#the past is repeating but with different circumstances. it.... hurts.

[noxtivagus]

november huh

[kiarastromboli]

You’re mine (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Masterlist.

Warning: smut content, drug mention, toxic relationship, argument, rough sex.

Summary: y/n and Chris are in a toxic relationship, and y/n is about to tell him that she wants to end it.

Note: This fanfic is entirely inspired by a past relationship I had. I want to emphasize that I'm writing it as a way to talk about my experiences and for fun. If you're in a similar relationship, please, for your well-being, escape. Don't let anyone, under any circumstances, treat you this way. It's destructive, trust me, it's not worth it.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Here I am again on a Thursday night at 12:30 AM, sneaking out to see the boy I promised to stop seeing.

I'm pathetic; it only took one message for me to go against my principles, and now I find myself making the same mistake that I've been repeating for over a year.

But this time is different; tonight, I'm going to end this toxic relationship once and for all.

The boy I'm talking about? Chris, a guy from my high school with whom I've been in a secret relationship for a little over a year.

It all started when he replied to one of my Instagram stories. At the time, I had no idea how much of an asshole this guy was. I was naive and carefree, smoking joints with my friends to have fun, and I only knew Chris by sight.

He hung out with the "cool" people at school—the ones my friends and I desperately tried to become by smoking and adopting a delinquent attitude.

When Chris responded to my story, telling me he found me cute, I couldn't believe my eyes. No one really paid attention to me despite all the effort I put in.

Anyway, after a bit of conversation and some innuendos, I eventually understood what he wanted from me: to hook up. And, to be honest, that was enough for me. I was ready to settle for just that if it meant being closer to him.

That same night, I sneaked out to smoke a joint with him, and I discovered a whole new Chris, far from the one I saw at school.

He was funny, attentive, nice, caring, and very open. I quickly felt comfortable with him; the connection was great. Eventually, we ended up sleeping together in his room.

I had sex with a guy before him, but it didn't go well, and I didn't know much about it. Chris was super understanding and took his time with me. He helped me discover my body and taught me how to please myself and him.

Our relationship helped me become more comfortable with myself. Chris always took the time to kiss every inch of my body to make me understand how beautiful he found me.

"You're so beautiful, Y/n."

"I forbid you to have any complexes; you're perfect."

"Look at yourself; you're gorgeous."

You're probably wondering why our relationship is toxic if Chris helped me so much. Well, the thing is, our relationship has always been a double-edged sword. When the doors were closed, and it was just him and me, everything was fine. He only had eyes for me, complimented me, and listened attentively. But as soon as we were in public, everything changed.

I wish he had just ignored me because he didn't want to acknowledge our relationship, and that was the case at the beginning. But it went much further than that over time.

At first, he ignored me at school, and it hurt a little, but I signed up for it. He made it clear he didn't want anyone to know about us, so I had no say in the matter.

But over time, his friends and mine became friends, and we started hanging out together before, during, and after classes.

That's when things took a different turn. I knew I had to keep a low profile, so I tried to keep my distance from him without looking suspicious when our friends hung out together. However, he started acting strangely.

Whenever I opened my mouth to say something, he hurried to cut me off, diverting attention to himself, making me look like a fool.

Whenever he had the chance, he made more or less hurtful comments about me to amuse the group.

"What's with this outfit? You look like a clown."

"Are you naturally stupid, or did it come with time?"

"You know, you can hide behind all the makeup you want; we still see your face underneath."

In short, he acted like a real jerk when people were around, and in parties, it was even worse. He would grab my attention and then proceed to hook up with other girls right in front of me, as if to provoke me.

He spent all his time humiliating me. The thing is, it happened gradually. It started with a few tasteless jokes from time to time, so I never really took the initiative to defend myself. I don't know why, but I already felt like a fool, and I didn't want to worsen my situation.

At first, I tried talking to him privately to understand why he did that, why he treated me like his princess in private but like a dog the rest of the time. And his responses were always the same.

"Babe, don't stress; it's just how we joke around with my friends."

"It's not a big deal; I just had a bit too much to drink. It happens."

"I treat you the same way I treat my friends so that we don't look suspicious. You know very well that I don't mean any of what I say in front of them, Y/n."

And after that, he would kiss me and make me forget everything with a few caresses. I blamed myself for being so weak, but he was so good with me.

I felt alive and considered with him. No one looked at me the way he did, and no one treated me like he did. But what I hated more than anything was the way I belonged to him while knowing that he didn't belong to me at all.

"You're mine, Y/n; I don't want any other guys putting their hands on you."

"We're not together; I have the right to see other people."

"Who the fuck was that guy in your story this morning?"

I found it cute that he was jealous, but I quickly understood that it was just possessiveness. I was his trophy, and he loved knowing that I adored him, maintaining this destructive little link between us.

I struggled to realize that it was bad for me; I idealized him so much that I normalized his awful behavior towards me. I reached a point where I thought it was the price to pay for having such a perfect guy by my side.

I know it sounds insane, and you probably judge me, but when I met Chris, I was not doing well. I felt bad, lost, and he helped me appreciate life again. He helped me with my body and mind, treated me like a princess, and I was ready to endure all of this not to lose what he gave me.

It was like a drug; without him, I was doing very badly. As long as he was there, everything was better, but I knew it was destroying me, and I knew it was bad. However, cutting ties with him meant giving up on my happiness, and I didn't have the strength for that.

I began to realize how bad it was on the day I broke down publicly with him, during a party with our friends.

Start of the flashback:

What a shitty night; I'm wasted, and Chris shows up with another one of his girls. I don't want to see him; he disgusts me.

I headed to the kitchen to take another shot when I felt hands wandering on my hips. I immediately turned around in surprise to find a Chris even more drunk than me. "Oh my god, Chris, don't touch me," I spat out, rolling my eyes before removing his hands from me.

He chuckled before leaning into my ear to say, "She doesn't suck as well as you, you know?" I felt anger boiling inside me; I pushed him away before starting to walk towards the terrace where the others were.

"Hey, I'm kidding; it's fine, don't make a scene for that, Y/n," he said, grabbing my wrist as I reached the door leading to the terrace.

"Damn it, let go of me, you asshole," I said, opening the door and breaking free from his grip. "Go to hell, Chris," I shouted, unintentionally drawing the attention of others to us.

Chris clenched his jaw and shot me a hateful look when he realized that everyone was fully focused on us. "Stop acting like a bitch and giving a show in front of everyone, Y/n; I don't have time for your bullshit," he snapped, and everyone around us sighed, shocked.

I felt tears welling up. "Damn it, what's your problem with me? Just leave me alone!" I said before breaking down and leaving the party.

End of the flashback.

After that night, nothing was the same. I hated him in public, always making a promise to myself not to go see him again, until he sent a message, and I caved.

It was always the same, the same message, "Come smoke a joint with me." I said no the first time, he insisted, promising it was just to smoke a joint. I'd give in, we'd smoke, end up sleeping together, and again, I'd go back home annoyed at myself for succumbing once more. Secretly, I hoped that the next day, when we met in class, he'd treat me well. But it never happened; he always ended up treating me like crap, and the cycle continued when he sent another message.

A damn vicious circle I tried to break free from as best I could, and for a while, I succeeded. Three months had passed without giving in. Three months of ignoring his messages. But tonight, I allowed myself to go back because I wanted to tell Chris that it was officially over. I found a guy, and I was determined to forget Chris in the arms of this guy I had met a few weeks ago.

I knew it wasn't right, and I had promised not to go back, but it was stronger than me. I couldn't wait to give him a taste of his own medicine, to see his face when he learned the news. Yes, I was acting out of revenge, but you couldn't blame me; he had ruined my life for over a year. I had the right to get back at him.

Anyway, here I am, after a 15-minute walk, in front of his house. I knew where the keys were hidden; I was used to coming here. I stealthily entered his house, being careful not to wake up his parents or siblings. I headed to his room and stopped in front of his door.

Oh my god, what am I doing? Suddenly, stress invaded me, memories flooding back. I thought I was over this, but now, standing in front of his door again, all those good moments rushed back, only accelerating my heartbeat.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. It was too late; I was already here. I opened the door and closed it behind me, making sure to put the towel at the bottom to prevent the smell of weed from escaping his room.

I took a deep breath, memories swirling in my head—the smell of weed and his deodorant, the green glow of his LEDs, his slightly messy room—nothing had changed. Chris was slouched in the chair at his desk, shirtless, and hair disheveled. He had just finished rolling a joint, looked up at me, and I saw the smirk that I hadn't seen in ages. "Long time no see around here, princess."

"Yeah, I've been pretty busy," I replied, rolling my eyes before removing my sweater; it was unbearably hot in his room.

Chris stood up and started walking towards me. My heart raced, and I stood there, watching him approach. "I missed you," he said, running his hands over my waist.

I cleared my throat before moving towards his bed to sit at the edge. Damn, I just lost my composure in front of him. I was confident just a few minutes ago; all of this was a bad idea. "Shall we smoke this joint?" I said, hoping that the joint would help me feel more at ease to accomplish what I came here for.

He turned to me with a confused look before sitting back in his desk chair and grabbing his joint. "Very eager tonight?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm eager to shut you up and pass me that joint," I said, giving him a fake smile. He chuckled before lighting the joint and handing it to me.

"You're sexy when you're angry, you know?" he said, leaning towards me from his chair. I rolled my eyes before taking a drag.

"Three months without seeing me, and you're acting like a real bitch with me," he said, smiling and watching me smoke his joint without passing it back. "You're not even going to let me have a little, mama? Are you that angry with me?" he said, tilting his head to the side and placing his hand on my thigh.

I jumped at the contact of his hand on me, immediately passing him the joint, hoping he would take it with the hand resting on my thigh. However, he did the opposite, pulling his chair even closer to mine, blowing his smoke into my face. "You're chattier than that usually," he said, smiling before taking another massive drag and placing the joint on his desk. He then leaned in, burying his head in my neck, extracting a sigh from my lips.

He started kissing my neck, placing his hand on the back of my head to keep me in place. I couldn't help but tilt my head back, offering him better access, and as he nibbled on my skin, a warm sigh escaped my lips. I could already feel my panties getting wet at that moment.

My head began to spin, unsure if it was the effect of all those drags at once or the way he devoured my neck as if it were his last meal.

Suddenly, I regained my senses, remembering why I had come here in the first place. I pushed him back by the chest, forcing him to sit up on his chair. "Chris!" I said, catching my breath, and he looked at me confused when I did that.

"I didn't come here for this, damn it," I said, getting up from his bed and starting to walk away from him.

"Why are you here, then?" he asked, turning his chair towards me without leaving his chair.

"I came to end this, Chris. I'm tired of your shit," I told him, crossing my arms, and he chuckled. "Is that funny to you, you jerk?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

"Come on, baby, stop your drama. I acted like an idiot, let me make it up to you by having a good time," he said, getting up from his chair.

"No, it's over, Chris, I'm done," I replied sharply.

"You say that every time, y/n, and we always end up here," he sighed. "Can we avoid going through this again, please? You know very well that you and I won't end." He said this while caressing my arms once he reached my level. "These were the most complicated three months I've had since I've known you. You've punished me enough like this," he added, rolling his eyes.

"Do you hear what you're saying, Chris?" I said, shaking my head. "You don't even realize how toxic you are to me," I said, getting angry. "Damn, it took me three fucking months to have the courage to end this relationship. Three fucking months of crying and lamenting because of you, Chris."

"We'll figure it out, y/n. You can't just leave me because you're feeling bad; it's selfish!" he replied. "Do you think I was doing well these last three months? Fuck, y/n, we'll find a solution; we always find a solution."

"We always find a solution?" I said with a fake laugh. "Because treating me like crap in public is a solution for you, Chris?" I said, pushing him, carried away by my anger. "You only think about yourself; damn it, I can't fucking take it anymore. It's not a healthy relationship, none of this is healthy!"

"I told you I didn't want others to know about us, y/n. I don't like airing my life; you can't change who I am!" he said, advancing towards me.

"But damn it, you don't listen to anything I say!" I told him, shaking my head. "This discussion is fucking pointless; it's over. I found someone else, Chris, and he'll genuinely make me happy, not like you," I spat out full of rage before heading towards his door.

He grabbed my arm abruptly and violently slammed me against his door, causing me to release a groan of pain. "What the fuck did you just say?" he said through clenched teeth, bringing his face closer to mine and tightening his hand around my neck to force me to look him in the eyes, where I could see all his burning rage.

"You're hurting me," I said, closing my eyes as his grip tightened around my throat, forcing me onto the balls of my feet. It wasn't the right moment, I knew, but somewhere deep down, his reaction satisfied me. He was furious, and that's exactly what I wanted. I wanted him to feel the hatred he made me feel, and I knew he felt it at that moment.

His hold around my neck loosened, and a smirk appeared on my face. "You heard right, Chris. I found a guy better than you," I told him, looking him in the eyes before leaning toward his ear on tiptoes, resting my hands on his shoulders. "A guy way better than you for me, a guy who will treat me much better than you, and especially a guy who will fuck me much better than you," I whispered to provoke him.

I slowly faced him again, never breaking eye contact. He ran his hand over his face before pressing against the door behind me with his other hand. I could feel the anger boiling inside him, and I liked it. He raised his head to look at me before running his tongue over his teeth and fake laughing. "What's happening to you—" I started to say before being cut off by his lips on mine.

