself protectively in front of Hannah and Richy. It seemed Hannah was too overwhelmed with the current events to notice that her brother was just in front of her.

"Jake, help Y/n!" Richy rasped out behind Jake when he saw how dangerously close the gun was to your abdomen. That made you shoot back to the horrible reality.

Hannah froze at the mention of Jake’s name.

Usually, under normal circumstances, it would be best to outnumber the culprit but given Richy’s relative lack of experience in fighting, he might be shot first before you. He’s also injured. Jake is also injured, and even if he may have experience in fighting, his concussion will only slow him down. As of now, you're the best chance you've got, and you pray to the deities above that you no longer believed in long ago that they'll be able to help with the slimming luck you only have.

“Jake, no!” You shouted as you saw Jake try to move towards you. “You have to go NOW! Don’t come near me!”

“B-but—”

“Just do it!”

Ted's chuckle cut through the tension. “You think I would let anyone leave this mine?” Ted chuckled darkly as he leaned closely on your face, his breath chilling against your skin. His whispered words hung heavy in the air. “I just told you. No one will ever leave this mine alive.”

“As if I'd let that happen,” you snapped back, focusing on prying the gun from his grip.

Your priority right now is to disarm him. You can’t take the risk of having him fire it on anyone.

You suspected Alan had already called for backup at the entrance by the Grimrock. It is a matter of choice now: it’s either you all die, or he’ll be captured. He’s desperate, and that makes him more dangerous than ever.

With a burst of strength, you managed to make Ted stagger backward, pressing him against the wall. You motioned the three to get out of here and Jake readily nodded in agreement, understanding the severity of the situation.

"We have to help, Y/n!" Richy protested, struggling against Jake's grip. His desperation was palpable, his eyes wide with concern for you and the dangerous situation you were in.

“We have to go.” Jake's voice was urgent as he decisively snatched the laptop from the table, his movements quick and purposeful. He pulled Richy and Hannah away from the escalating conflict, his protective stance shielding them from the potential danger. You could see the fear and determination in his eyes, his focus solely on ensuring their safety. Meanwhile, your battle with Ted continued— a life-and-death struggle that demanded your full attention.

You were acutely aware of the weight of the situation. The gun held by Ted was a deadly threat, and your unwavering goal was to disarm him as swiftly as possible.

“At this point, we’re just going to be a liability to her,” Jake's words cut through the chaos, a stark reminder that your priority was to keep them safe, even if it meant leaving you to face Ted alone.

Amidst the clash, a fierce blow struck your face, sending a jolt of pain through your skull. Your jaw clenched in response, determination overriding the pain as you tightened your grip on Ted, refusing to back down.

“A hard face I see,” Ted grunted, a twisted smirk on his face. “No wonder you seemed unbothered to my threats.”

Despite the blood trickling from your nose, you shot him a wolfish grin. “I think you've underestimated me.”

This fucker has a sick punch you admit. You didn't want to be deterred by that so with a fire in your eyes burning brightly as you pressed forward, your head still throbbing from the earlier blow, you slammed your forehead on him, leaving both of you momentarily stunned.

Before Ted could regain his bearings, your palm crashed down on his wrist, exploiting his momentary weakness. The gun slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud clatter. The sound was a welcome confirmation of your success in disarming him.

Shaking off the residual dizziness, you moved with swift precision. Your foot struck out, kicking the gun away from his reach. In the same fluid motion, you advanced, your boot connecting with his stomach. The impact sent him hurtling backward, his body colliding with the table. A cacophony of splintering wood accompanied his fall as the table shattered beneath his weight, leaving him sprawled among the debris.

As you stood there, panting slightly, you couldn't ignore the fact that Richy and Jake were both eager to join the fight. This was their battle as much as yours, yet your experience told you that their involvement wouldn't bode well. Jake's injuries left him barely able to stand, and Richy's weakened state from blood loss only added to the danger. As much as you value their willingness to help, you can't allow them to worsen their conditions by joining the fray.

Disregarding the blood that continued to flow from the reopened wound on the side of your head, you closed the distance between you and Ted. But in the midst of your advance, you didn't anticipate his sudden move. A knife materialized in his hand, seemingly from thin air, and he lunged toward your leg. Your reflexes kicked in, and you managed to evade just in time to avoid the full brunt of the strike. Still, the blade grazed against your pants, leaving behind a stinging sensation that served as a harsh reminder that Ted at all fucking costs, should not reach anyone from the three. He’s fully capable to fucking kill someone, and you’ll be damned if you let something happen to them.

"That's it. I'm going in," Richy's voice strained as he struggled against Jake's grasp. While Jake's weakened state made it easier for Richy to wriggle free, the blood loss had left Richy even more vulnerable.

It was a rare sight to see Richy losing his characteristic calm and rational demeanor, and for him to be losing his cool right now means this looks way worse than you imagined. It's a wonder you're still able to keep up with Ted.

Muscle and strength were undoubtedly in Ted's favor, a fact you were acutely aware of. Your typical strategy of using agility to outmaneuver your opponent and turn their strength against them was hindered by the persistent ache in your head from the concussion. Despite this setback, you found yourself pushing through, driven by a potent mixture of adrenaline and determination.

As your breaths came in labored pants, you raised a palm, the blood from your head wound now smeared across your skin. "It's okay, it's okay..."

It was not the best reassuring gesture you could muster but you have to stop Richy. As of now he didn't give much impression that he can give the right call when his judgment is clouded by emotions, it is best to let him stay out of the battlefield.

You let out a harsh breath and tried to get your shit together.

"Richy, listen to me—" your voice caught in a groan, your chest heaving. “You know this mine better than I do. Take everyone to Grimrock. I've got this, hah...”

****

As the tension escalated, Jake was forced to take charge of the situation, guiding both Richy and Hannah forward.

Along the way, as he furiously types against the laptop, he realizes that the stream the culprit had given you was a fake one and was programmed to loop all this time. He also found out that this laptop is also connected to a massive surveillance camera network within the mine. So, to speak the mine is probably riddled with these cameras, lurking in shadows and corners, watching every step they take including the one inside the room you’re currently in under the watchful eye of one such camera.

There’s also an unknown source that had successfully breached their way inside this laptop which essentially had stopped the looped stream minutes ago.

