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mrs5sn0w · 5 months

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Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak ->IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of Allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Warnings : Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis : In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The grand ballroom of the Capitol glittered with opulence, a testament to the excesses of power and control. She, who was adorned in a gown of muted elegance, stood beside Coriolanus Snow, a man whose eyes reflected the iciness of the society that had moulded him.

The festivities, a celebration of their union, felt like a masquerade of emotions, each step a painful reminder of a love lost.

The dance floor beneath them, once a stage for shared dreams, now echoed with the hollow sounds of a fractured connection. Coriolanus, draped in indifference, turned to her with a gaze colder than the winter winds that swept through the Capitol.

"Do remember that our union is a political necessity, not a playground for your emotions." His words, sharp as a blade, cut through the remnants of her optimism, leaving wounds that bled with the anguish of unfulfilled promises.

"Coriolanus, please," she implored, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken pain.

"Can't we find a way back to what we were?"

A scoff escaped his lips, a venomous edge to his tone.

"What we were is inconsequential. The Capitol demands sacrifices, and sentimentality is the first to go."

The cruelty in his words struck her like a physical blow. She felt a chasm widening between them, a chasm fueled by the Capitol's relentless demands and his willingness to succumb to its frigid embrace.

As the night wore on, the symphony of forced smiles and hollow conversations played on, but in the private moments between the grandeur, she attempted to breach the fortress of Snow's indifference.

“Can't you see that we're sacrificing more than just sentimentality?"

Her voice carried the echoes of a heart desperate to be heard, a heart that still clung to the fragments of a love that once defied the Capitol's constraints.

He turned to her, a sneer playing on his lips. "Love is a weakness, Flare."

The words, like acid, burned through her defences. He calls her by her last name, refusing to call by his.

The balcony, once a refuge for shared dreams, now became the stage for the unraveling of her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, the anguish of his callousness too much to bear.

"Why are you doing this, Coriolanus?" Her plea hung in the air, desperate for an answer that could stitch together the tattered remains of their connection.

He met her gaze with a steely resolve. “Don't be foolish to ask that question again and again. You know why.”

His indifference, a fortress that seemed impenetrable, shattered the last vestiges of her hope. The balcony, witness to the tender moments of their past, now bore witness to the agonizing dissolution of their bond.

"You're heartless, Coriolanus."

His laughter, cold and devoid of empathy, echoed through the balcony.

"Your sentiments won't change our reality. Accept it or suffer the consequences."

The finality in his words landed like a crushing blow. A love that had once defied the Capitol's chains now lay broken and discarded. The dance through time, a once graceful movement, had devolved into a painful and discordant rhythm, echoing the hollowness of their loveless marriage.

As the grand celebration continued below, she retreated into the shadows of her pain. The ballroom, aglow with the Capitol's decadence, became a theater for the tragic unraveling of their connection.

The night was far from over. The masquerade of their union continued, a relentless dance that forced them to confront the haunting melodies of a loveless marriage. Each step on the dance floor mirrored the jagged edges of their fractured connection.

She was a prisoner of her emotions, sought solace in the shadows. The whispers of the past intertwined with the discordant notes of the present, creating a symphony of heartbreak that reverberated through the ballroom.

Coriolanus, detached and composed, navigated the dance with the finesse of a puppeteer pulling the strings. His eyes, devoid of warmth, scanned the room with the calculated precision of a man who had embraced the callousness demanded by the Capitol.

In the quiet interludes between the grand movements, she attempted one more plea, a desperate hope that some shred of humanity remained within the man who had once been her confidant.

"Coriolanus, can't you see what this is doing to us? We're sacrificing more than just love; we're sacrificing our very souls."

He turned to her, his gaze an icy dagger that pierced through her vulnerability.

"Souls are a small price to pay for power. I suggest you learn to accept it."

The words, a proclamation of the Capitol's ruthless influence, left her breathless. She felt the weight of their union pressing down on her, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate any lingering traces of hope.

As the grand celebration reached its climax, the dance through time descended into a chaotic frenzy of emotions. The ballroom, once a space of decadent revelry, now became a battleground for the remnants of their connection.

Coriolanus, unmoved by the turmoil within her, continued the dance with an air of indifference. The discordant notes of their fractured love played on, drowning out the music of the Capitol's triumphant fanfare.

In the dimly lit corners of the ballroom, her tears went unnoticed. The pain, too private to be displayed in the spotlight of the Capitol's scrutiny, carved deep trenches in her soul.

As the night drew to a close, she, a mere shadow of the woman she once was, found herself standing alone on the balcony. The Capitol, with its glittering facade, seemed worlds away from the desolation within her heart.

Coriolanus, his duty to the Capitol fulfilled, approached her with the calculated demeanor of a man who had shed the vestiges of sentimentality.

“Whatever it is we had it the past, don’t ever look for it, it won’t ever come back.”

His words, devoid of any flicker of remorse, echoed through the empty spaces of her heart. The dance through time had reached its bitter end, leaving behind the fragments of a connection that had crumbled under the weight of the Capitol's expectations.

With a final glance, Coriolanus Snow, now a stranger draped in the trappings of power, left the balcony, leaving her alone with the haunting melodies of a love extinguished. The Capitol's grandeur faded into the night, and she, standing on the balcony, felt the chill of isolation in the air.

As the Capitol slept, shrouded in the deceptive allure of power, she remained on the balcony, grappling with the ruins of her heart. The night, once a canvas for shared dreams, now stretched before her as an endless expanse of emptiness.

In the aftermath of the celebration, the opulent ballroom now lay silent, a stark contrast to the tumult within herself. The masquerade of their union had unveiled the harsh truth — she was entwined in a loveless marriage, a puppet in the Capitol's grand theater.

Alone in the sprawling bedroom, she found herself on the sofa, a cold and unwelcome piece of furniture that mirrored the frigid atmosphere that had settled between her and Coriolanus Snow. The grand bed, adorned with lavish silks and plush pillows, stood untouched, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between them.

