#Didn't allow him to look past the darkness of his sorrow

[k0fii]

Mutual Love and One-Sided Obsession

Love is mutual and that's the fundamental difference of MiziSua and IvanTill. That's what Ivan understood in his final moments - and that's why he said his feelings were shallow.

Prefacing this, not really an analysis but more of a personal connection and overview of the songs of alnst, with a quote from Richard Siken on love.

"If it was unrequited, it wasn't your first love, it was your first desire. You've got all your loves ahead of you. That sounds pretty great to me."

My Clematis; Love and the Significance of a Duet

My Clematis is a song that stands out amidst all other Alien Stage performances. Not only because it's a duet with the intentions of a tie, but also because Mizi and Sua are singing this song to and for each other. Instead of catering to the audience before them, they look to each other. In an act of defiance, they love each other. Sua sings to Mizi, as Mizi sings to Sua and this performance isn't for anyone else but them. It's beautiful, enchanting and Sua's death is made more painful by that love that's so clearly shown to the audience. Even as Sua is taken away from Mizi, nobody can deny the fact that they love each other. That the feeling between them was undeniably love.

Unknown (Till the End...); Idolization

In juxtaposition to My Clematis' heavy focus on the duet between Mizi and Sua, UTTE makes it a point to show how Till takes the spotlight all for himself one-sidedly, not even allowing his opponent to sing. In a way, this represents the extent of Till's idolization - only his feelings, the admiration for this idealized version of Mizi he has in his head are sang and borderline shouted out. The other singer is drowned out in Till's intense voice and declaration of love;

"Ain't nobody but you're the one that I'm feeling it's love"

However, Till fails to realize that the thing he wanted - Mizi's gaze to look back at him too - is rooted in reciprocity. It means allowing the other singer to get their voice out, it means allowing this preconceived notion he has of her in his head to be shattered by the reality of who Mizi truly is. UTTE is a representation of how Till's deluded image of Mizi overpowers the reality he currently lives in, it's a form of escape for someone who has always been shackled by chains.

It's a contradiction present in the song itself;

"I wanna know all about you (ya)"

For all Till sings that he wants to get to know Mizi, he never attempts to get closer to her and always, in his view of her, she's far away like an idol he can't reach. Like a god to a sinner that needs saving. It's the first desire of wanting to be saved, of wanting a saint to reach out their hand to you. And that first desire, as much as Till proclaims it to be love for its intensity, is known as something that's not love, something closer to obsession because of that very same intensity. Because that intensity prevents him from loving who Mizi truly is apart from who she represents in his head - again, it drowns it out.

Black Sorrow; Unrequitedness

Black Sorrow starts off with an admission; Ivan can't reach Till. He'll always follow him, even if he recognizes that all this will end in is tragedy. He constantly speaks of an absence - foreshadowing of Cure perhaps, but also of Till leaving him and turning back, of Till always choosing to not stay by his side, to chase for an unreachable idol. To the viewer, Black Sorrow is a song solely focused on Ivan but we can see in the video that Ivan allows his opponent to sing - a representation of his subservient nature but also perhaps of the fact he sees Till. He allows Till to sing out in deafening roars and sees him for what he is, and admires him for that. In contrast to UTTE's idealistic nature, Black Sorrow is very much rooted in reality. Till is pointedly not awake during this song - once again, he doesn't see Ivan but also he is not woken up to the reality that Ivan forces him to face. If not rooted in love because of the acknowledgement of unrequitedness, then what is Ivan's desire? It's to drown in his chosen black sea of sorrow.

Cure; Obsession and the Significance of a Duet

Ivan and Till both sing to someone who is not listening, they both sing to someone who is not looking at them in contrast to My Clematis.

"Dissolve me in your gaze

...

Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that

Not a single drop of me remains

Let me drown in you"

Till wants to drown in the fantasy he's created for himself - going back to the sinner analogy, he wants everything of him that he views as wrong cleansed by Mizi's saintly presence. For once, Till lacks the same conviction he did before - he's pleading now, and asking as if praying to a dead god. Maybe it's because he thinks Mizi is gone, maybe it's because he thinks he's beyond saving.

"May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

...

I'll drown in you"

Ivan remains the same, steadfast in his determination and doubling down on his declarations in Black Sorrow. He doesn't ask - he knows his 'love' is unrequited, but that he will drown in it anyways.

"To this everlasting melody

Face to face we dance

With our story

Lost in forever's embrace"

Despite the lyrics stating that they stand face to face, they don't - one is always looking away. That's why, the story of what they are and what could've came to be is lost in the embrace of a time that's both not there and forever there. What they could've been is not what they are because of that everlasting melody, the obsession the two of them have that is distinctly not love because it's unrequited. Because they will always ask to be consumed in another's gaze instead of simply looking at each other and seeing. Because Till's first desire is to be saved and Ivan's first desire is to drown, the round would have always ended that way.

"Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions."

Ivan thought he and Sua were similar at one point. He felt jealous when he realized that the fundamental difference between them was that Sua was loved, and he was not. I think that in his final moments, he recognized this jealousy for what it was - the incessant human need to be loved and to be wanted. And what does that love entail? He sees it in Mizi and Sua, it means loving and being loved in return. That's what love is, and with heartbreaking clarity, he understands that it's not what has driven him or Till this far. A one-sided obsession could never be love, because love is always mutual. To love is to be seen, to be known. Ivan was not the former, Till was not the latter.

He steels himself, he will drown in these shallow emotions, just as he always planned (even if the sacrifice was not). He knows this sacrifice seems hypocritical, but it couldn't be with such a simple yet clear difference.

Compared to the deep grief brought about by the deep and intense emotions of love and loss, the pain he will cause Till will only be as shallow as his own emotions. Because it only reached Ivan, only drowned him and it never seemed to reach Till.

[angelshimaa]

━━ 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

✧ cw :: gn!reader, angst + comfort (bc y'all asked nicely), reader cries a little :), it's a part two to this (please read first) !!

✧ a/n :: @ka0ila & @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory + the ppl asked for a pt two, so here it is !!

“you're late.”

you nearly jump at the voice, not expecting any sounds to come from the dark place, way too cold to call home. you only note the laziness of his words, and how deeply they come from him.

it's past his bedtime, and he's exhausted. the hurt part of you hates how deeply his mannerisms are engraved into your mind.

you walk towards the stairs, determined to make it to bed without sharing a singular word with him. it's then when you see his figure sitting right there, blocking your path.

“where were you?” the red of bakugou's eyes is tinted darker, more bloodshot as he looks at you. you hope your own aren't as red after having cried your soul out at mina's. you half wish you'd accepted her offer to crash there for the night, for you didn't know how exactly this night could go.

“away from you. isn't that what you wanted?”

the response nips at him and he remembers the words he'd spat at you. you watch how he plays with his hands, smoothing over the rough skin and the thought is almost hilarious— he looked nervous.

“i— i didn't mean it, y/n. any of it. i was angry— and i'm sorry.”

while you were burning in hurt and rage and bitterness and overwhelming sorrow as mina hugged you, you'd listened to your heart beg him for an apology. and now, after it being thrown out, it doesn't hold the same weight as you'd like.

“until when, bakugou?” he winces at the use of his last name— he was never ‘bakugou’ to you. “you're sorry until something goes wrong at work again? you're sorry until i ‘start yapping' again? until you can't stand to look at my face?”

while he can't look you in the eyes anymore, let alone answer you, you feel the lump in your throat solidify.

“move out of the way, bakugou. i need sleep.”

you climb up a step, and the only movement bakugou makes is to stand up.

“y/n, please. please— stay.” the fragility makes itself known in both your voices and you're too tired— your heart is too heavy to fight, to protest.

“ba— katsuki, i'm tired. you yank me about at your will, and i'm so tired. all i've done is stay— endure— and all it has gotten me is here.”

he inhales sharply at the sorrow in how you say his name and it shatters him to see just how hopeless you look— all because he can't keep his damn temper in check.

“i'm sorry. please, i'll— i'll do anything— just don't leave. i'll get help, i'll come home earlier— i'll listen. just, one more chance, please.”

moments pass and the tears well up looking at his face, the prettiest face you've ever laid your eyes on. it pricks at you, watching him ask so softly.

you're weak, and you're so helplessly in love with him.

“i only have one more chance in me to give.”

bakugou exhales, moving slowly toward you. it's when you feel his arms wrap around you for a hug, that you feel your muscles ease up for the first time in so long. your own arms wrap around him, hands grasping at the back of his shirt, and he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

the smell of him— of home— is what causes the tears to finally fall. his shirt catches them and you nuzzle more into him, the thought of letting go seeming unfathomable. you can't remember the last time he'd touched you, let alone held you so close, but you try and hold onto what it feels like. what being at home feels like.

katsuki shuts his eyes, keeping his tears in. as he whispers his apology, he swears to himself he'll never make you cry so much again.

it's the sound of his heartbeat that stops your tears and lulls you to peace, and the warmth seeps back into your home that allows your broken hearts to mend in silence.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

[ghostreblogging]

Omg like I had this dream about it yesterday. So what if batfam decided nope we're gonna ghost proof this house. And in the way they did it, they didn't use blood blossoms, ectoranium etc (blood blossoms are extinct and hard to find in large quantities and ectoranium is a space metal that nobody knows exist yet or confused with kryptonite) They used magic, so it's little less noticable.

And Tim decides to Invite his new friend over, aka Danny Fenton . Said friend refuses to touch anything while there. He wouldn't sit, eat food, or touch any of the occupants. And when he finally accidentally touches something, the spell works and he is captured with glowing chains or straight up thrown back into the infinite realms.

Danny finally has time for normal teenager shit. He managed slowly go through the bureaucratic shithole that is the infinite realms politics and he managed to come out with his sanity intact. Phantom is no longer a menace but a hero that tragically gave himself up to seal all of the Infinite realms (that is kinda true he did go through a nightmare to make sure ghosts didn't attack the living world and had to do the equivalent of centuries worth of paperwork to do that.)

And all things considered ghosts are a thing of the past for most people. ( He hopes that the ones he allows through keep their oaths and stay hidden)

And he can finally be a normal teenager again, albeit in Gotham of all places. But the death in the city masks his more inhuman traits and he really didn't wanna go through another paper work stuff to register himself as a meta without the meta gene, he would have to do that later though.

But he can do that later, he's on a vacation and he's not doing that.

-_-_-_-

He is standing in the doorway. People around him are getting their umbrellas and sadly he doesn't have one. He was debating internally if he should just go or go back to the lost and found for an umbrella.

He was waiting for Tim as he agreed to come for dinner. The car ride to the Wayne manor was calm, filled with few words.

All changed when he came to find the whole manor was covered in intricate magical circles and traps. He saw atleast few that straight up sent him to the dark parts of the realms and he didn't want to touch that. And as much as he wanted to straight up escape, Tim had been asking for multiple days.

So as much as he wanted to flee, his social skills are shit and he didn't want to risk the awkwardness afterwards.

So he tried his best. Didn't touch the ground floated slightly above it, didn't touch the furnitures cuz apparently it was considered part of the house, couldn't touch the walls. Couldn't even touch the residents before setting the alarms off.

He thinks he pulled it off. Of course he pulled it off everything was going smoothly and he just has to make sure he has everyone in the room in his sights and float a bit. Well until the actual dinner. He couldn't touch the food and he looked quite akward so much so Tim whispers to him.

"You okay? You aren't touching your food."

"Oh I'm okay, it's just-" before he could even start with his sorrowful excuses, someone someone grabs his arm, again it wouldn't have been a problem too it would only raise the alarm, until he is pushed down into the chair thus triggering multiple traps .

Big golden chains appear and he is arleady out of the chair by then. He opens a window and turns to say sorry but he accidentally trips over another trap and is pulled into the realms. He should probably cross Tim out of his list of friends.

-_-_-_-

Tim's friend just fell through a portal, should probably call Constantine about that.

Dick was the first one to speak up after the silence that incued.

"Did we just banish Tim's new friend to the shadow realm?"

"Wait why did he trigger the alarm? He didn't seem all that ghostly, was he like Jason"

"Probably. We probably won't see him again, do we just. . . Push the blame onto Constantine?"

" We are heroes-"

"And how the heck are we supposed to enter the realms anyway? And escape! Constantine greatly expressed that portal was one way only"

*Tommorow*

They see Danny just waltzing through Gotham and they pull him aside.

"What the fuck. You got pulled into the shadow realm yesterday! How do you even trigger the alarms"

Danny who arleady went through the five stages of denial and how tf am I gonna explain "oh you see i am a warlock of....uhhhh

I didn't think this far

OH PHANTOM. THE GREAT PHANTOM"

And after a very stressful meeting with batman and the entire JL dark members cuz apparently his alter ego became a big deal without his agreement.

Where he

Had to speed learn how to create duplicates

Had to fight off a few ghost lawyers cuz they wanted to be a part of "the very important meeting of importance"

Got asked to do magic (he's still learning okay?)

He panicked tried to sell one of his powers as a spell or him just having the copy of his patrons power.

More people got worried about him supposedly creating a contract with a very powerful new unknown diety

Got into the JL dark as a warlock

People apparently trusts him now???? As FENTON??????

Apperantly showing off weaker version of patrons power was a bad idea cuz he greatly overestimated the power limit.

He is a powerful warlock of a powerful "demon"?

WHAT THE FUCK DO U MEAN I- MY PATRON IS NOT A DEMON

"so what is he"

Uhhhhhh a guardian spirit?

Uunhuun soo it's phantom right.?? Leme do some research

WHAT DO U MEAN PHANTOM IS APPARENTLY A GOD AND IS KNOWN GLOBALY FOR BEING THE GOD OF HEROES??

Wait . . . . Clockwork. Oh my god.

Now he is the number one call up magic person for the bats now.

[eustasskidagenda]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get a Drabble for mihawk, luffy and/or sanji. I was wondering on how you think they would react if their Significant other had PTSD? like maybe they are very powerful and act fine after battle but at night they have night terrors. I think even if they put their guard down and something just triggers them? Thank you so much for your time ❤️

Hello dear! I have to admit that it wasn't easy, but I finally came up with something. I hope it will match your expectations, thank you so much for requesting. ☆

☆ Mihawk & Sanji with a s/o who suffers from PTSD

CW : g/n reader, hurt & comfort, PTSD, mentions of past trauma (nothing specific), alcohol (just Mihawk drinking a glass of wine) 

WC : around 500 for each

Sanji

The moon is softly glowing through the small window of your shared bedroom. Sanji's arms are tightly and lovingly wrapped around your waist on a calm, peaceful, starry night. When you suddenly begin to wriggle. Then, to sweat. Sanji wakes up that moment, half-asleep and half-concerned. "Hey, you're okay, love?" Of course you're not doing okay, your face is twisted in pain and fear.  

Sanji tries to wake you up by running his hand on your shoulder blade. But the nightmares are more powerful than his soft touch. Keeping you trapped in the dark and gloomy world of bad memories. "Love, wake up" It hurts to see you suffering. Why are you in such a pain? You always look so strong and tough, but then, here you are, with tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. 

Your scream is heart-breaking, as you suddenly wake up, sitting straight up on the bed. Sanji doesn't speak, but he lovingly strokes your back and runs his fingers on your cheek. When he wants to hug you, you fight back and push him away. "Just leave me alone!" 

Your sharp voice broke his heart. He takes a small step back, allowing you to calm down and breathe. But, leaving, never. Suddenly, you look around. You're not in that dark place anymore, but in the safety of your bedroom, with Sanji watching you with eyes full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Sanji" you whisper, the voice thick with emotions. "That was... " you can't even finish your sentence as you burst into tears. This time, you don't push Sanji away and allow him to tightly wrap his arms around your shaking body. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to wake you up." 

Sanji sighs softly, wrapping his fingers around your hair. "I don't need an apology. Just talk to me." He's eager to aid, but he's overwhelmed by confusion. It doesn't sound like a common nightmare. "It's just…" you struggle to find your words. I'm just haunted by those memories. I tried to bottle them up, but you know about the fight we had today? It triggered something deep inside of me. " 

Sanji frowns with his twirled brows. " Do… you have PTSD? " He hesitates to pronounce those words. Maybe because he has already guessed the answer. You can't talk, so you just nod and try to wipe your tears. Sanji grabs a tissue and softly cleans your face. "You… never show any sign…" Now, he feels bad. It's his role to be here for you. All this time, you were suffering alone. "I didn't want you to worry…" 

Sanji runs his fingers under your chin and crosses your gaze. "Even when you're struggling, I want to be there for you. You're maybe strong, but you can't always bottle up. You don't have to carry this burden alone." Sanji knows what he's talking about. He wouldn't be able to move on from his past without some people offering a helping hand. "Okay, I'll cook something soothing. And if you want, then we can talk." 

He smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

Mihawk 

It's already midnight and Mihawk is still unable to sleep. A good book, a comfortable armchair, a glass of red wine, and a quiet night are enough to keep him awake. His face is slightly illuminated by the candlelight. He turns the page of his book and crumples it. In a matter of seconds, he stands up. The muffled sounds he just heard are getting closer as he gets closer to your shared bedroom. He slowly opens the door to see you struggling and shaking, fighting against the sheets and whimpering in your sleep. Mihawk doesn't speak, he doesn't climb onto the bed either. He kneels down at the side of the bed and grabs your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, holding you close. You're fighting against the ghosts of your own dark memories. He can't see them, but he can tell them, he can feel them. 

"Stay with me." He finally speaks, with a soft voice. You wince in your sleep and then wake up with full eyes. Mihawk kisses your hands, his fingers still entwined with yours. "It was just a bad dream." You're lying. Those dark memories are haunting your mind, and whenever you close your eyes, you can see nothing but them. But you have to stay strong. You don't want to be a burden on someone. "That's sounds more like a terror nocturne." Of course, those piercing eyes can see through your lies. "Am I wrong?" Your silence speaks volumes. Mihawk frowns. He doesn't understand why you hide your struggles from him.

"It's… not just terror nocturne." Between two shaky breaths, you confess. "I have PTSD." His impassive expression suddenly changes to a surprised one. It only lasts for a second. "I… never noticed that" he admits, a bit frustrated with himself. He's supposed to be Hawk Eyes, yet he never saw you suffering in silence. "I won't ask you why you tried to keep this from me. I suppose you have a good reason." You shrug and wipe your tears with the tissue he gives you. The moon's illumination through the large windows illuminates your face, which is full of half-dry tears. "I'm just not used to talking about this. I'm sorry." Maybe talking about your trauma makes it more real. When you bottle up, at least, you can feel like you have control. Now, here you are, in pieces and trying to put yourself back together. "I want to know your story, Y/N" you frown "that's not an interesting one" 

Mihawk kisses your back hand. The texture of his lips is divinely soft. "If it's about you, it's an interesting one. But I won't force you. What can I do to help you?" You feel exhausted. All you want is to fall right back into sleep, but your heart is racing and your mind won't stop harassing you with intrusive thoughts. "I just want to sleep" you whisper, but you can't even close your eyes. Mihawk just stand up and leave the room. After a second, he returns with his book. "Let me read you a story. It's a good one." 

As he reads with a soothing, deep, and calm voice, the voices in your mind finally come to peace.

[wexhappyxfew]

Hello love! If it's not a problem for you, how about "what do you mean you don't know?" from prompt list #3 for my girl Annie?

If not, no worries, anything else is fine!

Thank you again, I love the way you write!

ah hello anon!! thanks so much for stopping by and dropping in a prompt - this one took a bit for me to write and wrap my head around for the direction i wanted and the end result is definitely something i like! :) featuring annie bradshaw, john brady, and a whole lot of emotions that are hard to navigate :'( enjoy!!

______________________________________________________________

The bed was probably the most comforting thing in the past few days more than anything else.

It was warm, and a place where she could shut her eyes from the world around her, and most importantly, she could finally let herself rest enough to get a few hours of sleep - something she was severely lacking on in recent happenings.

That and the fact Captain Brady was right there next to her.

One of the bigger changes in recent days as well. It sort of just happened. The two of them there. In bed side by side. He'd wandered in and she'd been in her bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, previous thoughts of just what had happened, mulling about in her mind - Major Cleven's fort going down, DeMarco along with him.

Then there had been Margie's tears and trying to comfort a girl who was feeling much more emotional than she thought she would've. There was recognizing that they really didn't know what had happened but that their first assumptions were as expected - MIA or dead.

So, Brady finding her curled in her bed, dead-silent, was something he probably expected.

Him settling down next to her?

Yeah, that was a whole new experience.

And now, with the evening rolling in, with bitter wind chills, the 'nap' (if you could call it a nap) was forcing her from sleep, where she was tucked protectively against his form, the rise and fall of his chest mesmorizing as she lazily blinked her eyes awake.

A part of her wanted to stay in this moment, right here, for as long as she could; curled against Brady, his arm around her, holding her as close as possible to him without it crossing any sort of lines they had tried to draw, his thumb gently brushing the exposed part of her wrist that was curled up against her own chest.

Annie softly let out a breath and then shifted her head to look upwards towards Brady's face, finding him completely passed out. The past few days had taken its toll on everyone; mission every day, losing people every day, planes going down left and right, less seats occupied in the mornings with filling breakfasts. His face was so soft in his sleep, the stress lines gone, his face light. She wondered back home if his own mother would ever pray that he'd come home and be able to sleep like this again - away from war, sorrow and pain. In a world where this, where they were right now, was so far removed from war that Annie could've allowed herself to envision this as a future.

"Hey," Brady mumbled, slowly peaking his eyes open in the sprinkling of evening darkness, shifting a bit as he yawned, looking towards her lazily.

This would be an awkward moment to not call him sir, right? Annie watched him for a moment, her hand lingering on his leather jacket that she was curled against and smiled slightly his way.

"Hi," she whispered back, her own eyes still feeling heavy as she stared at his darkened face in the poorly lit officers' barracks, "how'd you sleep? You were out-cold." Brady let a grin grow on his features, an evidently tired one, but a genuine one nonetheless and he settled again, his hand finding its way along her back, his touch lingering as he went.

"Probably the best I've had in weeks, and," he checked his watch, "to say an hour nap was the best in weeks is pretty sad if I'm being honest." She laughed. A light, genuine laugh.

Annie sat up a bit, leaning an arm on his chest, lying her head there and staring up at him, with probably the most boring gaze she could offer him, with her mind drained, her nerves shot and the last of her wits about her, depleted. But, the corner of his lip quirked up and he seemed to smile at her.

That was this thing with them; the crawling into each other's cots when things got too much, the lingering looks after launching themselves from the B-17s that nearly crash-landed after every mission, the eye contact in Interrogation or at the mess hall from across the tables. The knowing and undying of it all. The knowing, which hurt the most.

"What's up there?" Brady asked her quietly, reaching forward, almost as-if absentmindedly, brushing some hair from her eyes, like it were second nature, "your wheels are turning, I can see it." He always seemed to know when she was on some long train of thought that had no stops. Just that look in his eye, the way his gaze stayed longer than needed; he always knew.

"If you run into Margie, just give her a hug," Annie said quietly, "she's…..she's struggling. All of this." Brady was silent as he listened to her - something Annie gave him a lot of credit for. Just listening, letting her talk. So many times, it was her doing the listening for others. Him watching her so intently and immersed almost made her lose it on the spot.

"I don't know," whispered Annie, her voice tight, "Margie was finally just….letting someone else in? She's a sweetheart truly, but I don't know, ever since that night he took her dancing, she's been so happy, just….a ball of sunshine. He was good for her." And now the only thing uttered after DeMarco's name was MIA (and the other silent word no one wanted to say).

"Benny's a tough guy," Brady said with a nod at her, "and Margie's got more hope for the future than the rest of us combined." He met her gaze.

"And knowing Benny, he's not going out of this war because a German killed him," Brady said. Annie found herself able to smile a bit at the truth in his words - he was right. Benny DeMarco was tough as nails; but with Margie, he turned like a sunflower to sunshine. In her gut, she knew no one like him would just let it be the end.

Annie looked at Brady - fully. Taking in everything about his face, just simply him, that tired look in his eyes, the slight hint of a smile.

"What?" Brady said, his voice low, "There's something else bothering you." There was something deep inside of her, convincing her that nothing else was wrong - that it was the fact that her focus was so intense on Margie that it had consumed her. But then, she looked at Brady and her heart rate sped up.

"Just…." she trailed off, her heart continuing to pound; he continued to hold her gaze, firmer this time, more engrossed and focused solely on her - almost like he knew. Like he knew exactly what was she feeling. There was constant fear that swirled in her gut and made her feel sick. It made her feel like curling up into a ball and never facing the world again. A general fear for every aspect of her life right now.

Annie slowly sat up, trying to get a deeper breath than she was getting at the minute and nervously reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears and looked at Brady again, who looked more alarmed by the second.

"What's going on?" Brady asked quietly, sitting up and reaching forward - always inevitably reaching, like the rest of them. For more, for something better. His hands were there on her arms - and they were inviting, tender and present - right there.

"I don't know," Annie whispered, her voice tight - she did know.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Brady whispered back, his voice filled with concern, which continued to flood in. She looked up at him and shook her head, before staring at her hands again.

"I don't know what I'll do if it's you," she whispered. Brady's grip tightened on her forearms a bit and he let out that shaky breath he did when he held onto his breath for too long - something she would've jokingly commented on, but for now was something that made her stomach twist. Annie glanced up at Brady, his eyes already on hers, the two watching each other and those intermingled bit of words mingling between them.

"I can't control whatever happens in the future, Annie," he whispered and her name sounded ethereal on his lips, she suddenly wanted the world to wash away, "whatever happens, I'd find my way back to you. You know that." Did she though?

All those looks in the flying club, the drink sharing, the offer of his coat, or a hug, or to tell some really God-awful jokes that she always laughed at….did she know though? Was this anything? Or was it something to hold onto in this mess of a war? There was so much unspoken between them, like if they said anything, they'd jinx it all? Maybe that's why they just went along with it, why they were sat here like this, right now.

"Because I know sure as anything if you go down, I'd go on every mission day after day, to make sure the Germans pay, hell I'd come and find you no matter what," Brady whispered quietly, his tone firm, but full of truth, "and I hate to talk that way, to even let myself think it. But with what we do, every day, I have to be okay with that. And you, too." Annie slowly reached forward and took his right hand in her two palms and ran her fingers over the smooth palms of his hands, the tension slowly dwindling from his body as he sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her own. He let out a shaky breath.

"They got it coming."

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Thirteen.

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter.

A/N: Hi everyone, it took me ages for this chapter, I'm so sorry but here it is! Two more to go and then it's a wrap, I think.

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings for this chapter: angst, panic attack, poor mental health, reminiscences of a past trauma, physical and psychological pain, anger, betrayal.

_________________________________

Sweet brown eyes were gazing down at her with so much adoration that her heart swelled with love in her chest.

Warmth enveloped her as those same brown irises became closer and closer and fluttered closed.

She felt as if a featherlight touch was placed on her lips and she parted them, allowing a sigh to leave them.

She closed her eyes as his warm lips pressed against hers, light and soft as rose petals.

Love and longing grew in her heart as the kiss deepened.

An airy laugh, deep and raspy, reached her ears and she heard her own voice mirror it.

Then her eyes opened again and she was met with those same brown irises. Sweet and comforting like dark melted chocolate.

“Jake” she felt her lips form the word but no voice came out.

He was breathtaking, his long hair framing his face and a genuine smile beaming down at her like she had hung every single star in the sky just for him.

She loved him.

She realized it at that exact moment.

She felt her heartbeat pick up in her chest and, for the first time in forever, she experienced true and unadulterated happiness.

She could see nothing but love reflected in his irises and she sighed, contented.

Their bodies were tangled together. His skin was so soft and warm where it was touching hers. It was making her feel incredibly secure and calm.

She closed her eyes again and skimmed her lips along the delicate skin of his neck, feeling him shiver as a deep sigh left his throat.

But all of a sudden, she found herself again in the middle of that road.

And she met those same brown eyes that had been looking down at her with nothing but love seconds before through the windshield of a black car.

Love was nowhere to be seen in those eyes, entirely replaced by fear and panic.

She felt her heart shatter in her chest as she recognised who those eyes belonged to.

She had lost herself looking into them so many times she would have recognised them everywhere.

His face contracted in pure horror as he watched her body hit the windshield and shatter it.

Sorrow enveloped her like a wet blanket, sticking uncomfortably to her body and making her heart grow cold.

Iris woke up with a startle with his name and the salty taste of tears on her trembling lips.

A week had passed from that cursed day she had run away and nothing had changed.

She didn't have the energy to leave her house at all. Actually, she could just barely function and, if possible, she felt even more miserable.

She was utterly exhausted.

During the day, she couldn't stop thinking about what she had seen in Jake’s garage and she couldn't stop herself from trying to find another reason, aside from the obvious one, to explain why that car was there.

At night, she was positively afraid to fall asleep because the moment her eyes closed images of that night kept replaying in her mind. And when the tiredness got the better her sleep was plagued by constant nightmares and she always woke up in tears, panting heavily and calling Jake’s name.

At that moment, her clothes were drenched in sweat, but she was shivering. The blanket was strewn on the floor and the sheets crumpled, all signs that her sleep had been restless.

She noticed that there was a strange light in the room. The alarm on her nightstand told her it was 8:30 am but the sky was still oddly dark to be morning.

A rumble of thunder startled her and she sighed.

She had always loved thunderstorms, they helped her calm down and sleep, but now she couldn't stand them.

Everything reminded her on him.

And she couldn't stand it.

She felt the air leaving her lungs again as every single moment she had shared with Jake replayed in her mind.

His sweet comforting presence that day in her cold hospital room, when she had met him for the first time saved her. She felt the spark instantly. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

The day he gifted her the blanket when she was cold she felt her heart beat like crazy in her chest. That very blanket was now crumbled on her floor and she was unable to even touch it without having another breakdown.

The gentle encouraging words he always had for her, his grounding touch every time he helped her stand and walk, that melancholic song he played just for her with his guitar replayed in her mind like a film.

And then, the softness of his lips when he kissed her for the first time. That memory made goosebumps raise along her spine and she shook her head trying to make that thought go away.

But the thoughts only worsened.

Her brain cruelly reminded her of the first time she felt his body against hers, the first time his hands touched her body during rehabilitation, making her wish to be consumed by him in that very moment.

She quickly sat on the bed. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed to stop thinking about him.

Another thunder echoed in her room and she covered her ears trying to block flashbacks from invading her brain.

But it was useless.

Those thunders reminded her of the very evening she gave herself to him fully. The memory of his hot soft skin against hers made new tears slowly streak her flushed cheeks.

She felt nauseous at the thought that he betrayed her in that way. She gave in to the temptation with the very man that had caused all her sufferings.

She felt an indescribable feeling take possession of her heart.

Slowly deep sorrow gave its way to anger.

She felt used by him.

Betrayed.

Images of the night she spent at his house, the feeling of his lips on her neck, his strong hands on her hips made goosebumps raise on her skin and bile in her throat.

Suddenly she couldn't stand to stay in bed a second longer.

She stood as fast as she could, ripping away the remnant of blankets from her flushed body.

A deafening roll of thunder shook her windows mirroring exactly how she felt at that moment. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

A destructive need started to find its way in her mind as the noise of rain hitting the panes grew louder and louder.

Her gaze dropped to the soft blanket that Jake had gifted her back in the hospital and fury almost blinded her.

She crossed the room and opened a drawer. She grabbed a big pair of scissors and marched towards the blanket that was layin on the floor next to the bed.

With tears running down her flushed cheeks she started cutting the fabric and tearing it to pieces. Then she grabbed everything and stormed towards the door that led to a little balcony.

She opened it and threw those shreds down in the street with a frustrated scream.

Then she stood there and observed the fabric getting soaked and ruined as the heavy rain slapped her skin, unforgivingly.

Her knees touched the concrete of the balcony and it scratched her skin as water soaked her hair and clothes.

She started banging her fists on the concrete as her hot angry tears blended with cold raindrops.

She stayed there for an indefinite amount of time trying to suffocate her tremendous need for a man that she trusted with her life and that made her heart shatter into a million little pieces as the storm raged all around her and grew impossibly loud.

Then when she started to shiver and her hands and feet grew numb, she dragged herself inside and wrapped a towel around her body, closing the door behind her and muffling the noise of the storm.

Suddenly the annoying buzz of her phone on the kitchen counter startled her.

She didn't want to go see who it was. She already knew it. Her phone hadn't stopped buzzing with calls and texts since a few hours after she had stormed out of his house.