Which means… anyone who has access to the link must have heard and watched what had transpired earlier, and what is currently transpiring in real-time.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he shuts down the laptop. He halted, his eyes darting around their surroundings. And then, he spotted it – another camera, the fourth one he'd noticed since they'd left that room.

He had little sense of how far they had come from the exit, but he’s quite sure that they are significantly far enough from you and Ted. He mostly relied on Richy for directions since Ted had destroyed all his gadgets and phone, however, the mechanic seemed lost in his own thoughts, his mumbling refrain of 'It's all my fault' haunting the air like a grim mantra.

Hannah, on the other hand, was a mere shell of herself, overwhelmed both physically and emotionally. Her wide-eyed gaze darted around, barely conscious of her surroundings. He has no idea what happened there before he woke up but the two seemed pretty shaken up more than before.

Though his own memories remained foggy, Jake pushed through the mental haze, focusing on the present moment.

Jake's injuries weighed heavily on him, making every movement a strenuous task. He cursed softly under his breath, knowing that his strength was waning fast. Despite the pain and the nagging worry of potential arrest once they reached Grimrock, he pushed those thoughts aside. The current priority was ensuring the safety of his sister and Richy, especially knowing that you were out there, risking your life for them.

He has to make Hannah and Richy get out of this mine alive. Only after that could he think about returning to you. No matter what.

"Richy," Jake's voice was firm as they reached yet another fork in the tunnel. "Where to?"

“I... I think we should go back.”

That snapped the remaining patience in Jake. “Get yourself together.” He hissed quietly. “We have to get out of here. That is the only way we can help, Y/n.”

“No,” Hannah spoke for the first time in a long while. Her lips trembled as she continued, “this is all my fault… Y/n shouldn’t — Agent Y/l/n shouldn’t risk their life for some murderers!”

Confusion tightened Jake's features. “What are you talking about. Hannah?” he demanded, reaching out to steady her shoulders. “You’re no murderers.”

“No, no, no!” Hannah pulled away; her eyes filled with anguish. She dashed towards the dark tunnel they had come from. Her figure was easily swallowed by the darkness of the mine.

"Hannah!" Richy cries out for her.

No, Hannah...

Jake made a motion to run after her, but a sudden surge of pain pierced his head.

He crumpled to his knees, his hand pressing against his forehead. He tried to sit up, only to be hit by another wave of agony. He groans as he tries to sit up but a sharp beam of light cuts through the darkness, followed by an authoritative voice that echoes off the walls.

“Freeze! This is Duskwood Police!”

****

“I knew there would come a time Richy would betray me,” Ted muttered, his voice dripping with bitterness. His eyes shifted toward the direction they had gone, a hint of anger in his gaze. He started to take a step, his intent clear, but you are not having any of it. He’s going to need to get through with your corpse first before he can leave this room. “Still,” he chuckled darkly. “He did a good job doing the dirty work for me.”

You spat out blood and grinned. “May I remind you he’s never been on your side to begin with?”

“True.” Ted's lips twitched in an almost begrudging acknowledgment. He raised his fist, the knife gleaming menacingly in his other hand while you stood there within a careful distance with an annoyingly sly grin.

Ignoring the ache spiking up with every inch of your body, you settled into your usual fighting stance. One leg was positioned forward, the other slightly back, creating a solid base. Both fists were raised defensively in front of your head, elbows tucked in tightly to protect your sides.

Everything is fucking painful but you didn’t allow yourself to feel anything. Anything but rage. That's all you should feel. Maybe rage would suffice enough to make you stand, to make you walk, to make you fight.

Ted seemed almost amused as he casually tilted his neck, producing an unsettling crack that echoed through the air. His previous grin morphed into a snarl; his eyes filled with a deadly intent. “I’d never want a murderer on my side anyway.”

He decided to move first, the knife swinging fast like a bullet. You just hop back casually, the knife hitting nothing but the air. A wide, almost manic grin spread across his face. Another jab was missed, and then another; one to the right and another to the left.

You quickly realized that Ted is planning to keep this pace up for a while, knowing that if he continued like this given your injuries, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with him before long.

While you're confident in your combat skills, whether up close or at range, your endurance is practically top-notch. You're also aware that Ted has the upper hand in terms of strength and speed at the moment due to your injuries. Nonetheless, you've noticed that while his strength and speed are commendable– he lacks precise muscle coordination, which allows you to deftly evade his jabs.

As the fight raged on, it became evident that Ted's patience was wearing thin. Time seems to slow down as he notices that he has yet to make contact with you. Despite his best efforts, he's only hitting the air. Even your injuries couldn't suppress your movements from being so agile and fluid that he could barely keep up.

“Come on,” you taunted, a playful grin on your face. “You think you’ll be able to catch your self-proclaimed murderers if you can’t even finish off little ol’ me?”

You’re not sure if it’s quite possible to make a person angrier than this but you must have struck a nerve as Ted’s punches came in quick succession, but you are still able to move with such speed, barely needing to shift your weight to evade his blows. Your hands casually rested at your sides, almost mocking Ted as he grew increasingly frustrated.

Minutes passed like a blur, and you continued to evade Ted’s attacks with your god-speed movements. It’s starting to wear you out but still; you manage to go beyond your limits. Even when he had finally cornered you against the wall, you were able to sidestep just in time, causing his fist to collide against the hard wall leaving a large dent against it.

You were always one step ahead. With each punch, you sidestepped, twisted, and ducked with great precision, using quick footwork and careful movements to evade his attacks. You spun and shifted, your movements were seamless and well-timed, making Ted’s' parries miss their mark time and time again.

A second of distraction was all you needed as you quickly rounded behind him, stomping your foot on his back.

You grinned happily as you hop back on your feet and went back to your original stance; hands tucked securely against your arms, patiently waiting for him to stand up.

Ted collided with the wall with a grunt, his tight grip against the knife loosening as it fell to the ground. He didn't expect you to attack back. Nonetheless, he recovered and backed off. That kick was far stronger than he anticipated.

Ted now knew he had underestimated you, and this was no longer a battle he could take lightly. He took a deep breath and charged towards you, this time with more caution in his movements. You could see the determination in his eyes, and you knew that the real battle was about to begin. You have been relying on your evasive skills alone for far too long, and you decided it was time to change up your strategy.

You stepped to the side, avoiding his attack, and countered with a quick jab to his ribs, followed by a hook to his jaw. The blows were quick and powerful, but you didn't stop there.