At first, I tried to push him away, but his hand caught both my wrists, pinning them above my head without his lips leaving mine.

No matter how much I resisted, it was useless. When I entered this room, I already knew how it would end, so I ended up giving in and kissing him back, letting his tongue into my mouth.

He pressed his body against mine, and the kiss was hungry and furious. I couldn't help but moan into his mouth. I must admit that this burning fire in the pit of my stomach had been missing, a sensation that only Chris had the power to provoke.

"You're mine, y/n," he growled before reconnecting our lips immediately.

"No, I'm not, Chris," I tried to deny despite having just succumbed for the thousandth time.

"Then why do you always end up here, huh?" he said between hungry kisses on my jaw and neck.

"Because—" I said, moaning as he started to nibble on my earlobe.

"Because you're mine," he insisted, placing his hand on the side of my neck. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget the name of that guy you're dating," he said, directing his lips towards my breasts.

"Chris—" I said before being interrupted by his hand on my mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, y/n," he said before pulling on my tank top to expose my chest and began kissing me. "This guy doesn't know you," he said, inserting one of his fingers into my mouth for me to suck, which I did. "I know you inside out. I know where to touch you and what to say," he said, straightening up so his face was in front of mine, lifting his knee between my legs to apply pressure to my pussy.

"I can't believe you even thought for a second that another man could ever fuck you better than me, baby," he said, smirking and rubbing against me, making me moan at the friction of my clothes against my clit.

"Chris, fuck," I said with his fingers still in my mouth. Suddenly, he pulled them out, removing my top in one swift motion. "Please, Chris," I said, desperate. At this point, I could deny it all I wanted, but this guy could reduce me to my knees with just one sentence. It had been three months since I had a proper orgasm.

"Please what? I thought you had someone else, someone better?" he said with a sly smile, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of my head and pulling to make me lift my head toward him. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he said, stopping the friction between my legs, driving me completely crazy.

"No, Chris, don't stop!" I said in a frustrated moan.

"Say it, y/n," he said authoritatively, looking me in the eyes and pulling harder on my hair. "Fine, since you don't want to say it," he said, dragging me by the hair to his bed where he threw me before swiftly removing my bottoms and panties in one go.

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop. I was dying to feel him inside me. I sat up from my previous position lying on the bed to kiss him. Before I could reach his lips, he pushed me onto the mattress with a sly smile, making me let out another frustrated moan. "Why?" I said, furrowing my brows.

He didn't answer and walked towards his dresser, taking out two pairs of handcuffs we had used in the past. I watched him come towards me with an apprehensive look. "Tell me if your new guy can make you cum like I can," he said, grabbing my face before suddenly releasing me and handcuffing both my arms to his bedframe.

"What are you doing, Chris?" I asked, feeling my breath quicken. He came to kiss me briefly, pushing me to pursue his lips in the hope of reconnecting them hungrily when he broke our kiss.

"Shhhhh," he simply replied before proceeding to kiss every inch of my body except where I really needed him to, making me squirm under his lips. "If only you were less complicated with me, y/n," he murmured, kissing the hollow of my waist. "You're driving me completely insane, y/n," he said, biting the inside of my thigh this time, prompting me to let out a moan.

"Chris," I said, unable to bear the way he teased me. "I need you, please," and with my words, he abruptly spread my legs and dove his head in.

He began licking my wetness from my hole before moving up to my clit, making me moan at the sensation. His left hand came to play with my breasts, while the fingers of his right hand teased my entrance as he stimulated my clit with his tongue, causing me to roll my eyes. "Oh my God, Chris," I said in a broken voice, trying to free my hands from the handcuffs to run them through his hair, but in vain.

Chris continued to groan against me, sending vibrations to my clit, making my head spin. Without warning, he inserted two fingers inside me, causing me to throw my head back and release another moan at the sensation.

He began to move his fingers in and out progressively faster, bending them inside me and hitting that spot that made me see stars. Chris knew perfectly well that he could make me climax very quickly; he knew me inside out. So when that familiar knot formed in the pit of my stomach, I didn't need to alert him for him to know that my orgasm was dangerously approaching. "Can you feel it coming?" he said, continuing to finger me. I simply nodded, too intoxicated by the impending orgasm to speak. "You want it?" he asked, accelerating the movement and making me lose my mind.

I was on the brink of climax when he withdrew his fingers without warning, making me moan in frustration and lift my head towards him. "Chris, no!" I gasped, "Don't stop, please." I pleaded desperately, closing my eyes and rubbing my thighs in the hope of feeling something.

"What's the matter? Did I frustrate you by making you think I was going to let you cum on my fingers?" he said mockingly. "Go ask your new guy to finish the job," he spat, grabbing my throat.

"I lied! Chris, I lied, please!" I said desperately. "No guy can make me cum like you!" I exclaimed, agitated and looking pathetic. "Fuck me, Chris, I beg you, just fuck me!"

He licked his lips while looking at me, then smiled and removed his underwear. I let out a whimper when I saw his member for the first time in three months. I bit my lip, remembering all the things he could do with it. "Did you miss this, little slut?" he said, slapping me before positioning himself between my legs. I nodded vigorously, making him smile. "I missed you, princess."

He began to slap his cock against my clit, making me lift my head and moan at the teasing sound. Then, he started rubbing against me without penetrating. "Chris, stop teasing me; I can't wait any longer," I said, frustrated and hungry.

"Say it, baby, say it, and I promise to give it to you. I promise to stop messing around, and I promise it'll be the last time you have to run away from me," he said between several kisses on my lips, jaw, ear, and neck.

I knew that if I said it, there would be no turning back. I knew that if I said it, the three months I've spent without him would have been for nothing. And I knew that if I said it this time, I was screwed. But it was Chris, the only guy who shone in my eyes. So, for the umpteenth time, I swallowed my pride and principles. "I'm yours, Chris, only yours."

He gradually entered me, almost making me scream when he hit the depth. "Fuck, I missed this pussy, baby," he said, moaning before starting to penetrate me. "I never want you to let anyone else touch you, do you hear me?" he said, thrusting abruptly into me, and I nodded furiously. "You're mine, y/n, only mine. Fuck!" he said, trying to contain his moans before burying his head in my neck to bite me.

"Oh my fucking God! Chris! Shit!" I exclaimed when he began to thrust in me at an inhuman speed. "Yes, yes, yes, don't stop, oh my-" I felt like I was losing my mind. He pressed his lips to mine to kiss me fiercely, our kiss filled with growls and moans.

"Damn, y/n, I missed you so much. Never leave again," he said, moaning against my lips and thrusting impossibly deeper.

"Never again, baby, I promise!" I said, looking at him with furrowed brows and a face tense with the pleasure I was receiving.

"You're the only good girl for me; I want no one else," he said, placing his forehead against mine while grabbing my legs and wrapping them around his waist. "I'm going to do things right; I'm going to fix things for you," he said, moaning when I started to clench around him.

"Chris, I—fuck, please," I uttered a sentence that made no sense. I no longer had the ability to formulate a coherent sentence, but he understood what I wanted. He untied my hands from the handcuffs without withdrawing from me. He turned us around so that I was sitting on him, and his back was against the headboard.

I moaned at the new angle, which allowed him to reach even deeper. I could feel him in my core. I began to bounce on him at a steady pace, and he threw his head back. "Oh my God, you're so good for me, baby," he said, closing his eyes.

My hands came to grip his cheeks, making his beautiful blue eyes meet mine. His hands grabbed my hips to guide and pull me even closer to him. Our torsos were pressed together, and our lips brushed against each other as I bounced on him. No words came out of our mouths, but we communicated through our eyes. His grip on my hips tightened, and he began thrusting from below. I felt my orgasm approaching. "Baby, I—I can't—I can't—I'm going to—" I tried to articulate, but once again, everything tangled in my head, and I couldn't say it.

"I know, princess. Let yourself go. Come for me, baby. I want you to come for me, ma , please don't stop," he said, biting his lips and clenching his jaw. I could feel him twitch inside me, and within seconds, I started to climax. He grabbed my neck roughly, kissing me while forcing me to continue bouncing on him until he also climaxed inside me.

I let my head fall on his shoulder, and he began to stroke my hair. We were both out of breath. "I never want you to see that guy again," he said.

"Fuck you, Chris," I replied without moving from my position.

"I'm serious. If I see you with him, I'll kick his ass," he said, grabbing my chin to make me face him.

"I won't see him again," I replied simply, and he smiled before kissing me slowly and gently.

Masterlist.

[iplaywithstring]

Part of chronic illness that healthy, able bodied people really can't grasp is the tenuous relationship we have with medical professionals.

My current Dr is wonderful. Lovely woman. Very open, has never had any push back over any concern I've brought up. We met when I was teaching a knitting class. I feel comfortable with her, both personally and as a doctor.

I still have a ton of anxiety every time I make an appointment.

I worry that it's something serious. I worry it's something minor and I'm wasting her time. I worry that she's going to brush me off - even though she never has.

Today, I had a sebaceous cyst drained - I was pretty sure that's what it was when I went in, but she confirmed it and offered to drain it an no big deal. I felt so awkward getting it taken care of. She also warned me it would be a little painful - didn't hurt at all. I updated her on my frozen shoulder (it's improved so much! Almost full range of motion and very little pain!). Told her my mom had been diagnosed with celiacs - she offered to run my tests again (it's been 10 years) but expected they'd be inconclusive/negative again as I've been avoiding wheat for over a decade at this point, but I needed my yearly bloodwork done anyway so why not (and she reminded me a negative test doesn't mean I don't have it, just that they can't detect it, and it's not worth it to go back on wheat to confirm at this point). I asked about a repeat ultrasound of a cyst on my ovary (it was 3.6 cm in 2018 and I've been having pain in that area again) and she agreed it was a good idea to take a look at.

There was nothing negative in the appointment at all, and I still feel like I want to cry about it.

And I understand everyone has a certain amount of medical anxiety - I remember what it was like before I was sick - but this is different. So much of my quality of life and my day-to-day functioning is dependant on this woman. What if she thinks I don't need one of my medications anymore? What if she disagrees about my level of pain and sees no need for pain management or further testing (like the ultrasound)?

My relationship with my body is messed up - in some ways I am too aware of things, and in other ways, I don't notice/acknowledge problems because it's just always been like that. If she hadn't believed me about my wrists aching I wouldn't know about my hypermobility in my hands. If she didn't take my word for it how drained and worn out I am, I wouldn't have meds that allow me to function with ME/CFS (stimulants in the past, cymbalta currently). I didn't realize how bad my pain was until it was managed better. I never know day to day what I am going to be capable of or how limited I will be.

I have had Drs in the past who did not take me seriously. I lived with debilitating pain for years because a Dr took a clear MRI as "no signs of endometriosis". I've been dismissed as fat and lazy and accused of drug seeking (when I was specifically asking about pain management that did not include opioids). I am so thankful I was able to access a new doctor - not everyone has that opportunity!

but even with these ideal circumstances, it's still hard, and exhausting, and emotional. and that's something that most people in my life will just not understand.

[wistfulwatcher]

ok not only was this just a bad narrative choice for the show in general and natalie's character, this was also such a WEAK narrative choice for misty, too.

christina has talked about how something happens at the end of the season that "changes" misty. but the thing is, this has happened before. to her. same circumstances. this is the opposite of something that should change her, because it's exactly what happened with crystal!

both times misty found a friend when she was desperately alone, she clung to that friend and put everything into the relationship. and then, due to the intensity of her relationship—sharing everything with crystal, wanting to protect natalie—she caused the death of the person she loved.

there is nothing i love more than parallels, but for a parallel to be narratively meaningful, there needs to be a purpose to it. you need to use it to highlight differences, or show a progression. there is no progression for misty here. this is just history repeating itself. if misty didn't change after crystal died, and nothing has changed between then and now for misty, then WHY does this change her? she just needed it to happen twice??

killing natalie was a disgusting choice, and if we're supposed to believe that it was necessary for misty's character growth, with absolutely no narrative justification for it to be, then—beyond it just being awful—it is an entirely lower level of bad storytelling.

i am all for a story where these women continue to (figuratively) cannibalize each other as adults; i signed up for a dark show about women making bad choices. but 1) this wasn't a choice. this was, once again, an accident. i signed up for a show about women with agency, and making everything around them an accident or an unintended consequence is absolutely spitting in the face of that (presumably to make them more ~sympathetic, and i hate it).

and 2) there are other ways for them to hurt each other without death being a factor. this show is supposed to be about struggling with trauma, and you can't struggle with trauma when you're dead. the far more interesting story is one where the past is well and truly saturated with conflict—with characters you know are doomed and you still learn to love, and with characters you know survive and you have to continually struggle to forgive and understand.

i had so, so much love for season one because that's what i thought we were getting. i thought we were getting a bittersweet love story about the complexity of women, the complexity of trauma, the complexity of survival.

instead, this is becoming yet another show where things happen to women. where, to make them sympathetic—as more palatable to mainstream (cough male cough) audiences—they need to write women as victims of circumstance, as victims of their pasts, as victims of their own actions.

this is becoming a show where women who make bad choices are not allowed to stand behind them. who must be out of control (shauna, lottie, tai), or must be punished for the unintended consequences (misty), or must die (nat, van potentially).

and now, with natalie the antler queen in the past, and a character we no longer have in the present, i wonder how long it will be until she becomes the scapegoat for the surviving characters. how long until the worst actions in the wilderness are put upon natalie's shoulders, to lighten the load from the surviving women. how long until the only characters allowed to have agency, allowed to be complex and make disagreeable choices that they intend to make, are ones who die.

how long until our beautiful, complex, surviving characters are washed down to nothing, to shells of themselves in the name of making them more sympathetic. more palatable. how long until this is just another shallow mystery, without the beating heart of the first season.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Friendly life advice from our friendly neighborhood Ganondorf :)

The captain sighed a little, leaning back against the palm tree. He watched Ganondorf for a while, watched as he rocked gently in the hammock seat that had been his perch for the last few hours. His gaze trailed down to the teenager in the man's arms, and he caught sight of the remains of skin paint that had mostly washed off, some kind of mark of royalty in the ancient past.

