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stargazer-sims · 1 year ago

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Journal Entry #52

previously - Journal Entry #51 (part two)

Yuri

Have you ever wished you didn't exist?

I'm not talking about wanting to take your own life or hoping that you'll just fall asleep one night and never wake up. I mean wishing that you actually didn't exist, that you'd never been conceived and born in the first place.

I wish for that.

I'm not sure if I'll post this recording to our journal. I may even delete it from my phone later. The only reason I'm doing this at all is because I'm feeling so frustrated and upset and... I don't know. Worthless. Horrible. Perhaps angry at myself because I can never live up to anyone's expectations for me, not even my own.

Despite the number of times I'm told that I'm enough just as I am, I can't make myself believe it. I notice how people pretend to like me when they don't, and how they're polite and deferential to me because they think I'm too fragile to handle their honest feelings about me. I'm aware of their disapproval and disdain.

In all fairness, though, I can't blame anyone for disliking me. I see the work I create for everyone around me and how much of a burden I am to them. I despise myself for that.

The sad irony is, as much as I don't want to be a burden, not being one seems impossible. I'll never not be chronically ill. There'll be periods when I'm reasonably well, but there'll also be times when I'm too sick to do anything for myself and someone will have to take care of me. That's a reality I can never escape from.

I can guess what some of you would probably say now if you heard this. But, you love all the attention you get, don't you?

I think it’s a natural human response to like receiving attention, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. The truth is, being bathed or fed or massaged feels good, and knowing I have people in my life who’ll do that and so many other personal care tasks for me gives me a certain sense of security. And yes, in the moment, I do enjoy it. The problem is, when the task is done and I’m alone with my thoughts, I start to feel guilty for allowing myself to forget, even for a second, that these things aren’t meant for my gratification. I remember I'm a selfish, awful person for enjoying something that comes at the cost of someone else's time and effort, particularly because I know full well that I can never pay them back.

The thing that bothers me most of all is that the people who do the majority of the caretaking are my mother and Victor. The people I love more than anything, who I want to see happy and who I want to protect are the very ones who suffer the most because of me.

My beautiful, brave, loyal Victor would do anything for me, and I'd move the mountain itself to repay him if I could, but my intention is not enough. I love him with my entire mind, body and soul, but my love is not enough. I don't deserve him, and I don't know why he stays with me, because nothing about me will ever be worthy of someone as good and gentle and selfless as him. Nothing can ever erase the imbalance in what we give each other, and that truth chips away at my heart more and more as time goes on.

Victor says he loves me, and he’s demonstrated it in so many ways that I’d have to be completely detached and indifferent not to believe him. He also says he doesn't mind all the work he has to do, but I'm not so certain about that one. How could it possibly be true that it doesn’t bother him? It's unfair, and I know it's hard on him, being tied down by me all the time. He gave up so much for me, and here I am with nothing of value to give in return.

Sometimes I think it would've been better if we'd never met at all. He could've had a good life without me, chased all his dreams and done everything he'd planned to do.

It's too late now. He's attached to me, and I've ruined his life, and there's no way for me to set him free to reclaim what's left of it without hurting him in the process. I offered that to him once before and it upset him so much that I swore I'd never mention it again, even if I think it'd be in his own best interest to get away from me.

Not that I ever want to be apart from him, you understand, but if I need to choose between his happiness and my own, I'll always want to choose his. It's why I'm willing to move halfway around the world, why I didn't say no when he told me he wanted to keep competing, and why I agreed to the idea of Fox coming here to help us. It's why I acquiesce to most things I'm not entirely comfortable with. Letting him have what he wants without objection is the only currency I can exchange for everything I've taken from him.

If he ever wanted to leave of his own accord, I'd let him have his way there, too. I wouldn't try to force him to stay. If it'd make him happy, I'd let him go even though it would shatter me into a million pieces, even though I'm sure I'd be in pain forever from the grief of such a loss.

Perhaps that would be my penitence. Maybe it's what I truly deserve.

I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't even be recording this. It's nothing but a confused, emotional rant, and if I do end up posting it, I fully expect that anyone who sees it will think even less of me than they already do. It's just that saying it aloud helps, even if I'm only talking to myself. At the very least, I won't lie to myself. Nearly everyone else would tell me whatever they thought I wanted to hear, which is why I've stopped talking to people about my troubles. What would be the point?