You followed up with a low kick, sweeping his feet from under him. As Ted fell to the ground, he stood up just as fast as he fell. You didn't let him recover from that and landed a kick to his back. He grunted in pain, but you didn't stop.

You delivered a series of punches to his sides and stomach, each one more powerful than the last. Ted tried to block and dodge, but your attacks were too quick and too precise.

Finally, you backed off, giving him a moment to catch his breath or more precisely, give yourself a break because ‘Goddammit, I think I’ve pushed myself a little too hard.’ You think. You just hoped they had already gotten out of here.

You tried to hide the grimace on your face as you stood there, waiting for him to get back up.

“Aren’t you going a little overboard protecting those murderers, agent?" Ted questioned; his breaths uneven as he regained his footing.

“The only murderer I see right now is you,” you retorted with a teasing expression, you ran your fingers through your hair, brushing away the dried blood hindering your vision.

“Fool!” This only provokes Ted to charge at you again. This time, his kicks were even more forceful and aggressive than before, and you could see that he was putting all his strength into the attacks. However, you remained unfazed, still smirking as you evaded his blows with ease. Although there were moments when he nearly landed a hit on you, you managed to block them just in time with one arm.

You noted though that if you weren’t a trained agent, even though you managed to block his attacks, they are still strong enough to leave a bruise or worse, break a bone to a normal civilian with no fighting experience or whatever.

After a moment of pure evasion from a parry of attacks from Ted, your smile widened as you noticed a glaring blind spot that everyone could see in broad daylight.

As Ted threw a careless punch, you swiftly ducked and moved to his right, unleashing a series of quick, harsh jabs to his ribs. He grunted in pain and swung wildly at you, but you ducked once more and followed up with a roundhouse kick to his face. The blow left him dizzy and disoriented, causing his attacks to become more and more inaccurate.

As he threw another punch, you swiftly yanked his arm and tossed him away. You watched as he turned around and surged back towards you, ready to attack once again. But you were ready for him this time, swiftly ducking under his arm and delivering a punch with such incredible speed and force that may seem impossible for someone who is injured. Your fist made contact with his chest, sending him hurtling into the wall with a thud.

“Finally…” you panted as you crouched in front of his unconscious form, checking for signs of consciousness. Confirming his state, you knew that this was the one-in-a-million outcome you had hoped for.

The suspect was alive, Richy and Hannah had escaped, and you were left victorious. Thoughts of Jake's safety lingered, but you held onto the belief that he would find a way to save himself. If not, you were determined to come to his rescue.

With a sense of satisfaction, you stood up and turned to retrieve the ropes you had been tied with to restrain Ted.

Suddenly you heard a bang.

It was so sudden and loud that you weren’t able to react immediately. Only when you felt the sharp stinging pain against your side did you realize that you had been shot. Warm blood began to pool against your palms as you tried to put pressure on them. You look back at the source and to your horror, Ted with a revolver in his hands has begun to rise from his place. A sickening grin plastered all over his face.

"Got you," his raspy voice cut through the air.

The pain was too much. You have only been fighting earlier out of sheer will and adrenaline, and now that they finally wore off plus a gunshot wound, the pain you are feeling is spiking up all over so bad that you can’t even determine which one hurts the most.

You tried standing up, but it only made you fall on your back as you clutched your side in pain.

Ted’s grinning face looms over you menacingly. “You have put up a good fight, Agent. I’ll give you some credit. However, this is where you will say goodbye.”

Ted raised his revolver, and time seemed to slow down. The movies had always depicted this moment — life flashing before your eyes. Faces of loved ones, friends, and memories cascaded through your mind. Each cherished moment, each unfulfilled promise, they all surged to the forefront.

Images of Jake, Richy, Lilly, Dan, Cleo, Thomas, Hannah, and Jessy flooded your thoughts.

All your moments with them— with her came flashing.

All moments of what could have been came spiraling. All the possible dates, the traveling, the camping with the gang. All those you promised to give her.

You won’t be able to keep your promises.

How could something that hasn’t yet begun start to end right in your very eyes? Was it really meant to be this way?

Maybe.

It’s okay. You tried to convince yourself. They’re safe now. You can rest.

You close your eyes, acceptance slowly creeping up to cover up the pain. You waited for the gunshot.

A beat of silence occurred.

But none came. Only to hear a soft hiss of a swing was heard and then a crack.

“Y/n!”

You dared to open your eyes and saw a pair of warm gray eyes meeting your own. “H-han…” you tried to speak but found it difficult to even breathe.

“I've got you… I've got you,” she whispered, offering a shaky hand to help you up. You grunted, your vision going white from the hot pain. Nevertheless, your eyes fought hard to spot Ted.

There he was, sprawled across the floor, blood pooling around his head. Beside him is the bloodied metallic baseball bat that he had swung at you earlier. An understanding came through you.

“I-I hit him…” Hannah tries to explain between sniffs. “He was… he was going to shoot you..! I didn’t— I don’t know what to do. I j-just can’t let him kill you. I’m sorry.” Her tears fell, her grip on you trembling.

You squeeze her other hand that supports you. “I… h-hah it’s okay, Hannah. You— you didn’t kill him.”

As if to prove his point. Ted's laughter broke through his pain, filling the room. He laughed, a haunting sound that soon morphed into sobs. Both of you watched as he crawled on the ground, his movements feeble. Hannah had hit him pretty hard.

“Jen… I’m sorry…” He sobs, eyes staring at no one in particular. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I missed you so much…”

You can only watch him break down. You’re sure his ragged sobs will forever be embarked in your mind. You truly felt sorry for him. But there’s no way out of this one.

Abruptly, his sobs ceased, leaving behind an eerie stillness that engulfed the mine. Ted's gaze shifted toward you and Hannah, his eyes vacant, as though grappling with his inner demons.

It was during this unsettling stillness that you noticed Ted conjure a lighter from thin air, its faint glow illuminating his twisted grin. He ignited the lighter's flame and then released it, allowing it to fall to the ground with a soft hiss. Suddenly, the damp soil underfoot ignited, setting off a chain reaction of fire that raced through the room and beyond the tunnels.

Only then do you realize that the damp soils from the ground weren’t because of water, they were gasoline!