Royalty. The kid was a king.

Link sighed again, thinking about his own circumstances.

"Something's clearly on your mind," Ganondorf commented, his voice quiet as he watched the boy, continuing to rock both of them gently.

Link crossed his arms a little defensively. He supposed he was being fairly easy to read. "I just... I need to get my life together."

Ganondorf's eyes flicked upward from the sleeping teenager to the captain. Link felt himself shrink a little under the scrutiny; no matter how calm or gentle Ganondorf was now, his gaze was as intense as ever.

"Don't give me that look," Link accused, trying to glare back.

Ganondorf didn't comment. He didn't have to. He knew his presence was enough. Link hated that.

Rolling his eyes, he admitted defeat. "It's just... he's... he's my predecessor. All the expectations that have been on me... the entire war that Cia started... it's all from past heroes. And he's my direct predecessor."

"So you assume that you're inadequate in comparison to him?" Ganondorf surmised, though the flat tone of his voice clearly indicated his opinion on the matter. "Do you not recall the state he was in when I brought him here?"

"I recall Lana having a meltdown," Link laughed before growing somber. "But yes, I... I don't understand. I just... I don't know. He's, what, eighteen? And he's a war hero, a king, rebuilding Hyrule--"

"Are you not also a war hero? A captain? Rebuilding Hyrule?"

"I'm not rebuilding," Link grumbled, looking away and glaring at nothing in particular. "I'm just existing."

"And what of it? You need your rest. You cannot accomplish anything if you don't recover."

"Everyone else has!" Link snapped, rising.

Ganondorf sighed, looking down at the teenager again. "He is an example of what happens when you don't. I will not let both of you give me a heart attack, nor will I let you hurt yourself like that."

"I need to get my life together," Link finally repeated, wilting.

"Link."

Reluctantly, the captain straightened, looking at the Gerudo. Ganondorf had stopped rocking, sitting up a little more, full attention on him now.

"You're twenty years old," Ganondorf pointed out. "I didn't start 'getting my life together' until I was forty-five. We all learn and grow at different points in our lives. Do not try to figure it all out now. Simply take one day at a time."

Link finally laughed, relaxing. "What a day, for the Hero of Hyrule to be taking life advice from someone who started... how many wars?"

"Two," Ganondorf answered dully, returning his attention to the teenager. "And you know I'm correct."

"Yeah, yeah," Link agreed casually, approaching the pair. Ganondorf moved the boy's feet a little, making space for the captain, and he slowly plopped down beside him, letting himself lean on the Gerudo a little. He didn't protest when Ganondorf's arm slid around him, pulling him closer. He just sighed again, less disconcerted, closing his eyes and feeling the warm breeze.

[stromuprisahat]

Question: how do you justify what the darkling did to Genya, Alina and Nikolai? I don’t even mean this to sound rude, but I’m just genuinely curious how you just brush past that when you say the Darkling never did anything he’d have to apologize for 🙃

I'd start with stating that I don't like the word "justify". Google says its meaning is "to show or prove to be right or reasonable", which to me sounds like something that's expected whenever you're about to do something that might offend or hurt anyone. Like pre-made apology you owe people even though you might not have anything to apologize for in the end.

It's really about lack of better words. Czech dictionary translates "justify" as "odůvodnit" or "ospravedlnit", out of which the first one is strictly without that moral baggage. Closer to "give reason".

Aleksander's actions are often perceived out of context, as malicious crimes he committed for his own enjoyment, or whatever suits the antis best, while there are plenty of factors we shouldn't fail to consider.

Ravka- The country he loves, even though it doesn't love him. Rarely peaceful- according to Shadow and Bone, current wars last for over a century. Drained by both its neighbours, split in two for long enough it's pretty unbelievable the West is only planning to secede, poor, with ruling class, who doesn't care and has no reason to.

Grisha- From outright hated to respected, but in constant danger anywhere else, Aleksander manged to carve out a place for them under conditions. The Crown allows Grisha to live right on its backyard (to better keep an eye on), safely train and serve as soldiers or servants of noble houses, as long as they're useful, but... also has no need or intention to take it further. Grisha are glorified, envied serfs in fancy clothes. They're used by monarchy, despised and distrusted by masses, as proved by several little things throughout the first book and instant pogroms once the Fold moves (And don't forget there were no survivors- no true witnesses-, aside from few of the Darkling's people.).

His own lives' experience- Let's be honest- centuries of watching his people- however close- die, drawbacks, betrayals, constantly repeating history... gives one quite a perspective. It's a miracle the Darkling is merely numb and tired, yet somehow hardly unfeeling. Unlike the young heroes he possesses enough self-control not to start begging, crying, screaming... He's lashing out, when he has a reason to believe it won't bite him in the ass, he's petty and hurts others, punishing them for hurting him.

setting- Forget 21st century morality. If we're talking about 19th century-esque world, it wouldn't only have fancy nobles, dashing princes to play pirates privateers and masses of uneducated peasants. The reason people think the way they do is they got there somehow. Ravka still has servitude, for gods' sake! Lives don't matter the way people want them to today! It won't be only about some being rich and some poor, there should be huge differences depending on one's circumstances of birth, bloodlines, wrongs or slights generations old... I'm aware we're suppose to pretend Alina get a pass, because she's "Living Saint", but for example slapping a member of royalty should cost her. Bastard or not, you let it slide once, and next thing you know people are getting ideas and building guillotines.

Now to your question:

Genya is the easiest. She got punished for disobeying direct order, betraying the Darkling for a girl she hardly knew and who was too self-involved to truly act like the friend Genya for some reason suddenly feels her to be.

Aleksander let Genya close enough to be considerably honest around her, at least regarding his intentions with Lantsovs. Dangerous thing to do for a man in his position (and although I have my theories, this reply is no place for them). That's why he made it personal. She didn't only abandon their cause, she hurt him, so he took what she valued most about herself, fitting his revenge into her expectable punishment.

He could've had her whipped. To death even. Instead he chose more personal approach.

Alina's the messiest, because way too many feelings got involved and Aleksander's shit in handling those. His only lasting relationship is his abusive mother, others tend to die on him. Alina's a personification of a dream. Someone to keep him company for the rest of eternity. A companion he longed for for so long, he's not able to handle the bitter truth. I don't think he ever considered his "One and Only Equal" might not be interested in his goals and while he might rationally understand Alina's so much younger, he quickly loses his patience and decides to speed up her development because her young self is interfering with his general plans.

Now, while younger Aleksander might have been more passionate, he was never allowed the luxury of recklessness or even childhood, as a consequence of which he has no idea how to handle hormonal teenagers. Alina's worldview is incredibly narrow and she has several mental mechanisms to prevent her from changing that, while Aleksander's living in constant paranoia, possibility of fight or flight 24/7. They're incompatible the way they are- Alina unwilling to change, Aleksander too rigid and lacking the luxury of choice- yet in each other's way too much to merely split up. The Darkling needs the Sun Summoner as a tool and a symbol, and as long as he breathes, Alina won't have a chance to regain her beloved anonymity.

What he did to her?

The Collar was his hand forced. Unreliable deserter possessing the power he needed to ensure ceasefire.

What else is there that couldn't be explain by simple "They're on opposite sides of a conflict."?

The only other moment that comes to my mind is him burning down the orphanage, one of my favourites. The situation is thus:

The Darkling occupies the Throne (Yay!), but he lacks wide support, numbers and resources, therefore he's forced to rule by fear, which is no way to go, when he wants to build future, where Grisha are accepted. Who does have the love of masses, is an undeserving "Saint" and rogue prince, starving his own people, while being cheered on for it, because he's thwarting the Darkling at the same time. I'll ignore Nikolai for now. So, how do you catch a single person, who could be hiding anywhere, with help from anyone, while you can count on no one? You make them come to you. You make them show themselves under circumstances you control.

Alina already fled slaughter of others three times, one she even directly caused. She might pretend to be a do-gooder, but she truly cares only about herself and her otkazat'sya past. Threatening Malyen already proved to be fruitful, but that one's out of Aleksander's reach, so he tries the next best thing. Destroying her "home". There's also poetry in it- he lost his mother for Alina, it's only fair she'd lose hers. As a symbol of the past Alina's so stubbornly clinging to, there's even some chance it WILL really hurt her, which is certainly plus for his vengeful self.

Eventually it proves to be ruthless, simple and utterly brilliant. Alina falls for his threat and meets him in the Fold.

It's a beautiful example of sacrificing a few (The Grisha teachers probably stayed with the children for their sake, and residents of the orphanage were also just doing their jobs as far as we know.) to end civil war and bring the other side to heel. Ravka wasn't able to handle two-front war, opening third one was insanity and I'm genuinely surprised the country didn't fall (or that West didn't use it to finally free itself from East). With Alina's power under control the Darkling could've attempted "Peace or the Fold" again, perhaps even succeed this time.

And then we have Nikolai.

Second-born Lantsov thwarting his plans, proposing "his" Sun Summoner, loved by masses and army alike because unlike Aleksander, he's otkazat'sya. Goals? Same. Positions? Incomparable. Willingness to give everything? Yes for both.

In better world, they could've been allies. One easily accepted, the other highly experienced. But the story doesn't want that, so Nikolai is serious contender and an obstacle in Aleksander's way to "Fine, I'll do it myself.". He needs to be gone. Killing him would be easiest and most permanent, but Kolya fucked up, when he made it personal.

Tricking the Darkling, shooting him, proposing to his "not"gf, evacuating royal family AND Baghra, starving his forces once Darkles sits on the throne... taking away Nikolai's most valuable quality, while keeping him conscious enough to comprehend it is the way to go!

There's also a POV that says showing your essence down your rival's throat to irrecoverably change him might be seen as a romantic gesture or outright foreplay, but I happen to be a Fannibal, so I'm aware the majority of Grishaverse fans might find my ideas of romance a bit harder to digest (pun absolutely intended).

To sum up: Most of the Darkling's actions corresponds with his position of 19th century-esque war general and revolutionary attempting Coup to save his bankrupt country, while hated by masses and lacking resources. Plus a drop of clever, petty vindictiveness.

(And whole bucket of bad writing, because there are things that just DON'T MAKE SENSE- both regarding worldbuilding and characterisation.)

[neobora]

i want to change. i cried just rn. i'm just wasting my time w trying to manifest my desires. i don't know how to change this fucking situation because i dwelled on the fact i have the most terrible circumstances and because of that my subsconcious got used to it. I don't know how to get out of my comfort zone and victim mindset. I have been consuming information for years and do nothing but feel sorry for myself and thinking i'm in a hopeless situation. I know this isn't going to get me anywhere, but I don't know how to get out of this mentality. i just want to fucking beat myself up i'm so stupid. i'm tired of my same routine. i woke up. i go to the tumblr. i go to the reddit. i go to the amino and read 83928 things everyday. sometimes i feel like i'm crazy and all of those loa manifwst stuff or not real.

did i overcomplicated loa😭

oh dear😭 give yourself a break, honestly! manifesting isnt supposed to be stressful, but fulfilling. again, the only change that will be reflected is a change in SELF. you can see how well the 3d is doing it’s job at reflecting you rn. but it doesn‘t matter who the outer world says you are, you can ALWAYS change within just by deciding to. do you want to live like this? no. then stop! make it clear to you that you are the ONLY CREATOR and the only one who is being reflected. take responsibility for creating what you see outside of you, which also means that you can change SELF anytime you want to. imagination is the only reality and the only time that exists is NOW, self doesnt care about your past, it only cares about NOW. who are you right now? that will reflect.

i know it can be tough completely changing self, often youre even scared of letting go and assuming nothing can hurt you. at one point i even realized i was scared of actually seeing a change in the 3d. but that fear is created by you and no one can stop giving it so much credit except you.

stop consuming so much info, it‘s all the same anyways. choose desire, assume you have it, persist, done. the only thing that helped me really was actually FEELING LIKE I AM IN CONTROL OVER MY MIND. you can read anything you want, as many times as you want but you won‘t get it if you don‘t feel it true. edward art’s reddit series honestly helped me so much, but i actually feel different about the lines now than when i started reading it because i started giving MYSELF, my INNER SELF all the power. but tbh nothing on tumblr really explains it in as much detail as this series, it really gets the point across. if you want to read something about the loa, then go for this instead of posts that just repeat themselves. especially the posts about fear are eye-opening.

honestly in my opinion it doesn‘t matter what your subconscious does nor should you worry about it, it accepts literally ANYTHING to be true if you have faith. there is no past and no future, it doesnt matter. the only thing there is to do is change self and stick with it, no matter what happens. you are the only one who can save yourself.

again, no one can tell you how to feel, or feel for you, you have to give yourself the freedom of feeling but yourself. you are always able to change, it just depends on wether you decide to or not. decide to change and stick with it, no matter what. once you actually internalise that you create everything so you do not have to feel (identify with) your fears and doubts, but can instead feel (know) that you ALREADY ARE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE IN IMAGINATION, it gets easier and easier. but you must have the courage not to look back and fall into old states. why? because you don’t want to! fall in love with your new state and leaving gets harder and harder. but when you do, remind yourself that the 3d is literally just your mind. you don’t have to identify with anything you don‘t like. from there you can create what you WANT.