Someone had even come knocking at her door several times a few days later and she had buried herself deeper into her blankets not to hear the pleading voice that begged her to open the door.

Later, she found out that a little envelope had been slid under her door.

She debated at length if she should open it or burn it without reading it, but in the end she relented.

And what a big mistake that was.

The envelope contained a little white card with just five words written on it.

Those five words made her heart bleed all over again and tears began to flow freely once again, blurring her vision and ruining the ink as they wetted the paper.

Don't go away

Please stay

J.

The loud buzzing of her phone brought her back from her thoughts and she was unable to stop herself from running to the kitchen to see who was calling her.

Before she could get there it stopped buzzing, but when she reached it she gasped. She had 31 missed calls from the past three days.

Twenty of them were from Jake, ten from another number she didn't recognise, along with a shocking amount of texts she didn't want to read.

But the last call wasn't from Jake.

It was from her sister. Before she could call her back, her name appeared on the screen with another incoming call.

Iris didn't really feel like chatting with her but answered anyway.

As soon as she brought her phone to her ear, her sister's boisterous voice as she greeted her made an unexpected smile light up her face.

Her voice reminded her of home and she felt a bit better instantly. The unbearable weight in her heart easied a little.

They talked a little about her progress in physiotherapy but Iris quickly changed subject by asking her sister about her exams at university in Paris.

Then her sister told her something that made her heartbeat quicken with excitement.

“Yesterday after my exam I was walking near the Opéra Garnier and I decided to go visit it. Inside I saw that they were advertising a wonderful ballet internship and I thought about you! It starts six months from now. You should really apply! Think about it, it's Paris after all, sis! You could stay at my place.” Her sister told her cheerfully and Iris surprised even herself when she started considering it.

Then an idea popped into her mind and she cursed herself for not thinking about it sooner.

It was like her sister read her mind because she voiced what Iris was thinking just seconds after the thought formed in her mind.

“Why don't you come visit me one of these days?” Her sister asked her, then added as if she wanted to convince her “We could go visit a bunch of museums. I don't even have to study, my last exam for this year was yesterday.”

“You know? That's a fantastic idea! Let me get my laptop and I'm booking a flight right now.” Iris told her, running to her bedroom to search for her computer.

A change of scenery was exactly what she needed.

~

A week before

After checking Jake’s guitar order, Josh came back downstairs from the music room and noticed Rose crouched down near the door leading to the garage. She was whining, desperate.

He took a look around and noticed that Iris was no longer on the couch where he had left her, so he called her name.

But there was no answer.

He tried again. Nothing.

He watched as Rose stood and started scratching at the door then she grabbed her ball and placed it next to his bare feet, waiting patiently for him to throw it and play with her.

Josh’s heartbeat accelerated as he called Iris’ name again, louder this time.

But again he got no answer.

He felt something was wrong.

He picked up Rose and opened the door to the garage.

His eyes went immediately to the garage door that was open and then locked with the crashed car that was on full display on the other side of the room, the rags that were covering it strewn on the floor.

He gasped and cursed, turning at record speed and climbing up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

He ran in the kitchen, let Rose go and tried to call Jake.

But of course his phone was off.

He cursed and started to panic, then with trembling hands called the hospital.

A bead of sweat was falling slowly down the side of his face as the phone rang and rang and no one answered.

Just when he was about to hang up, he heard a voice from the other side of the line.

He quickly asked to speak with his brother, but after checking, the nurse told him that Jake was still in surgery and he was unable to get to the phone for at least three more hours.

He asked to be called when the operation ended and stood there unable to wrap his head about what to do.

He started pacing the room and lost track of time.

He tried to calm down by leaning against the wall and slowly sitting down on the floor, regulating his breathing.

He knew he had ruined everything.

He knew he shouldn't have left Iris alone.

And he knew his brother was going to hate him for that.

He grasped his head with his hands but he was unable to stop images of that fateful night from creeping into his mind.

He felt as if he was about to burst into flames with the guilt and hurt he felt about the whole situation when he felt something wet on his foot.

He raised his head and caught Rose licking at his ankle. When she saw that he was looking at her she jumped on his lap and he really felt like crying.

Then his phone ringing next to him startled him.

The hospital number lit up the screen and he scrambled to answer it.

The nurse informed him that the operation had ended but Jake was still inside the operation room talking with the doctors.

Josh thanked her and hung up.

He quickly stood, put some shoes on and grabbed the keys of his car.

He knew he needed to talk to Jake face to face.

~

The drive to the hospital was quick. As soon as he arrived, he spotted Jake’s car and parked next to it.

He knew where he needed to go so, when inside he took the stairs and after a few floors ended up in front of Jake's ward.

He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door.

After a second, a very young nurse opened the door and asked him who he needed.

“I need to speak to Doctor Jake Kiszka, please” he said, out of breath.

“May I know who's asking?” The nurse asked him.

“I'm his brother” He answered nervously.

She nodded and disappeared back inside.

Josh started pacing along the corridor as anxiety slowly took ahold of him.

As soon as the door opened and Jake met his eyes, he knew something was wrong.

“What's wrong, Josh?” Jake asked, his voice sounded exhausted.

“I…” Josh started but stopped abruptly, unable to find the right words.

“What is it?” Jake pressed him, getting every second more worried.

“I fucked up Jakey” Josh whispered lowering his eyes on the floor.

“What do you mean? Josh, fuck, explain yourself!” Jake bursted out, grabbing his brother by the shoulders.

“She saw it, Jake, Iris saw the car and ran away” Josh said in a sliver of voice and his heart broke seeing panic and realization took ahold of his brother.

Jake cursed under his breath, squeezing his hands into fists.

“You need to tell her, Jake, she deserve the truth” Josh told him, meeting his brother's bewildered and frightened eyes.

Jake stared into his brother's red rimmed eyes, so identical to his own and nodded, defeated and frightened.

He needed to confess.

_________________________________

Next chapter

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting @mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names

[locallixie]

once in a lifetime — seonghwa

[⚔️] — The Emperor killed you then, with a sharp slash of his sword to your neck like he thought you did to his heart. Revenge found itself behind the passing years, until you would meet again, in another life.

⇀ genre ; smut, mature, angst, suggestive, reincarnation au, historical au, modern au, school au, emperor!seonghwa, noble!reader, baseball captain!reader, lovers-to-enemies, past lovers, fem-to-masc!reader.

⇀ warnings ; dacryphillia, first time, praise kink, major character death, violence, slight gore, minor language, suggestive behaviour, marking, weapons usage, execution, misconduct, sexual assault.

⇀ word count ; 2.5k

There was an old saying, 'The beautiful usually have a bad fortune'. The Emperor already had an unmatched beauty, his face gleamed with charms of loyalty. His mistress, was like a Greek oil painting, there was a reason why he chose you over thousands and thousands of belles in the land.

You, an only child of your mother and father, the only daughter in the entire bloodline. Your father brought your family's name to nobility, with his wise and high social status as he spent years climbing the ladder. A noble, you were, a blessed life you were given since birth.

Your family was thrill when sending you into the palace, with the idea of taking a spot in the Emperor's heart. From just a plain noble, you would bring great honour to your family by becoming something more. You deserved so much more for being a gift from above to your parents.

You painted your lips a scarlet red, your eyebrows plucked and drawn, your cheeks was lightly blushed. You must admit, the beauty standard when using makeup was off when it came to you. It didn't enhance your beauty like its many uses, you looked better without having to paint your face like how artist painted their paintings with sorrow.

The palace was grand and enchanting as the words that were spread across the country. A line of women from everywhere, from the countryside, near the sea, the town. You stood still, patiently waiting for your turn to come.

The outfit you wore was a tradition, but it was a pain to wear it under the harsh sunlight, as it radiated brighter it got hotter. You were sweating in your attire, your makeup was slowly dripping off your face.

You groaned, wiping off the beads of sweat on your forehead. You weren't allow to tie your hair up, you were must to keep it down for the Emperor. Would this man even be worth your time, you understood that he was the Emperor of the whole country yet would he live up to his people's expectations and assumptions of him?

You were wise like that, always thinking and working out your thoughts. Unlike most people who only cared for the fortunate chances, they were quick to be disappointed.

By the time you reached the palace, the nightfall already visited. You stepped into the palace as stars and the luminous moon shone against your back. Though you weren't as excited to meet the Emperor as much as some young women was, your heart still beat fast in the enclosure that was your chest.

"Your highness, I am [Y/N] of the noble [L/N], it's the greatest blessing to be in your presence." You introduced, bowing on the floor to him.

The Emperor gazed at you with cold eyes, unimpressed by your existence. You looked up, face-to-face with him was scary for everyone, including you.

The Emperor turned to the side, "Maid, go fetch this poor maiden a bucket of water, her makeup is ruining my interest." You were in shock by his sudden sentence, offended but yet to show outwardly. Though he was handsome and full of grace, his mouth seemed to only spit out uncivil words.

The maid with her back weak and frail figure, dragged a heavy bucket full of river water in front of you. The water was cold, instantly numbed your fingers. Using your hands, you washed your face. Your reflection faded as the water became a dark and unpleasant colour. Now with nothing coated your face, bare and natural in front of the Emperor.

"You look so much better without anything caking your face. Your eyes, your lips, your nose are a sight to gaze at." He was captivated, by you no less. Your bare face was a first, your figure dressing up in traditional costume, your hair down and combed.

He stood up from his throne, walking to you. The distance in status clearly showed, how he stood tall and straight while looking down at you crouching self on the wood floor. You were a noble, just a noble.

Lowering himself to your level, he held your chin with his hand. Looking you up-and-down, right-to-left, closely studied your face.

He let out a sigh, "What a shame, you got a mole that tainted your beauty." Indeed, you was born with a mole on your nose bridge, which didn't highlight your features according to the standard. But everything have its pros and its cons, for you, was the mole on your face.

The Emperor smiled, "[Y/N], was it? You can call me 'Seonghwa', our paths will cross more than we expect." He gave his hand to you, wanting you to take it. You hesitated at first, not wanting to dirty his hand with your wet and stained ones from the makeup you cleaned yourself off.

But at how intimidating he looked, you couldn't seem to deny. He pulled you up, standing as his eyes couldn't look away from you. Walked away without another word, you stood still like statues, not knowing how to react or what to say. You turned around, meeting the sight of the Emperor sending everyone else away.

"You have charmed me, young maiden." He sat back on his throne, "Tell me, what are you looking for here?" Seonghwa questioned, full of unknown intentions.

You tilted your sight to the floor, "I...Right now I don't have an answer that would satisfy your wonder, but you will know the reason for my arrival some other time, my great."

"I suppose, very well then, go get clean up." He sent maids your way, "I'll be waiting for you in my chamber." The Emperor disappeared without another word, the scent of him that left behind as remembrance, the scent of blooming jasmine flower.

You followed the maids, it seemed like you would be spending the night here. Your family, you would miss. They guided you into the bathtub to bathe, the water that was cold touched your skin. One washed your hair, two cleaned your nails, three bathe you with their hands.

They draped your body with finest silk, wearing a nightgown many maidens dreamt of. A last outer layer they put on you, the sheer coat that dragged on the floor. In the mirror, you looked as if you were royalty.

Finally, they walked you to the Emperor's chamber, where he study and slumber. From then on, you were on your own. You knocked gently on his doors, too, knocking the doors to his heart.

A single word, told you to come in as it rang from the other side. Seonghwa sat on his bed, patiently waiting for your presence to enter his space. He looked up to find you, standing there looking all dolled up for him.

"Though I have seen and study many beauties of the world," He gazed in a sensuous sense. "I've never seen a beauty like you before." He complimented.

You bowed, "You're too kind, dear Emperor. I must humble myself before you." Your eyes showed full of warmth and welcome.

"My dear, come sit down beside me." He guided you, holding your hand softly as he pulled you closer. You sat down, not sure of what his next move was.

"Will you let the flower bloom tonight? Let the yourself be one with the stars?" He questioned, his eyes watched you intently, every little movement of yours was carefully examined by him. A hawk-like gaze, where his eyes gleamed with danger and poise, able to kill someone with a single glare of an eye.

You hesitated yet still gave him a answer, "Yes, I'll let you have all of me tonight, great Emperor." You would let him have you entirely, nothing else belong to you, you were his to love and toy.

Seonghwa smiled, "Splendid." He leveled you down, laying you on the bed.

"Please, be gentle." You whimpered out.

Seonghwa pulled the string the held your outer coat together, "My dear, I'll treat you like the most gorgeous flower in my garden." Your coat dropped, exposing your bare, scandalous shoulders. He pressed his lips on yours, holding it close as he moved against you. Soft and velvety, the adjective to accurately describe his lips. As he pushed his tongue in, teasing you with his teeth.

Another layer removed from your body, stripping you off completely as your wonderful figure excited him. Your curves, and naked skin, the scent of lavender of your clean figure.

He peppered marks claiming his possession over your, translated through love marks and bites. You moaned, lacing your fingers through his hair. The moonlight shone his chamber, peeking into the sight of two star-crossed lovers.

"My dear, you are what my life have been missing, it must be a blessing from above to receive a beaut like you." Seonghwa praised, kissing the mole on your nose bridge.

"I think the stars shine brighter when you came, my world never gain so much meaning as for it to seem so dull and repetitive." He placed his lips on your breasts, holding them in his hands.

You couldn't say anything, lost in the pleasure that you worked nothing to receive. Yet it felt so deserving, the Emperor's affection was your goal and you stole it without sympathy. Many would kill to be in your position, as the great Emperor Seonghwa was to help you bloom.

He entered you, your wet cunt clenching around him tight. His shoulders which you held and cried on, your voice rang all throughout the palace for everyone to be aware of.

"Seonghwa—! I—" You bled, the deep red like roses that dripped slowly. You finally lost your most precious thing, to the Emperor, he took it from you like plucking flowers in gardens.

Your tears slid down your flushed cheeks, the mix of pain and pleasure, a euphoria that felt guilty to love. "My dear, it would be all over soon." He told, kissing your temple as the beads of sweat trickled your whole body. Your heart pounding loudly as a janggu, beating against your chest a passionate drummer performing.

Your cunt pulsed, the ecstacy arose out of the blue. It moved from head to toes, you dug your nails into his back, crying his name 'til your throat was sore and tired. Reaching your high, you came in a pinkish mess of blood and seeds. His love spilling out of you, loving the wonderful expression on your pretty face. Your eyes half-lidded, a streak of blush spread across your face, lips parted.

He pecked your forehead, "Your heart is with me, and mine is with you."

Not quite noble but not yet Empress, you could be count as one of his mistress, you, he adored the most. You were special in his eyes, one of a kind. Both wise and beautiful, the ones above spoiled him with the existence that was you.

"My dear, you look breath-taking like always." He placed the hair pin through your hair, a gift to show his admiration for you. You were his absolute favourite. Life like this was like a dream, a dream that you never want to wake up from.

But how quick a dream turned into a nightmare, a wrongdoing that wasn't you who did it. The other mistresses sabotaged you, tainting the love the Emperor had for you. They were jealous, their jealousy burned like fire and the flames burned you.

"You disgusting harlot! You repulsed me!" He screamed, his frustration and wrath.

You cried, tears coated your pretty eyes. "You must hear my plead—" You tried, but immediately shut down by him.

"Hear you?! I have no reason to be listening a pathetic excuse from the likes of you!" How much he actually loved you, you would never know, the jealousy that blinded his sight. A claim so unjustified, made by selfish desires.

He ripped the sheer fabric that draped your skin, the unfamiliar article of clothing that angered him. "Is this what you sell yourself for?!" He torn your dress, everything was forcefully stripped off of your body. Naked and shameful before his presence, the Emperor left you crying and in distress.

Death was what to come, he stripped you off your own life as you were prepared for execution. The sharp blade stood menacingly in front of you, you tears reflected on its shiny surface. A slash through your neck, courtesy of the Emperor himself, you head flung off your neck leaving trail of blood. It rolled on the ground, an instant death.

Before your due date, you begged him to have mercy on you. On the floor crying below his feet. The love was false and forced by unnoticed, you never asked to meet him, you only did this for your family. The faith you must face was heart-tearing.

—

"Seonghwa! You're so slow, walk faster!" Hongjoong complained, already being ten steps away from him. He ran through the corridor, trying his best to keep up with his friend.

Seonghwa panicked, no trace of Hongjoong could be found, he was lost in this huge school. He wasn't a student here, Seonghwa went to a normal high school for people with medium income, he was only here to support his friends' new band.