Her wedding gown, once a symbol of celebration, now felt like a heavy shroud, constricting her movements as she navigated the unfamiliar space. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting an ethereal glow on the elaborate patterns of the carpet, each thread whispering tales of a union strained by the weight of Capitol expectations.

As she stepped into the bathroom, the opulence of Capitol excess confronted her. The glass-encased shower stood like a transparent witness to her vulnerability. She turned on the water, hoping its cascade would wash away the residue of the day's trials.

The door swung open, and Coriolanus Snow entered with a casual nonchalance.

His eyes, indifferent to her modesty, met hers in the reflection of the gleaming mirror. The involuntary shriek that escaped her lips was met with nothing more than an eye roll from him. He faced the mirror, a razor in hand, seemingly oblivious to the invasion of her privacy.

“Excuse me ? Do you mind giving me a bit of privacy ?” she protested, the words barely audible over the rush of water.

Coriolanus, razor against his jaw, spared her a fleeting glance, his response as cutting as the blade against his skin.

"You know, Flare, the Capitol may find your attempts at modesty amusing. But let's be clear, you're not even interesting to look at, even when you're trying."

In haste, she sheathed her body in a robe, a thin shield against the rawness of his indifference. The scent of expensive bath oils mingled with the palpable tension, creating an atmosphere that underscored the compromises demanded by the Capitol's opulent facade.

As the echoes of his cruel words reverberated in the room, she chose silence.

The night, meant to be a culmination of shared dreams and whispered promises, had transformed into a haunting symphony of solitude. The echoes of distant laughter from the Capitol's revelry reached her ears, a stark contrast to the silence within the grand room.

She gazed at the grand bed, its expanse an unspoken testament to the distance between her and the man she had once called a friend.

"You're sleeping at the Sofa" he hissed

As she settled onto the sofa, the cushions felt cold and unforgiving.

She gazed at the grand bed, its expanse an unspoken testament to the distance between her and the man she had once called a friend.

The refusal to share a bed, a symbolic rejection that echoed through the silence, carved a deep wound in her heart.

Tears welled in her eyes as she replayed the events of the wedding night—the vows exchanged without sincerity, the applause that masked the absence of genuine joy, and now, the solitude that defined her first night as Coriolanus Snow's wife.

The sofa offered little comfort, its unyielding surface a reflection of the emotional distance that had grown between them. She slept alone on the sofa, the grand bed bearing witness to the ache of a connection lost.

The first light of dawn painted the Capitol in hues of gold, but for her, it offered no warmth. The reality of her situation loomed larger than the grand structures that adorned the city. She descended from the balcony, her steps heavy with the weight of unshed tears.

Days turned into weeks, and the semblance of a life continued. The Capitol, indifferent to the personal tragedies within its glittering facade, carried on with its relentless demands. She, who was once a beacon of creativity, moved through the motions with a hollow gaze.

Coriolanus Snow, now consumed by the machinations of power, remained a distant figure in her life. The corridors of their grand residence echoed with a profound silence, a testament to the emotional chasm that separated them.

One evening, as the Capitol bathed in the twilight glow, she found herself in the Academy library, a place that once witnessed the blossoming of their connection. The shelves, lined with volumes of forgotten dreams, stood as silent witnesses to the passage of time.

In the quiet solitude of the library, Her fingers traced the spines of familiar books. Memories flooded back — shared laughter, whispered dreams, and the unspoken bond that had defined their youth. She closed her eyes, attempting to capture the fragments of a time when love still flourished.

Weeks turned into months, and the grand wedding, a distant memory, held no solace for her. The corridors of their residence, once filled with shared laughter, now echoed with the hollowness of a connection irreversibly fractured.

As the Capitol skyline glowed with artificial brilliance, she stood on the balcony, a silhouette against the backdrop of a city that demanded everything but love. The echoes of their past laughter lingered, mingling with the distant hum of Capitol life.

Coriolanus Snow approached, his gaze fixed on the sprawling expanse below. The balcony, once witness to their private moments, now served as a stage for the remnants of a connection that refused to be forgotten.

"The Capitol's demands grow more strict, could you stop acting all sad, asking attention from the public ? It’s pathetic, we must play our parts better, give the Capitol what they want so-” he remarked, his voice a detached melody that echoed through the night.

“So you can get more power ?” She scoffed

“What more do you want from the people now that you’re President ?”

A bitter smile played on her lips. "Our parts, Coriolanus, are nothing more than roles in a tragic play. The Capitol demands perfection, but it has no regard for the cost."

His gaze, cold and unyielding, met hers. "Cost is not important when compared to the splendour of power. You knew the rules when you entered this dance, Flare."

The balcony, bathed in the soft glow of Capitol lights, became the theater for a final act. She was weary and disillusioned then locking eyes with Coriolanus Snow — a man she once loved, now a stranger draped in the trappings of power.

"Coriolanus, I once believed in a world beyond the Capitol's expectations. But we are prisoners, dancing to a tune composed by a heartless regime."

His laughter, devoid of warmth, cut through the night. "Prisoners, perhaps, but also architects of our destiny. Embrace the role, or be swept away by the currents of irrelevance."

The question hung in the air, a heavy cloud of unspoken tension settling over the room. Her voice, though calm, carried a subtle edge as she uttered words that dared to touch the forbidden.

"Would it be different if she was the one to marry you?"

Coriolanus Snow, his features frozen in an icy mask, felt the room temperature drop several degrees. The mere mention of Lucy Gray Baird, the elusive victor of the 10th Annual Hunger Games, was like a sharp dagger thrust into the depths of his guarded emotions.

His eyes, usually cool and composed, flared with a sudden anger that he struggled to conceal.

"You dare bring her up?" The words hissed through clenched teeth, each syllable dripping with a venomous disdain that seemed to materialize from the depths of his resentment.