[morsesnotes]

While it's true Morse's questionable taste was always there, and Eve Thorne was right about him being "outside looking in at what he wants but daren't ask for", I don't think it's entirely correct. In the sense that it's not purely a quality he had since his mother died.

Morse did go the traditional route of getting engaged. He was committed, and then his fiancee left him. That naturally left a mark which is very present in S1, but when Alice - a regular woman - shows interest in him and indicates she wants a relationship, he still decides to give it a chance. He asks her out. However, as soon as he gives in she rejects him.

Alice tends to be forgotten amongst all the women in Morse's life, but I do think she made an impact with regards to how he handled Joan. Between her and Susan, I get the sense he started to believe it made no difference what he did or who he pursued, it was always going to end in him being hurt (so he'd rather know it's the fault of circumstances than himself).

Even still, he tried again with Monica. She was a kind normal person who clearly loved him. He was attracted to her, asked her out, and wanted to commit to her. In this case there was nothing she did, but their relationship put the thought in his mind that being with him put her in potential danger and a regular life wasn't going to be possible.

I feel like whenever it came to talking to Joan, especially after she left, each of these scenarios ran through his head, and he lost his confidence. It went down further when he didn't know if she liked him anymore. He didn't want to repeat the past with her. He wanted them to stay as they were because maybe then they'd remain happy, but life doesn't work like that.

That's why I empathize with Morse. It's not that he refused to ask for what he wanted. He did ask, several times. His heart just couldn't take another "No, you can't have it".

[highdio]

I got an ask about the model boat that DIO's building as he and Pucci hang out and talk about the stand ‘Survivor’ in Part 6. The scene deserves its own post because it's the basis for one of my least-favorite wrong takes: that Dio is re-living a trauma by re-creating a "shipwreck" scene. Also no dw anon I don't think you implied this. This take's been repeated so often and without reflection that it's wound up being treated as something canon, check out this TV tropes entry to see how reflexively it gets parroted:

Dio's building a model ship in the middle of a wreck??? Fanon takes can take on a life of their own and, in Dio's case, so many people know his character through the caricature constructed around and outside of the canon instead of through how Araki actually wrote and drew him. So I'm going to break down the actual Part 6 scene to examine how we wound up so far from the truth of what's actually going on in it.

1. The first thing we need to get clear is whether Dio's model even resembles the ship he killed Jonathan on in Part 1, and the short answer is no, it doesn't. For reference here's the model:

and here's the ship from Part 1:

Both are hybrid sail/steam (implied on the model by the paddle wheels even though there's no smokestacks) but the ill-fated ocean liner that took Jonathan and Erina 1/2 way across the Atlantic is a lot bigger and grander. The OVA adaptation's helpful because it’s spot-on faithful to the manga:

It's gigantic, you can see three full decks and two large smokestacks, along with elaborate baroque-looking detailing all over the stern end. Dio's model ship looks entirely different. It's simple by comparison and, were it scaled up to full size, it'd still be a lot smaller (check out the model rowboats and their oars around it for size reference).

So it's not clear that the model Dio's building is even a callback to Part 1 or some sort of easter egg on Araki's part (after looking at the two ships side-by-side my gut tells me it’s not). Keep that in mind as we step through how much the scene's gotten mangled in fanon.

Like I said, the model-building panels form the basis for an oft-repeated bad take you see a lot online, where people say it's a "shipwreck" scene (I guess because there's rowboats around it?) and, therefore, a re-enactment of trauma. Ofc that's bogus. The ship's fine, and rowboats are how crew come ashore whenever a tall ship drops anchor. There's even a lighthouse and the ship is resting in a tranquil harbor. The anime version of the scene shows these details clearly:

Hopefully it's easy to see the scene for what it is: Dio engaged in the most mundane hobby you can think of, while having a leisurely conversation with his BFF. As Pucci explains it, they're talking like children ranking their favorite action heroes by how strong they are. It's a very chill little scene, remarkable for how unremarkable it would be if this wasn't DIO and Pucci.

It's worth including the official digital color version here too because, apparently, they forgot DIO was a vampire and gave the scene a cheery sunlit mood by making the sky outside the windows as blue as day:

It's a mistake ofc but it also underscores the relaxed feel to the scene: out of context, the day-lit color choice feels natural because the scene's got such a comfy vibe.

So how do we get from a chill guy chilling (canon) to a guy re-living a trauma (fanon)? Answer is, ofc, projection.

It's a fandom thing to need a villain's evilness to be justified - explained (excused?) in a way - through past trauma, say, or a series of unavoidable circumstances (or maybe some valid ideology they hold). A villain's villainy is only legitimized, validated, or complex enough *if* they've earned it by having a "good enough" reason to act bad. In Dio's case, where 'bad' is a wild understatement, some fans simply need him to be hurt, traumatized, or otherwise sufficiently suffering in ways that Araki just never intended. And this need is so strong it can override what's in front of their own eyes, even where the author and the text suggest the exact opposite.

In this way the Survivor scene acts as a Rorschach test where some people see the traces of trauma where there are none - in fact, it's the one scene where DIO seems most at ease, relaxed and unguarded (and ofc without his "shadow"). As such the scene and its misreading encompasses a lot of that's wrong about how fanon can sometimes view Dio and a lot of what's right about how Araki wrote him.

_____________________________________________________

Thanks to the anime there's an additional coda to all this. The Survivor scene in the Stone Ocean anime is faithful to the manga, but there's a twist: DavidPro gives us a sort of 'easter egg in reverse.' Remember the grand multi-deck ship Jonathan and Erina left for their honeymoon on? Here's the anime version, from all the way back in Season 1:

It looks a lot like Dio's model.

So here we have something from the manga that's likely not originally a callback getting turned into part of a callback, but in reverse order since the callback gets shown four seasons prior.

Of course, none of that negates the fact that the Stone Ocean anime scene is remains one of safety and comfort. The model ship isn't wrecked and DIO and Pucci are at their most relaxed and conversational. The scene hasn't been reshaped into any indice of trauma. What you have then is a fun little callback for the observant, and with it a wicked re-contextualization of this panel:

Now it’s become Dio towering over a model of the ship he killed everyone on. And somehow this feels appropriate: Dio's got a gift for casually being a jackass when referring back to some of the worst things that he's done. Aside from the obvious comparing human lives to slices of bread, a good example is this panel where he refers to Zeppeli's horrific death in the most deliberately offhand way:

So, anime Dio leisurely building a model resembling the ship he accidently destroyed while killing and then desecrating the body of the only man to ever defeat him? It feels right in character: a subtle nod to one of the many calamities he's caused. Assuming the viewer's more Joestar-sympathetic than me, I feel like what Dio's doing here and, on a meta level, what DavidPro either intentionally or unintentionally is doing is having some fun at the viewer's expense.

[c0stass]

Lost In Echoes, pt. 1

DISCLAIMER: This is probably my first attempt at writing something that isn't smut or fluff, so probably not that good. But I'll let yall be the judge lol. Let me know what you think! I'm planning on this being a 3 part story but that may change.

Content: mentions of violence/murder, mark in a trap.

This is an AU where the circumstances of Mark becoming a Jigsaw apprentice are different.

Mark takes your hand, slowly walking you to the couch.

"Sit down," he said, his voice shaky and nervous, "I need to tell you something."

"Mark... what is it?" You ask, feeling your stomach drop. Is he going to break up with you? Is he cheating on you? It's not often he's home on time. Sometimes, he's gone all night, coming home with his clothes messed up or a completely new outfit. Sweaty, panting, looking panicked. Never seeming to be honest about where he's been. You love him more than air. You would do anything for him. Sure, you had some issues, but what couple didn't? You always worked through them together.

He has a deadly serious look on his face. Did someone die? He continues to stare at you, then takes a deep breath and looks down.

"Do you remember how I told you about the Jigsaw murders? Everyone in my department dying..." he closes his eyes for a second. "I... not all of my time has been spent dealing with that." His voice is still shaking. He holds your hands, facing you, looking into your eyes.

"Mark, what is it? Spit it out." You almost don't want to hear his response.

"I haven't been being completely honest with you. I'm more involved with John Kramer than I've been leading on. I'm..." he takes a deep breath. "I work with him. For him. I am an accomplice to Jigsaw... and... I'm a... I'm a survivor. He tested me because... I was... I am the one responsible for the death of my sister." He squeezes your hands, crying.

You just stare at him, in shock.

"I'm so sorry y/n... I'm so sorry for not being honest with you..."

You continue to stare, contemplating what you want to say. You expected a lot of things, but this was the last thing you expected to hear.

After what seems like forever, you manage to squeak out, "What kind of trap were you in?"

He sighs and looks down, pulling one of his hands away and holding up his arm. You'd asked him in the past why his hand and forearm were covered in scars, but he would always change the subject.

"I had to... reach into a tube lined with broken glass to retrieve a key before... before the wire wrapped around my neck tightened... it would have cut my head off..." he whispered, tears still falling from his cheeks. "But I did it... I survived... there was so much blood. There was so much pain. But I lived."

"So, he tested you because Seth Baxter killed your sister? Shouldn't Seth have been the one tested?"

He said nothing.

"Because SETH BAXTER killed your sister.... right?" You repeated, louder and slower, dreading his response. He didn't. You know he didn't. Mark wouldn't...

"I need to show you something. We need to go... to the warehouse... John's warehouse," he says, collecting himself. He wipes his face with his hands. "I need to show you... what I did."

"What? Seth didn't kill her? Did John put her in a trap? Did he make you put her in a trap?"

"No, no. Just let me show you. It will make sense. I promise."

"I'm sorry, this is just... so much, right now... I dont... why didn't you tell me...?"

He sighs. "Because I was scared of how you would react. I love you. I would never hurt you. I told you now because... because I don't want to lose you. I am risking my life telling you, but..." he grabs your hands again and looks at you, "it's worth it. I don't want to keep secrets from each other. I want to tell you everything. Please, just let me show you the warehouse."

"The warehouse... where all the traps are..." You sit and think for a second. "What if John is there?"

"He won't be. I promise. Just, please, come with me... trust me..."

Despite everything, you feel safe with him. Finally, you nod and stand up.

Outside, it's cold and windy. The sun is setting, and you can see black storm clouds slowly rolling in. His hands are shaking as he starts the car and starts driving. The drive is filled with silence as you process everything. The closer you get, the more scared you are. You don't know what he has planned, but you try not to think the worst. The sky is dark now, and fat rain drops begin to fall. After a half hour, you pull up to an abandoned warehouse.

"This is it. Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yes. Show me, Mark."

He unlocks the door of the warehouse and leads you inside. The air is cold and damp, a faint sound of dripping water coming from somewhere. The strong smell of dust, metal, and rust floods your nostrils. He flicks on a light, and the whole warehouse is flooded with a white light so bright you have to squint your eyes. You gasp sharply as you look around, your eyes adjusting to the blinding light. You see all the contraptions, sharp objects, metal structures, and scraps. Old, used traps.

You want to turn and run away. Your legs feel weak. But you swallow the lump in your throat and look at Mark. He holds out his hand. Slowly, you take it, your arm shaking. He leads you to a small, dimly lit room in the back. In the room is nothing but a work table with a TV and VCR sitting on it, and a shelf with various tapes and tape recorders.

"I know you might think I'm evil, dangerous, crazy," he says slowly, "but... but I need to show you who I am. Including my past."

You look into his eyes, trying to find the crazy, dangerous, evil man he speaks of. You just can't see it. You can't believe it. His past is the past. Nobody can change their past, but they can change who they become from it.

"Okay, Mark. I trust you. I love you," you say finally.

You breathe a sigh of relief as he shuts the door behind him. At least he isn't leaving you alone. From the shelf behind him, he retrieves a video tape. You can see his hand shaking as he holds it out to you.

"This will show you... everything... this is the real me," his shaky voice cracks as you take the tape from his hand and slide it into the player.

Your heart races as you hit play.

[chaioticcoffee]

Crosshair x Reader

Warnings: small bit of blood, death of reader bc idk

tags: angst that's it

A/N: uuuuuuh yeah idk why I wrote this idk 💀 it wouldn't leave my mind tho

Reader's gender isn't specified

I mostly wrote this as practice so yee I hope you still enjoy if you want to read this!

Repeat Until Death

_______________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Pain was the first thing you registered as you came back to your senses, as well the slowly numbing cold underneath you.

You struggled to breathe, trying desperately to get your mind back on track to assess your situation clearly. When your eyes finally opened you were hit by the blinding white snow you were laying upon. Your vision drifts further ahead, where your lightsabre lays, behind it was a dead body.