Victor says I need to see a professional, and maybe he's right. Maybe I could tell this stuff to a psychologist who isn't part of my life and who could be objective. I doubt there's anything they could realistically do to make me less of an inconvenience. They can't cure my illness or make me physically stronger, and they can't make anyone like or respect me, but I guess they'd be someone who'd listen.

Last night, after Fox left, Victor found me crying in the upstairs bathroom. I might as well admit that I threw up and that I was trying to hide that fact as well as my little breakdown from him. Have you ever tried to throw up quietly? If you discover the secret to doing that, please tell me what it is.

Because I know someone will inevitably ask, the reason I was trying to hide it is because Victor doesn't like seeing me cry. He says it makes him feel helpless. Besides, he's so tenderhearted that if I'm crying, he often ends up crying too, and I don't like seeing him cry either. I'm usually good at suppressing my emotional responses, so I really don't cry all that often, but for the past few weeks it seems I haven't been able to hold anything in. It's another sign of weakness, I suppose; yet another way I've failed him.

He knocked on the bathroom door and called for me several times. When I didn't answer, he simply opened the door and let himself in, exactly as I'd known he would.

I didn't look up at him, and just mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," I said, because it was the truth. Everything felt wrong, and I was sorry for all of it.

"Uh... you think you could be a little more specific?" Victor crossed the room in a few long strides and sat near me on the floor. "Did you get sick?"

"I think you know I did."

"Okay. But, is there something else?"

"I don't want Fox to come any more," I told him.

"Why? Did something happen?"

I shook my head. I really didn't feel like discussing it, and I didn't think I was in a fit condition to have a decent conversation about anything, much less about that. Besides, how was I supposed to explain to him how inadequate Fox makes me feel? How was I supposed to say that I don’t like how patronizing Fox is, and how I feel humiliated and powerless when he talks to me as if I’m a stubborn child or as if I’m intellectually delayed?

The part I hate the most about having Fox here is how he keeps trying to convince me that I'm not actually as ill as I say I am, like I'm exaggerating my condition for attention and that I'm capable of far more than I'll admit. He seems to be under the impression that all it takes is a little willpower to overcome pain, nausea, muscle weakness, extreme fatigue and all my other symptoms, not to mention anxiety. What he doesn't realize is that I have plenty of willpower, and if it were really that easy, I wouldn’t need somebody like him. I'd have been cured long ago.

He tries to make me do things that are much too difficult, if not impossible, and I can almost never do them without consequences to my mental and physical well-being. Although I push through each task as best I can to avoid a conflict that I know I wouldn't have the stamina to deal with, I almost always feel far worse afterwards. He says he's helping me, and he calls it progress. I call it cruel and unusual torment.

He's supposed to be taking care of me. He's getting paid to take care of me. I think that obligates him to stick to caretaking, and should not extend to pretending to be my friend or to practicing his dubious amateur occupational therapy on me.

But, I couldn't confess any of that, could I?

"No," I said at last. "Everything's fine. I just... I think I can look after myself now."

I couldn't, of course, and I have no idea why I said that. I just didn't know how much longer I could endure the situation as it stood, and I suppose it was a way to get Victor to make Fox leave without me resorting to complaining about him.

Victor pulled at his lower lip with his teeth and gave me a worried look. My husband may be many things, but stupid and imperceptive aren't among them. He saw through me straight away. "Yuri, you can barely make it from your bedroom to here without help. I don't know if you're strong enough to look after yourself yet."

But, for some unknown reason, I persisted. "I'm not going to get any stronger by letting other people wait on me, am I?"

"You know it doesn't work like that," he said. "It's not like physio, where you build up strength in your muscles by exercising them. You're not going to get better by wearing yourself out."

"I'm never really going to get better anyway," I said. "I might as well do what I can, when I can, right?"

"Yes, when you can," he said. "Maybe in a few more weeks, when you—"

"No!" I cut him off mid-sentence. All of a sudden, I felt anger rising up inside me like a wave. It was irrational and relentless, and I felt unable to control it. "I don't want him here. Tell him not to come back."

"No," Victor said. "I'm not going to do that."

I stared at him, admittedly a little shocked. Victor hardly ever says no to me. "But—"

"No," he repeated. "You might not want his help any more, but I think you still need it. And I still need a little help too, until I get this other cast off."

"Helping you is meant to be my job," I said. "It's what i should be doing."