Though she was well aware of the sensitivity of the topic, pressed on with a quiet determination. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the weight of unspoken histories loomed.

"She's the one you cheated the Games for, isn't she? The girl you loved and then conveniently let disappear,"

she continued, her voice unwavering despite the storm brewing in his gaze.

A cruel laugh escaped him, devoid of any genuine mirth.

"You think you know anything about her? About us?"

The tension crackled in the air as he paced, the room feeling suddenly too confined. His anger, a turbulent undercurrent, sought an outlet in biting words.

"Let me make something clear, Flare. Lucy Gray was never meant for someone like you to understand. She was extraordinary, and you…"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over her form with a disdain that cut through the air.

"You're just a pale imitation, desperately clinging to a reality you can't grasp."

Though wounded by his words, she refused to back down.

"And yet, you married me. So, why don't you tell me, Snow ? Would it be different if she was the one standing here in this lavish room, wearing this elaborate dress, playing the part I am assigned ? "

His eyes, stormy and unforgiving, locked onto hers.

"Maybe she would have had the decency not to bring up the past to throw your own indiscretions in your face."

The words hung in the air, an unspoken challenge between them. The room, once a sanctuary, now bore witness to the unraveling of a carefully constructed facade, revealing the cracks beneath the surface of their strained union.

Undeterred by the venom in his words, Seraphina met Snow's stormy gaze with unwavering determination. She fought back, her voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

"If Lucy Gray was so extraordinary, then why is she not here ? If she really loved you, wouldn't she have stayed ? Or maybe, she vanished because she realized what a heartless, cold creature she had involved herself with."

Her words, a counterattack fueled by the fire of her own pain, struck at the heart of his defenses. Snow's stoic facade wavered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability surfacing in his icy eyes.

"You want to believe in a love that never wavered, but you're deluding yourself. Lucy Gray saw through you, just as I do now," she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The room felt like a battlefield of emotions, each word exchanged a weapon aimed at the other's vulnerabilities. Seraphina pressed on, refusing to let his harsh words break her spirit.

"And here we are, in this grandiose room, in this sham of a marriage. You can't escape the fact that I am your wife, Coriolanus, and no matter how much you resent it, I'm not going to disappear like Lucy Gray."

A bitter smile played on her lips, a mix of defiance and resignation. The Capitol lights outside seemed to dim in comparison to the intensity of their verbal clash. The echoes of their unraveling union reverberated in the silence that followed.

The room, once a symbol of their forced unity, now stood witness to the fractures that no extravagant facade could conceal. She turned away from the balcony, leaving Snow to grapple with the lingering echoes of her words and the stark reality of their entangled fates.

TAGLIST : @randomgurl2326 @rosewine-5

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planet-marz1 · 6 months

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Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer.

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This-

It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions.

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 7 months

Text

Illicit affairs (chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

'Love' The word floats between all of us on a soft gust of air. 'Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you're willing to live for it' Most people think the greatest sacrifice they can make is to die for something. They are wrong.

The truest act of love someone can make is to live for something- to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you never recognize.

It is a tale of 4 souls twisted and helpless in their love lives. It is a narrative that contains some heartbreaks, the bitter taste of unreciprocated affection, and one that dared not to unveil itself- which takes courage to love for so long from a distance.

This is a story where one soul offered everything at love's altar, a vulnerable sacrifice, while another callously exploited that very vulnerability, sowing discord where passion once blossomed...

Y/n's pov

The room feels colder than usual as I stare out the window, my heart sinking with every passing minute. The anticipation is suffocating, and my patience wears thin. "Again," I whisper, the word heavy with disappointment.

I watch the street below, searching for a familiar figure that is yet to appear. The seconds drag on, and my anxiety intensifies. The lump in my throat grows, making it harder to swallow. A sigh escapes me, a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"He is late again."

I can't help but clench my fists on the curtains, the fabric bunching in my grip. The emptiness in the room echoes the ache in my chest. Tears threaten to spill, and I fight to hold them back. I bite my tongue, tasting the metallic tang of frustration as I try to steady my trembling emotions.

I force myself to look away from the window, taking in shaky breaths to regain composure. Each breath feels like a struggle, a battle against the rising tide of disappointment. I look up, my eyes blurred with unshed tears, and will myself to find strength.

Deep breaths. In and out.

I wrestle with my emotions, fighting the urge to crumble. It's a lonely battle, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of my own heartbeat.

half an hour later

The sound of the door knob rattling pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see him entering, supposedly from his so-called 'jogging' session. His disheveled hair and the hickey marks on his neck don't escape my notice, but I keep my gaze down, focusing on chopping the ingredients for breakfast. The rhythmic slicing helps channel my frustration into the task.

Silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of disappointment. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the emotions bubbling within me overflow. Why me, I wonder.

I put on a fake smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Breaking the tense quiet, I decide to confront the reality before me, choosing words carefully as I break the uneasy silence.

"How was it?"

The question hangs in the air as I continue chopping, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. The tension is heavy as I await his response.

He seems startled, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption to your silence. Nervously, he stammers a response.

"Huh? W-What?"

"Jogging... You went jogging, right?" I press, my eyes focused on the task at hand, but my peripheral vision catches his every move. I put down the knife, turning to face him with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Oh, jogging... Yes, jogging... Yeah, it was good... good," he replies, the words rushed and accompanied by a forced smile. The tension lingers, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, and I maintain my fake smile, masking the hurt that hides beneath the surface.

The question hangs in the air, a carefully veiled inquiry concealing the knowledge I already possess. "Bucky," I murmur, the weight of the question palpable in the room. "how many years has it been since our arranged union? One or two?" I lock eyes with him, searching for a flicker of guilt, a hint that he might confess to the secrets he thinks are well hidden.