That's when it all came flooding back- you running to Crosshair after his sniping position was revealed, the rest of the Bad Batch too far away so you would have had to handle it yourself. You had no idea just how many troopers there was going to be. You could tell that there were both Clone and Storm troopers going against you, overwhelming you in numbers just like they did Crosshair, who was already down when you got to him.

'Crosshair.'

Your mind reminded you as you force yourself to push through the pain, pushing yourself up with shaking arms, finding that your legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. You let out a weak frustrated breath- it might have been from the pain, or maybe both. You look around as fast as your weak body allowed you to, your eyes finally landing on Crosshair who you found sitting with his back leaning against the rough bark of the tree behind him. You recall him struggling to keep his upper body upright, later using the tree for support so he could help you fight against the troops when it became apparent that you had walked straight into their trap.

Slowly but surely, you crawled your way to him. It was painful, it was straining, but that wouldn't stop you. You had to make sure he was still alive.

Only once you've reached his left side did you allow yourself to take a moment to breathe. Your body was trembling from the strain and from the cold, your previously cauterized wounds from the blasters having opened somewhere along the way to the man you loved.

"(Y/N).." your head snapped to Crosshair, whose head was now turned towards you, expression hidden by his helmet. He immediately saw your shaking body and slowly reached out to you, managing to pull your body close to him with your help and moves to encircle you with his arms as best as he can manage so to keep you as warm as he can.

His armor thankfully tanked most of the blaster shots impacts but unfortunately 3 shots made it past the armor- once in his side, another in the stomach and another that was just below his lungs. It's truly already a miracle that he's still alive and you know very well that he won't stay for long. To be fair, you weren't in a better shape specifcally regarding the fact that you, in fact, did not have armor on you. Your consciousness was already slipping and you could tell that it was the same for Crosshair.

"Maker, it hurts so bad..." Your voice cracks, you clench your eyes shut and Crosshair's heart shatters. "I know.. I'm sorry, I wasn't- able to protect you like I should- have." His own voice was unsteady and he sometimes had to stop shortly to catch his breath.

You shook your head to tell him it wasn't his fault. One solution came to mind, which will inevitably drain you of your energy a lot faster, but it would give Crosshair a larger chance to survive until the squad came back.

The bright sun and the purple-blue sky contrasting with the snow was truly a beautiful sight, the 2 moons of the planet and the bright stars only adding to the beautiful scenery. Crosshair just wished he could have enjoyed it with you under different circumstances. He tightens his grip on you, bringing your body closer to his while all he could do is wait for both of you to run out of time. "I guess- I'll see you on the other side then, Cyare."

Why did he sound like he was crying? Why could you not open your mouth to respond to him? 'I'm not ready yet.' You thought you had more time with him- there were still so many things you wanted to talk to him about. Unfortunately, Crosshair had already succumbed to the darkness as soon as he had finished his sentence. You knew he was still alive, and you wasted no time in using your life force to slowly heal his injuries as your head buried itself deeper into the spot between his neck and his shoulder. You were fully aware that you weren't going to last until his wounds fully healed, but it was worth a shot, right? Is you saving him a bad idea? Is he going to hate you for making him live on without you? No. This is for the best. You just wished you had more time. More time to talk together, to tell him you loved him, to explore planets together, to be just you and him against the world.

Dying was inevitable, you had learned that early on during your training as a Jedi.

'I'm sorry for leaving you Cross... I know I promised I wouldn't.' Your inability to talk kind of frustrated you, but you grew so unbelievably tired that your frustrations were immediately forgotten, it being replaced with the fear of having to leave your beloved so soon. Through the tears you were trying to fight the darkness that threatened to engulf you. It was pointless, and even with your best effort, your eyes slipped shut once again.

_______________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Over here Tech!" Hunter called out with a tone of urgency as he made his way to Crosshair's and your position after finally having defeated the enemy reinforcements they had sent. The closer he got the clearer the scent of blood and smoke became, a clear indication of a fight having taken place nearby.

When they finally reached the site, the batch allowed themselves to take a moment to process the view. It was truly a massacre. Dead bodies lay scattered all around and near the middle of it was a trail of blood. Just by looking at the pattern and the displaced snow around the trail of blood can one conclude that someone had crawled to wherever the trail was leading to. Hunter followed where the trail lead to with his eyes and that's how he spotted 2 very familiar figures, you in Crosshair's arms. Hunter allowed himself to panic just this once and he, Tech and Echo ran towards the 2 bodies that were huddled together while Wrecker stayed behind with Omega and tried his best to comfort the poor child as she couldn't hold back her tears at the sight of you both. If it wasn't for Hunter's enhanced hearing, he wouldn't have heard Crosshair's shallow breathing nor his weak heartbeat.

He doesn't think he'll get that mental image of you two like this out of his mind any time soon- Crosshair and you holding each other close, hoping to gain any kind of warmth and comfort while you both waited for death to take you.

All Hunter could do right now though is hold onto you while Tech accesses Crosshair's injuries, ignoring the look Tech gave when he did so. It was obvious that Crosshair shouldn't be alive, and Hunter had a hunch as of how he had survived this long.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

H my god can I please request “9. You knew? You knew and you did nothing to help?” With Elijah? I need to feel something and I think your writing + this will do the heartbreaking trick :-)

Broken

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Readers

Word Count: 1684

Warnings: Mentions and description of torture, blood and gore, canon typical violence, betrayal and angst.

Author’s Note: I did a thing. I don't know if I fully like the thing, but I did. You'll see what I mean. But it does work 😅 Also, the gif I made. It's shitty but I did it ❤️

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

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Her body ached from the torment she had been forced to endure. Torture at the hands of a skilled vampire wasn't pleasant. Her captor knew all the right places to slice, stab and even slice to give her the most pain without killing her. Enough to bleed out, heal and repeat the process.

To a human who had been heavily on vervain, the process had been excruciating. Each slice into her skin had her crying out in pain. Every stab of the blade had her wishing for death to come quickly. But every time she felt her heart weaken and ready to give up she was given blood to heal her all over again.

It started as a way to compel her. To get Y/N to give up all the details she had known. Her past, her involvement with the witches and even with the Salvatores. But that had been days ago. The vervain was long gone out of her system and with every truth she had out in the open, she was considered useless in the grand scheme of things.

Yet, her hands were still shackled above her head. Bruises covered her wrists while the opened wounds from the shackles attempted to heal. The joints in her shoulders ached as they held her weakening body. Her feet barely touched the ground making it all that more difficult to relax in anyway. With every passing second she hoped that the longer they left her, the longer the blood would leave her system and she would die without the fear of coming back as a vampire.

That hope seemed to vanish the moment she heard the heavy door of the basement open. The echoing of the footsteps behind her were different than her torturer. She could pick up the slight differences in their steps even in her weakened state.

She should have braced herself in some way, but given her current circumstances, she no longer cared. If this was someone new to beat her and torment her a little more, she no longer cared. If it meant she could die by the end of it, she'd take the pain just to find the peace she so desperately wanted.

"Y/N." Elijah's voice was soft. For a brief moment within him there was disbelief that she was in this state. To see her hanging from the ceiling as she was.

There should have been relief at seeing Elijah walk into her view. There should have been some sense of freedom at seeing the man that befriended her and cared for her when she needed it. That the man she had slowly been falling for had come to her rescue. Instead she mustered up the strength to spit in his face the moment he was close enough.

“I deserve that.” Elijah said as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the blood laced spit from his face. “But I had come to free you from this.”

“Why do you care?” Her voice was hoarse from her time screaming in pain.

She watched as the emotions played through his eyes, never through his facial expressions. For a brief moment she saw the way her words had caught him off guard along with the slight hurt that came with it. That was before his eyes went back to almost showing no emotion.

“I didn’t know he would hurt you this way.” His words were honest. He reached up to her, in an attempt to remove the shackles, but she flinched away from him, causing him to stop.

“What did you think he was down here doing?” She asked as tears filled her eyes. “That Klaus was just talking with me while we lounged down here waiting for the vervain to leave my system?” She shook her head slightly. “Or how about after it should have been out? You didn’t think it was odd that I was still down here? You didn’t even bother to come and check in on me. Did you even know I was down here until now?”

Elijah looked down at the ground and that told Y/N everything she needed to know. She bit the inside of her lips in attempt to stop them from trembling but it did little to prevent it. The moment he looked back up at her it only confirmed it even more.

"You knew?" Her voice broke before a sob passed her lips. "I begged for help. I screamed for it to stop. I called out to every person I believed would help me and no one did. I even begged to be killed to stop the pain." Tears began streaming down her face. "You knew and you did nothing to help? You used me. I fell for you like an idiot and you used me. I should have just stayed away like Damon had-"

"Who do you think gave Klaus the knowledge of what you knew?" Elijah asked, causing her to stop. But even his words were like the dagger Klaus had used on her several hours before. "You were used as a bargaining tool. The Salvatores aren't who you think they are."

Elijah watched as realization fully hit Y/N. He watched as what remained of the fire within her snuff out. With his words she was truly broken. It was as her head hung, he moved to release her from the shackles. The moment she was free, Y/N almost collapsed to the floor.

Elijah had caught her before she hit the ground. Yes, he may have known that his brother had been tormenting her in some way. But that didn’t stop the guilt from forming within him. It didn’t stop the need from wanting to help her from this point with the promises of never allowing this to happen to her again. He wanted better for her.

The moment Y/N realized she was in Elijah’s arms she pushed him away from her. Even as she did, her jello-like legs couldn’t hold her up and she met the ground rather quickly.

"Please let me help you out of here." He said softly.

She shook her head as she attempted to scoot herself back from him. "No. You've done enough."

Y/N couldn't even bring herself to look at him anymore. She may have felt numb to the physical pain, but the emotional pain was reaching a limit that she wasn't sure she'd survive.

She could handle the fact she just survived being tortured. Her wounds would heal and she'd come out stronger. The one thing she couldn't handle was the fact everyone used her. The people that she cared about used her as a pawn for whatever game was at stake and she was left literally broken and bruised.

“I just need a minute and then I’ll see myself out.” She was now determined to leave on her own. She didn’t care if it took her several hours just to gain the strength she needed, she’d get out of there on her own.

“Y/N/N-”

“No!” Her yell was quickly followed by a sob as she finally looked up at him. “I don’t want or need your help. If you cared at all you would have stopped him. You would have helped me when I begged for your help.” She tried to swallow down the next sob that wanted to form. “Instead you stood by and allowed it. You don’t care about me. So don’t act like you do now. Just leave me alone.”

Elijah watched her for several moments. She had been right. If he truly cared about her, he would have been by her side from the moment she had walked into the basement. But he hadn’t. In the fleeting moment of his existence, the feelings he had expressed were nothing in comparison to what he had felt before.

He simply nodded his head without another word and stood up. With one last glance at her, he began to turn and walk away from her, leaving her there as she asked. Y/N’s eyes shut tightly as she heard him walk towards the door. And when it closed behind him, she slowly opened her eyes.

When she opened them, her eyes were trained on Elijah’s as he sat in front of her in the living room of the Mikaelson Mansion. The compulsion taking a hold of her even more after Elijah placed the false memory into her head.

Klaus and even the Salvatore Brothers stood in the room watching Elijah compel her. This had been agreed by the four of them that this was best for Y/N. And while Y/N had protested several times while waiting for the vervain to leave her system, she was out numbered and compelled.

A tear fell down her cheek and Elijah brought his hand up to wipe it away as a sigh left his lips. “Upon your exit of the basement you found a vial of blood waiting for you and your wounds healed. Know that your secret will be safe and no one will come for you. You’ll go home, pack your things, and leave Mystic Falls behind.”

The fear of what this would do to her weighed on Elijah’s chest. But he knew with the secrets she knew and kept were a risk and no one outside the room needed to ever find out about the secret weapons that would now be locked deep within her mind.

Another sigh passed his lips before he added one final touch. “While you’ll never forgive me, know deep down that I am truly sorry for hurting you this way.”

The moment the compulsion ended and Elijah stood to give her the space she would need, a gasp left Y/N’s lips. He watched as her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes danced from one person to the next before they landed on Elijah. He watched as hurt and betrayal formed with in her eyes before standing and quickly making her way towards the exit with tears running down her face.

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[galaxywhump]

wasn't sure since it didn't seem like you'd written anything in a bit and i didn't want to just put you on the spot! so we've seen wren experience panic/triggering from pre daniel trauma and daniel's reactions to that. i'd be interested to see daniel's reaction to wren getting triggered/having a panic attack/flashbacks from something daniel has done to him (whipping, breaking his fingers, stabbing through his hands)

Took me a while (what else is new), but here you go!