"You have a valid reason not to be doing it."

"But, I should be doing it," I insisted.

"Maybe," he said. "But I know you can't right now, and that's okay."

"I hate this!" I brought the edge of my fist down on the cold bathroom tiles as hard as I could. A jolt of pain shot up my entire arm, and as much as I tried not to wince, I'm sure I must have. "I'm tired of our lives being this way, of me not being able to do anything for you and just being a useless waste of everyone else's energy. I'm so tired of all of it, Victor. I just want it to stop."

Victor was gazing at me with an expression that might have been equal parts sympathy and perplexity. Whatever it was, it seemed obvious he didn't know how to respond. All he said was, "I know."

"No, you don't know!" I retorted. "You have no idea what it's like to be trapped in a body like mine!"

"I guess I don't, but—"

"You don't know what it's like to be exhausted and in pain all the time, or to worry that the slightest change could make it worse. You don't know how it feels to panic every time you realize you have to eat because everything you put into your mouth has the potential to hurt you. And you have absolutely no idea how worthless it makes me feel to not be able to do the simplest things for myself, much less be able to help you."

By the time I'd gotten all that out, I was shaking and crying, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be able to get up off the floor and flee as far away from everyone and everything as I possibly could. I didn't want Victor to look at me in the state I was in. I wanted to disappear, and contrary to what I previously said, in that moment I really did wish that I could go to sleep and not wake up ever again.

Victor reached toward me, like he wanted to pull me into a hug. Any other time, I'd be desperate for him to hold and comfort me, but the thought of him touching me just then was unbearable.

It was all I could do to speak through my tears. "Please, don't."

"But—" He lowered his hands and watched me for what felt like ages before he let out a long breath and tried again. "I think you need to tell me what's really going on."

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing but the same thing that's always going on around here."

"Which is...?"

"You know," I said.

"How about you humour me?”

I scrubbed fiercely at my eyes with the heels of my palms. "I'm tired. I'm tired of... everything. I don't want to keep fighting my own body any more. I don't want to keep pretending that I'm okay and that our situation is okay and that everything's fine when it's not."

"You don't have to pretend anything," he said. "We both know everything's not okay. And like, this is gonna sound like a cliché or whatever, but it's okay that we're not okay right now. Things will improve soon. They always do."

"No, they don't," I said. "Maybe it seems like that for a while, but we're always going to be caught in this cycle. Unless you decide to do something about it, you’re always going to be stuck with me."

"What do you mean, stuck with you? You make it sound like a chore or something."

"Isn't it?"

"If you're asking if it's a lot of work to take care of you, then the answer is yeah, it is a lot of work. But, it's not a chore. If it was, do you think I'd still be here? ‘Cause that’s what you meant, isn’t it? I’m only really stuck until I’ve had enough and I make up my mind to leave?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I’m not going to leave you, Yuri,” he said. “If I didn’t think I could cope with all your health stuff, I wouldn’t have stayed in the first place. I’d have been gone already.”

"Would you?” I said. “If you didn't feel like you had to, would you still stay?”

"You're assuming I feel like I have to.”

“Aren’t you tired too? Don’t you need a break from me and my problems?”

“A break from you? No.” He smiled slightly, but I got the impression it was born of awkwardness rather than a more positive emotion. He gestured vaguely. “It’d be nice to get a break from… this, ‘cause I am pretty wiped out, but that’s not your fault. It’s just real life, you know? I need a break from real life.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway,” he went on. “I told you before, we can get help. I mean, we've got help right now and I'm practically doing nothing, so..."

"But, you would if you could."

"Naturally, I would. You know that. But, I know my limits.”

“Are we close? To your limit?”

“Can you stop for a second, please?” he said. “I don't even understand why you're bringing this up, and I need to know why we’re talking about it. I thought we already settled this. Didn't we promise that we’d stick together through everything?”

"It's... I'm thinking about it for a lot of reasons."

"Such as?"

"Seiji," I said.

“What about him?”

“He came to visit me in the hospital."

"I know."

"He's not my friend,” I stated. The words hurt, or maybe it was the realization behind them that was so painful.

"What are you talking about?” Victor asked. “Seiji is your friend. He loves you."