Fuck it. You didn’t expect Ted to resort to suicide, and of course, he thought that’s the best way to bring down you two. Even at the expense of his own death.

The roaring fire's fury consumed the surroundings, the air thickening with smoke and chaos. As the flames surged ever closer, Hannah's grip on you tightened, pulling you away from the encroaching inferno. “Come on!” She fights back the tears as you hear Ted’s one last scream of agony before everything goes silent.

“You should go…” You managed to rasp out, the pain evident in your voice. “Hannah, I’m just going to slow you down…”

“No!” she shook her head vehemently. “I can’t leave you here!”

You managed a weak chuckle, your body straining against the pain. “You’re as h-hah— stubborn as Lilly… but I’m here because I want to s-save you. And that still stands true right n-now…”

Hannah’s grip on your hips tightened. Her pace suddenly goes faster as she helps you navigate through the tunnel with slight ease. Luckily the fire here isn’t as bad as where you came from, but you know it will eventually catch up if you don't hurry.

“This might be hell coming its way up here to come and make me pay for my sins.” Hannah's laugh was tinged with bitterness and tears. “I’m done running away. But I’ll be damned if I let you get caught in this mess again. Let me save you this time, Y/n.”

~~~~~

A/n: Hi! Good evening (morning or afternoon) to y'all. Sorry, this took so long. As I have said, I find it quite challenging to write a fight scene that would be satisfactory but I tried my best. This is not beta-read just yet because my eyes are so tired from finishing the chapter hahaha but nevertheless, I think it's worth it. Lemme know what you guys think in the comments. I shall rest my eyes now so I'll probably respond to y'all tomorrow. Adios!

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verbotenlove · 8 days

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i'm interested in your opinion. did he really loved the german people? or did he used them merely for his interests and ambitions? why his speeches were so seductive? was it passion or his appearence? hard to imagine that millions of german women fell in love with a stranger. also, how did you fell in love with him?

Excellent questions! I want to try to be as objective as possible regarding your first questions since this topic fascinates me so very much as well. First off I think we can all agree that Hitler was the true definition of a narcissist. I would argue that every dictator in history that sought total world domination and power had a narcissistic personality. If you study the psychology of narcissists they are often extremely charming and charismatic, and although they aren’t capable of unconditional love, they do very much love all the things that fit nicely into their worldview. So I DO believe he truly loved the German people because they were “his” people and seen as an extension of himself, but only conditionally as long as they were going along with “his” program. I do believe he genuinely loved children and animals, as this part of his original essence as a child and human being definitely remained intact beneath all the trauma that later warped and damaged his personality.

Also, although we hate to admit it, the man was a genius, with an IQ estimated at 145 and perhaps the most gifted orator in all of human history. THAT is an incredibly dangerous combination, as he deeply understood human psychology and knew exactly how to tap into “his” people’s deepest fears, longings, and desires. Germany was in the midst of the Great Depression and people were fearful about having employment and food on the table, and longing desperately for stability and security. Hitler made all the right promises and deftly allayed all their fears in his speeches, he even created a scapegoat by labeling anyone that was foreign and “other” as the source and cause of all their problems, and gave assurance that once “his” society was “cleansed” that they could all live in a perfect utopian world, completely free of any fear and struggle and conflict, since it was Germany’s “enemies” creating all of their suffering. He embodied the mythological “hero” or “savior” we subconsciously yearn for that will make the world right.

To truly understand the mystique and appeal of Hitler one has to understand human psychology, the narcissistic personality, and the unique set of social and economic troubles that occurred in Germany in the aftermath of WW1.

Now as for my own infatuation, that began when I was 5 years old and I saw Hitler giving a speech in a documentary about WW2 that my dad was watching. I was completely mesmerized by him. His gestures and commanding aura were like nothing I had ever seen before. I was so entranced by him, and since I don’t speak German I can therefore say that it was his passion AND appearance alone that captivated me. Also the powerful visuals, the bold symbols and enticing symmetry of those assembled around him. Hitler was the embodiment of pure, raw, commanding masculine energy that simultaneously made me feel safe and protected and promised the order and stability that was completely lacking in my own childhood without an authoritative father figure or strong male role-model.

In high school this shifted to an attraction to Hitler as a passionate lover, and then as an adult to a nurturing provider and protective husband. As girls and women living in the 21st century we are told to be independent and strong and suppress any innate desires to have a domineering and commanding husband, and most women will NEVER EVER admit to it, but I can’t imagine I’m the only one that yearns for that, and Hitler on both a conscious and subconscious level has always fulfilled all my most primal needs and desires.

#austrian painter #reichblr #psychology

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ash-and-books · 5 months

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Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb: TORN APART BY WAR. REUNITED BY LOVE?The epic conclusion to the intensely romantic and beautifully written story that started in Divine Rivals.

Two weeks have passed since Iris returned home bruised and heartbroken from the front, but the war is far from over.

Roman is missing, lost behind enemy lines, with no memory of his past, or Iris. Hoping his memories return, he begins to write again – but this time for the enemy.

When a strange letter arrives through his wardrobe door, he strikes up a correspondence with a penpal who seems at once mysterious… and strangely familiar.

As their connection deepens, the two of them will risk their very hearts and futures to change the tides of the war.

Review:

Can two lovers be reunited in the midst of a deadly war? This is the heart-pounding and gut-wrenching conclusion to the one of the most beautifully written series, Divine Rivals. The story picks up where the first book left off, with two weeks having passed between Iris and Roman being married then immediately separated at the war front when an explosion occurs and Roman and Iris are separated. Iris has no idea where Roman is, all she knows is that her brother is alive and has dragged her back. Iris knows Roman is lost behind enemy lines, in Dacre's clutches...and her brother warns her that Roman most likely has forgotten Iris with Dacre erasing his memories of her. That won't stop Iris though, she is willing to do anything, go anywhere, to be reunited with her husband, even if it means going back to the frontlines to face off against Dacre and write the truth about what is happening. Roman has awoken with no memories of where he is or how he got there, all he knows is that he is meant to write for Dacre, yet something keeps tugging at his mind, memories and feelings floating around... and when a strange letter arrives through his wardrobe door he finds himself corresponding with a penpal who seems mysterious yet familiar all at once. Roman knows something is missing with his memories... and now that Iris knows he doesn't