[SV-240 masterlist]

contents: forced relationship whump, slavery whump, creepy/intimate whumper, trauma, flashbacks, panic attack, creepy comfort, referenced: broken fingers, whipping, cutting.

~~~

Wren has gone through so much pain since he was captured; torture has become just a fact in his life, something Daniel loves too much to let it go. 

The regular torture methods he has gotten used to. They hurt regardless, but he's used to the sight of the whip or Daniel's favorite knife, and the way they bite into his flesh.

But then there are the others, the ones that have only happened once, in circumstances he'd rather not relive. The more time passes, the fuzzier the memories become - but the memory of the pain becomes exaggerated, and when he catches himself thinking back to it against his will, all he remembers is agony.

But all of that is behind him, hopefully. He's learned to block it from his memory - until now.

"Give me a break."

It's just a movie. They're sitting on the couch, Daniel's arm wrapped around Wren, holding him close, and they're watching a movie together. It means over an hour of relative silence between the two of them, since Wren's not in the mood for commenting on what's happening on the screen. He was relieved to hear that this was the plan for the day, that Daniel wanted to relax too.

Then he hears the words. They're just words, just that one common word that he's heard again and again here, but this is different, and it takes him back, like he's been punched in the face and sent flying backwards into the past, but then ended up here again, on the couch, in Daniel's casual embrace.

"You're breaking my heart."

His hands are trembling, fingers stiff; he's scared to move them, expecting agony accompanying a nauseating crack. He can hear it so clearly, one after another, and he can hear something else, laughter, so much laughter, Daniel's and Berkeley's, laughing at him as he sobbed into the couch, unable to resist while his fingers were getting broken one by one.

He jolts in place when someone grabs his hand, he can already feel the pain even though nothing has happened yet, tears gather in his eyes and trickle down his face, and he can barely breathe.

"No!" he cries out, wrenching his hand free and backing away, scrambling to the end of the couch, his breathing quick and shallow. Breaking echoes in his head, the word said in Berkeley's voice and the sickening sound reverberating from his fingers, which hurt so much.

"Hey."

Daniel's voice. It's different, there's genuine worry where there used to be sadistic satisfaction, and yet it's nowhere near soothing, it never is. He shakes his head, curling up, holding his hands close to his chest.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Daniel frowns, moving closer and reaching towards Wren, not stopping when he flinches away. 

"N-no," Wren chokes out when Daniel grabs his arm, but he can't free himself, it wouldn't change anything, he was only punished even more harshly for trying to run. "Stay away, d-don't-"

"I'm not doing anything. Did the movie remind you of something? Whatever it was, it's okay now. You're here, and you're safe with me."

"You did that to me!" Wren curls up more to protect his hands, terror only increased by hopelessness, because if Daniel really wants to repeat that torture, there's nothing that can change his mind.

"Did what?" Daniel tightens his grip on Wren's arm, looking him up and down, and realization finally seems to dawn on him when he notices the way Wren's hiding his hands from him. "Oh. You mean breaking your fingers?"

Wren shivers and doesn't respond, but Daniel doesn't seem to need his confirmation.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Wren can't back off any further and has no choice but to let Daniel pull him closer and wrap one arm around him again; Daniel doesn't let go when he feels Wren tense up, his breathing still strained. "That was ages ago, and I promise it was a one-time thing. I'll never do that to you again."

Wren exhales, doing his best to calm down, but Daniel being so close is anything but calming, and then he whimpers and tries to pull back when Daniel gently takes his hands.

"No…"

"Shh. It's okay. I won't hurt you like that again." Daniel squeezes his hands and smiles.

"You're still hurting me," Wren whispers, his voice shaky.

"I know, but there are things I won't do, again or at all. That is one of them."

And yet Wren's breath catches in his throat when Daniel takes hold of his fingers and curls them slightly.

"Relax, sweetheart. I won't do anything."

"Then let go."

"Just trust me." Daniel leans his head against Wren's. "We'll finish the movie some other time, okay? Or we can watch something else. For now just try to calm down."

It's hard when Daniel continues playing with Wren's fingers, squeezing his hands from time to time, knowing well that it’s counterproductive to his goal of making Wren calm down, but choosing to do it anyway. Not hurting him, just reminding him that he can, at any moment, whenever he pleases, while Wren can do nothing but follow his suggestion and do his best not to reminisce about that nightmare any longer.

~~~

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[hongjoongscafe]

Someone out there...

Part: 4 {Serieslist}

Iln the window|

Pairing: bunny!hybrid!jungkookxhuman!readerxbunny!hybrid!wooyoung

Boy groups involved: BTS & ATEEZ

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, neighbour au, hybrid au.

Summary: the two bunny hybrids were terrified of the cruel world. Will they be able to live their life?

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mention of vomit, mention of anxiety, shit talking.

Word count: 3k+

BTS and ATEEZ masterlist

Masterpost

Do not repost, piz

How would it feel if someday you woke up and found yourself trapped in a room with mould creeping up the walls and water soaking the ceiling? How would it feel if someone told you that for the rest of your life, you are only going to obey and not say no?

It will suck, right? You will be depressed and devastated. This will kill the whole purpose of life if you only obeyed and never lived the way you wanted to. Your life would become the darkest part of your existence. The hell would grow in you slowly and finally when it couldn't grow more, it would eat you hollow and leave your body to burn under the hottest sun.

These were the first thoughts when you woke up on a Monday morning. The gloominess inside your heart kept you in bed for a couple of hours. Your head pounded thinking about the hybrids next door.

Their almost dead-looking bodies sent shivers down your spine. All you wanted to do was to hug them and bring them into your house to protect them from any evil eyes.

But could you do that?

No.

They didn't belong to you. And your mind didn't dare to think about having a hybrid. You were lonely, yes. But that didn't mean that you were mentally prepared for a hybrid or two.

Past haunts you. Whatever happened back then, you didn't want it to repeat. As happy as everything seemed, it wasn't picture perfect. To have that, you would do whatever but can anybody forget their past just like that? No. No one can forget their past just like that.

The bumpy roads of life and, if it exists, fate, were too deep and backbreaking. You could barely walk on it and thinking about the future, you were already giving up on that road. There was no way that you could heal or fix it. You had nothing left with you to even begin filling those bumps.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at the clock. It indicated 7:08 AM. Your office started at 9:15. You got out of bed to at least not get late for once. Your feet, instead of the bathroom, took you to the window that faced the hybrid's house.

There was no one by the window of the attic. Deep down you wished to see at least any of the hybrids, maybe both, just to see if they were fine. But when you saw nothing, you sighed and observed the surroundings.

The house looked so full and happy before you paid them a visit but now when you look at it, it looks like it’s holding many deep and dirty secrets, the secrets that might make you want to wash your whole self with commercial bleach.

You thought about the scenarios that might be true for the people and hybrids living there. There were so many and you wished that you were narrowly judging the cover of the book and that they are actually very happy and stable in their little bubble. Maybe you were being dramatic after watching all of those detectives and thriller shows at night or with Hongjoong and Namjoon.

If that were the case, you would be the happiest.

Oblivious, you didn't realize that Jungkook was observing you through the window in the kitchen while he was doing the dishes.

He felt someone. He felt that someone was carrying a heavy heart and the burden was unbearable, he had the worst-case scenario happening to himself still, but for someone who hasn't been a slave, this pain felt piercing in its own way.

Who is he kidding? Even he knows that pain can be equally killing even if the circumstances are different.

Jungkook felt that after he woke up. The burden. He felt hurt and in need of some comfort. He turned around and hugged the bunny form of Wooyoung. It helped.

Wooyoung was weak. He couldn't feel other people other than Jungkook’s. He always called it the lovers’ thread. But today, he whined. Not because of his illness but because he was feeling someone else's feelings. That someone was definitely not Jungkook, Wooyoung would know if it was.

Jungkook was worried for Wooyoung but soon realized that he himself wasn't the only one who felt the burden of someone. He was surprised though. It was as if he was going through that pain. Just like he felt Wooyoung's feelings. But he soon stopped thinking about this part. Avoiding this fact just so he wasn't busy thinking about it.

Now, he was looking at you looking at the attic. He wondered if you were looking for someone or what was going on in your mind.

…

Soon you left the balcony and got ready for the day. You heated some leftovers and sat down. Your phone rang next to you showing your mother's name on it. You had no will to talk to anyone this morning. Your usual loud self in the morning was numb.

After the fifth ring, you picked it up. “Hello?”

“Ah, y/n. You sound so withered. Is everything alright?” your mother worried.

“Mom, how could you tell that from just hello?” you mumbled.

“I'm your mother… Even your breath can tell me if you are okay or not. Now tell me what happened?” she knew your every single nerve like the back of her hand.

“Nothing, I woke up feeling a bit off… Everything is alright,” you reassured.

Your mother sighed on the other end before speaking, “listen… I won't force you to tell me anything because I know that will only make you annoyed but simply remember that you can go on and on about some useless shit, I would still listen. Okay?”

You smiled for the first time that morning. Your mother had no shame in using bold words and this wasn't even as bad. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Good girl. Now don't get late for work. And eat and drink proper meals!” she said.

“I won't get late and will eat and drink properly. Have a good day, mom.”

“You too, young lady,” you chuckled at her and dismissed the call.

She was adorable. The generation gap was there but she always tried to understand your point of view and never said something like “I have been through your age and I know how it is and you are a fool to feel that way” or whatever.

She understood that you had it differently and that they were not the same people. She never missed a chance to understand your generation better and tried her best to be at least a helpful mother. This quality of hers maintained the best relationship between you and her. She acted like a friend and was always ready to learn new things and never once she acted like she knew everything.

You smiled thinking about her. “I think I won a jackpot that I call Mother.”

…

The day stretched longer than anticipated. The work kept on loading more and more, testing your patience.

Your boss kept on dumping files on files at your desk even after the working hours got over. “You need to know that sometimes you gotta work more than working hours too,” was what he said after seeing your obvious pout.

The things you had to do for making a luxurious living. You sighed.

You turned your car into your street and passed in front of the Kims and stopped in your driveway. You took your purse and some files that you were supposed to work on before going to bed.

No joke but living on your own was the hardest, especially while working side by side. Because now you had to do some chores and extra work that your manager let you bring home. You wished you could bring your mother here but she had her own work to look after and your father.

You sighed for the millionth time and finally got out of the car. You loved your car and were about to go into your home when someone called your name.

“Y/n!” you saw Bina jogging towards you.

You mentally sighed once again, having no energy to face her button still greeted her, “Mrs Kim! How can I help you?”

“Oh no, no. I don't need any help. I just saw you coming back through the window and we were going to have dinner. You made us such delicious sweets so we thought that we should call you for dinner. I'm pretty sure you must be hungry,” she smiled widely.

“A-ah, no need for that Mrs Kim. I'm fine. I'll just make something,” you kindly declined the offer.

Bina tsked, “you are going to make something first and then eat, it takes too much time. The dinner is ready. Don't be shy, we all are going to eat the same food.”

You thought about it for a second, “okay… I'll just get freshen up and be there in five minutes.”

She smiled and patted your shoulder and went back to her house.

Within five minutes, you quickly washed your face and changed into a white loose t-shirt and black boxer shorts.

Now you were sitting with Bina and Dal. The food was being served by the adorable bunny hybrids. It was traditional Korean food, something you haven't had in a long time. You appreciated the efforts. It looked so delicious. You picked your chopsticks and ate the food.

“Wah! That is so good! Wow! Reminds me of home,” you said after stuffing your mouth the most you could.

The couple chuckled and ate their food. Jungkook and Wooyoung kept on serving everyone. After they served, they quietly stood by the wall and waited for you all to finish the food.

They cleared the table later on and brought dessert. Everything tasted way beyond delicious. Even five-star restaurants couldn't even beat the food that they made. “Jungkook, Wooyoung, thank you for serving and making delicious food! I appreciate it,” you said and slightly bowed to them.

They both stood there, frozen. No one has ever done that to them. It felt nice and appreciated.

“Go and eat your dinner,” Dal sternly said.

You saw them with tiny bowls of rice that were smaller than their hands. They were scurrying down the hallway. You frowned deeply and looked at the couple who was unbothered.

“That’s it? They won’t eat anything else?” You asked.

Bina looked up at you and smiled, “what do you mean?” she asked with a scary smirk.

“Them,” you pointed to where the hybrids went. “They just took small bowls of rice.”

“Ah, no worries! That’s their diet. They will be fine. Don’t you agree? They shouldn’t eat too much, right? They will get lazy,” her voice sounded taunting and yet so soft. It sent shivers down your spine.

‘This is your chance to gain their trust around the hybrids, y/n. Don’t let it go!’ Your inner voice screamed.

You chuckled, awkwardly, “we used to have a hybrid when I was younger. You are right, they should eat that much. It’s enough,” you stretched the last word. “We fed that much too! Maybe a tiny bit bigger bowl but yeah, nonetheless, same…”

Jungkook and Wooyoung heard you talking. They thought that maybe you were a bit better when you thanked them for the food but guess they were wrong. You were just like other humans. The hybrids felt bad for the hybrid that you had when you were younger.

Apart from all of this, Jungkook and Wooyoung felt the same pain and heaviness that they felt in the morning. They looked at each other but continued eating their food. Wooyoung felt like crying. This pain was too much for him. They both felt like they were suffocating.

“Why is it happening?” Wooyoung sniffed.

Jungkook rested his arm around Wooyoung and brought him to his chest and patted his back, “it will be okay soon, yeah? Don’t think about it and eat,” he kissed the younger’s forehead.

“Right?!” Bina beamed. “They don’t deserve much. They should just serve us and know their damn place. They can be so fucking ungrateful,” she scoffed.

Every single word that came out of her mouth felt like a dagger piercing through your heart again and again. She was evil and cruel. How could she think like that? Didn’t she have any heart? You wanted to shake her by her shoulder and shout at her and slap the shit out of her.

“These motherfuckers are just a burden on us,” Dal scoffed.

‘Then why do you have them?’ You thought while imagining strangling him.

“True!” You acted. “Don’t let them get to you…” you clenched your fist. “They don’t deserve it. They live here, that should be enough,” you were sure your palm was bleeding because of the tightness of the fist.