The room feels heavy with the unspoken truth as I press on, my voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of accusation. "You would never hurt me, right?" I ask, knowing the answer even before the words leave my lips. His eyes betray a hint of unease, a fleeting glimpse of a man caught in his own web of betrayal.

I turn my attention to the task at hand, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter as I continue, "It's just, sometimes I wonder about our arranged marriage. Do you?" My words linger in the air, a calculated challenge, as I maintain a facade of innocence, masking the storm of emotions that swirl within me.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably under the weight of my penetrating gaze, his eyes momentarily faltering before regaining composure. "Uh, yeah, it's been two years," he answers, attempting to sound nonchalant. His attempt at a casual demeanor betrays a hint of unease, a subtle acknowledgment that he senses the underlying tension.

I maintain my facade, the corners of my lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. "And you'd never hurt me, right?" I press further, watching for any subtle changes in his expression. Bucky hesitates, a fleeting moment where the truth seems to hang in the air. "Of course not," he replies, the words lacking the conviction they once held.

As I turn back to my task, the air between us crackles with unspoken truths and concealed betrayals, creating a rift that neither of us dares to bridge.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's response hangs in the air, a weight on his conscience that he can't shake off. As I turn away, the guilt tightens in his stomach. He can't escape the unease, knowing he's betraying not just the arrangement but the person at the center of it.

He sighs, heavy with remorse, as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water becomes a feeble attempt to drown out the turmoil in his mind. Bucky leans against the cool tiles, steam clouding the mirror, mirroring the fog in his thoughts.

"What have I done?" he whispers, the weight settling in his stomach. The jog's facade crumbles, revealing the truth of his choices. The affair, the lies—it's a web tightening around him, and he's not sure how to break free without causing irreparable damage.

Under the shower's cold stream, Bucky stands, his hand braced against the tiles. The water pounds against him, a feeble attempt to wash away the guilt. As each droplet falls, he confronts the consequences of his actions. The arranged marriage, once a distant pact, now feels shattered. Bucky closes his eyes, trying to block out the guilt threatening to consume him. In the cascade of water, he faces the mess he's made, uncertain if there's any way to salvage the delicate threads holding their union together.

The cold shower beats against Bucky, a stark contrast to the heat of his thoughts. His hand tightens on the tiles as he battles the storm inside. The water's steady drumming echoes his emotions, a chaotic mix of regret and confusion.

"What am I doing?" he mutters, the words lost in the shower's noise. The images of his mistakes play on a loop in his mind—the marks on the neck, the messed-up sheets. It's a vivid reminder of betrayal.

The truth is undeniable. The affair breaks trust, a breach of the commitment he made, even if reluctantly, in this arranged marriage. As the water rushes over him, Bucky tries to wash away not just the physical traces but the guilt staining his conscience.

The fogged-up mirror reflects a man in conflict. His guilty eyes meet their own gaze, and for a moment, he doesn't recognize himself.

"What have I become?" The question lingers, unanswered, as he stands beneath the unrelenting water. The bathroom isn't a refuge; it amplifies the loneliness. Bucky is stuck in a silent struggle, torn between duty and desire, unsure if he can find a way out without leaving everything shattered behind.

Dot's POV

(girl with whom Bucky is cheating with)

"He is gone again," I murmur to myself, my gaze fixed on the fan dangling from the ceiling. The bed beside me feels emptier than usual, a constant reminder of his absence. The weight of silence settles in the room, and once again, I find myself engulfed in loneliness...

Every day, it's the same struggle. A battle between the promise I make to myself and the undeniable pull he has on me. "Every time... every day. I let him in," I admit in the quiet of my thoughts. The bed, cold and untouched, bears witness to my internal conflict. It's a routine of surrendering to a love that should never have blossomed.

"I can always stop," I tell myself daily, a mantra of resistance that crumbles with each passing moment. The realization hits hard — I'm ruining myself for him. The weight of guilt presses down as I acknowledge the gravity of my actions.

"I am so bad," I confess silently, my heart heavy with self-loathing. I'm entangled in an affair with a married man who has a loving wife. The reality of my choices echoes in the hollow spaces of the room. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to no one but myself, a futile apology to the shadows that witness my moral descent.

"I hate myself... I hate it," the thought echoes, a painful admission of the self-destructive path I tread. Love, tangled with regret, becomes a poison that seeps into every corner of my being. Yet, despite the self-flagellation, the ache for him lingers, a bittersweet melody that refuses to be silenced.

The room, my safe place, now shows the mess inside me. I turn from the fan's spin, lost in the shadows. The secret love has left marks, stains that no apology can wipe away. As I try to understand this mess of feelings, I wonder if I can ever fix the pieces of my self-respect that have shattered.

The words slip out in a hushed murmur, barely audible in the quiet room. "I am sorry." The weight of the apology hangs in the air, a fragile attempt to mend the fractures that linger between us. It's a simple phrase, but it carries the echoes of regret and a longing for forgiveness. The weight of regret settles in, and I can't help but wonder if these simple words will ever be enough to mend the fractures I've created.

The illicit affair has left its mark, a stain that no amount of whispered apologies can erase. As I search through the wreckage of my emotions, I'm left to wonder if the fragments of my self-respect can ever be pieced back together.

Not everyone gets the same version of me.

One person might tell you I'm an amazing beautiful soul.

Another person will say I'm a coldhearted bitch.

Believe them both, I act accordingly.

-love

Chapter 2

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10 @learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff @dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07

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cruciomee · 3 months

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Why do you like the Greens so much. You seem very kind and it’s weird to me you like the clear villains/usurpers of the story (especially because they die out).

Honestly, I would normally be upset at this kind of question simply because I hate discourse. I am a people pleaser & in my heart I want everyone to be happy in the fandom. So normally, I would ignore this but not gonna lie. This question was kind of funny.