Hongjoong, who was familiar with this place while not being a student, accompanied him. Now without his trustful guide, he was completely lost inside a large labyrinth called 'school'.

"Hongjoong! Hongjoong, where are you?" He furrowed his brows, still nothing, no reply, no Hongjoong. Walking for another while, searching for his friend, he came by a field of green grass. The sun was vibrant and blinding, he squinted his eyes as he gazed at its beauty. Then the blooming nature, so many colourful flowers that decorated the scenery. Seonghwa had a appreciation for beautiful things, people, nature, ideas.

He was knocked to the earth ground, falling on his backside. "Get out of the way!" A bat swung before his face, hitting the baseball that came flying at his direction.

He jumped, a baseball bat inches away from his face. "You must be fucking stupid to pull a stunt like that. Who are you, I've never seen you before?" A boy stood in front of him, the look in his eyes cold and uninviting.

You, the captain of the baseball team, was skilled in baseball like it should. Trained since you were little, having outstanding physical attributes and a fast reflex, you were popular with both girls and guys. Someone came and disturbed your team's practice, you were the one to dissolve the situation.

"I don't go here, I'm a friend of Choi San from year eleven." He answered, while you were skeptical of him.

A member of the team called you, you turned you head to the voice. That was when he saw it, a scar on your neck that was prominent and very visible. He knew who you were, but from where? From here? Or another life?

"Whoever you are, get lost and let my team practice in peace." You tightened the grip on your bat, walking away without another say. He huffed, of how rude you were acting. You were attractive but had a nasty personality, at least to his view. Especially like that mole on your nose, how it tainted and enhanced your beauty at the same time.

Once in a lifetime, you were lovers. Now you were nothing more than a couple of foes. He killed you then, now you would take your long awaited revenge.

[kianaflame23]

NSFW IFRIT!CLIVE X F!READER

NO MINORS ALLOWED! NO AGE BIO? BLOCK! If you are under 🔞, you can ONLY read my SFW fanfics and headcanons!

*WARNING* VERY DARK SMUT! Reader and Clive aren't together so please be careful on reading this. Don't read it if you feel uncomfortable and definitely will write Dominant! FF16 men x reader! Writing Barnabas next so look forward to that! Have a good morning/day/night! ✨️

Oh no.... you noticed that Clive isn't himself as his yellow eyes stared at you, smirking as he tackled you down

His hand gropping your breast as his other hand touches your sex, forcing you to moan loudly

Liking your moans as Ifrit!Clive decides to tear your clothes apart, you screamed and begged for him to stop. Of course, he didn't listen to you and chuckled darkly as he sees your naked body

You were about to cover yourself, however, Ifrit!Clive grabbed your hands and places it above your head, not able to escape as you tried to kick him

You don't want to hurt Clive, he is attractive and strong. Well....very sexy to you but YOU ARE NOT HIS LOVER!

*Flashback*

You started to have romantic feelings for him as you and Clive spend time each other alone. Getting know more about him and his past. Clive told you on what happened to his little brother and how he failed to protect Joshua.... Clive lost his parents...Joshua....and everything because of that mysterious hooded man.... The Dominant..... He is the one who murdered his little brother! He will get his revenge and kill that hooded man! Ending his revenge journey and hoping to know the answers on why The Dominant decide to ruin his life!

You felt so much pain and sorrow as you hugged Clive. Telling him that it is okay for him to cry and doesn’t need to bestoic. Not wanting Clive to blame himself for what happened 13 years ago... You smiled towards him, persuading him to show his emotions to you. Clive immediately hugged you as he sobbed in your neck, his small drops of tears landed on your neck and shoulder. His body shakes as he pulls you closer to his armor chest. You felt your heart aches in sadness as you pat his back softly. You wanted to kiss his cheeks, but you stopped yourself. Not wanting to end your good friendship with Clive. You don't want him to see you as a sister figure and would like to be his maiden....his future wife....If he sees you as a right arm partner and wants you to be his friend, then so be it. You are strong enough to protect yourself. Your family abandoned you when you were a young child....wondering to yourself on why your parents stopped loving you after they left you in a small village.... Learning on how cruel the world is and the people as well as the royalties. At least Clive isn't those powerful, uncaring kings who only thinks of themselves. Clive Rosfield is a great friend you ever had... a charming knight who you truly love and care for....willing to do anything to protect him and to save his life. He did save your life when those horrible knights tried to kill you and even worse...Forever thankfully for his heroic and decided to join his group. You just hope that nothing bad happens to you and Clive during the war and his revenge journey....

*Back to you and Ifrit!Clive....*

Ifrit!Clive tells you that he is going to fuck you until you are filled with his cum. He WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO ESCAPE until he is done with you

You prayed to Eikon, hoping for Clive to come back to his senses and realizes on what he is doing to you.

Sadly, your prayers will not save you as Ifrit!Clive pulls out his cock, inserting you without a warning

Screaming in pain as you cried, Ifrit!Clive smack his lips on yours, silencing your cries and moans. His hand pulls your chin as Ifrit!Clive tilts his head a bit, kissing you more, feeling his tongue touch yours, dominating all around there. You felt ashamed for enjoying your french kissing with Clive. Well....Ifrit!Clive....

Thrusting in and out harshly, already losing you virginity as you know that you're bleeding there.....

Ifrit!Clive pulls away from your lips but still close to you, warning you that you have no choice to stay with Clive or else... He'll continue to take over Clive's body and fuck you.

He isn't going to kill you though. Ifrit finds you interesting.....making you worry if you want to continue being friends with Clive or run away from everyone.....

You need to tell Clive the truth before you decide your fate......

You can feel his armor gloves squeezing your thighs, knowing that you'll get bruises and feel a bit pain as Ifrit!Clive thrusts more deeper in you. Your breasts bounces with such force as Ifrit!Clive keeps being rough on you. Yes, you didn't like feeling pain, however, you closed your eyes in pleasure. Not wanting to admit that you are enjoying yourself as you want him to continue fucking you.....

Why is Ifrit!Clive fucking you...? Why isn't he trying to kill you...?

You will never know... as you moan, you furrowed your eyebrows in pleasure, feeling his cum in you. Ifrit!Clive growled as he thrusts in you more before pulling out.

You smiled weakly as you felt so much cum in you. You REALLY enjoy that intense sex with Ifrit!Clive. Hoping that Clive will be back....right...?

WRONG! You thought Ifrit!Clive will be satisfied and let you go? Running away from him? Oh, how wrong you are....

You are wishing for Cidolfus and Torgal to save you....for now, you'll do your best to pleasure Ifrit!Clive until they arrived.... maybe they can stop Clive and explain to them on what Ifrit did to you....

You'll forgive Clive though. You just can't see him anymore.... praying that he'll forget you and move on. Continuing with his revenge quest and all. After all, you are just an ally to him.... or at least that's what you think anyways....

Ifrit!Clive end ❤

[gurlbesimpin]

In the Beast's den

{Karl heisenberg x Gen!neutral reader}

Chapter nine: Who you really are II/II

CW: mention of child abuse!

notes: smut in next chapter! ;)

The silence is deafening as the lord of metal leads you through hall after hall towards his office. After his outburst mere minutes ago; he isn't fully sure how or even IF he should/can apologize properly. You weren't trying to hurt or leave him like he thought. You in just want to talk things out, find out more about the powerful man you're currently living with. Thoughts rush through his mind...

Is he wrong for lashing out?

Surely he was. You really weren't trying to hurt a damn thing.

But what if you secretly were? 

No, you would've done so by now. 

Heisenberg opens the heavy metal door to his secluded office, allowing you a second to enter before the door flies shut again. He practically plops down in his chair, his fedora discarded on the floor. His dark round glasses however, remain on his scarred face. A strange mechanism of protection he developed over the years. He doesn't want to seem vulnerable and weak with emotions, so he hides his hazel eyes or 'gateways to the soul' behind small round shades. His hand shakily reaches for an old bottle of whiskey on his desk, not even bothering to pour himself a glass he raises the amber liquid to his scarred lips and just drinks it.

His body language explains his current wave of emotions perfectly. It's plain and simple really; he's stressed. His mind whirls with regret, anxiety and guild for lashing out and even physically harming you. Granted, no lasting wound are casted on your skin, that doesn't mean that his regret isn't palpable though. After a generous amount of the amber liquid vanishes between the lord's lips, he slams the bottle down onto the desk with a heavy sigh; his eyes never meeting yours. He simply glances at the old scraps and trinkets on the old shabby wooden desk, the atmosphere thick and filled with emotion. The urge to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder is getting too strong to ignore, but last time it didn't go down very well. Despite making this mistake before, you hesitantly reach out towards the quivering lord. Surprisingly, he doesn't verbally fuss. Rather, he gently grabs your hand and places it on the desk, his larger gloved hand resting atop yours in an oddly protective manner. Still, he doesn't dare take a look at you, but something seems to be processing within his brain.

"She took me, took me away from my family... my friends... my home- I was... hell, around six?"

Heisenberg pauses, his gaze fixed on your hands slowly intertwining with each other; silver locks framing his face in the dim light. 

"All i ever wanted was... normality. A normal fuckin' life, away from this shithole, away from lady super-sized cunt... away from that bitch. She took my innocence, my childhood, my dignity, my whole future! she stole everything for her stupid fucking daughter! I just like the other three pissbrains, am a 'failed experiment' to her. I never wanted any of this; not the village, not this factory, hell- i don't give a shit about my powers! I wanted to grow up, have a family an' live life like anyone else fuckin' would"

The words are filled with a venomous mixture of anger and sorrow, the raw emotion on display is another bit of proof that he IS still human underneath all the horrifying things he's done and wen't through. Despite his cruel nature, his experiments, his past, the cadou... he's still human. 

Instead of interrupting his rant, you place your second hand on his; nodding whilst signaling for him to continue without worry. 

"I don' remember when this happened... but I sure as hell remember the pain. that BITCH put me through more pain than any one of these stupid villagers could even comprehend. And yet, they worship the ground she walks on. If only they knew the truth about exactly what she's done do them, to us, to their families..."

Suddenly, a question fills your troubled mind... Is he showing, empathy?

"after the Cadou implantation process, she'd subject me to regular 'checkups' as she'd call 'em. She'd subject me to fire, ice... anything ye can think of. She'd want to see what the Cadou manifested as within my body. She'd throw me out in the cold, make me hold my hands over fire, throw me into a room for acting out in any little way... shit i can't remember if she fed me more than once a fuckin' week! she'd cut me, inject me with all kinds of shit which I still have no clue of... And when finally her 'experiments' came to an end, I was tossed in this factory that some old relative of mine owned decades ago. I was lonely, shit i was lonely... even that tall bitch felt bad for awhile... until I started fucking hating all... all this! That oversized vampire cunt had a life before all this... I never did! I can barely remember my mother's voice! I... I'm not even sure if 'Karl' is my actual first name..."

His words come to a halt when a singular tear rolls down his cheek, landing on his lap. A very faint sob escapes his now-trembling lips, his usual cocky demeanor now fully dissolving into what he is inside. A poor, scared little boy who just craves love. As if an invisible force is controlling you, you move forward. Your head gently leaning on his shoulder as his display of emotions causes tears to rise within your own eyes.

"I'll kill that bitch for what she did to me..."

He whispers, his gloves hand shivering and sandwiched between your own. Not even thinking about your actions; you gently cup his face, forcing his eyes to meet yours as slowly, you pull off his sunglasses. His scarred and stubbled cheek is covered in tears now, he sobs out a quiet and brief apology for his previous actions. Shit, are you really crying? Even after how he treated you earlier? But now with a full explanation on his part, it makes more sense... He doesn't know how to respond to emotions. He couldn't have learned it through Miranda, and how would he learn it when he's alone and isolated in his factory as A CHILD?! 

"And I... Will help you"

You whisper whilst your thumbs brush over his cheeks, wiping away his tears as you give him a sympathetic look. Something shifts in his eyes, he seems more comfortable, more open... as if weight was lifted off his shoulders after carrying it for god knows how long. Once again as if you aren't in control of your own actions, you lean forward slightly. His eyes give nothing away other than comfort and sorrow as you inch closer, still wiping his tears before...

His hand flies to your waist, pulling you closer as his scarred lips finally make contact with yours. The sound he makes is easiest described as a grunt, unexpected, but not unwelcome. The kiss lasts for mere seconds before both pull away, his eyes silently begging for more. He takes a breath before he breaks the awkward silence:

"shit... buttercup-"

He murmurs, his lips immediately slamming onto yours again. This time around, you part your lips as a silent invitation, which he happily accepts. His rough tongue slithers out of his mouth, happily exploring your own as he wraps his arms around you impossibly tight. The sorrow in his eyes quickly is drowned out by lust and passion, his hands tightly gripping your waist as he maneuvers you onto his lap. It's obvious he enjoys this, his hardness pressing into your inner thigh. He pulls back, catching his breath whilst admiring your features.

"shit... you'll be the death of me-"

He whispers before his lips attach to your neck, gently sucking on the tender flesh, eliciting a soft moan from you. His already hard cock get's impossibly harder at the delightful sound, only encouraging his lips to suck at your pulse. Your hands clumsily reach for his shoulders for support before he bites down on your soft skin. 

"I could eat you right up, buttercup~"

He chuckles against your skin, his beard adding a nice sensation to the slight sting from his sharp teeth. Before he can go any further however, you pause him:

"bed, please"

Is all you can muster before he lifts you up with inhuman strength, carrying you into towards his private quarters for a night of passion.

[hanayori89]

✍️ A/N- Hey all, thank you for reading my Twilight Princes fanfic! I’m still doing a lot of rough editing but as I continue the edits I will post a master list with all the chapters so it is easier to follow. The full fic is on my Wattpad- but I’m still undergoing the editing process to make it more smooth.

Thank you all 😊🌻

Untethered

*Kakariko Village*

Shabby breaths rang in Link's ears as he ran. His feet pounded on the gravelly pavement. Each step radiated through his weakened body. The taste of Y/N's kiss on his lips propelled him forward. She was headed toward Death Mountain. If he didn't catch her soon, she would undoubtedly reach the Goron Mines. While Link was tough enough to overcome the dungeons of the past once again, two in one day was a big stretch.

They approached the Bridge of Eldin, where Link had fought against King Bulbin. He noticed Y/N beginning to slow down until she reached a complete stop. Link, however, continued his not-so-graceful streak from the past few days, tripping over a rock. Instead of swooping Y/N up in his arms, he was swooped up within hers. She wrapped her arms around Link, attempting to catch him. While she didn't catch him, she did manage to break his fall.

"HYLIA, Y/N?! Are you alright?" Link hopped to his feet, gently guiding Y/N to her own. She rubbed her hip with a slight wince. "I think so."

"I-I never catch you. I never save you." Storm clouds rolled in overhead. A dark ring formed around the tip of Death Mountain. It looked as if Hylia herself was smoking tobacco and huffing stacks of smoke clouds upon it. A snap of lightening cracked, creating an ominous sky that somehow fit the tumultuous emotions coursing through you both. "It's not your job to save me. You can't save everyone, Link."

Another snap of lightning occurred, timing itself perfectly with Y/N's statement, emboldening the heaviness of her response. He was a hero. Isn't that what heroes do? Save people? Link understood that he could only go so far. He wasn't Hylia. He couldn't save souls. She had to undergo her trials of conversion alone. In the same manner, he had to become a hero alone.

Even if their journeys were separate, there was no reason they couldn't fight together. No matter how powerful Link believed himself to be, he discovered great strength within his many alliances.

Y/N regarded Link prudently. Spits of rain began to fall as the rumbling of thunder made its presence known. She let out an almost bitter snicker. "You want to save me, but it is I who must save myself." It took Link a moment to realize the water droplets on her face weren't from the fresh spritz of rain but from her eyes.

Link gave her a sorrowful nod. "You're right. The last thing you need is to deal with the temperamental way I've been acting. I'm sorry for my behavior. The last thing I want to do is hurt you." Link seemed to falter as he gathered his thoughts. "But I'd be lying if I said I regretted my action. That I... didn't want to do it. Or that I don't want to do it again."

Link reached a hand forward, quickly brushing a tear away. In an almost muted whisper, he murmured. "And again."

The spits of rain had transformed into a torrential downpour. Link pulled off his tunic, chain mail, and under armor in one single swoop.