The things that'd come out of Seiji's mouth the afternoon of his visit had made me question whether he'd ever been my friend. It made me wonder if he, like nearly everyone else, merely tolerated me and was only polite because it'd be socially unacceptable not to be, and now he'd finally grown tired of the pretense. "He thinks I'm a monster," I told my husband. "He was so angry."

“A monster? He didn’t really say that.”

“He did.”

"He brought you mochi," Victor said, his confusion evident in his tone. Clearly, Seiji hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had taken place.

For a few heartbeats, I paused, trying to decide if I should continue or not. Finally, I replied, "Yes, he brought me mochi, but I have no idea why. I don't even know why he came, because all he did was tell me what a terrible person I am. He thinks your accident was my fault."

"It wasn't," Victor said. "He's wrong about that."

"Perhaps, but I don't think he's wrong about everything else."

"Everything else. What's included in 'everything else'?"

"He said I don't deserve you. He said... he said you could've done better than me and that I'm holding you back. He said I'm hurting you just by being with you, and that if you're unhappy, it's my fault." I stopped at that point because I could feel tears starting to sting my eyes again and my chest was starting to feel tight.

What Seiji had said wasn’t anything new to me. I’d thought of most of it on my own, long before that. But, hearing the words coming from someone else caused them to strike home all that much harder.

“He’s wrong,” Victor said. “He knows I’m not unhappy. I told him that myself. And you’re not holding me back from anything.”

“I feel like I am.”

“You’re not. I’m doing everything I want to do,” he said. “Yeah, I gave up some stuff, but it’s not like you forced me to. Coming here when i did was my choice. I could’ve waited, but I didn’t want to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d done things differently or made different choices, and sometimes I feel sad or angry about it, but I don’t think I’d call it regret. I love you, and I was determined that I was gonna be with you sooner or later, and if that involved a few sacrifices, I’d say they were worth it.”

“But, what about me? I haven’t sacrificed anything for you.”

“You don’t think so?”

I shook my head. “I suppose I had nothing to give up, in any case.”

“Sacrificing doesn’t necessarily mean you literally give something up. Sometimes it’s like, metaphorical or whatever. Like, I think it took a massive amount of courage for you to let me move in with you. You could’ve said no, but instead of letting your fear tell you what to do, you took a risk."

“That doesn’t seem like much of a risk."

"In hindsight maybe, but think about how you felt at the time."

"I wanted you to come," I said. “And I didn't give up anything compared to what I got out of it.”

“I got a lot out of it too,” he said. “It’s not as unequal as you think.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I got you. You’re amazing, whether you believe it or not.”

“That’s not an answer." There was an edge to my voice that I didn't like, but once the words were out, there was nothing I could do. "That's the sort of thing you say when you can't think of anything."

“Okay, fine," Victor responded. "You need me to be specific?"

"Can you be?"

"Yeah, I can," he said. "You’re my voice of reason. You help me make good decisions, and you always know how to calm me down when I’m too hyper and the noise in my brain is really bad. You teach me stuff all the time, and you do your best to take care of me.” One side of his mouth twitched in what might’ve been an ironic smile he was trying to keep at bay. “Maybe even when you shouldn’t.”

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because everything you just described... it's nothing. An acquaintance could do all that."

"You think I'd trust just any random acquaintance with my secrets? You think I'd let them into my personal space? Or let them do the stuff you did for me after my accident?"

"You let your mother and stepfather do it."

"Yuri, they're my parents. Well, Julian's not exactly my parent, but you know what I mean. I trust them just as much as I trust you, and if you don't think that much trust counts for anything, then... I don't know what else to tell you."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!" he exclaimed.

The sharpness of his tone startled me, and totally against my will, I lost the battle to hold my tears back any longer. "I've tried so hard," I said. "But, I just... I can't be what you need. I'll always be the one taking more than I can give, and nothing I ever do will be enough. Seiji is right. You deserve so much more than I can ever offer you."

He was silent for a long time after that, but finally he said. "Do you even know what I need?"

I didn't respond. How could I? The challenge in his tone was so obvious, there was no mistaking its implication. If I answered anything other than no, it'd be the wrong answer. He was compelling me to admit my failure as a partner, but what was the point? We both understood that much already.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. The pain I felt in my heart was a thousand times greater than anything I'd ever experienced in my body, and one thought drowned out all the others, playing in my brain on repeat.

I want all of this to end.