First & foremost, I was really neutral before I joined Twitter. I did not care about the silly who has more right to rule nonsense. I read fire and blood before the show came & the only thing I was looking forward to was “The Battle Above the Gods Eye” & Sunfyre coming back (because that dragon comes back!) Characters on both sides were equally interesting, but also equally boring for me. It was a specific part of the fandom on twitter to turn me so team green

On a sheer engagement level I have found that anything I draw with team black does not get very much interaction. You would think that ifRhaenyra is the most popular character in the show, if you draw something of her you will get some from of engagement but that is most definitely not the case. so sometimes I wonder if she actually has fans or is this fandom just full of people looking for a fight & use her as their excuse. Either way, I like drawing team black characters but what’s the point if no one wants to actually see it.

Now onto my personal opinions, I like my favorite characters to suffer. I hate cookie cutter happy go lucky stuff. The better a character is made to seem the more I don’t care about them. They become extremely boring to me. Im someone who likes a messy character. The more toxic the person the better. just because I like that kind of character doesn’t mean it has any effect on me as an actual person. fiction is not the same as reality! I don’t like discord in reality, but I love it in fiction! I hate toxicity in reality, but I love it in fiction! Aegon ii is a pathetic trashcan & I love to see him suffer. I can’t wait to see him burnt & broken! I also can’t wait to see him force himself off of Milk of the poppy & for his dragon to come back to him against all odds. I’m so ready to see his death, he needs to be alone & miserable. The fact I’m a kind person who honestly loves drawing kids & family interactions more than anything has nothing to do with what I want to see/read. I read some crazy toxic fanfic & the character I like the most is always the one getting emotionally destroyed in them. Everyone has their thing that they are into & I would never judge them so why should you judge me for liking a bunch of miserable losers who wear green in a show about dragons fighting for no good reason other than on who has more privilege to sit on a metal chair made of swords.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #hotd aegon #fire and blood #why im team green #team green

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downbad4mark · 1 month

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i'll only make you cry

( haechan / reader )

a/n: my bad i was listening to CAS and remembered haechan

genre: angst

wc: 860 (very short! thank god because i was getting sad typing it out)

the strains of your love with donghyuck were like melodies intertwined, harmonising in a delicate dance that echoed through the chambers of your heart.

in the early days, when the world was still painted in the vibrant hues of new beginnings, donghyuck was a beacon of light amidst the shadows, a steadfast presence that anchored you in the storm. he would surprise you with small gestures of affection, leaving notes scattered like breadcrumbs for you to follow, each one a whispered promise of his love. and on lazy sunday afternoons, he would whisk you away on impromptu adventures, exploring the hidden corners of the city with the enthusiasm of a child.

it was the little things that spoke volumes, the moments that lingered in the quiet spaces between your heartbeats. he would wrap you in his embrace when the world grew too loud, holding you close until the storm passed and the world fell silent once more. and when the weight of the world threatened to crush your spirit, he would be there to lift you up, his laughter a beacon of hope in the darkness, his smile a reminder that even in the depths of despair, there was still beauty to be found.

but as the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, the notes began to falter, discordant and fractured, drowning in the cacophony of life's demands.

donghyuck's days were consumed by the relentless rhythm of idol life, each moment dictated by schedules and obligations that left little room for rest or respite. as the pressure mounted with each impending nct comeback, you watched as the lines etched themselves deeper into his brow, the weight of the world pressing down upon his shoulders like an unyielding burden. hell, sometimes he would even come back home smelling like smoke and alcohol.

you tried to be understanding, to offer him solace in the midst of the storm, but the distance between you grew with each passing day, a silent chasm that widened with every unspoken word.

the cracks had begun to form long before either of you dared to acknowledge them. you could feel it in the way donghyuck's smiles grew more strained, in the distance that lingered in his eyes whenever he thought you weren't looking. but still, you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it was all in your head. and though your heart ached with the knowledge of his pain, you dared not burden him with your own.

but even as you watched him slip further from your grasp, you remained steadfast in your love, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

and so, you stood by his side, offering your silent support as he navigated the treacherous waters of fame and fortune. you bore the weight of his problems as if they were your own, sacrificing your own needs for the sake of his dreams. you buried your fears beneath layers of forced laughter and fleeting kisses, clinging to the fragments of a love that seemed to slip further from your grasp with each passing day.

but in the end, it was not enough to bridge the growing chasm between you, to mend the shattered fragments of a love that had once burned bright. for even the strongest hearts can falter beneath the weight of expectation, and even the most resilient souls can be broken by the harsh realities of life.

the nights were the hardest, when the silence wrapped around you like a suffocating embrace, suffused with the weight of unshed tears and shattered dreams. you would lie awake, listening to the steady rhythm of donghyuck's breathing beside you as he slept facing away from you, wondering if he could hear the silent cries of your heart breaking into a million pieces.

and he could.

he turned around to face you. as he stared at your face, puffy and laced with tears, he uttered the words that shattered the fragile illusion you had clung to for so long.

"hey… i can't do this anymore," donghyuck confessed, his voice barely a whisper as he turned away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer. "i thought i could, but… my heart isn't in it anymore."

the words hung heavy in the air as you laid next to each other, each syllable a dagger that pierced your already wounded heart. you wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, but the words caught in your throat, suffocated by the weight of your love for him.

a single tear fell from donghyuck's eye, a silent testament to the love that had once bound you together, now lost to the winds of time. "i'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with a pain that mirrored your own, as he wiped the tears off your cheeks. "i-i never meant to hurt you…"

but the apology offered no solace, no balm for the ache that consumed you from within. for in that moment, you realised that love was not always enough to mend what had been broken - that sometimes, even the strongest bonds could be eroded by the passage of time.