"L-link- What are you-"

He stood topless in the rain. He'd never been bashful about his body, until now. He knew he had a physique that men envied and women coveted. But all of that seemed inconspicuous now that he stood vulnerable in front of the woman who held his heart. Even the rain seemed intimidated by his tarnished hero's body. It ricocheted off of him, creating an aura of mist that illuminated his scars. He held his hand out, hoping she would take it.

She didn't hesitate this time. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to guide her hand to the scar on his abdomen from Zant. "This was from your fa-," Link caught himself. He corrected, "Zant." He glided her fingertips over the roughened patch of flesh. "This scar. I don't regret receiving it. In fact, I would do it all again if I had to. Just like I would kiss you again and receive the mark you've left on me, one that I could never, ever regret." He paused with Y/N's hand within his, hovering above his abdomen, laced with many scars of glory. He wanted to make his feelings clear. He wanted to do what was right. And what was right for him was right in front of him.

"Y/N, I can't say what I wish to say now. For the sake of your mission and my own, I will retain any further affectionate actions. I am still tethered in a way I don't wish to be." He hoped his emphasis on the word "tethered" would reference his engagement to Ilia in a way she understood. "But would you promise to give me a little more time? Once I am untethered, I can "react" the way you want me to. The way I believe that I was meant to. Something more than... a friend."

As Link held her hand, he once again bowed and pressed his forehead against her hand. The gesture he always used to represent sincerity in his words. Fado was right. Link did act painstakingly gallant at times. Should he have found out how he so brazenly kissed Y/N, he wondered how he would have responded. He looked up at her. The storm clouds floating in the background cast shadows over her eyes, rendering them hard to read. There was resoluteness in the way she bobbed her head up and down in agreement.

"If only you made me one promise."

Link stood, releasing her hand from his own. "Anything."

"Clean those wounds." She gave him a lopsided smile. He knew then that he was back in her good graces.

He teased, "I thought we agreed you would?"

"If I must." She did her best to feign disinterest. But Link could hear the slyness in her answer. Yes, everything was back to normal. Although he knew he would be unable to erase that kiss from his mind, her sugared lips would be the thought that he would use to tuck himself into bed at night. He knew it was for the best to keep that tidbit to himself.

Did that actually happen? Did we kiss? Link stared upward, marveling at the way the dark clouds seemed to envelope the remaining light ones. They seemed to disappear within each other. The way his lips and Y/Ns just had.

"Link..." Y/N's voice interrupted his fantasy. They both inadvertently began strolling back towards Renado's. "Could we still hold hands?" She slipped her hand back into the comfort of Link's. He threaded his fingers sturdily between hers.

Their fingers molten so tightly into each other's that not even the freezing Kakariko rain could penetrate their grasp.

Molten so tightly, not even the unknown threat of what was in store could break the hold that they had on each other.

A/N: Edited 3/25/24

It seems like the hero has sealed his words with a kiss. Your separate missions will be tackled through your kinship of belonging.

Romance takes a backseat as you both are beckoned forward towards your individual journeys. No matter what they entail, you're both prepared to fight together.

There's still one little elephant in the room waiting to be addressed...

and that is one, single bed.

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[viralvava]

Fruits of the Tree

In the room ensconced in a darkness so deep and heavy it resembled the abyssal depths of the seas, two figures faced each other, matched in a battle of wills. Yet, one had reigned supreme even now, as was written by fate. The father towered over the son.

At the feet of the eddying blackness sat a man whose golden locks pooled around his knees, like so much twinkling thread. He looked up to the high above, to the nothingness that blanketed him, and roared,

"Sacred Ancestor! Sacred Ancestor! Explain yourself to me!" His voice ricocheted off the walls of inky darkness, yet failed to produce an echo. The words were fraught with an intense feeling. The man screamed, "You have betrayed me! You have brought me to heel with wretched hounds! Sacred Ancestor!" That he would admit such a thing as defeat spoke to the magnitude of his rage, or his sorrow.

And from the blackened heavens, and the ocean of shadow below, rang out a cold answer to his yell, in words that went unspoken and could yet be heard. You have grown too prideful, and too vicious. You have tread far past your bounds.

Glittering crimson rubies glared down from the darkness without feeling, as the voice that wasn't a voice boomed, You have trampled all traces of my power you could reach, and you have sought to satisfy a bloodlust which might rival even the cruelest of my enemies. What say you, Lawrence Valcua?

The words held no anger, nor mocking or scorn, but were soaked with something that made even the great Noble reproached by the black nothing shudder: disappointment. The tones of reprimand branded themselves against the vampire's soul.

"You have condemned me!" Shrieked the Ultimate Noble, clawing at the abyss below him. He stared into the red gaze with bright, crazed eyes, shining with something wet. "Sacred Ancestor, you have replaced me and doomed me to ruin! I, Lawrence Valcua! What was I to do? What could I have done but ensure my own survival? You have left me bereft!"

Contrary to what it seemed, the maddened pleas that streamed from the mouth of the Noble didn't fall on deaf ears. However, the alternative might have been worse. Looking down upon him harshly, the darkness considered Valcua with an unnamed emotion burrowing into its heart. When a child threw a tantrum, the role of the parent was to punish it; was that not the truth of the world? To let the child thrash and wail unimpeded, causing trouble as it pleased – that had been the failure of the abyssal darkness that drowned the room. Now, the child grew an ego that could not be controlled, and if allowed to continue it would only worsen.

In its mind's eye, the murky personage viewed the bastard son which it had put to bed in the dirt, another failure too late to rectify, and the silent infant that had newly been born to it, whose crying shadow it had severed from its back. The infant had been so deathly and cold for a moment the blackness had believed it stillborn, but instead a new knowledge had bloomed in its wake, of what could truly be called a lone success.

You shall be sentenced, said the shadows, among the stars you sought to manipulate. You will live in exile, unsightly as you are. For the child was to be taught the error of its ways, and if not it was to be used as a lesson. As the Noble's eyes widened, and his head fell, the shimmering tresses of his hair obscuring his expression, the infinite darkness was assailed by another emotion that too went unnamed.

"Sacred Ancestor," whispered the Noble, trembling. Then, "Sacred Ancestor! I swear it! I swear it on the enchanted sword Glencalibur and the domain with which I am driven off to the stars!"

The Noble's head shot up, his eyes now ablaze and burning with such a colour that it could be nothing less than the greatest heights of fury or the most immense profundity of despair. As the darkness somehow fought an impossible tremor, it realised that in equal magnitude, Valcua's glare was fueled by both.

"Sacred Ancestor!" The Noble howled, a hand shooting up to grip his heart as if pained by his own intensity. The other hand reached fruitlessly to the air, as if seeking to clutch the darkness by the throat. Instead, all it could clutch was the aforementioned sword. "I swear it on the name of the Ultimate Noble! As sure as my name is Lawrence Valcua, third master of the house of Valcua, I will return! I will return, and from that moment forward, Nobles and humans alike will fear the night!"

Choked by something so powerful it could rob the pure abyss of its mettle, yet something that abyss could even still not name, the Sacred Ancestor didn't tell the broken man below him that he had just now sealed his own fate.

[mythicalartistx]

Soriku in Novels Part 4 — DDD

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

The cricket's question made Riku think of Sora. Of course, Riku couldn't tell him everything, but Sora was still a friend with a special place in his heart.

"Yeah... actually I do." Riku closed his eyes and imagined Soras's face for a moment, then looked at Pinocchio and Jiminy. "That stupid grin he's always wearing— he's the best teacher I could ever have."

DDD novel — Riku's side.

I loved this scene during the game and it was clear in DDD he's so gay and he loves Sora so much. A big part of DDD in my perspective was being able to accept yourself/forgive yourself of the darkness of the past and maybe someday open himself up to Sora about his feelings.

And here it shows Sora has a special place in his heart... He definitely likes him. I love how he imagines Sora in the scene, I mean I thought he was thinking of Sora BUT TO EXPLICITLY SAY he imagined Sora's face is another thing.

"He saved me. But you two are nothing alike." Shiki leaned in close to Sora's ear and whispered, "You know, Neku and Riku are really similar."

"Huh?". Surprised, Sora looked at Neku.

Now that you mentioned it, I can see it. They're both a little prickly sometimes, but they have a heart of gold underneath.

"Wh-why are you staring at me..?" Neku returned Sora's gaze uneasily.

"Yeah, you may be onto something."

DDD NOVEL — Sora's Side

This is a nice section that shows a comparison between the characters. Shiki notes how Sora and Riku are nothing alike, but Neku is quite similar to Riku. It's not that Soriku filled, but it's nice to see the comparison with Neku who ends up in his actual game accidentally trading Shiki (who's very important to him/ with no memories at that) to continue to survive another round to be able to return to life.

Also I'd imagined Riku getting flustered if someone stares at him because of one of the kh2 novel states that Riku always won sword fights, but Sora won starring contests. HE PROBABLY GETS FLUSTERED.

"I won't hold back, and I won't underestimate you. I give everything I have to set you free. I was always jealous of you, Sora. I used to feel it all the time, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't still. I believe that feeling was darkness, but now I know it's not.

The truth is, it gave me strength, and so did having someone to challenge me. Light and Darkness are perfect compliments of each other — the shadows are always greatest next to the dark. I know what that means now, truly. When those dark feelings come over you, only your heart can decide whether to let them sink deeper into the darkness or to bring them out into the light of the sun.

Accepting both is what it means to have a heart. It gives us strength. Even a form of pride, in a way. I don't think anyone can honestly say it's not. Same with wanting to be stronger. Joy and Sorrow, Anger and Hatred— whether those feelings become your light or your darkness is for you to decide.

The strength of your darkness is what allows you to choose. That's why I choose to let the light shine onto my own darkness. And Sora that's you."

DDD Novel — Riku Side

I made a post on just this entire statement Riku made before but I had to include it, it's so gay. He's comparing dark and light to him and Sora. He says Sora is his light. He accepts both light and Darkness and because of that it's strength and some sort of pride... Maybe gay pride 🧐🧐🧐

But he realizes his jealousy made him stronger and just shows his development of how he is with darkness and how he is with Sora.

[wallgirl]

Beelzebub x Fem!Reader x Lilith - Grief

1500 words. SFW. Warnings: Mild violence, mention of murder, death threats.

After the murder of your beloved friend Lilith, you seek out her killer to exact revenge.

"I'm not asking, I am ordering you to tell me." Your voice rose in anger. "Is he in there or not?"

"I cannot let you go in!" The ancient librarian attempted to shield the door. "Please, think about this! That cursed man is dangerous! He killed Lucifer; harming you would be nothing-"

"Enough!" You bellowed. "I'll go and see for myself, then!"

"Please, Miss, don't go in!" The librarian cried, eyes alarmed behind his spectacles. "I'm begging you!"

But it was too late. You forced the door open with a harsh kick, letting it thud back against the wooden wall. "Beelzebub!"

There was nothing but silence. The vaulted main room of the library was strewn about with papers and books everywhere, with only a handful of shrunken candles lighting the tall shelves. The only signs of life were a few iron plates with partially-eaten crusts of bread and apple cores.

"Miss, please..."

You ignored the librarian's beseeching and strode in, lips pursed in silent rage. "I know you're in here, Beelzebub." Your steps slowed as you peered into each doorway, searching for the demon. "Come out now and spare me the trouble of dragging you out."

There was no answer in the still, dusty darkness. It didn't take long for you to check every room in the building except for the basement; the most ancient and forbidden tomes were kept down there. Of course he would be locked away in the underground, studying dark magic. It was so fitting for a depraved monster like him.

Without ceremony, you kicked the basement door open as well. This one was lined with iron and didn't swing open quite as fast, allowing you a moment of bitter anticipation as it drew back to reveal the demon you were hunting sitting at a far table.

Your prey did not look up to acknowledge your presence at all. His eyes continued to scan the page he was engrossed in without pause.

His lack of reaction - his passiveness compared to your overwhelming sorrow - made you snap. "Beelzebub!"

"Leave," he said quietly. "I have no business with you... and, surely, you can have no business with me."

Of course, he would dismiss you. You knew you looked unhinged, and far less dangerous than any of the other creatures of the realm - hair unkempt from your journey, red-rimmed eyes wild with grief, and battered cloak pulled loosely about your thin frame.

Well, he was about to learn a lesson in what grief could drive even a small woman like you to do.

"I beg to differ," you snarled. From underneath your cloak you drew one of a dozen poisoned blades. "I'm here on behalf of Lilith."

That got his attention, just in time for the blade to soar past his head and lodge into one of the many volumes stacked behind him. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you got a look at the face of your friend's killer. He looked far too young and slight to be any sort of threat, and the delicate skin beneath his eyes was dark and sunken from lack of sleep. He would've evoked pity in you, if you hadn't known he had murdered your beloved Lilith and her friends in cold blood. Perhaps that pitiful appearance was what had helped him to take advantage of their kindness.

"Yes, Lilith. Don't tell me I'm the only one that's showed up to avenge her?" You stalked closer until only the table was preventing you from strangling him. "That's just as well. I knew her best."

Lilith. Her murderer continued to stare at you with that pathetic look on his face; the face of a broken man barely holding up a facade of stoicism.

"You're much more pathetic looking than I thought you'd be, cursed Beelzebub." You laughed coldly. "But that's fine. It'll make it that much easier for me to put you down, like the rabid demon you are." Your hand slipped under your cloak once more. "...I owe Lilith that much." You were close enough to the room's solitary candle for its light to catch a glimmer of welling-up tears in your eyes.

"...And I would grant you your respite..." He said slowly, his words almost measured. Your eyes widened in surprise. "...But the death you offer me is far too clean and painless. Begone." His gaze lowered, and a sharp tremor throughout the chamber threw you off your feet. You fell hard on the ground, struggling to prop yourself upright.

"I don't care if it suits you or not!" You raged, grabbing blindly for one of the many daggers pinned inside your cloak. "You think you deserve to name your punishment?! Lilith herself will decide your eternal torment once you've died and-"

A large, pale hand quickly seized your wrist. "Don't."

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. His dark-rimmed eyes were level with your own. "Those knives are poisoned. Aren't they?" There was no change in his voice as he admonished you. "You would grab at one so carelessly, and cause Lilith more grief?"

You stared vacantly at him. Cause Lilith more grief...?

Oh... Because I probably would've cut myself on one of those blades. Lilith always did say I acted too blindly and clumsily when I was upset.

You recalled her smile with pain. Lilith, if you knew what I was doing... would this make you sad? Would you have called me foolish, barging in to face your murderer so blindly?

Who am I kidding? Of course you would've. Oh, Lilith, I'm sorry. I've completely lost my way.

"Lilith..." You crumpled with sorrow at the memory, clutching your free hand tight to your chest. "I wasn't even thinking... I hate it... But you're right. This would have only made her sad..."

Beelzebub didn't respond.

"She looked out for me a lot," you found yourself confessing suddenly. "The day we first met, it was like she knew I needed a friend. Someone to watch over me. I didn't have any family, and she became like a big sister to me. She was a sister to me." You drew a deep, rattling breath. "And now you took her away, and I have no one. The light she shared is gone. No one can replace her. It's all your fault!"

Your accusation hung heavy in the air until an unexpected whisper pierced it.

"Lucifer," Beelzebub whispered hoarsely.

"What?" You thought you'd misheard him. "Lucifer?"

"She reminded me of him... They were so alike."

The anger in your veins reignited. "Lucifer? Lilith's friend? You mean, the other angel you killed?"

He fell silent again.

Your hands were shaking again with blind rage. You had to leave, or else risk doing something Lilith wouldn't have wanted. You hated him for having known her well enough to throw that bit of truth in your face. "...You know, in the last letters she wrote me, she mentioned you all the time. She would have followed you anywhere... And yet, you killed her. And now you have the audacity to act remorseful..." Your trembling fingers fiddled with the handle of a knife beneath your cloak. "Remorseful, like you wish you hadn't done it. Like you didn't make the decision to kill her."

He remained still in the candlelight, blood-shot eyes staring at you too close. Like the unreadable gaze of an insect. "...You want me dead, rightfully, like countless others," he whispered. "I know it's what I deserve. And what I deserve is a death far more painful and bleak than you can give me. So wait for a little longer. And then, I promise... Death will come to avenge Lilith."

You stared at him in shock. The black void of his eyes held secrets and regrets you weren’t privy to. The weight of his words lingered heavily in the air between the two of you. "...I don't understand what happened that night. I... I hope I never understand the mind of a monster like you. But..." You stared down at your tear-stained skirt. "All right. I won't cause her more grief. I'll let fate deal with you instead - as long as you can keep that promise."