remember, she'll do anything to help him remember again. All the while, they'll have to figure out how to stop Dacre's war efforts and save those they love, can they stop him before he destroys them all or stopping him require them to make the ultimate sacrifice of all? This book had me crying, clenching my fist, screaming into a pillow, and more. This is a book that strikes you with the strong gut punch, that leaves you winded and begging for more, it has you crying so much that you start dry heaving (it was not pretty). Rebecca Ross has a way of writing the most aching and beautiful words, she creates such a deep love for these characters and such a strong connection between the reader and the characters that you find yourself so fully immersed in their journey that anything that happens to them makes you either rejoice or sob for them. I loved Divine Rivals so much when I read the arc and felt so absolutely blessed and fortunate to receive the arc of this book. This series altogether holds such a special place in my heart. Roman and Iris get to fall in love all over again, their love is so beautiful and special. This book has them suffering, has them hoping, and most of all has them healing. This is a book series that I will find myself recommend over and over. I loved reading this series, it was a journey from start to end, from the first letter Iris typed to the last letter she wrote. It has been a divine time.

*Thanks Netgalley and HarperCollins UK, HarperFiction, Magpie for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #divine rivals #ruthless vows #rebecca ross #book recs #my favorite series

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graciegoeskrazy · 11 months

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Sharper (rewrite) - Chapter 1 - i feel the earth move

Warnings: Language, mention of rape, mentions of kidnaping, mentions of sexual assault, Mentions of CPS, social workers, bars, New York City (lol), mentions of sex workers, mentions of drugs and drinking

Word Count: ~3,000

A/N: READ THE WARNINGS. Its me hi I’m the fucking writer thats always missing its me. Okay we have a series yay! I know this seems really fucking crazy but I’ve had this idea for a really long time and I’m really excited for y’all to read. So far i have the first chapter (duh) and last chapter done along with some bits in between and I’m really excited for y’all too read. Okay thats all ill say now okay i love u byeeeee

The streets of New York City were never friendly. Especially to 16 year olds like you. Rain poured and mixed into the dirty snow that had fallen earlier that day, creating a rotten and thick atmosphere surrounding the city. You thought about other families on Christmas Eve. Kids getting ready for bed, awaiting the arrival of Santa and the presents he’ll bring. Families walking home from church, admiring the lights that covered the city. You should be experiencing things like that - joy, cheer, happiness. However, it all seemed to be the exact opposite.

After your mom died you were immediately thrown at CPS who sent you straight into foster care. You had no family except your mom. Your grandparents might have been alive but you had no fucking clue because they turned their backs on your mom and you the second they found out she was pregnant. With no support and no money, your broke single money turned to being a sex worker. And even though there were friends she made along the way at work and they treated you like you were their niece, all of them knew that living with them in the midst of their line of work was no place for a kid. They cared too much to let you be around that, and you understood. So, foster care it was.

Your foster parents honestly didn’t give a shit, so you offered a deal to them - give you a share of the money they get monthly from the state, and you will be out of their hair and will never ask for anything from them. Not surprisingly at all, they said yes. When your social worker found out, she didn’t care, she just wanted a cut of your money. For awhile, you would stay in and out of shelters throughout the city, eventually leaving after a little while to avoid the risk of anyone getting suspicious and calling CPS. When that didn’t work, you would bounce between the couches of your friends, slowly but surely giving up hope of ever finding a permanent home. Even with your cut from your foster parents and money at your shitty job at Starbucks your social worker set you up with, it still definitely wasn’t enough to pay rent of anything. But it was enough to pay for your own food, your own clothes, and a ticket from point a to point b. So that was how you lived. For 10 whole months. And that’s what its looked like for the past week. Couch hopping, working, still going to fucking school, and all the while not having a single moment to grieve the loss of your mom.

You were on the way to a bar to have your annual meeting with your social worker. You had an informal meeting with your social worker at least every other week. Even though they were brief, they were still a constant pain in your ass. You wanted life to keep moving. Move away from the pain and heartache of your mom’s death, and all the other pain and suffering that came along with it, but these meetings always seemed to drag you back under. It always felt like a constant reminder of what you went through and how you got here.

You immediately spotted her. You sat down across from her at a table. She continued writing down whatever it was she was doing as you walked in. She acknowledged your presence, but never looked up once.

“You’re late.” She said.

“Yeah. I know. I couldn’t get a cab. It’s fucking Christmas Eve.” You said as you sat.

She finally met your gaze, “What have I said about cursing?”

You just shrugged, “Last time I checked I don’t get in trouble for language.”

Jenny sighed again, “It’s still not classy.”

“Meeting at a bar at nearly midnight with your 16 year old client isn’t classy either.”

“It's a restaurant too.” She said, matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes and Jenny let out a smirk, knowing she had gotten under your skin already. She straightened up at an attempt to reset. “How’s life been treating you Mazie?”

“Pretty Shitily.”

Jenny continued to write in her files. “I can imagine. Where were you tonight?”

You took a seat, “Out with a friend from work. Caroline.”

“A friend from work at Starbucks?”

You looked anywhere but her, already tired of her fake niceties “Yeah.”

“How’s the Job you like it?”

You signed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Working hard? Putting in the hours?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny finally looked up. “Hmm. That’s really interesting because I checked in on the Starbucks you’re working at and they said you got fired 2 weeks ago.”

You were caught.

For a moment you thought about keeping up with the lie. But you very quickly came to the conclusion that it would only make things worse. “Okay listen, I can explain.”

“Strike one.” She said, as she went back to write in her files, probable making note of your job status.

“Listen to me, My boss, Samuel...he was being a real perv-“

“To you or others?”

You paused and shrugged, eyes never leaving her. “What do you think?”

Jenny looked down. She wouldn’t wish what you had been through on anybody, But she wasn’t gonna let you off the hook. Job or no job, someone would find out sooner or later and it would end up getting herself in trouble

“it’s apart of your agreement.”

“You taking a cut from my foster parents isn't a part of the agreement?!”

“Quiet down, will you? Look, I'm trying to help you. I know it’s been rough since you lost your Mom, and all i’m trying to do is help you maintain a life. A life your mom would’ve wanted.”

“My mom wouldn’t want me in a fucking foster system or working shifts at starbucks for less than minimum wage.”

“Look, I don’t really give a shit. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“That’s a first-”

“Cut it out.” She said Sharply. “Can we carry on with the questions?”