©downbad4mark

#nct x reader #nct imagines #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct angst #haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #nct donghyuck #lee donghyuck

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miasmaclockworks · 3 months

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Inhale (killk me)

kinito pet au ideas (all mine now)

Pirate au, swap/opposite au, frenzy au, beach vally au, valentines au, broken computer virus (BCV) au, house care au, real virus au, mimic au, best friend au, candyland au, light's out au, time traveler au, steam punk au, ghost au, phasmophobia au, dragon barrier au, librarian au, magical forest au, fruit au, fruit au, furry au, sailor moon au, pride au, obsessed au, ice cream au, midnight starlight au, AHIT au, star collector au, broken heart au, rejected friend au, accepted friend au, Poppy Playtime au, Five Nights At Freddys au, Warrior cats au, Midnight driver, killer au, prince of the night au, pool swimmer, Magical boy au, Critical au, Escape room au, god au, AU god au, Au hunter AU, scream au, Mii au, plane crash au, pilot au, mc donalds worker au, driver au, smile tapes au, nightmare au, night gamer au, artist au, over eater au, roblox au, creator au, caseoh au, wii au, wand au, childhood friend au, possessed au, apple core au, string worm au, drunkie au, caretaker au, love maniac au, drier au, washing machine au, Im a pretty princess au, venting au, among us au, gentle man au, Youtuber au, Actual axolotl au, you are what you eat au, mince meat butcher au, butcher au, doxxed au, sally the witch au, autistic au, ADHD au, Autistic and ADHD au, Motherborn au, alien au, Mother Mother au, soul au, dragon born au, vampire au, vampire hunter au, it was all just a dream? au, sunshine au, digital circus au, clockwork au, gymnastics au, rainbow factory au, twisted and turned au, patchworks au, unseen au, joker au, minimum wage worker au, skinwalker au, kinito darling au, forever and ever, everlasting pain, story teller au, time teller au, zoo keeper au, smiling critter au, truth be told au, rizzler au, farmer au, anthro au, Digital pop up au, backfired au, chef au, cuphead au, BABQFTIM au, carnival au, internet explorer au, kidnapper au, robber au, parental figure au, parent au, father au, apple picker au, trans au, siren au, mermaid au, cloud critters, monster energy au, emo au, goth au, alt goth, prince au, princess au, priest au, reality au, Epic the musical au, bass voice au, prince of the sea au, stranger au, never used au, stranger things au, abandoned au, hazbin hotel au, lemon and lime au, softie au, grunge au, sugar crush au, rainbow friends au, block break friends au, sugar crush au, sweet tooth au, undertale au, heartless au, toxic au, waist au, epic au, error au, fresh au, reaper au, horror au, other sans aus, medical au, high school au, ruby and max au, little horrors au, planter au, plant au, crystal au, glass crystal au, rockstar au, ancient Greek au, mario au, shroomba au, sonic the hedgehog au, snowday au, cave monster au, dinosaur au, game show hoster au, lunar moon au, bloodmoon au, eclipse au, sundrop au, moondrop au, dignity au, angels gaurd au, demons gaurd au, king of hell, king of the sea au, mother nature au, king of the land, landlord au, your boyfriend au, planetary au, leopard gecko au, leopard au, train conductor au, mountain lion au, polar bear au, Mad Scientist au, don't die au, raindrops au, seraph au, always watching au, teacher au, birthday party au, husk au, royal au, gummy bear au, cannibal au, discord au, My little pony au, bumblebee au, cat au, animal au, sweet treat au, warzone au, warframe au, roblox au, unicorn au, factory worker au, you au, dihedra au, pee au, every au I forget, Deleted forever au (not really), sleep tight au, Fire borne, dragon au, mythical animals au, goodbye friend, rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles au, Replicate au, smartie pants au, femboy au, backrooms au, gurlie au, too silly au, silly au, TADC au, lovesick au, grand master au, crazy au, lab monster au, (insert every animal here) au, Monster under your bed au, sloozy au, nightmare monster au, aroace king au, your imagination au, salamander au, desktop pet au, ukagaka au, he knows what you are au, roller blades au, you can run but you can't hide au, poison rain au, dementia au, mr worldwide mr 305 au, anime au, welcome home au, Yume Nikki au, gacha life au, gacha club au, Battle blocks au,

#kinitopet #kinito my beloved #kinito pet au #kinito pet #kinito #etc #kinito au #please don't steal #im watching you fools #yer fools

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emtheanxiousdragon · 7 months

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Our Hæth: A Wanderhome ARG

Ok so if you are any sort of game designer, whether that be a programmer for a mobile app, an artist for an indie TTRPG, or a top-tier producer at a AAA-game studio, you should read Reality is Broken by Jane McGonigal, it inspires you to make games that don’t just form digital communities or entertain, but allow a deeper connection to your real life.

And one game that I think, with a twist, could really fit McGonigal’s idea is Wanderhome, the excellent pastoral RPG by tumblr’s very own @jdragsky . This game is beautiful, simple, and a tool for telling these lovely stories about anthropomorphic travelers exploring a recovering society and finding themselves along the way.

Now, let me introduce my idea, tentatively titled Our Hæth: A Wanderhome ARG.

You make a Wanderhome character, just like in a typical game. You also make a separate Wanderhome profile that represents yourself. (this can be your actual Wanderhome character if you want to take on an alternate persona). This secondary Wanderhome character doesn't actually travel the Hæth. They represent your journey in the real world. Your second character's playbook should fit yourself and what you hope to get from this experience. My secondary character will be a Peddler, because I want to grow my personal career.

Then you get connected to a Hæth. These are shared worlds/servers that begin like all Wanderhome games (at the start of Tillsoil very soon after the end of the war) and progress from there. You can start with other players or begin on your own and find others later.

When you wish to travel to a new area, instead of randomly deciding what it should be, you base it on your current location. It can be as simple as your bedroom or as grand as the Great Wall of China! I’ll show you what I mean with where I am now.