He finally released your wrist, and you slowly got to your feet, legs aching from your fall, before pulling a handful of crumpled papers from your bag. There was a moment of hesitation before you threw them half-heartedly in his direction, letting them flutter to the ground. "These are the letters she wrote me. The parts that she mentioned you in, at least. I thought I'd read them to you before I killed you, but maybe it'd be better for you to ruminate over them yourself." Your lower lip quivered.

Beelzebub's gaze shifted only momentarily to the ink-smeared papers; fast enough that you might've missed it if you hadn't been staring at him so intently. "I'll be waiting for that painful, messy death to come your way, then, Beelzebub."

You rushed out of the room before the tears overwhelmed you once more.

Beelzebub walked slowly to the scattered letters. He knelt down and traced one finger over Lilith's handwriting with a delicate, guilty touch. Love, Lilith.

"We'll wait together," he whispered.

---

Author’s note: Ah, the intricacies of shared grief when one of the two is actually the murderer but not exactly.

[bushs-world]

TIME AND AGAIN

Summary: In the far future, Sameera volunteers to test a memory simulator that allows the user their memories. Her choice? A memory from three years ago but soon she realises she craves to go back again and again

Rating: G

Tags: Original female character x original female character, futuristic setting, post cyberpunk, timeloops, science fiction, short story

Word count: 3.2k

This is my first time publishing one of my short stories. I originally wrote this short story as a part of the Sylki Zine. A huge thanks to @queen-of-meows for helping me with the plot of this short story. If you like it, please do like and reblog!!

‘Every man who remembers must remember something, and that which he remembers is called the object of his remembrance.’

These words, handpicked by their president from Thomas Reid’s ‘Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man’, were inscribed on the plutonium plaque that hung on the wall of their research center. Sameera had walked past this plaque many times before but never had she ever read those words, until today. 

The object of remembrance.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Her heart ached but she was skilled in pushing away her sorrows. Slowly instead, she laid down on the full body, flatbed scanner. The wires attached to her arms tingled with tiny jolts of electricity as a technician secured the electromagnetic band around her head. 

“Sameera, are you comfortable?” asked Mr. Glen, her testing officer. She gave him a thumbs up. 

He smiled. “Scared?”

She shook her head in refusal. “There's nothing to be scared of. I know the procedure, I have worked on this project for years.”

Mr. Glen attached a clip to the tip of her index finger. “We will be monitoring your vitals and bring you back if there's any problem. There shouldn't be any issue but I have to ask you again- Are you sure you want to volunteer?”

Sameera nodded. Her colleague patted her shoulder, then entered the initiate command on the main computer.

The welcome song, a piece of classical music, rang in her ears. Sameera saw her teammates walk around the mainframe. Her eyes felt heavy. She blinked once, then twice before her eyelids fell shut.

—

—

—

Sameera woke up with a start and looked around. She was at her workstation along the mainframe at the research center. Her work screen was filled with lines of codes she needed to run and test. 

Her eyes went to the top left corner of her screen. The date was displayed in a deep blue colour. A small smile made its way across her face. 

26 November, 2350

She was here. 

Her planner lay open by her side. She still had piles of work to finish– she had to run the codes, record their output, then file her observations into the database. There was also the report she needed to prepare. 

Sameera closed her planner shut with a thud. Then she got up from her workstation and walked out. Her coworkers shot her flabbergasted looks. Her manager barred her from leaving. But it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except for the one thing she came here for. 

As the elevator pod took her down to the ground floor, Sameera checked her appearance in the shiny chromium of its walls. She fixed her dark raven hair, smoothing away any flyaways and removed her lab coat, scrutinizing her appearance.

There were dark circles under her eyes. She was in her work clothes, a white button up shirt with slacks. Sameera adjusted her attire and nodded satisfied. The white of her shirt contrasted well with her dusky, brown complexion. She remembered bringing a trench coat along with her, a perfect dress up for the evening.

Once she reached the ground floor, Sameera quickly made her way to the reception. The robotic assistant, an earlier model she had totally forgotten about, greeted her at the front desk. It led her to her locker where she collected her belongings, replaced her lab coat with her trench coat and went about her way. 

The nightlife was in its full glory when she stepped out of the building. The nano processor installed on her wrist displayed the time– 7:30 pm. 

30 minutes to 8. 

Her destination wasn't too far away so she decided to walk. Along the way, she stopped by the airbrush booth to get her makeup done and bought a bouquet of flowers from the floral counter. A few minutes more and she reached the place.

A bright pink neon sign, hung at the entrance of the restaurant, glowed brightly in the night. The host, an android with a fake looking skin (the unrealistic skin always gives them away), welcomed her. “Good evening. How can I help you?”

Now that she was finally here, she realized how scared she truly was. Sameera choked on her words. “I.. I have a reservation today.”

“This way please,” the android replied in its robotic voice and led her inside. 

Sameera followed it, her heart racing violently. Her palms sweated, her stomach twisted with dread. She turned round the corner, when she saw her sitting in a booth at the back of the restaurant. 

The sight knocked the wind out of her. Sameera froze, tears welling in her eyes. She looked ethereal, wearing a teal dress, her beautiful, curly hair pinned up in a bun. 

Oh how had she missed her. Her big, brown doe like eyes, her soft chocolate skin, her big smile, her laughter, her embrace. She was here and she was real. 

“Sameera?” she called out, waving at her from the booth. “You are here.”

Sameera slowly made her way towards her, wiping away the tears in her eyes. “Rumi.”

Rumi got up and pulled her into a hug. “Happy wedding anniversary, my dear wife. I was so scared you won't make it but here you are.”

Sameera choked on a sob. “I came, Rumi.”

Rumi kissed her forehead. “Yes, you did. I am so happy, Sameera.” Then, she led her towards the table. “Come, let's sit down.”

Sameera sat down on a chair. Rumi sat across her, going through the menu. “What would you like to drink? Let's see it's almost 8.”

“Rumi,” Sameera interrupted her, reaching out to hold her wife’s hand. “You don't think I am a bad wife now, do you?”

Rumi knitted her brows in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“Tell.. tell me you are happy with me,” said Sameera, her voice trembling. 

“Oh Sameera,” Rumi replied. “My dear wife. You are so stupid. If only you knew–”

___

___

___

Sameera opened her eyes, shocked. Her colleagues circled around her, looking at her in anticipation. The ending song played in the background, thanking her for her patronage. 

Mr. Glen removed the electromagnetic band from her head, helping her sit up. “So, how did it work? Were you able to re-access your memory?”

Sameera nodded her head. “Yeah, it was my wedding anniversary three years ago. Why am I back?”

Mr. Glen handed her a glass of water. “Oh, 30 minutes were up. The software can only run the test for thirty minutes, as you know.” He picked up his tablet from the side. “So now the details. How was the memory augmentation, the environment reconstruction and the virtual space navigation?”

Sameera wiped her cheeks. “I need to go back. Please send me back.”

“But why?” asked the technician. “This was just a test run.”

“I need to go back again. I need to check the space navigation again. Please just send me back.”

Mr. Glen sighed. “Just one more time ok.”

Sameera gave him a grateful smile, then laid down on the scanner again. The technician secured the electromagnetic band around her head. The welcome song played, her eyes fell heavy.

___

___

___

Sameera woke up. She was at her workstation, her screen lined with codes. She paid no heed to her surroundings this time around– neither her colleagues nor her manager.

She just ran. Sameera ran as fast as she could. She raced towards the reception and grabbed her trench coat. Then, he walked in haste towards the restaurant, not bothering to get herself airbrushed or buying flowers.

The host welcomed her and led her in, again. Sameera turned the corner to find Rumi sitting at the booth. Seeing her for the second time still hurt as much.

“Sameera?” Rumi called out, waving her hand. “You are here.”

Sameera walked up to her quickly. Rumi got up and hugged her. “Happy wedding anniversary, my dear wife. I was so scared you won't make it but here you are.”

Sameera held her wife's face in her palms, caressing it gently. “There's nowhere else I want to be. I want to be here, with you, forever.”

Rumi gave her a smile. “I am so happy, Sameera. Come, let's sit down.”

Sameera sat down on a chair, Rumi sat across her, going through the menu. “What would you like to drink? Let's see, it's a few minutes to 8.”

“Rumi,” Sameera interrupted, lacing their hands together. “I can't tell you how much I love being with you. I was so stupid to throw this away, to let you down for things that never mattered. Nothing mattered other than you, and I am sorry I didn't appreciate you the way you deserved.” 

Rumi gave her another smile. “I am so glad to hear you say that.”

“Tell me,” pleaded Sameera. “Are you happy to marry me?”

Rumi looked at her puzzled. “Oh Sameera!”

___

___

___

Sameera opened her eyes, frustrated. Mr. Glen stood by her side, checking her vitals. “Welcome back.”

Sameera got up, disgruntled. “30 minutes are over?”

He nodded his head. “No more going back now.” Picking up his tablet, he patted her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. Satisfied, Mr. Glen proceeded to ask her a series of questions about her experience in the memory simulator. Sameera answered them absentmindedly, her thoughts far away– to a day three years ago, remembering. 

Remembering as it really happened

‘26 November, 2350

It was a Sunday as well as her wedding anniversary but Sameera wasn't home with her wife Rumi, celebrating. Instead, she was seated in her work station, working diligently on Project Remembrance– an AI powered memory simulator that would let people relive their most cherished memories. A dream job for her, as she liked to say some time ago but she wasn't so sure now. 

When she left for the research center this morning, she had promised Rumi she would be there for their dinner date at 8 tonight. Now, looking at the time, Sameera realized it would be impossible.

She still had piles of work left to do, and both her managers had been unable to let her off until she wrapped up her work, owing to an investor's meeting a few days later. 

Sameera ran the code on her screen, hoping to miraculously wrap up her work in half an hour or so. An error message appeared on the screen, breaking her bubble. She teared up in frustration– she wouldn't be able to leave today. 

She tapped the nanoprocessor on her wrist. ‘Send a message to Rumi. Tell her I won't be able to make it’. Then she returned to work, tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks. 

By the time she reached home, it was already midnight. Rumi stood by the kitchen sink, rinsing off some dishes. She wore her night pajamas, her hair undone. 

“Happy wedding anniversary,” said Sameera slowly. 

“It's 12:15,” replied Rumi curtly. “Our wedding anniversary was yesterday. But forget that, tell me how was your Sunday that you spent at work?”

“Oh for heaven's sake Rumi!” Sameera shot back, irritated. “You know my work is demanding. I expect you to be more understanding.”

Rumi turned towards her in anger. “I am not understanding?! This has been going on for months. You are always at work, even on weekends. I don't remember when we last spent time together, to watch a movie or go out for dinner. How can you blame me?”

Sameera threw her hands in the air. “So, it's my fault. Everything is my fault.” She sank on the couch, crying. “You love your work and spend hours painting, it's not an issue. But if I am stuck at work, I am the bad one.”

Rumi pressed her head. “It's not the same. My work brings me joy and fulfillment. I am not trapped by corporate moguls who drain me out, forcing me to work till midnight on a Sunday. Babe, you really need to leave this job.”

“You can never be happy for me, can you?” Sameera asked, bitterly. 

“If you expect me to be happy to see you like this, then yes I am not happy,” Rumi replied firmly. 

“I can't understand why you are so pressed!” said Sameera

“Because it was our wedding anniversary and I was alone, Sameera!”

“It's no big deal. It will come next year, and the next. Do you have to make such a fuss!”

Rumi looked at her stunned. There were tears in her eyes. “What was I thinking, marrying you?”

She turned around and left, banging the bedroom door. Sameera stayed put on the couch, crying.’ 

Sameera sat on her workstation, going through a programme. Most of her colleagues had already left, and the few that remained were packing up their things. Her mind kept drifting back to Rumi. Her smile, her laughter, her happiness were all seared in her head. It brought back the pain of losing her along with guilt.

She needed to meet her one last time. She needed to fix what she messed up three years ago. For Rumi, for herself.

Sameera switched off her screen and made her way towards the testing area. The place was empty by now. Putting in the initiate command, she placed the electromagnetic band on her head and lied down on the scanner, revisiting her memory again. 

And again.

And again.

One time turned to two, two times turned to many. Each time she went back, re-lived her memory only to feel an aching desire to go back. No matter how many times she saw Rumi’s smile or experienced her warm embrace, it was never enough. She needed more. 

She hoped to fix things, she hoped for happiness. She hoped the dead weight she had been carrying for the past three years, be finally lifted off her chest.

And yet with each try, it felt hollow. Rumi felt less like a real person, and more like a figment of her own imagination, turned real via a sophisticated AI programme. Each time she appeared as what Sameera wanted but could never be what she needed because she could never be real. 

Her real Rumi. 

Wiping away her tears, Sameera laid down on the scanner again. The welcome song played, her eyes fell shut.

___

___

___

Sameera woke up with a start. She was at her workstation yet again. She did what she had done a dozen times now. She descended down the elevator, raced to the restaurant and went straight to the back of the restaurant to find Rumi. 

“Sameera?” she said, waving her hand. “You are here.”

“I am,” she replied tearfully. “Rumi, tell me you are happy to marry me?”

Rumi looked at her confused, then smiled. “Oh Sameera, of course I am happy to marry you. You are the best wife in the world.”

The words didn't bring her the satisfaction she thought she would find. Instead, they broke something inside her, crushed and destroyed it until all that was left was pain. 

The pain of losing Rumi.

“Liar,” Sameera shot back. “You are a bloody liar because I am not a good wife. You should regret marrying me, you should resent me, that's how you should act but why would you?”

Rumi placed an arm on her shoulder. “As your wife–”

“You are not my wife!” Sameera shouted. “You are not Rumi. You are just a reconstruction of my memory, in a virtual space rendered by an AI. None of your words are Rumi's words, none of your joy is Rumi's joy. You are governed by an algorithm that I developed. You are not real. You are not my Rumi.”

Rumi, the AI reconstruction of her, shifted uncomfortably. Tears rolled down Sameera's eyes.

___

___

___

Sameera woke up, her body drenched in sweat. The vital monitor on the side beeped loudly. Mr. Glen stood in front of her, worry etched over his face. “Are you okay?”

Sameera got up, wiping off her sweat. “I can explain.”

“You wanted to relive your memory over and over,” he supplied, helping her off the scanner. “What memory are you re-accessing?”

Sameera sat on a nearby chair, looking straight ahead. “My wedding anniversary, three years ago.”

“Must be a really happy memory for you,” said Mr. Glen, sitting in front of her. 

Sameera let out a bitter laugh. “Oh no! There was no happiness because I chose to stay in my office working, instead of being with my wife. I swear I tried but I just couldn't leave. And then when I went home, what did I do? I told Rumi it was no big deal, that our anniversary will come next year. She told me she regretted marrying me.”

Her colleague nodded. “Then what happened?”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Two… Two months later, Rumi suffered a cardiac arrest and passed away. There was no more anniversary for us.”

The pain she had been pushing away all these years finally broke free. She grabbed her face in her hands and cried, letting her sorrow wash over her. 

Mr. Glen rubbed circles around her back. “Is that why you kept revisiting the same memory?”

She nodded through her tears. “I thought I could fix things with Rumi, thought I could show her I love her but –”

“But it brought you no joy,” said Mr. Glen. “Because your wife is gone. She isn't here to experience your love. You hoped changing your memory would ease off your guilt, for you. But it won't because none of it is real. It is just a memory after all.”

“I just wish I could tell her I love her,” said Sameera sadly. “I wish I could make her not regret marrying me.”

Mr. Glen shook his head. “Did she leave you?”

“No.”

“See, she knew and she doesn't regret marrying you. She was there, wasn't she?” he asked. 

Sameera nodded. 

“All you can do is honor your wife's memory and move on from your guilt, Sameera. There's nothing. That is more than enough. You need to let go.”

Mr. Glen gave her another pat, then walked out the room. Sameera stayed seated for some time, contemplating his words. Then, she walked towards the mainframe. Her eyes fell on the initiate command on the screen. She could relive her memory once again if she wanted but. 

Sameera shut down the system. Then she grabbed her belongings and left. On her way out, she grabbed an application for her resignation. Then she stepped into the night, looking at the stars. 

“I am sorry, Rumi,” she said. “And I love you.”