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #snowy escape #victorsworldadventures #victor nelson #yuri okamoto #tw suicide mention #tw chronic illness #tw illness #tw mental illness #tw pain #stargazersims

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fateviled · 2 years ago

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𝙴𝙳 . . . @faeties ( continued. )

the words are HARD, but the voice is SOFT. ed cannot help but bask in it. in the attention, in each syllable. in the gentle thumb that glides along his cheek. the tears come then, pushed over the edge by such a small touch. by such a small kindness.

edmund gray was not a kind person. anyone with the last name gray, had had their kindness stolen by a woman whose cruelty festered within her chest. but ed believed he simply wasn’t born with it. there was no nature within him to be gentle, only frail. unkindness festered in him as well.

“i...” he hiccups. what can he say? what words could even begin to the describe the indignation that bubbles up in his chest and then the weight that hangs there with the TRUTH of it? he closes his eyes for a moment, picturing the two of them on the way to the city, unaware of the decision ed would make once they were there.

words rarely fail ed. usually, they bent to his will, able to break and bend until they were something twisted and beautiful to behold. when he didn’t end up hating them a few days later at any rate. yet, his face in the hands of arlo tesser, the HURT between them laid bare, he finds there are no words that are sufficient. arlo sees through his words anyway. he always has.

“sorry is all i have to give,” he lands on, body tensing, “i know it’s not enough.” it was never going to be enough. ed was never going to be ENOUGH.

but that didn’t stop the wanting— the craving for a lifeline he never deserved. none of that stopped the sickness. the blood in his throat. the exhaustion in his eyes. the vertigo when he moved too fast since this sickness began... this particular bout of illness was taking its toll. yet he was still here.

WHY?

“...but i... i did mean that,” he murmurs, “i couldn’t see how you could ever be happy with ME. the days— you seemed so happy with them. a road to hell paved with good intentions is still a road to hell... and, yes, it was because i still cannot fathom the idea how anyone could be happy with me. which doesn’t... well, you already know.” nothing can ever be made right again.

his voice gains confidence and an infinite sadness in equal measure. he wants arlo to kiss him. he wants arlo to plunge a knife into his throat.

“and i’m looking at us now and i see i was RIGHT,” his body shakes, his hands clutching at arlo’s wrist, mind reeling as he shrinks into himself, feeling so small, so young, “...so what do you want? because if you want me DEAD, then kill me. i know it’s a kindness i don’t deserve, to give me what i want. but i... i want to leave, arlo. i want to leave...”

the city. this life. it didn’t matter. all of it was the same. but if he was going to go somewhere arlo would not follow, he knew which he preferred.

in every way known to man, happiness was abstract. while it felt as real as any warm and solid thing underneath their grasp, arlo knew the sight of it was deceiving. after all, hadn’t monica smiled through the pain of having to care for him in an unforgiving world; hadn’t she played and laughed with him as they raced through desolate and dangerous lands? it hadn’t been happiness that lingered in arlo when he’d first met the days, but a sense of comfort and a feeling of hope he was hesitant to grasp. arlo was no poet, but warmth and sunlight… it was easy to mistake light for happiness, to see something bright and turn at the chance to bask in it.

arlo was not the nights, who reveled in their shadows and secrecy. and arlo was not ed, whom had made the dark his own. but arlo loved the dark just as well, had learned to respect it and see the potential there. and what that said about edmund gray, well… anyone could look into arlo’s eyes and see the weight of the man in his heart.

everyone, that was, but ed himself. and it stings, so much so that the thought brings a smile to his face, despair and disbelief mixing in equal parts within him. it’s not funny — god knows this world, this heartbreak, has wrung out any humor from him. BUT IT IS CRUEL, to trace the soft curve of his frown with a weathered gaze, hand still upon skin, and think that there is nothing else arlo tesser would have wanted more than to have another day, another week, another year with edmund gray.