“Ah! You are better than we thought! It’s good to have someone who thinks like us,” Bina’a eyes sparkled. You were hating more and more. Her ugly personality made you want to puke in her artificial hair.

“I know,” you squeezed her hand. But you couldn’t bear it anymore. Your heart was aching and was trying to find a way out of your body through tears, “you know what? I have some work to do… I’m gonna leave now. If you need any help in future, I’m just next door,” you walked but turned around. “How many times do they eat in a day?”

Bina looked at you, “two… Morning and night,” she said.

“Perfect for the… toys.”

…

You busted into your house and ran towards the bathroom. Hunching over the toilet seat, you vomited everything out.

The words that came out of your mouth at the Kims weren't yours. You loathe yourself for saying every single thing. And knowing that the hybrids must have heard you, it broke your heart. Hurting them wasn't what you wanted but you needed to know about them. And you were quite surprised that they talked to you so easily.

Another reflex of acid was forced out of you while thinking about it.

How could they? Why do they make such pretty hybrids suffer? What was their fault?

Was it just being born as a hybrid? Or was it because they were easy to control and hurt?

After cleaning up, you stepped out of the bathroom and your vision fell on a picture that was hanging on the wall. The pretty smiling face next to yours made your guts churn again. Why did you say all of that?

“I'm sorry,” you sobbed. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” you whispered while crying and fell to your knees. “What did they do? Why are they living like this? Why are they not being loved?”

The air around you felt suffocating. It felt like your own angel self was choking you to death. You said a few things and felt like dying. But Dal and Bina fucking abused them but were living the best life.

Where they ate full-course meals, the hybrids only chewed on almost two spoons of rice. Where they dressed elegantly, the hybrids wore rags of clothes. Where they slept peacefully, the hybrids survived.

…

Wooyoung and Jungkook had finished their rice and were getting ready for bed. They were hurt by your words and the fact that you agreed with all the abuse and that they deserved it. But the feeling… Suffocation, it wasn't getting any better. It wrapped around them like plastic wrap.

Wooyoung was in his bunny form and started making noises. He felt it too. Jungkook quickly picked him up and sat him in his lap. His big hands caressed Wooyoung’s bunny body. He tried to comfort him through this. “Wooyoung-ah,” he whispered. “I know, it hurts. Please, baby, don't cry. It hurts me.”

Feeling all this suffocation, he brought the bunny to the window closest to them. It happened to face your house. He stood there with the bunny in his hand, caressing him gently all the while. He saw that behind the closed sheer curtains, you were kneeling on the floor and holding your head.

He stood there and kept on seeing. The pain he felt kept on growing and growing. And then saw you stumbling towards your balcony.

…

The pressure was too much to take, you barely walked towards the window and opened it. There you saw him again. This time the street light made his face visible. The pain was painting his features. The dark circles under his eyes. He had something in his arms. It was Wooyoung in his bunny form. It looked like the bunny was looking at you along with Jungkook.

Tears filled the brim of your eyes and flowed down your cheeks. You just looked at them as they looked at you. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…” you repeated again and again.

Jungkook saw your swelling face. The smeared tears were shining on your face. He saw how you froze when you saw him. He saw how your eyes fell on the creature in his arms. He saw how fresh tears pooled in your eyes and slipped out. Everything seemed broken about you.

The realization hit him like a train at that moment when he could hear your repeated “sorry”.

The suffocation. The pain. The anxiety. It was all that you were feeling. Wooyoung and he felt what you felt. At that moment, he forgot all the hate he carried for humans and was worried for you.

They could only feel you but they knew that you had it worse.

He forgot his pain and thought about you.

You were not as depressed. You were not abused like the two bunnies in the window. But at that moment it felt like you were going insane. Even Wooyoung settled down and saw your dishevelled look. But still, they both let their hate overpower their emotions.

Wooyoung jumped out of his Hyung's hold and hopped on their bed and turned into human form. “Hyung, I don't trust her…” he stated when Jungkook closed the window and sat next to him and sighed.

“Me neither…”

.....

Sanaa's note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes ; @jhmylove @itzsavage07 ; @acciocriativity

*lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist*

*original picture is not mine, I just edited it*

[ladyfogg]

The Arrangement - Part 3

The Arrangement – Part 3 (Finale)

Fic Summary: Drowning in problems of his own making, Arthur Havisham seeks the aid of the one person in the world who knows him better than anyone else. But what will it cost him this time? (Part 1) (Part 2)

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Arthur Havisham/Male Reader

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Mentions of Abuse (physical proof of abuse), Mutual Pining, Oral (Male Receiving and Giving), Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Internalized Homophobia

A/N: It has been an absolute pleasure writing this story. A story that wasn’t even going to be made but the muses in my head beat me into submission and I love them for it. I honestly have to end it here because I could go on and on with these two and at some point I really need to get back to my work-writing lol. Thanks for coming with me on this journey and for everyone’s wonderful comments! Love you all!

The news of your and Amelia’s courtship spreads throughout London’s upper class like a wildfire.

After all, why would it not?

Two rich aristocrats who have known each other since childhood finding love and deciding to marry spoke to the romantic in everyone. Even Mr. Jaggers, usually cautious and pessimistic, offers his congratulations when you and Amelia speak to him about your marriage plans. From a legal standpoint, it’s all very straightforward and, as he mentions, a smart decision.

Arthur does everything to appear the supportive brother. And while he knows in the long run this whole pomp and circumstance will be beneficial, especially for him, he cannot help feeling put out.

Not about the nuptials, no. He’s aware that you love him and this is all a façade. He is also aware that the story of how you and Amelia “fell in love” is really how you fell in love with Arthur. It would be different if he had you all to himself in the evenings but ever since the news of the engagement broke, you’ve been forced to entertain guests and distant relatives. Arthur is in attendance of course, yet, there have been far too many guests staying and lingering around the estate for him to carefully sneak into your room. During the day there’s hardly an opportunity due to work obligations.

After that first night of passion, there hasn’t been time for a repeat. Though you both made plans to meet, circumstances got in the way.

As such, Arthur is restless and incredibly desperate for your touch.

It’s nearly three weeks later when he has the chance to talk to you about it. It’s yet another party and Arthur has indulged a little too much in drink. Not enough to make a fool of himself as was his behavior in the past. But enough to make it difficult keeping his thoughts to himself. He’s lingering by you, has been for some time, waiting for your attention to finally come to him. When it does, he gives you a look over his glass.

“You, sir, are in trouble,” he says in a low voice only you can hear.

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Arthur nods, stopping himself from stepping closer even though he desperately wants to. “In terrible trouble.”

“Why is that?”

“If you don’t know then I shan’t tell you.”

His voice is playful, though there is an underlying hint of frustration. You catch it, staying silent as someone passes before you respond to him.

“If I am, I would like to be made aware of why so I may rectify the situation.”

You both turn to face the room, shoulders nearly pressed together. Having you right within reach without being able to touch you is maddening.

“So many parties and meetings,” Archer comments. “Your attention is in constant demand. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Your smile fades and a look of concern passed across your face when you glance at him. “Arthur—”

“My room. Tonight.” He downs the rest of his drink and wanders off to leave you stewing. He can feel your eyes tracking him through the room and a smirk comes to his lips. That’s more like it.

After another hour or so, he says goodnight to his sister as he helps her into her carriage.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” she asks.

She’s taken to asking him that quite a bit, wanting to ensure he is still comfortable with the arrangement. He is. He’d be a fool not to be.

“Yes, yes, just feeling a little neglected is all.”

“Arthur, you know we love you and want you included as much as possible—”

Arthur snickers, the alcohol making him sway. “Dear, sister, that’s not what I’m referring to.”

Catching his meaning, Amelia’s cheeks turn pink as she chuckles. “I see. Well, far be it from me to keep interrupting your evenings. Tonight is the last of these parties for a while and the wedding isn’t for another two months. I think we could all use a much needed respite. Have a good night, brother.”

He closes the door and steps back, allowing the carriage to leave.

On his way inside, he bids goodnight to several guests and then slips upstairs when he has the first opportunity. His room is far more lived in than it was before and has quickly become his refuge when the demands of social life are overwhelming. Most of his belongings have already been moved in yet still remain in trunks.

You’re in the process of having one of the suites on the top floor remodeled and cleaned to serve as a permanent space. While all of Arthur’s belongings will be stowed away for appearances sake, it will be Amelia who sleeps there once all is said and done. Then you and Arthur won’t have to worry about sleeping apart or sneaking past the servants.

Speaking to the level of detail you gave this ruse, servants are not allowed on the third floor during the evening and early morning hours. It’s a rule you put into place years ago, stating you wished for the utmost privacy. They are not to come cleaning until you have descended in the morning.

Arthur is counting the days.

For now, he sets about undressing. The wounds on his back have mostly healed and none of them have lingered thanks to the salve you procured. Arthur places his clothes in the laundry bin before stretching out on the bed. While he lays there, he thinks of you and everything you’ve done for him in the last few weeks.

Mr. Compeyson is nowhere to be found and thanks to your generosity and silver tongue, Arthur’s downward spiral is nothing but a distant memory to the board and shareholders. He’s back to being respectable in their eyes, living up to the Havisham name. Even more now that he’s been given the chance to truly spread his wings.

In addition, several of the smaller businesses you oversee have already been transferred to Arthur’s care. Mr. Jaggers did hesitate on that front, stating it is far too soon for such a transfer.

However, you were insistent, reasoning you did not want to waste time dealing with such things so soon after the wedding. Mr. Jaggers could find no fault in your logic and therefore could not deny you.

Arthur’s become as busy as you nowadays, running and managing multiple ventures throughout the city. As such, he spends most of his time in your company, learning the ins and outs of each business. It’s been glorious. He had forgotten what it’s like to match wits and intelligence with you. His pockets are certainly enjoying the increase as well and he no longer has to wait on his salary from the brewery if he needs to cover expenses.

Not that he has many to begin with.

The drink from earlier and the neglect his body feels are starting to combine. Arthur finds himself growing hard as he thinks about you, about that body of yours he hasn’t seen in weeks. Licking his lips, he readjusts so he’s lying in the middle of the bed. He reaches down to take himself in his hand, lazily stroking his cock a few times. It’s what he’s been reduced to the last three weeks and now his body comes to expect it.

Eyes falling closed, he surrenders to the sensation, a smile gracing his lips. It’s always you he thinks of, always of the night you confessed your love.

Oh how he wishes you would send everyone away and come to him. He made it perfectly clear that he expects you to. However, he is always aware that duty must come first. You both agreed to certain conditions and rules when it came to your physical relationship. Arthur knows better than anyone how carefully you must tread. Still, he would give anything to have it be your hand that’s touching him.

Taking his time, Arthur familiarizes himself with his own body. That has been another positive throughout this courtship. In the past, he often would avoid servicing himself because he knew where his thoughts would wander. Now, however, there is no shame. Now, he lets his mind free, lets himself think about your hot mouth and curious hands, and all the naughty things he wishes to do to you.

His ears pick up the sound of movement down the hall. He keeps going, keeps touching because he knows those steps anywhere.

They approach his door and there’s a soft click as the knob turns.

Eyes still closed, he hears your shuddering breath the moment you step into the room. Now that you’re there, his movements speed up and he moans your name, his head pressing deeper into the pillows.

Only then does he open his eyes and smile at you. “Took you long enough,” he says.

Your stare is glued to his moving hand as you remain rooted in place.

“Close the door, love,” Arthur says. “Unless you want to give others a show.”

You do as he says then reach back to turn the lock. “Bloody hell, Arthur, what a sight you make.”

Arthur doesn’t doubt it. The room is only lit by the fireplace, which casts shadows on the large bed where he lays naked, currently fisting his length.

“You’re in trouble,” Arthur tells you again, breathlessly this time. “Do you see what you have reduced me to? I’m forced to touch myself like a bloody teenager. How can you show me such pleasure than take it away? Scoundrel.”

“What must I do to make it up to you?”

“Remove your clothes and get on this bed.”

Watching you scramble to follow his orders makes Arthur realize something important. For as much power as you’ve had over him these years, in this moment he sees how much power he has over you. He caught a glimpse of it the other morning when he took you into his mouth. Now he’s seeing it in action. Then again, when has he not had power over you? When has his love not dictated your actions?

Arthur is coming to understand he’s always been at the forefront of your mind, as you have always been at the forefront of his.

When you climb on the bed, you immediately reach for him but Arthur knocks your hand away.

“You made me wait,” he says, still stroking himself as he sits up. “Now you must wait.”

You groan with longing, eyes sweeping up and down Arthur’s frame. “I’ve been a neglectful husband, love, and for that I apologize. Please, what can I do to show my appreciation?”

“You can sit there and you can watch me touch myself,” Arthur orders. “Until I say you’re forgiven.”

You’re already hard. He can see it and it sends a thrill of desire through him. His body clenches at the memory of you inside him. Your hands twitch and he has no doubt you would be on him in an instant if he lets you. Arthur keeps his eyes on yours, plump lips parted as he breaths heavily. Doing this with you watching brings a hazy memory to mind, makes him remember the first time things between you changed from friendly to sexual.

It had been an evening like this, where London’s elite partied into the late hours. Your fathers were far too busy entertaining to notice you two slipping away to your room. You talked for hours, laying face to face in your bed before dozing off. He awoke to you touching yourself, trying to remain quiet but being unable to hold back the whisper of his name.