You nodded.

Jenny continued, “Last time you did drugs?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve told you, since I went into the system.”

“So a couple months, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“So let me ask you this. If I get a drug test from my car, it’s gonna come back negative, right? Because you haven’t done anything tonight?”

“Yeah.” You said hesitantly.

“Are you sure about that? Because im gonna be really fucking pissed if I have to go all the way to my car and back to get a drug test just to prove that you’ve been lying to me.”

You knew that she knew. There was no getting out of it. “Ok so I may have done a little tonight. But it wasn’t a lot! It was barely any!”

“Strike 2.”

“C’mon man!”

“Do you want me to bring you in right now? Is that what you want? Cause I’d be happy to hand you over to another couple who don’t give a single shit about you.”

“You’re a fucking monster.”

“No. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you’re pretty fucking bad at it.” A new voice spoke. Your eyes caught sight of a man with dark hair and a long black trench coat. You looked slightly familiar, but Jenny continued to speak before you had the chance to fully question his familiarity.

“Excuse me?” She said,

“I’m just saying, If there’s a reason she’s acting like this then maybe you’re doing something wrong.”

Confusion made itself apparent on your face as you looked at the two as the continued to speak.

“Sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He said with a smile before it morphed into a blank stare. “No.” he said.

He must be drunk as hell.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Look, let me pay you to walk away.

Jenny’s unimpressed expression never changed as she spoke. “You must be drunk.”

The man laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Knew it.

——-

Jenny and the man continued to talk quietly, coming up with some sort of price. You were absolutely speechless. Maybe I can make a run for it now? That would definitely lead to trouble once Jenny inevitably found you again. What about when she leaves? When it’s just me and that dude? That could work. Throughout all the questions filling up your brain, the most frequent one was equally simple and terrifying… What the hell did he want with me?

Before you could fully think about that one, Jenny came back, seemingly packing up her files and folders Not saying a word to you. So, you spoke up.

“You really gonna let him do this?!”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine. He’ll probably let you walk away, your record will stay spotless, and I won't have to deal with your bullshit-”

“Are you fucking insane?! Look at him he’s probably gonna assault me or rape me or something sketchy as hell.!”

“Not my problem.”

“Yes, it’s your problem. That's your fucking job!”

She turned to give you one last cold glare. “Well…nothing you haven't dealt with before.”

You were speechless. All you wanted to do was punch her across the face until she was out cold, but nothing would come out.

She made her way out the door but turned out to give you one last glare. “Happy Holidays motherfucker.” she said.

You were slouched in your seat, arms crossed, eyes looking down in disbelief. From the second you got a good look at his guy, you knew he was bad news. You had yet to learn what would happen or where you would end up next. You snapped out of your thoughts when a certain voice appeared.

“Hi.” He said, sounding almost chipper.

You didn’t respond, just stared at him, arms still crossed. He took another sip of his drink before continuing. “What’s your name?”

“...Mazie.” You said hesitantly.

He sucked in a breath. You weren't sure what that meant, but you had no time to think about it before he continued talking.

“How old are you Mazie?”

You hesitated. What kind of creepy ass shit was he into?

“16.” You said sharply. You couldn’t let down your guard for one second. You were tough and not to be messed with, and this guy needed to know that.

You noticed how he hesitated again. He took one last sip of his drink before standing up off the stool and making his way towards you,but still giving you some space.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

“Not really, no.” You quickly said.

He hummed. “May I?” he said, gesturing to the seat across from you in the booth you were still sitting in.

“It's a free country isn't it?” You said. He took that as a yes.

“I’m Max.” He reached out his hand as an offering. You pondered for a moment, then shook his hand.

“What do you want with me, Max?”

He let out a slight dry chuckle. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Mazie. If that's what your thinking”

“Soooo…you just gonna let me go? Pay a random woman 7.000 cash to let a random 16-year-old free out of what…the goodness of your heart?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Come with me.”

He led you outside. Waiting for you both was a sleek, black, sports car you presumed was Max’s. He opened the door for you and gestured for you to get in.

“Fuck no.” You spat.

“I told you I’m not gonna hurt you-”

“And why should I believe you?”

He was about to open his mouth but stopped himself.

“You can’t really I guess.”

That caught you off guard. For some reason it made you trust him a tiny bit more. For whatever reason, you were definitely interested in whatever skeam he had planned.

He reached into the car and pulled out a wad of cash. “Here,” he said, throwing it to you.

You caught it and took a look. $1,000 dollars cash was sitting in the palm of your hand. You tried to remain natural and chill. “What’s this for?” you asked.

“That’s your cut.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking and driving.”

“And you shouldn’t be alone on the streets of New York.”

“I shouldn’t be talking to strangers ethier. Let alone getting in the car with them.”

“Let’s not be strangers then, huh?”

The car ride was quiet. He put on some sort of Christmas music on low volume as he drove. The city was alive and bright. People and families crowding the streets, once again making you think of your family and what you used to have. Those thoughts came to a halt as he pulled into a large parking garage next to what you assumed to be Max’s apartment building. A doorman created the two of you as he led you to the elevator. The both of you still hadn’t said a word since the bar.

He opened the door and motioned for you to go inside.

“You think I'm dumb or something? I’m not going in there.”

He rolled his eyes before looking at you. “This entire apartment complex is filled head to toe with multiple alarm systems, 4 Security guards only a couple floors down, one of which you met and knows your face, and constantly servailed cameras in every corner.”

You just stared at him, trying to think of something to say. He beat you to it.

“And if you wanted to leave, I would let you leave.”

You nodded, and walked in.

His apartment was smaller than you expected, but you were mainly surprised about how clean it was.

“Cool Place.” You said.

He took his jacket off and put his keys down.

“You can sleep on the couch, or leave if you want. No drugs. No coming into my room.”

He slammed the door, not giving you another look. “Coolio.”

This is gonna be interesting.

——-

The clanging of pots and pans startled you. You turned to see max preparing some kind of breakfast.

“Morning.” He said.

You didn’t reply, just stood still. Taking in and remembering all of the events that took place the night before. He continued.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Out of everything he could’ve said, you didn’t expect those word to come out of her mouth. “What’s my favorite movie?”

He nodded.

“Interstellar.” You said without taking your eyes off him, trying to keep up the tough exterior.

“Really? Why?”

“I like space and I have daddy issues.” You said bluntly. He made a mental note to check in on that later. He continued, “I think it's a classic.”

“You like that one?” You said surprised as you took a sip of the coffee he gave you.