A star twinkled brighter. She smiled, then walked off into the crowd.

[luciusgerard]

Eddie Remembered — How that scene should have gone.

WARNING: Spoilers for Stranger Things 4

-

-

-

Basically, this is my personal interpretation for how Eddie's death scene should have gone. Eddie Munson should not have died, and it was entirely unneccessary to kill his character off, especially in the way that they did. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! <3

Total word count: 1,661 (I think)

Eddie Munson was dead.

Or, so he thought. The so-called "demobats" had torn out what was probably several pounds of flesh from his abdomen and his mouth was full of his own blood. Every shaking breath sent a shooting pain through his body; every tiny movement was excruciating.

"Eddie!" Dustin screamed from somewhere nearby. Even from a distance, Eddie could hear the anguish in his voice, and though he'd done what he could to ensure his friend wouldn't follow him, Eddie couldn't bring himself to care that his efforts weren't enough. In fact, he was almost glad.

Dustin limped to Eddie on a newly-injured leg. Maybe he broke his ankle or just badly sprained it—either way, it didn't seem like the most pressing of concerns. The boy knelt next to his friend, desperately gripping his jacket.

"Oh god. Oh god, Eddie," Dustin said quietly through his tears.

"Bad, huh?" Eddie said, choking slightly on his words. Dustin shook his head.

"No, you're gonna be fine," he said, taking Eddie by the shoulders and lifting his upper body onto his lap. "Just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?"

"Okay," Eddie said. Dustin pulled him up by the shoulders, and Eddie began to try sitting up. Then, he stopped.

"I think..." Eddie struggled in agony to say, "I think I just...I think I just need a second, okay?"

"Okay," Dustin said. He stopped lifting, instead holding his friend and allowing him to relax. Eddie's dark, round eyes met his, in a moment of grief, desperation, and, strangely, inexplicable peace.

Eddie smiled.

"I didn't run away this time, right?" he said weakly, salty tears trickling down his cheeks. A sob escaped Dustin's throat.

"No," Dustin said, pain overtaking his usually bright and jovial tone. "No, you didn't run."

The day before spring break, when Dustin and Mike asked if the Hellfire meeting could be postponed so they could attend Lucas's game. Eddie remembered how strongly he'd reacted, downright repulsed at the idea that his precious Dungeons and Dragons club meeting could be held off another day or two. Oh, how dumb and insignificant a person's past grievances can seem when faced with weighing survival against humanity, or one's own life against those who despised them. Eddie remembered how he'd referred to Mike, Dustin, and Lucas as "lost sheep," lost sheep he'd needed to look out for and recruit for the club, how he'd mocked their clothing in jest, how he'd told them they'd be the future of Hellfire looking out for the other lost sheepies after he graduated. He made a soft, shaky noise, a mix of laughing, crying, and choking.

"You're gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?" he said. It was hardly a question, but rather an instruction, a final word of guidance from a dying older brother.

"No, you're gonna do that yourself," Dustin said tearfully. Eddie looked up at him with a pained smile.

"Nah, I'm dead," he said, sounding a bit too casual about the situation for Dustin's liking. "Say, 'I'm gonna look after them.' Say it."

Dustin let out another sob. "I'm...I'm gonna look after them," he promised in a sorrowful whisper.

Eddie remembered how he'd told his fellow Hellfire members how he'd finally graduate this year after being held back twice, as long as he managed a D in Ms. O'Donnell's class. How he'd told them '86 would finally be his year. He dolorously looked back on the memory with a sad smile.

"Good," he said to Dustin. "'Cause I'm actually gonna graduate." Eddie mustered a weak chuckle. "I think it's my year, Henderson. I think it's finally my year."

Dustin helplessly wept, holding onto Eddie's shirt like a lifeline. It was as if he was the one dying, not Eddie. All he could do was hold him, maybe providing a bit of comfort in his final moments. Eddie reached up, taking Dustin's jacket in his hands.

"I love you, man," he managed. Dustin cried harder, holding Eddie tighter against his body with each heaving breath.

"I love you too," he said through the tears, his voice trembling beyond control.

Eddie's smile faded, and he looked away from Dustin's tear-soaked face. His eyes found a spot far in the distance, high in the sky full of lightning and low, churning clouds. As the light slowly left his eyes, he could just barely hear Dustin repeating his name, though it sounded like he was mumbling on the other end of a long tunnel, and shaking him gently as if he were waking him from sleep.

Eddie remembered Chrissy, how sweet she'd been. How she jumped like a scared rabbit at the sound of a squirrel running up a tree, how nervous she was, how her high-pitched voice shook as she spoke. He remembered how he'd done his best to put her at ease, reminiscing about middle school, when she was eleven and he was nearly fourteen. Yet there they were, two high school seniors, only one there because they were supposed to be. Because they weren't made to feel stupid every moment of their life because they couldn't pay attention. How terrible a death Chrissy had died.

Eddie remembered Patrick, who he didn't know. Maybe he would have, in another world. He knew him to be quieter than the others on the basketball team, and far more respectful than the loud-mouthed and arrogant Jason Carver or that other kid, Andrew or Adam or something. He remembered how genuinely terrified Patrick looked on the night he died, the same way Chrissy had. Eddie almost wished he had gotten to know Patrick—perhaps, in another twisted universe, the two of them could have been friends.

Eddie remembered the Hellfire Club, Dustin, and Mike, and Gareth, and even annoying yet awesome Erica. How he'd told them there's no shame in running, back when the only thing he'd think of upon hearing the name Vecna was a fictional character in a fantasy game. How he'd encouraged them to haul ass and avoid getting themselves, or at least their characters, killed. If only he'd listened to his own advice. As much as he kicked himself for running from everything like the coward he believed himself to be, this time he wished he had.

Strangely enough, more than anything else, Eddie remembered Steve. He hadn't gotten to know Steve at all before this week, mainly because he assumed he'd be a major douchebag. Turned out he was anything but. Thick-skulled, sure, but also kind, loyal, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. Funny, too. And, as much as Eddie hated to admit it? Steve was one of the most beautiful human beings he'd ever seen in his life, except maybe Johnny Depp from A Nightmare on Elm Street. Even then, close contest. Eddie remembered how he had given Steve his battle vest on a whim, and how it felt like he had very literally given an almost complete stranger a piece of him, an extension of himself. Still, he wanted Steve to keep it.

Eddie thought of Hawkins. He thought of how much the people in that godforsaken town wanted him arrested. How so many of them wanted him dead, and how willing, how eager they were to carry it out themselves. How they would jump at the chance to murder a teenager for playing a game, because no one would ever buy that Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High, was at his trailer to buy drugs. Surely he was the spawn of Satan himself, there to sacrifice a young girl to the Devil because apparently he had nothing better to do on his Friday nights. He thought of how dying to save all of their lives wouldn't erase their opinions of him. Dustin testifying that Eddie had been eaten by monsters from an alternate dimension certainly wouldn't hold up well in court, whether or not it was true. The blame might even be shifted to Dustin, and Eddie was not having that.

No.

He was going to live.

Using all the strength he had left, Eddie took in a sharp, gasping breath, now with a sense of desperation to him. He was going to survive. He was going to get to the hospital. He was going to get whatever stitches, whatever surgery he needed, and Dustin could tell them he was attacked by a pack of wild dogs or something. All he knew was that he had to go on, if only to prove his innocence to a town that never had any reason to love him. A town that thought he was a freak.

Or, for his adopted little brother right next to him, begging him to stay alive. If not for them, if not for himself, then for him.

"Dustin," Eddie wheezed, struggling for air. Dustin's eyes widened.

"Eddie," he said hopefully. "Eddie, please tell me you're still here."

Eddie coughed, trying and failing to focus his blurred vision on something, Dustin's face or a tree branch or something.

"I'm still here, man," he managed. "My second's up."

Dustin, unsure of what Eddie meant, could only look at him, now not only grief-stricken, but also confused.

"Come on, Henderson," Eddie said, gripping Dustin's arms in determination. "Hospital. You said it yourself."

Dustin's heartbroken eyes lit up. "O-okay," he said, sniffling. Eddie's tenacity was contagious. He took Eddie by the shoulders, and with several painful heaves, managed to get him to a standing position, though he was mostly being carried by Dustin. The man was heavier than he looked. Usually, Eddie would have viewed being nearly dragged by a limping child out of an alternate dimension after being attacked by bloodthirsty bats as somewhat of a blow to his ego, but this Eddie, this unrecognizable version of himself with a newfound appreciation for life and an astonishingly foggy brain, didn't care even the smallest bit. The only thing he was focused on was survival.

And survive, he would.

[fayythe]

Divine Love: Chapter Three

Henry Cavill X OFC Summary: Rhylan Daines property of the United States Government, the training she took on, the beating, and pain was all manipulating her to loose her body autonomy, they tell her to eat a certain way, talk, walk, act. Nothing is hers, how can she escape the torture her life has become? Now an semi-active black ops Navy Seal working for the CIA struggled to make peace with her past.  She was always told that every life she took, every person she tortured, and every soul she crushed was for the greater good, but how is more violence supposed to help the world?  How can acting help her stop being forced to kill?  How can finding love help her find herself? Only time will tell... Trigger warnings: Slight Alcoholism, Assault, Kidnapping, Blood, Skin Branding, Heavy Depression, Drugs, Undiagnosed eating disorder, Forced Eugenics, Talk of Genocide, talk of war, talk of gore, Hospitalizations for medical reasons, Mental Health issues, Hitman/murder unrecognized by law, Profanity, Military Brutality, torture, terrorism, violence, scars, seizures. Rhylan's Tattoos Rhylan's Body Scars Diagram

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." -- Martin Luther King, JR.

Chapter 3: ненавидеть

           Ненавидеть...Russian...meaning—Hate

It was late, the sky was filled with stars, the air was chilled, and goosebumps brushed my skin as the cold air made the tips of my fingers numb. I couldn't sleep, I hadn't slept in the three days I had been back, and I was starting to feel the side effects of the sleep I so wanted but was severely lacking.

I found myself on a trail at the park near my house, running at nearly three in the morning. I wanted to feel something, I didn't care what it was just not this, not the emotion I felt when I closed my eyes or images I saw in my dreams, so if it meant I had to run and feel the stabs of the cold air on my skin, then so be it.

I'm so tired of everyone thinking I'm their property, when do I get to make decisions for myself? When can I be my own person?

Even when I could feel the friction between my socks and shoes wear away, I still kept running.

Even when I could feel the worst blisters on planet earth start to form on my heel, I kept running.

It wasn't until I finally reached a hill and finally stopped.

The colors of orange, yellow, purples, the bright light the sun had given off made my eyes water, but it was beautiful, something I wanted to walk into, touch caress, love, the sun, the light. A tear fell down my cheek, but I blinked it away, sadness isn't allowed, it shows weakness, sorrow, and vulnerability.

Training 2004

I was biting down on a rag, zip tied to the metal chair, my hair was matted and longer than I remembered my nail beds bled without the fingernail to protect them. I was so bruised, in so much pain, drugged.

The sound of electricity brought forth some conscience thoughts as I looked at the man. I didn't even know the name of the agent, I just knew he enjoyed what he did, he enjoyed causing the pain he was paid to do but would do for free given the chance.

The feeling off all the electricity pulsing through my body was excruciating, the ear-piercing scream I let out in between my sobs and my flowing tears didn't even phase them.

"This is what our enemies will do if you are captured!" The agent yelled.

The feeling of electricity was powered through my veins again and the scream I let out before returned, but this time returning with a stinging pain across my cheek... he slapped me.

The agent got so close to me, I could feel his breath on my neck shifting up to my face looking in my eyes, man his breath was rancid smelled like dog shit and old coffee.

"You show no emotion. You hear me!" He yelled, I smiled, I wanted to kill him, cut his throat, and watch him choke on his own blood, watch him die as he was helpless to do anything and begged me to help him, I made sure to spit a big one in his face which only made him slap me once again.

"You think this is funny bitch!" The electricity rain through me once more, but only this time, it kind of tickled. I was so delusional, laughing, cackling. I didn't feel anything anymore, it's like everything just...turned off.

"This isn't working" The agent said to the other guy, which I have now nicknamed Shaq after Shaquille O'Neal because man this guy was built like him. I was cut from the chair and picked up by the large man, I was still laughing, I couldn't help myself, my mind was so clouded nothing felt like reality. Maybe I was going to wake up.

I patted his shoulder, "Hey Shaq, you and me man we can bust out of this joint." I whispered laughing and let me tell you he slapped me so hard he should be a video game character with a special ability called "Shaq slap" with minus fifty damage or something because shit, I was seeing stars.

I was taken over to what looked to be a bathtub filled with water, Shaq let me down and pointed to the ground in front of the tub. The ground was covered in glass shards and sand, not beach sand though where it was thin, more like playground ground sand where the granules the ones that were thick and hard to get out of your crack. Yes, your ass crack.

"Kneel" Shaq spoke, damn his voice was even deeper than Shaq, it gave me the chills, I don't think I'll ever be able to watch a lakers game after this...

I did what I was told and kneeled on the sand and glass cracking slightly, while I was stilled dazed, I could hear a pocketknife and the ripping of fabric and then slowly the feeling of cold air developed on my chest and back.

I was lucky to remember one of the rules for the agents is they weren't allowed to take off my undergarments. They could do anything else, but force that one on me. I was lucky General Dick was even nice enough to add that to the agreement, but now seeing the rage on the face of the white guy that was torturing me I'm almost sure if the agreement didn't exist, he would've tried.

The white-hot bite of a whip on my back, brough me back to reality, the air escaped my lungs as I went to scream but before I was able to, my head was pushed under water.

Drowning me, over, and over again. I didn't stop after one, two, three. It became so much I could feel my mind start to float away from my body, the hysterics left me, the laughing, the emotions. I felt nothing.

December 2015 (Present Day)

"Rhylan, Mr. Hardy left you a message. Would you like me to read it to you?" Arthurs robotic voice is what brought me back to reality, my head was still filled with fog and the sun had risen exponentially since I had first started staring at the sunrise.

I shook my head, "Repeat your question, Arthur?"

"Mr. Hardly left you a message. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Yeah, read it to me." I started running back to my car.

"The message states: Hey sorry I haven't been able to message, I got back home for a few days then I got distracted catching up with family. Are you going to tell me what that spat was about with that guy at the bar?"

When I finally got to my car door and processed the message read to me, I rested my head in my hands. I was too tired and stressed to deal with this shit.

"Just leave him on read." I said getting into my car.

The drive home was somewhat short, though the shower I took when I got home lasted a while. I finally was able to get up enough confidence to text my mother that I was home, though she seemed happy enough and told me to stop by soon enough. I kind of wish she'd just stop by here, but you know work comes first.

I made a mistake messaging her while I was drunk while at the after party, she isn't the same from what she used to be.

At this point home I didn't know what to do, it was either continue coding Arthurs program which was already advance enough at this point, or game. I had gotten to the point where I had already cleaned all my guns more than once and was starting to turn to eating junk food and binge watching every episode of SpongeBob I could find on demand.

I guess the days felt so long and started to cloud together after a while, the sleep I did get was often filled of the blood I tried so hard to get away from.

I knew at this point it was probably post-traumatic stress disorder, but I would never admit that, and if I am meant to become the low life, I was always expected to be growing up then so be it. At least I'm not a gambler. I'm just a broken veteran with an alcohol problem, we have millions of those in the United States, though not many probably have experience with forced black ops operations.

I pulled out my phone, I could feel Luther's breath and hear the flat screen television play the most annoying episode of SpongeBob ever. Why would someone sneak into their mothers house to steal their underpants anyway?

At least it's not the episode with Nosfertu and the spatula hand, that one always gave me the creeps.

I'll be honest, I do have a social media account technically. Though it's made with a fake email address, and has some randomly generated username Arthur gave me, I use it occasionally to scroll through the stories made about me.

I know many celebrities do this, but I've never been on social media, and I don't plain to. At least not anytime soon, social media alone is a trap.

The stories about myself were trending on multiple platforms, people were curious on why I'm so "stuck up" as they call it and why I seem so held off.

Well great, I'm considered stuck up. I took a sip of my beer, yeah this is why I don't like social media.

The part about being held off is true, it's hard to open up about anything when most of your adult life all you've been doing is classified missions to kill people. Right now, the people that know who I really am is the president, who alone wasn't happy with the program to begin with but was 'encouraged' it was for the best, but me? I'll say manipulated, and Dick and his people which is only a few, maybe five?