Arthur had watched until he could no longer take it and started to touch himself as well.

Thinking of that night, with you watching him now, reminds him how much you’ve always wanted him. And again he chastises himself for waiting so long to give into his own wants and desires.

“Arthur,” you beg. “Let me touch you, love. Please.”

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he pants.

“I promised you a lot of things.”

“The morning after our first night,” Arthur clarifies. “After I took you in my mouth and finished you with my hand. Do. You. Remember?”

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, the tip of his cock leaking only for the fluid to be used as lubrication as he keeps pumping himself. Your tongue darts out to swipe across your dry lips when you see it.

“I—” You clear your throat and you eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “You’re making it very difficult to remember much of anything.”

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

Arthur pounces suddenly. You’re not expecting it and with one quick move he’s able to pin you to the bed. His thick length is hot against your belly and you moan, trying to buck up against him.

Bending down, Arthur’s mouth hovers yours. He has your arms pinned above your head, trapped and yet still just out of reach.

“It was you who said you wanted to know what it felt like to have my cock inside you,” he says, gyrating his hips enough for his length to slide along the clenched muscles of your abdomen. “And I have been entirely too preoccupied with the idea.”

Arthur flips you onto your stomach and you moan when he attaches his mouth to the back of your neck, sucking greedily.

“Arthur, I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he says in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, playfully tugging. “If this isn’t what you want tonight, I’m more than happy to try something else.”

You moan, burying your face in your arms. “Don’t stop.”

Emboldened and more than a little power hungry, Arthur kisses your shoulder blades before sitting back to straddle your legs. After all this time, he can finally stare and admire your body. He runs his hands down your back, fingers trailing down the dip of your spine, then over your backside which he squeezes with appreciation.

“Did you know I’ve been practicing?” he asks, rising onto his knees.

“Practicing?”

“Yes, you know…” He swipes his thumb around your pucker for a second, enough to draw a gasp out of you. “Practicing.”

Your breathing hitches and Arthur reaches for his nightstand drawer where his own bottle of lubricant is stashed. He bought some several days after your first love making, realizing its importance and wanting to ensure it was on hand as needed.

“And just how has this practicing occurred?” you ask, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“On myself, of course.”

You moan. “Bloody hell do I want to see that.”

“In due time,” Arthur says, pouring the liquid into his hand. “Tonight, however, I have far better plans.”

You jerk under him as he allows the lubricant to drip from his hand in between your cheeks. He feels the shudder pass through you and it thrills him.

“It is common courtesy to warm it first, love,” you say.

“It’s also common courtesy not to make your husband wait three weeks for your touch.”

“It was not my inten—”

Your words are cut off by a low moan as Arthur swirls the lubricant around your ring of muscle. He can’t help the smirk that graces his face at your reaction. To have you willingly at his mercy fuels his arousal and stokes his ego.

“Lift your hips,” he orders and you do without hesitation.

Arthur slides a pillow under you, propping your lower half up enough so he can see what he’s doing and oh what I sight you make. The firelight reflects off your body, making Arthur’s neglected cock throb with need. Your legs are spread, cock now pressed against the pillow and he sees your hips moving, seeking friction.

But that’s not his concern at the moment.

Arthur continues to work you with small circles. He’s spent countless nights testing himself, seeing what his body likes, what it responds to. Now it’s time to test yours. He wants to be the best version of himself for you, out in the world and in private as well.

Your body is constantly moving, seemingly torn between the pillow and Arthur’s fingers. He’s teasing you, at least a little. How can he not when he sees how needy you’ve become? However, his own patience was never any good and he takes mercy on you after several grueling moments.

At the first push of his finger, your body tenses. Arthur places kisses up your back until he brings his lips to your ear again.

“Remember to relax, love,” he whispers.

“I am aware, it’s just, I am so bloody ready for you.”

How quickly the roles have been reversed.

Arthur chuckles, nuzzling your temple. “Not yet you’re not.”

With you squirming beneath him and his mouth at your throat, Arthur works you loose with his finger. That surge of power he felt early is even stronger now. Knowing he’s the one to do this to you, to reduce you to a shuddering mess is beyond comprehension.

“More, love, please,” you beg once he’s able to slide his finger in and out with ease.

“I should make you wait,” he growls in your ear. “I should make you finish off yourself for as long as you took to come to my bed again.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur. It won’t happen again. Promise.”

“There’s a good man.”

He draws back to get more lubricant and this time, sitting on his heels between your spread legs, he watches himself spread you open, eyes the way your cock is grinding into the pillows, imagining what it will be like when he finally gets to grind himself into your heat.

It’s his own impatience that spurs him forward. His own desires that make him throw this game away. Seeing you so ready and willing takes over. He rubs himself with the slick substance before letting his length drop between your legs.

Without warning he grabs your hips and yanks you onto your knees. At the first push of the blunt head of his cock, you moan his name.

Arthur works himself into you with small, careful movements. He is not prepared for the incredible amount of self-control that’s required. He doesn’t want to hurt you which is what he reminds his lust-addled brain as he’s slowly enveloped in the most delicious heat.

But then you push back suddenly, taking all of Arthur in one smooth thrust and that self-control snaps. Fingers digging into your hips, Arthur starts to move, thrusting in and out of your tightness in a steady rhythm. It is everything he ever hoped it would be and nothing he imagined.

He’s didn’t anticipate how you would clench around him, how each time he’d tried to draw back your body would do everything you can to hold him right where he is.

His name is the only thing you say, and he knows he’ll never grow tired of how it sounds spilling from your lips.

Arthur is lost in sensation. Being this close, feeling you from the inside, there’s no words to describe it. This is righter than anything he’s ever experienced. He’s meant to be here, with you, focusing on nothing but pleasure. His and yours.

He readjusts for a moment and suddenly has you gasping loudly.

You push yourself up onto your hands, your head thrown back. “Right here,” you manage to say.

Arthur is unsure of what he did but judging how you’re behaving, he’s doing something right. He remembers when you were inside him, when you angled your hips a certain way that had him seeing stars. That must be what’s happening.

Fueled by lust and determination, Arthur directs his thrusts to that spot, reveling in how you moan. He sees your hand disappear beneath you and knows you’re touching yourself, can hear it over the lewd noise of skin hitting skin. That can only mean you’re close. He is too. He wants to last longer, to keep you on edge for hours. That was his plan at least.

Plans change.

He knows you come because your body clenches down on him, nearly taking his breath away. Arthur releases inside you, thrusts though his pleasure until you’ve milked his cock for every last drop.

Only then does he drape himself over you, spent and satisfied. His hand comes down to give your arse a smart slap, drawing one last tired moan out of you.

Without warning, Arthur withdraws and rolls you into your back.

He needs to see your face, take in the blissful expression as you try to catch your breath. Your belly is covered with your release and Arthur bends his head, licking up as much of it as he can. Your hands run through his messy curls, yanking, trying to get his attention. He only gives it once he’s cleaned you.

The kiss takes his breath away, not that he has much at the moment.

You always cradle his face like it’s precious, like you’re holding something fragile. And perhaps for a while Arthur was fragile. But he’s not anymore

Drawing back, he smiles at you. “You are forgiven by the way.”

“Gladly. And should I slip again, you are more than welcome to teach me another lesson.” You kiss him again before gently pushing him off. “I brought you something.”

Arthur perks up, propping his head up by his fist as he watches you slip out of bed. His eyes are drawn to the mess currently sliding down the backs of your thighs, turned on by the fact that it’s his mess he’s watching. You don’t seem to care as you shuffle through your discarded clothing.

When you straighten your stance and catch him staring, you smirk. “Don’t you look pleased with yourself.”

“That I am, love. It’s good to know that my practice paid off.”

“Speaking of, I’m never going to get that visual out of my mind until I see it for myself.”

“And I be happy to show you. Now come here, what’s my present?”

He can’t see what you retrieved as you walk back towards the bed. Sitting up all the way, he is giddy with anticipation.

“Close your eyes,” you instruct. “And hold out your hand.”

Arthur does as he’s told, holding out his left hand. He chuckles when you take hold of the right one instead, however, the noise quickly dies in his throat with the cool sensation of metal sliding down his finger.

His eyes fly open and watches you slip a thick silver band around his ring finger. When he says your name, the words barely make it without catching in his throat.

Mostly because he has noticed a similar band on your right hand over the last week.

“It’s not the proper place but it should do,” you say. “Had them custom made by two different jewelers for discretion sake, so they are different. I wanted to make sure yours had a diamond in it.”

And it does, right in the center, imbedded in the band itself.

“Legally we may not be married, but you are my love, my husband. Don’t ever forget that.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say. He stares at his hand, pesky tears making his vision cloudy. He swore he was done crying but it’s hard not to when faced with such a beautiful sentiment.

“I love you,” he says, cupping your cheek and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The kiss is sweet and gentle, so chaste in comparison to the hungry ones shared only moments ago.

“I have some good news as well,” you say, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “The suite will be ready tomorrow. And we have no more guests as of tonight.”

“Thank heavens. I could not handle another damn party.”

Chuckling, you pull him to lay with you, your hand making soft trails up and down his hip. “Neither can I. I will say, you have them all positively charmed.”

“Of course I do,” Arthur says, playfully turning his nose up. “I am a Havisham.”

Laughing, you shake your head. “No, I mean it. They’re all quite impressed with what you and Amelia have been doing. It’s all I hear about all day. I’m so proud of you.”

Arthur’s heart feels like it’s grown twice in size. “I’m proud of you. Your kindness and generosity have me speechless at times. I still can’t believe I get to spend my life with you.”

You tug him close, nuzzling his cheek with a growl that has him all but giggling like a child. “Believe it, Arthur Havisham. You’re stuck with me until the end of time.”

“I will hold you to that.”

You both fall into silence, content to lay there and simply be with each other. Arthur is smart, he knows that you walk a fine line. So much of his and your reputations are at stake. And yet, in that moment, Arthur could give a damn what society thinks. He doesn’t care one bit. Because all that matters to Arthur is that he knows love and has love in return.

And your love is worth more to him than all the wealth in London.

“What are you thinking, my love?” you ask after he’s fallen into pensive silence.

“Many things,” he says, tracing lazy circles on your chest. “But in this moment, there’s only one.”

You give him a questioningly look and his face splits into a devilish grin.

“How long do you have before you can go again?” he purrs, throwing his leg over your hip. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

Grinning, you roll him into his back, attacking his neck with kisses. Arthur laughs and squirms, deliriously happy and ready, so ready, to spend the rest of your lives together.

Taglist:

@spicytrashthe1st​

[littlemisssquiggles]

Alyx wanted to ascend!

With today’s episode’s latest revelation, I have now changed my stance on Alyx.

What this episode brought to light for me is that Jaune wasn’t entirely the person in the right.

There are usually two sides to every story.

Last episode, we got more on Alyx’s story which revealed many things about her persona. However, the story was only told from Jaune’s perspective and as we saw today with the Paper Pleasers, Jaune’s point of view may be deskewed.  

As we witnessed, despite being labeled as the hero to the Paper Pleasers, as we soon learnt Jaune was more of a villain to these particular Everans---keeping them from doing the one thing they all so desperately wanted to do which was to return to the Tree.

In his effort to not repeat the problems and pains of the past, Jaune legit forced an entire community of beings to basically submit to his will and while his intentions may have been just---ultimately, Jaune’s reason for keeping the Everans from their own goals was a selfish one on his part because he didn’t wish to lose anyone he had grown to care for and be alone again.

Jaune’s actions were less about doing what the Paper Pleasers actually wanted for their sake and more what he wanted so he wouldn't have to feel less guilty about killing Penny.

With that thought in mind, this is why I’m beginning to see the real possible reason why Alyx poisoned Jaune.

Like I said, there are at least TWO sides to every story and while it may seem like an act of betrayal and distrust from Alyx from Jaune’s view (and by extension, Lewis possibly)---this may not have been the case for Alyx.

Perhaps...Jaune’s poisoning from Alyx was less of an act of cruetly and more one of rebellion.

Much like with the Paper Pleasers, what if...Alyx only hurt Jaune because she saw it as the only way that she could get away from him because she saw him as an obstacle in the way of her true goal.

What if...Alyx was desperate to go to the Tree not because she wished to sacrifice her brother to return to Remnant but because, in her heart, she wanted to change.

I think Alyx wanted to ascend.

If ascension in the Ever After means rebirth---to shed your old self and be born anew as something else then my guess is that this was Alyx’s true desire.

She wanted to change. She didn’t want to be Alyx anymore.

She wanted to be reborn as someone else. Something else entirely because she was probably disappointed or extremely unhappy in her old life and wished for things to be different.

This is something that I’m pondering for Ruby now.

Will Ruby soon come to the same desperate desire as Alyx now that she has separated herself from the others? Will Ruby dare to reach the Tree on her own because she is now desperate to change herself.

To shed the old Ruby Rose who is depressed and alone and become someone else thinking it would make her circumstances more favourable for her.

A new her.

I think that Alyx found herself at the same crossroads that Ruby is at now. And while Alyx achieved reaching the Tree, we still don’t know what happened to her.

I’d like to think she did achieve ascension but what did Alyx find inside?

What did she become afterwards?

A small part of me wants to believe now that Alyx was actually reborn as Little as a twist but who knows.

For now, I just wanted to share this thought to add another theory and possibilty to the table.

~LMS (2023)