“Yeah. It's always been a favorite of mine.”

“Damn, I can’t believe you’ve actually seen that film.”

“I haven’t.” He said, giving you a glare.

“What?”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“To trick you.”

“Okay?” You were thoroughly confused.

Max got up. “That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do.”

You sat in silence as he grabbed a stack of newspapers and but the on the coffee table in front of you. “Read those. Front to back.”

You scoffed and picked up the papers. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Where’s that money I gave you?”

“In my jacket.”

He grabbed it and turned to you. From now on, every time you curse I get 100 back.”

“Fuck that, that’s my money!”

He pulled it away before you could grab it back from him.

“Another 100 gone. 800 left.” He put the remaining money back on the table and you immediately put it into your pants pocket.

“Where are you going?” You said.

“Out. I’ll be back later. Read those or leave.”

He slammed the door.

You just stood there.

How did the fuck did I get here?

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #max x teen!reader #sharper #Sebastian San x teen!reader #sebastian stan x teen!daughter!reader #sebastian stan x child!reader

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ladyandherbooks · 1 year

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So this week I got a sudden urge to rewatch some of Voltron (only the Lotor scenes and episodes minus the Lotura break up, Romelle's Lotor backstory and Lotor's break down, I'll never be in the mood to rewatch them) and here are some of my thoughts since its been 5 years since this shows cataclysmic end.

The Lotor vs Zarkon fight is still great 5 years on. The best fight in the show by far.

Lotor's escape from Zarkon in season 4 is also great and one of the best examples of his skills as a pilot.

Lotor really was one of the most powerful characters on this show. He went up against so many foes who had a huge advantage against him and still managed to come out on top.

The Galra civil war with Lotor and Sendak as the leaders on either side with Honerva/Haggar plotting and manipulating from the shadows should have been of the main storyline post Lotor's ascension to the throne. They could have done so much with it.

For example, the reasons why certain Galran controlled planets and Galrans would choose either Lotor or Sendak. Perhaps some half or part Galra choose to follow Sendak and the paladins try to find out why. And some Galrans may only choose Lotor because they want to be on the winning side and believe that they will be rewarded for doing so. You could see a range of reasons as why certain Galrans chose a specific side and why.

There needed to be more focus on the prejudices faced by half and part Galra and what Lotor and his generals being in power would mean for the future of the empire.

Speaking of the generals, there really should have been 2 episodes dedicated to Team Sincline's backstory. We should have seen how they all met and how they became so close. And only 1 break up between them, when they reunited in season 6 they should have stayed together.

Speaking of staying I'm now imagining a better version of Lotor's break down. Allura defeats Lotor in space, not in the quintessence field. But when they (Voltron) approach Lotor to retrieve him Lotor, injured and still in the midst of a breakdown gets one more burst of energy and he tries to take them down only to be stopped at the last second by his generals who, knowing that Lotor wasn't truly himself quickly snuck back into the Sincline mech. They subdue him, take control of Sincline and flee before the paladins can react. They then take Lotor somewhere safe to hide out and help him. You could even include the 2 year timeskip and have Lotor be in such a bad way physically, emotionally and mentally that it takes him 2 years to heal and recover. Can you imagine how great that would have been? The angst, the emotions, the friendship, the fact that Axca, Ezor and Zethrid refuse to give up on him no matter how bad he gets in those 2 years. Add in Dayak at some point and it would be great.

Also Axca, Zethrid and Ezor should have learnt about what Haggar did to Narti in season 4 and Lotor should have also provided them with an explanation as well.

We should have also have seen Team Sincline fight in their mech at least once per season.

The show really did suffer from the split seasons from seasons 3 - 5. I know that LM and JDS had a set number of episodes but these seasons would have been better if they had all been 13 eps each. That way they could have explored all their storylines without the rush.

Too many cool and interesting concepts introduced but never explained or explored e.g. Lotor using the black bayard and being able to create 2 different weapons with it.

The moment that Honerva/Haggar remembered that Lotor is her son is still a great emotional moment.

The colony was a good idea that was executed with very little planning or care. It could have been a really good plot point to create a temporary rift between Lotor and the paladins e.g. have the reveal happen at the beginning of season 6, have a season or possibly 2 of angst and then have them work together again after Lotor has atoned in some way. Lotor could provide his actual explanation of what happened to the other Altaeans, the alliance would have remained intact just with the added rift between the paladins and Lotor where the paladins would still help Lotor stop the civil war but they would keep their distance and would only meet with him in public. Then once they had all truly reunited Allura and Lotor finally become a couple.

Also have their relationship be used against them by Sendak and his supporters who believe that this is evidence that they will soon be ruled by non-Galra and the hypocrisy in this belief considering how many planets and people the Galra rule.

#Lotor #vld #Voltron #just some rewatch feelings

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hiswordsarekisses · 4 months

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“The Enemy is not the opposite of God or equal to God. He cannot be in all places and he is not all powerful. He does not know what our tomorrow brings, but only masterfully manipulates the details of our present and past as his means of destruction.

He is a fallen angel with limited power and finite authority. Although we often relinquish far more credit and authority to him, he is not able to run renegade through our lives, free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

How do I know? The book of Job, gives us insight. While it is one of the hardest for me to read, it has given me radical perspective shifts and insight about God.

The Bible says on this one particular day, The Lord asked Satan, “Where have you come from?” “From roaming through the earth,” Satan answered him, “and walking around on it.”” Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? No one else on earth is like him, a man of perfect integrity, who fears God and turns away from evil.” Job‬ ‭1:7-8‬ ‭

Wait … Stop … God suggested that Satan “consider“ Job. 🧐

“Satan answered the Lord, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Haven’t you placed a hedge around him, his household, and everything he owns? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But stretch out your hand and strike everything he owns, and he will surely curse you to your face.” “Very well,” the Lord told Satan, “everything he owns is in your power. However, do not lay a hand on Job himself.” So Satan left the Lord’s presence.” Job‬ ‭1:9-12‬ ‭

I imagine Satan smugly sauntering off, filled with an arrogance of power and thinking he’s about to unleash destruction upon another believer. But, as always, he greatly underestimated God’s real intentions.

Please don’t miss this moment of truth: if God has allowed that loss or painful circumstance to happen in my life, then what does God want me to gain from it? Within this question sits the blessing, the hidden treasure, and the game changing perspective shift.