A beautiful pond, right? Let’s turn it into a spot in the Hæth! Our first nature is based on a literal take of the area. I’m by a pond, so the first nature will be Lake! The second nature is more metaphorical; based on what you know about your location, choose a nature that describes its personality. A lot goes on around this pond, so I’ll pick Carnival. The third nature should describe the place as it is when you arrive. The calm nature of the pond today means the third nature is Field. Build the location with the rules of each nature, combined with the traits of the season, and you’ve made a Place!

In Our Hæth, each location is permanently saved into the world you created it in. If other players want to visit this location rather than create a new one, they’ll replace the third nature and the seasonal traits and set off! They can see what you’ve written about the place and the adventures you’ve had here. If you know them in real life, you can share what the real-world inspiration is. If not, you can discuss as much about it as you feel comfortable sharing.

Once you're in a Place, great! Start playing Wanderhome. If you're alone, write down what your traveler does in this place. If you're with friends, get together in person and roleplay it out, or chat together over Discord or your online forum of choice. Their characters may travel with you for a while or your paths may diverge and reconnect later. Just remember what happens so you can share it as part of your character's story. When you make a Kith, go through the regular Kith creation process and add them to your Hæth. If other players visit this Place later, they may meet your kith and will want to know what happened.

The other big ARG element of this version of Wanderhome comes with using tokens. When your character does something to create a token, you need to do something to make a token in real life. Have a list of what different actions in Wanderhome mean for you in real life. For example, when my character Camper gives away something he holds dear, that means I have to complete some professional networking. Your token action should be challenging or good for you. Change your token action as your challenges and needs change. Make them fit your life and your goals.

Take a break to complete your token action, or write it down for after the session. You won't be able to spend your real-world token until you complete your task. Once that's done, the next time your character spends a token, you can spend one too! Your token rewards are something positive to reward yourself for putting in the effort and caring for yourself, your relationships, or the world. In my Hæth, when Camper keeps someone safe from the difficulties of the world, I get to take a nap rather than work!

The months can change in small groups when you agree to change them. In bigger groups, you may set a real-world date for the change in the months. Ask the month's question to yourself and your Wanderhome character. Consider your answer a "yes" regardless of which one of you says so. When the time comes for the seasons to change, set up a party with others in your Hæth or throw your own private celebration. Just as the holiday marks a moment of personal growth for your character, take a major step forward with your own goals. As Camper celebrates the new year, I'm going to start searching for a summer internship. I'll adapt my token actions and rewards as needed, and I'll continue playing.

So long as you have Wanderhome, you can play this game. You can keep track of your Hæth in a notebook, on a google doc, whatever. My perfect version of this project would be a little website where players can join different Hæths, watch their world grow on a virtual map, see all the information neatly organized online, and connect to a wide range of people in the Wanderhome community.

Thoughts?

#wanderhome #jay dragon #possum creek games #arg #wanderhome rpg

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nexility-sims · 1 month

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟒 (𝟐/𝟐) ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | THE DEN, AUGUST 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ There was no reason for him to explain what he meant. It was a simple question with a simple answer. Still, Leonor’s mind began contorting itself in an attempt to grasp for nuance or stray considerations that could prevent her from recognizing that answer. Even though she had explained the situation to Renzo, these were still taboo thoughts. The distress they brought her—that contemplating her grandmother’s suspicions or her father’s implied regrets inspired—was all but physical. Sometimes it became that, too.. The pain in her chest had been real, hadn’t it? The way her throat constricted and threatened to close in on itself when she cried was real. Panic started in the mind, but it infected the body. As the early months of 1991 dragged on, a static hum of grief replaced the mind-numbing silence of mourning. The noise, though persistent, didn’t drown out everything else. She thought of her mother every day, and the forbidden thoughts occasionally let themselves in: Had he killed her? Did her grandmother know something she didn’t? Is that why her family sundered as it did—not just because her grandmother ripped it apart but because his guilt did?

❧ post extended sex scene y or n

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

There wasn’t panic today. Now several months out, Leonor had more control over herself than that. She nonetheless felt cagey as Renzo watched her, knowing what was going on in her mind but refusing to indulge the part of her that believed itself too frail for such a conversation. Still withholding an answer, she got up from the stool and walked away from the bar. Her back was to him, and she contemplated chewing her fingernails as she thought back to the lunch with her father. He had shown her the scar on his hand again. Leonor refused to look at it for too long. She didn’t want to stare at the discoloration while he poured out a flood of details for which she had no use—violent ones about broken glass and blood, plaintive ones about her mother’s matchlight indignation and his own retrospective shame. It was strange, Leonor thought now, how so much of the story centered on her rage, her ferocity, her volatility.

At the table in the restaurant, they wept—not together, but as he clasped her hands with his scarred one, while she struggled to hold this ugly memory foisted upon her yet again, one in which her gentle and sensible mother’s madness killed her. The difficulty was not that it was hard to imagine. She saw the scene with perfect, painful clarity. What she found burdensome, then and now and forever, was the discordance. Her memory of her mother was not who she had been when she died. Every attempt of her father’s to bring her closer to the reality of what happened only served to bring her further from peace. He didn’t seem to understand that. Worse, in seeking to somehow absolve himself through blunt candor, he seemed not to care.

Leonor walked little circles, her heels tapping the hard floor as she did so. At last, she sank down onto a couch and sighed softly.

“All I know is that he’s lying about something,” she concluded. “Every time I talk to him, I walk away feeling like I know less than I did before. It’s weird.”

Having spun around on his stool to watch her aimless pacing, Renzo now stood up. He slipped his hands into his pockets and cast his eyes to the floor. Leonor, waiting for direction yet again, stared at him with expectation from where she sat.

“Fuck him,” he exhaled, abruptly saunting over to her. “Maybe it doesn’t even matter. You don’t want to see him, and you don’t want to know. So, don’t. That’s it.”

Leonor chuckled. “Oh, is it that easy? I hadn’t realized.”

He shrugged. “It could be, is my point. What do you want from him?”