I found myself looking up the person I wanted to hate so much...Henry Cavill.

I remembered the first night we met in the streets in Jersey, the mission I was on a the time had led me there, which originally, I thought was strange but in the end was a perfect place to hide away the women and children for their illegal drug and human trafficking.

I was undercover apart of their crew, and I had only been in the program for about a year in a half before that mission. I didn't plan on meeting him, or slipping out that night, but I did, and I did meet Henry. That's something I'll always have to come to terms with.

We have history, and I have to either be the bigger person and confront the history we have together even if it was for a few hours...or forget it ever happened.

The problem with actually speaking with him was the fact he was going to ask questions and I knew that I would ask questions too. We were hitting it off and everything was going well, and I vanished right before his eyes, but in the end they are questions I cannot give an answer to.

I can't tell him why I left.

I can't tell him what I did before.

I can't tell him what I was doing in Jersey in the first place.

So, what is there to tell him? What is there to even talk about?

I finished my beer, getting up to grab a crystal whiskey glass and filling it with my favorite Russian vodka.

"Privet tem, kto upal" I whispered downing the glass. It was a Russian saying me and the soldiers I had commanded picked up in our time in Russia. 'Cheers to those that have fallen' was the translation in English.

We had lost so many over the years, from what I know there was only two others left in the program. Both of them, I had to train...and torture emotion out of. We didn't speak much anymore, the boys are still young enough to be of use to the government and now that they are missing me, the government, the boys are often put on mission after mission. Never getting a break and loosing what little bits of their humanity they had left.

Which is partly the reason they don't contact me; they feel I betrayed the government by taking my absence in the program.

A inorganic manipulated love for their country. The boys were brainwashed, severely.

For me though, the world never got any better with the work we did, it only got worse.

As the years went by and as the war in Iraq and Afghanistan progressed, we were sent on more missions and as everyone around me brainwashed themselves to believe it was getting better. I sat around and watched all the chaos we were causing, a part of.

Once I was captured by enemy and tortured, I was in the hospital for a while and had to really think about my life choices. I didn't want to be a killer forever; I wanted a family one day. I wanted more than what I had.

While the little immediate family I had was glad I was leaving the military, now most of every had moved away. My step siblings hadn't spoken to me in years, they didn't matter much; and my grandparents had moved to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere to settle down for retirement.

It was going to be a lot harder than I originally planned to find that family I so thrived for...

Not like I can go back to what I'm good at anyway, my face is on nearly every newspaper and social media now.

"Rhylan, Nelia is calling. Would you like to answer?" Arthur's voice sounded through the house on the intercom.

"I got it" I jogged to pick up my phone and put it on speaker, then walking back to the counter to pour me another glass of jewel.

"What's up?"

"Oh hey, I didn't know if you were actually going to be awake."

I chuckled, "You thought I'd be asleep? The party has only just started." I danced a little in place.

"Rhylan are seriously drinking? Gosh, you need help"

"Awe sweetie, it's okay to be insecure, being a lightweight is tough" I walked back to the couch sitting down hearing Lue's tail whack against the sofa.

"You're an asshole." She laughed, a metal clang in the background. She must be doing the dishes.

"So why are you calling me?" I asked, I put the phone to my chest, "Arthur play me a movie." Arthur's confirmation sound pinged, and random movie started to play. Man of Steel...I wonder what that is?

"Oh right, I need you to decide what role you want to do."

I groaned putting my eyes in the corner of my elbow, "Do I have to?"

Neila smacked her lips, "Yes, you know my suggestion. You need to choose now, or the offer is going to someone else. I think the runner up is Gal Gadot"

"I don't know who that is..."

"Gal Gadot? Come on she's so well known. She was on fast and furious."

I shrugged my shoulders even though she couldn't see me, "I've never watched it." Maybe I should? I thought.

"You're so uncultured"

"True, but I had bigger things to worry about for the last ten years than keeping up with pop culture. The only thing I had was books."

"Excuses, excuses. Well okay, you still need to answer now. Wonder women?"

"Yeah, I'll do it." Guess I'm wonder women, not sure I wanted to work with Ryan Reynolds quite yet, don't think I could hold my shit together. That man, tasty...

"Great! I'll email the casting director and let her know you're for it." She sounded excited, of course she was this would be a big break for her too.

"Okay..." I thought for a moment, be the bigger person, the words flew through my head like a tornado

"Can you do me a favor, can you get Henry Cavill's number for me?" I asked, taking the phone of speaker and pressing it to my ear.

"Why would you need that, unless—"

I stopped her from finishing that sentence, her and her crazy idea's... "Don't worry nothing like that, honestly don't worry about why, just get it for me please."

I bit my lip hard.

"Well, Since you said please, I'll call in one of my favors. I'll text it to you in a bit."

"Thank you, talk to you later." I said hanging up.

Looking up I see Henry on the screen, which startles me so much I jump.

"Arthur, turn the fucking TV off." I yelled, which then proceeded to show a black screen. I swear technology these days, he must be listing to my thoughts or something.

It wasn't much after that when I got the text from Nelia with two numbers, one labeled work phone and personal phone.

I starred at the numbers for what felt like eternity before typing back thank you to Nelia.

What do I do now?

I can't call him now, what if he's in a different time zone.

What do I even say with that?

'Oh, I'm sorry for treating you like dog shit the other day. I used to kill people for a living, and I can't tell you anything about it'

I scoffed at myself; this is what I've become. Seriously it's pathetic.

But I could..."Arthur from now on, add a constant tracking on the phone numbers I was just sent."

The sound chimes, Arthur's program was now tracking every moment, every keystroke and every phone call Henry was to place in the future.

Maybe It was wrong? --- I knew this was wrong, privacy, I'm completely devaluing privacy and Henry right to it, but at the time my mind was so clouded with feelings I couldn't comprehend the wrong in the choices I made.

I couldn't sleep again that night.

No matter how hard I tried, the little bit of sleep I was able to get was always clouded with the pain I was haunted with, I knew sooner or later I was going to break.

Now that I wasn't constantly under Dean's control, we're he'd beat the emotions out of me after I started to feel my emotions were starting to come back. I've never experienced that, I've never experienced fear, happiness, excitement, I only ever felt rage and anger it's what I was coded and made to feel.

I don't know how to change it, at this point I found myself lost in this point of my life. Where am I to go now? What is the reason I was born and chosen for this path of life?

I didn't know how to find out, out to find my meaning.

Was there even a meaning to find?

It was around four in the morning; I was sitting on the seemingly white couch; Lue was asleep his head resting on my thigh his legs kicking as if he was chasing something in a dream. He was my lifeline, my best friend.

I had a book in my lap, one of my favorites and one I picked up in Poland a long time ago, though now it had been made into multiple games while the story has been completely brutalized and butchered.

"Rhylan, Dean's location has been pinged and located nearby."

I jumped, I owed Dean one. He was coming to collect his debt, but what.

"How long?" I asked Arthur, Lue waking up suddenly on high alert noticing my body language, I reached for under the coffee table pulling out one of my stashed glocks, I kissed it. I won't let him take me away, to kill, to be his puppet.

"I'm unable to ping his location, the last known location was seven minutes ago a mile away."

Just then the knock at my door was the thing that startled me.

The fear running through my veins was so bizarre, the tips of my fingers felt numb, it hurt to breath, I could barely see through my glassy eyes—

Get yourself together Rhylan, if he sees you like this, things will be worse.

I put the gun I was holding back in the holster under the coffee table.

"Luther." I looked at my white fluff ball.

"стража" Bulgarian, guard me, protect me from harm if it is to come, not only did I beg Luther's training, I begged God.

Lue immediately walked by my side to the door, I slowly but surely unlocked the two dead bolts but leaving the chain lock attached.

I knew what I expected to see when I opened the door, Dean, and his stupid shitty face, and that's what I saw.

"What do you want?" I spoke through the crack of the door.

He smiled, his fake white smile. Man, the government was probably paying this guy millions to keep his mouth shut.

"Awe, you're not happy to see me?"

I shook my head, "Fuck no, suck my dick mother fucker."

"Don't worry, you're not my type."

"I was a year ago"

But a year ago you had control over me.

"Things change. Are you going to let me in? Or are you going to make me stand outside in the cold."

I thought about it for a second, "Stand outside, sounds good to me."

His voice rumbled deep, "Rhylan, open the door. Now."

He still scared me, his voice still commanded me, still had me under the spell I so proudly though I had banished.

I unlatched the chains of the door, Luther standing in between my legs watching the intruder at all costs.

"Make me a drink, scotch if you have any."

Of course, I have scotch and he knew that. Though I never drank it, just the smell made me gag, it was the alcohol they forced me to drink during training, or may I say torture camp.

"Crafty what you did, I didn't notice you had bugged my phone until it started to make nose while I wasn't even on it"

I glanced at him, pouring him his glass, and sliding it on the counter to him. No touching. Ever, especially not him.

"You're lucky I need you able right now, otherwise I would've come to beat the shit out of you—"

I interrupted him, "Don't even, I'm not your bitch anymore. Ever." I scoffed.

He just smiled again, fucking dick. "Oh, but you are." He downed the scotch.

"I have a job for you. But we have to go to D.C to discuss the details."

"I'm not going with or doing anything for you." I spat.

Dean just looked at me, "Rhylan Daines, you are still under my command. If you don't come willingly, I'll take you by force."

I smiled this time, "By force? Look around this house Dean, security cameras everywhere, Gideons program is active and recording everything live I all I must do is go missing and he will expose the entire operation. Everything."

Dean visibility tensed up, "You finished the software?"

I finished it a few years ago, and have only upgraded it sense then, but why would I tell him that?

"Well, what can it do?"

"Arthur, introduce yourself to dickwad."

"Dean Sawyer, I've heard a lot about you. My name is Arthur Gibbons, I'm an artificial intelligence program started by Gideon Butler and finished by Rhylan Daines. My intelligence is powerful enough to hack all government sources, phones, televisions, medical devices and more. My mission: protection – Dean Sawyer it seems you have suspicious images on your computer in Baltimore, what is the purpose of these images?"

Dean's eyes bulged, "No! You must give the code up, that is too dangerous to be in civilian hands."

"I will never, Gideon left Arthur's code to me and me alone, he knew what he was creating was going to be big, and knew if you ever got your hands on it wouldn't be used for good like it was indented."

Just then, a bullet came piercing through my back glass patio window shooting the camera pointing directly at the kitchen and darkening the view Author had.

I was left unprotected, but it gave me time to connect the dots.

Snipers. Dean knew about Arthur from the beginning.

Before I knew it, Luther was barking like crazy, just when I went make a run for the drawer homing another one of my pistols, I could feel a syringe go deep into my neck and my head start to fog like I had never felt before.

I was only able to manage to say a few words before my entire world when black.

"I will kill you one day."

--

Cold.

I was so cold.

The sound of chains filled my ears again, the sound I so dreaded to hear.

But it was wine that made look over to see Luther chained by the throat, muzzled so tightly I could just tell it was uncomfortable. Oh my god, what have I done.

I looked down at my body, I was naked. Not just undergarments, naked and the purple bruises that formed around and on my body from dragged and throwing around were fresh and painful.

"Luther come here buddy," I gestured,

Luther slowly got up, limping, God damn sons of bitches. What did you do to my dog!

We were finally able to reach the middle where I was able to loosen his muzzle, as it was probably better to keep it on to avoid Luther getting more hurt than he already was. "I'll get you out of here buddy." I kissed his dirty matted fur.

I didn't give a two shits on what happened to me.

I was so numb to life, at this point it would probably be for the best that I was to leave the living... I shook my head, its not the right time to think about that Rhylan, I scolded myself.

I heard the large metal door open and a tall muscular young man stepped through the threshold. Wade.

Truth be told, Wade looked different. He had quite a few tattoos now, and for some reason started growing out his ratty platinum blonde hair. When I knew him, He refused to grow out his hair, for any reason and the hypocrite also detested my tattoos saying they made me too easily recognizable. I see what's going on here, the top dog leaves and has to be replaced. Funny.

Wade was fisting long weighty metal chain, I knew what it was for of course, he always did love the torturing part, but the fear in eyes is what made me stop silly in my thought process.

He was scared? Wade? Scared?

"Are you afraid of me?"

Wade sniffled a laugh, the crazy in his eyes threw me for a loop. "Me? Afraid of you? Look where you are..." He bent down to meet me eye to eye, the smell of dipped tobacco threating my sinusitis, "Chained, beaten. You truly are nothing anymore..." This time he did chuckle.

I watched him stand back up and walk to the side of the one way glass that was a mirror, I shook my head, "If this is about Arthur you better just kill me—"

"it's not, not now anyway. I'm sure General Sawyer will have some...discussions about that with you."

General Sawyer? That's gross, his name is Dick.

"Why do you call him that?" I adjusted the chains around my wrists the sounds of jingling filling the small room.

Wade looked at my reflection through the mirror, "Call him what?"

"General Sawyer. You do realize he was dishonorably discharged, he's not a general anymore he wasn't even the bigging. He just like power...and titles." I started.

"Like man, what the fuck happened to you? You were young when you joined, didn't like tattoos, alcohol, tobacco, growing your hair out. Now you smell like shit, and need a fucking haircut." I rested the back of my head on the stone wall, slightly smiling.

"You left."

My head shot up, "What?"

"You fucking left, that's what happened to me, happened to both of us!" He yelled,

Wade whipped around, his hand was still so tightly wrapped around the metal chain, "When you the first time, everyone went crazy. They believed me and Ethan couldn't do what you could, we weren't good enough...They but us both through more, torture, believing they could make us better, better than you."

I finally looked up at Wade, "Did it work?"

"No."

I knew the answer before he said it, of course didn't work. What made me learn to be so good at what I did, was the fact I started early, I was only seventeen when I went on my first mission and took my first life.

That's why it didn't work, the younger the prospective is, the easier to manipulate, change mannerisms, personality, the easier to control. Both Wade and Ethans being well past twenty-three now, the only way for them to learn what I was taught so many years ago was through trial and error.

"We constantly have problems with conspicuousness, rats, people don't expect females to be anything dangerous."

"Okay.. Where's Dick? Or are you going to tell me why I was kidnapped...again." The again part came out as a whisper.

"There's a hit, someone really high up its not possible for Ethan or I to do it, we fly out later today."

Luther wined, laying down next to me.

I shook my head, "I don't kill anymore. I've been saying that."

Wade didn't take that answer, "That's bullshit and you know it, you're probably the one person in this world that loves killing more than I do."

I fought back, "You're right we love killing, we love it because with we were manipulated to! You really think we could've imagined ourselves killing people all over the world as teenagers. Seriously, Wade, the training they put us through isn't just to make us better fighters, it's so break us, you, me, Ethans, it's to make us controllable."

"It doesn't matter. You'll do it weather you'll like it or not." Wade spat, rolling the metal chain around his hand.

"No I won't—"

Just in the split second Wade was holding a gun to my head, "You'll do it!" He yelled.

I found myself just staring at him... wanting him to take my live, silently pleading for him to pull the trigger.

"Do it." I said.

Wade just smiled, "Poor Rhylan, stuck in the world nothing but--." Wade looked over at Luther, "No! Don't."

Wade pulled on the chain that Luther was attached to, his wine filled my ears and immediately I could feel my eyes burning with tears, please not Luther, anything or anyone else but him.

Wade was holding a gun to the back of Luther's head as he was growling and frothing from the mouth, Wade looked back at me again.

"Are you sure that's your answer Rhylan?"

A tear dropped from my eye, "I'll do it, just let him go!"

Luckily he did just that and let Luther go and made his way to me, "Crying? Wow, you're even a bigger pussy than I thought you had become."

"Shut the fuck up, you're such a hypocrite, the first time we went to Afghanistan, and you had to kill a lizard for food you were sobbing."

The butt of the gun hit the side of my face hard, it took all I had to not pass out. "Okay Dick rubbing off on you I see, but I don't think you've remembered the biggest factor you son of a bitch."

I looked back up at him, feeling the blood poor down my face. "I've been everywhere, the world knows my name who I am, where I'm from, what I look like. There's no way I can shoot to kill someone and the media not seeing me. It's not possible."

Wade just smiled, and picked me up by the arm. "Oh Rhylan... Really? You're the first person to know about good disguises"

That's why I'm naked...

This is going to be a long next week.