In the moments of tremendous pain and suffering, barriers and oppression, we can ask God to show us what we are to learn and how we are to grow through it. It’s walking through the storm and leaning into the reality that God wouldn’t have us go through it if he wasn’t already in it.

Don’t miss this point … God is already with us in the storm. Every step of the way he is with us to make sure we get through it.

In hindsight I’ve realized there has never been a single “happy” time that ever contributed to building endurance and perseverance in my faith. Happy times do not require a rugged commitment to stay the course, or test my obedience and alignment of my heart under God’s authority.

It’s the gut wrenching, tears flowing, fervently praying times of waiting on God that builds endurance and perseverance. Great transformation happens in those exhaustive moments of not seeing a shred of evidence on the horizon but I continue to walk in faith and trust that God will move in his timing.

Back to the story ... did you notice that God created guardrails to just how much influence Satan would be allowed to inflict in Job’s life? By God limiting the enemy, it reinforces for me that Satan never has the free reign he likes to falsely manifest.

That guardrail means God allows only the amount of disturbance through which we will gain endurance, perseverance, and personal growth, all designed to transform us to be more like him.

God knows the outcome. He knows just how much heat is required for my personality, my stubbornness, and my pride. I lean into the fact that how Satan aimed to destroy me is the very same that God will use for my benefit and his glory.

Dr. Tony Evans says,

“God sometimes allows us to go through painful and even prolong suffering to give us a fresh vision of him that goes far beyond what we could have otherwise experienced. So in the midst of your trials, pray for deliverance. But pray also that God would use your circumstance to allow you to see him, understand him, and worship him as never before.“

He did it with Job. Job humbled himself before God:

“I know that you can do anything and no plan of yours can be thwarted.” 42:2

“Therefore, I reject my words and am sorry for them; I am dust and ashes.” 42:6‬ ‭

And as a result, the Lord blessed the last part of Job’s life more than the first.” v.42:12‬

God knows our beginning; he helps us through the middle; and he wants to celebrate with us at the end of every trial.”

(Written By “Waiting Well Changes Everything” on Facebook)

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itsmaferart · 2 years

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Every comedy stems from fear. Part 1

After the last chapter of the Spy x Family manga, a rare stir started the fandom. Where it is suggested that Eno strategically uses the comedy and love of a false family as a kind of convenient illusion to attract the audience, as a deceiver attracts a naive to fall into his trap.

Are we really so blind not to see everything that history throws at us? Or is comedy so hilarious that it makes us forget the tragedy that happens in the context of history?

From the beginning of the story we are given a brief introduction to the universe where we meet: After a war between two neighboring countries, the "apparent" peace came, however there are agents of evil working from the shadow with the desire that the war continue for their personal benefits.

This is the engine that leads Twilight, our protagonist to be assigned by WISE (the agency) to have a family.

From then on, we can see that each person is a byproduct of war in one way or another. They are the result of side effects:

Twilight lost his family, his friends, he became filled with hatred for anyone who came from the other side. Then, he understood by evil, he suffered a second loss to understand that "war and ignorance" are sins that drag many people. Twilight has had a lot of "life experience." But this has only been lived under the "I'm a spy" filter. The trauma that carries on his shoulders, added to a job whose success is achieved "not involving his emotions" have made all his bonds a farce. Twilight doesn't really know it's "family love," or "being genuinely in love." He only understands these emotions as an easy vehicle to manipulate others. (Since that's what a spy does) And they've made him unable to recognize his (obvious) feelings to his family. Therefore, in unknown situations he feels so confused and trapped. Since in such circumstances, being a spy is not "the solution." And that's when his real "me" usually comes momentarily. It's too late to notice, though.

Yor, for her part, lost her parents (In causes we still do not know, but we assume it is because of the war). The only thing left with her was her younger brother, maybe she ran with more luck in this regard. But he had to sacrifice herself completely in order to give him a happy future in the midst of a world full of dirt. We don't know how it happened yet, but Yor makes it clear to us the vulnerable situation she was in. The reason I took that job was to "keep her brother," to see that he rewarded her with enough money to meet their needs and to give little gifts of happiness to Yuri in her childhood (such as books or sweets). That is why the real reason for being a murderer was to "protect the peaceful life of your brother." Yor clearly received indoctrination from "garden" and his philosophy of work. "Cleansing the world," though, we do not yet know how true this is and what its true ends are. The way his first instinct is to "murder," and his social ineptitude are clear signs that Yor could never experience a normal life of a girl or teenager, be able to have fun and think about developing in other aspects of life. Clearly, she is very corrupted despite her noble and sweet nature.

Anya is the product of an experiment. Surely caused by war, perhaps in order to create weapons (Background history of which we do not know much yet). A child in search of love from a family. Therefore, she is so affected by the mere possibility that her parents will distance themselves or that the mission will end and Twilight will end up abandoning them. And she must experience abandonment again.

Despite having three such tragic pasts, the product of unfortunate circumstances. The series shows us that these three characters can have salvation. The love of a family "is not perfect," often you cannot premeditate, or control the actions around you, your family may be strange and peculiar. But love can accept us, with our flaws and encourage us to be better.

The union of Twilight, Yor and Anya is so perfect because the three of them accept each other (hiding their identities, of course). But at the same time they can see their virtues and their flaws, they can be themselves.

Ania knows her parents' profession: She knows how cold, calculating and hard her father can be with his high expectations in his missions. Thus, as Yor's crude mind can see with horrendous fantasies. But she loves them and accepts them like that. Because she knows that apart from that, her two parents are amazing, they are people full of love, willing to protect her and guide her along the way always.

In the same way as Yor and Twilight are an incredible couple. Both support, encourage, appreciate, recognize their strengths and understand their weaknesses. It doesn't matter if they are the best in their areas, they always manifest their insecurities in one way or another, and the other is always to listen to it and to say "you make it unbelievable, in your own way."

Unknowingly both have the same purpose, and the same desires. A world where others do not have to suffer what they suffered. And they are willing to fight for it

#twiyor #yor forger #loid forger #spy x family #yor briar #twilight #anya forger #sxf #loid x yor #spyxfamily twilight #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family manga #spyxfamily

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