For this question, she had answers, but they were no more concrete. She recalled with bitter fondness rosy girlhood days now past. This was a fuzzy period with an indefinite ending that began, she supposed, when she was born. In that time, she’d thought of her father as someone special. Her parents had always been a whirlwind of chaos, but there were far more days on balance where her father had made her laugh, chased her down for big hugs, gifted her all of the childish wants she ever expressed. His love beat down like a midday sun. Her mother’s presence was luminous, almost preternatural, but her father’s had once been rough fragrant skin and all-enveloping warmth and the delightful kind of bellyache that had to be earned. Like hot sunlight, it was embracing and overbearing, warming and scorching.

“I don’t want anything from him,” Leonor retorted, shaking her head. She groaned and flopped back against the couch. These were the low, worn leather couches that ringed the main room of the bar. They were comfortable, but it was impossible to stretch out the way she did now when the bar’s open sign glowed.

“What I want,” Here, she paused, slipping a finger into one of Renzo’s belt loops. She tugged it and insisted, “Is for you to read your poem to me. Sneak peek. I’m worth it.”

Renzo snorted. “Yeah, alright.” He turned on his heel, calling back as he returned to the bar to retrieve his paper, “I was trying to tease you with it before you brought up the daddy issues.”

Leonor rolled her eyes. “Shut up. Just read it with drama, okay? Perform for me.”

“When do I not?”

She was reaching around for something to toss in his direction, something softer than an ashtray or a partially burned out candle, when he returned and began to recite.

“A man walks / City to countryside / He is not discerning His knapsack is a galaxy / Saving space He slips into his pocket / Precious things Destinationless things A weeping rock finds it way”

Leonor stared up at him, listening to the story unfold but also watching as he became some altered version of himself. She had asked him to perform for her, yet she knew that he had conflict with the notion itself. Performance was what he did, but he chafed against the artifice of it. He claimed his music had no such pretenses—it wasn’t something he did so much as something he felt and believed in a way acting didn’t always inspire. Leonor understood. Hers was a life of performance, too, but the separation wasn’t so clear. Renzo flipped a switch and became an actor in a role. Leonor went home and struggled to rip off a mask she wore so often, so well, that it became inseparable from her very skin.

“There in the space it needs / He squeezes it This is what it wants / This is what it needs It needs Its needs A thing of desire / It won’t bring rain anymore Not into the knapsack”

She had described her predicament to him that way before, whispering it close to his ear as part of yet another confession. ‘I thought I liked it,’ she breathed. ‘I wanted to be that person. I wanted to be so perfect that it became real. It’s like ... That’s what she did.’ It had been an aside, this fundamental misunderstanding of her mother’s life, but it was nonetheless essential to the problem. Renzo talked about actors he admired from time to time. They were talented masters of the craft who made challenging, even soul-crushing roles look effortless. Always, there was struggle and exertion beneath the surface, but it was felt, not seen. ‘Who cares if it’s easy? You want it to hurt, right? God, is it even real if it doesn’t take something out of you? Art, or whatever the fuck, I mean,’ he explained. ‘They give so much. I feel like such a selfish bastard just thinking about it.’ There was frustration and desire in his voice when he went on those tangents, and that was something Leonor also understood.

“Cosmos-displaced / Destinationless thing It goes into his pocket He squeezes it / Its desire, its needs / Is he not discerning? A weeping rock finds its way”

When he was done, she sat up and clapped, exclaiming with real enthusiasm, “That was strange—I like it!” He looked pleased with himself and was slipping onto the couch besides her as she followed up with, “So, I have to ask ... Was that about me?”

Renzo turned to look at her full-on. “Do you want it to be?”

“That’s not an answer. I think you’ve written about me before, but I never asked.”

“Why not?”

She was grateful that she didn’t blush easily. “Well ... It feels presumptuous.”

“Are you not?” he laughed. “Man, I love that. That’s good to know. Makes me nervous.”

Skeptical, she asked, “Is that something you want to feel?”

“I like this thing we have,” he answered.

“That’s so cryptic,” she complained. Leonor narrowed her eyes but remained smirking, unable to find real annoyance with the evasion. If anything, it was the kind of provocation she liked—something, too, that distracted her from the conversation’s earlier topic. Even the poem itself didn’t matter much in the moment. “What does that even mean?”

“I really can’t tell you.”

“Oh, yeah?” “No, I can’t. I can show you, though.”

Now, she laughed, “Of course you can. You’d better—”

TRANSCRIPT:

LEONOR | All I know is that he's lying about something. Every time I talk to him, I walk away feeling like I know less than I did before. It's weird.

RENZO | Fuck him. Maybe it doesn't even matter. You don't want to see him, and you don't want to know. So, don't. That's it. LEONOR | [chuckles] Oh, is it that easy? I hadn't realized. RENZO | It could be, is my point. What do you want from him?

LEONOR | I don’t want anything from him.

LEONOR | What I want is for you to read your poem to me. Sneak peek. I'm worth it.

RENZO | [snorts] Yeah, alright. I was trying to tease you with it before you brought up the daddy issues. LEONOR | Shut up. Just read it with drama, okay? Perform for me. RENZO | When do I not?

LEONOR | That was strange—I like it!

LEONOR | So, I have to ask … Was that about me? RENZO | Do you want it to be? LEONOR | That's not an answer.

LEONOR | I think you've written about me before, but I never asked. RENZO | Why not? LEONOR | Well … It feels presumptuous.

RENZO | [laughs] Are you not? Man, I love that. That's good to know. Makes me nervous. LEONOR | Is that something you want to feel? RENZO | I like this thing we have. LEONOR | That's so cryptic. What does that even mean?

RENZO | I really can't tell you. LEONOR | Oh, yeah?

RENZO | No, I can't. I can show you, though. LEONOR | [laughs] Of course you can. You’d better—

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

43 notes · View notes