❝ you always were the stupidest genius i ever met. ❞ touch gentle and deliberate, he brushes the moisture away from ed’s cheek. if it feels like giving too much away, arlo can’t help it. some things are too deeply ingrained in him, and so many of them bare the name of this perfect nightmare before him. ❝ but that’s alright, i guess i couldn’t ask you to change your nature. or to hope you’d want to change. ❞ for me, he doesn’t say. that’s admitting to more than too much, like giving away the plot in one of ed’s convoluted stories. or starting a new one when the one they’d written has long since ended.

he should pull away. he knows. arlo’s hands don’t belong on the other, and he’s said his goodbye a dozen times now. still, he lingers, wondering if he’ll feel any relief to know that he could soon live in a city that did not bear the other’s presence anymore. but the beating thing in his chest offers no answers, whispers no secrets. hell, arlo supposes he already knows the answers, because he still hasn’t moved. doesn’t move when he says, ❝ i would have left with you. ❞ and stronger still: ❝ you were wrong, because i spent weeks after you walked away thinking… that if you just came back to me, apologized, i would have left with you. ❞

there’s no anger left in his tone. arlo’s too tired for it now. he looks down wearily, the weight of the world he’d been left behind in pushing him down. and he endured it now, left with no choice. what did he want? a conclusion. a time machine. to not know another heavy choice again. but that’s impossible, so he looks back up, finding the strength that was built into his bones generations ago.

❝ i want you to stop being a coward, edmund gray. ❞ he forces himself not to swallow, throat dry as the words flow out. malice is not the intent, but he needs the harshness to be felt, as thick on his tongue as he utters every word carefully. ❝ you survived this cruel world, yet you still haven’t learned how to fight. and it takes fight to let yourself chase what you want — even death. ❞

#suicidal ideation tw #long post /#arlo isn’t saying kill yourself but that’s very much what it sounds like and i am so sorry for that bc im also directly thinking about this #and how arlo sure as hell isn’t going to kill him but he also is tired of ed putting these things on other people #arlo wants him to fight for LIFE but he’s saying it in a way that ed will get and not thinking about how it might be taken #faeties #faeties: edmund.#faeties: [edmund & arlo].#╰ 𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾 𝚃. ╯ ⋯ even the trees lean away from my voracious loneliness

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amorcie · 6 months ago

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Vent-ish thing. If you read it, sorry. Just don’t judge me for it.

Or do, I guess. I can’t stop you.

Dear E,

I’m going to regret writing this soon but it’s okay because you’ll never see it. You don’t want to talk to us anymore and I’ve blocked you on all our new accounts because I’m not sure if I want to talk to you either. Maybe we weren’t a good friend to you in the end but neither were you. You would’ve been there otherwise. It took you so long to even acknowledge how we were doing. Even though you knew. Even though we’ve stated multiple times that we were doing bad.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I lost my main support system and there’s no one I can rely on to the extent I relied on you and everyone else. Our bad, probably. We should’ve gotten close to other people instead of stupidly assuming we would all be friends forever and ever. It never last. We knew that, and yet we were still naive enough to think it would, this time.

I guess I resent you a lot, E. You still have all your friends and all those people you can count on but we don’t and that’s it, I guess. I don’t have any friends IRL. I’m back to being the loser with no one and who stays alone all the time.

Maybe we resent you too much.

Maybe any amount of resentment is too much resentment?

But I do. And I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon. I’m miserable, E. I’m miserable and you’re probably not. And I hate you for that. Fuck you for saying “I won’t give up on you” when you did that so easily. “You need help I can’t provide” — you couldn’t even give me the help you could provide. You put words in my mouth and I can’t believe I needed to call you out for it for you to realize that you did it. You would hate it if I did that to you.

I hate how patronizing you sounded in that last ask you sent us. I hate how you made me feel as if I was some pathetic thing so beneath you that you felt pity for. Some “pet project” that needed fixing, but that you couldn’t fix. Not that great, now are you?

Sorry that breakdown-me and stable-ish-me thought differently from each other. It’s almost as if I was under extreme duress and unable to think clearly because I was mentally ill and relieving some of the worst trauma of my life—newly discovered new trauma, at that. How dare I?

I haven’t talked about it in-depth to anyone else yet. I don’t know who to trust with such a vulnerable part of myself. I don’t even know how I feel about it.

But I was there when you struggled with yours. I helped you as best as I could. I told you that it was fine if you were suffering, that we wouldn’t blame you, that we hoped you’d feel better soon and that you deserved to be happy. That we’d be there. But I guess we don’t deserve the same treatment.

I still think M deserved to vent. It wasn’t annoying, it was understandable, and I never wanted to stop them from doing so.

… I think I and A should’ve never agreed to go out with them, to be honest. They were bound to disappear eventually — everyone in our system does. If not now, then in a couple months; in a couple years. It would never have lasted as much as they wanted it to.

That’s why we’re so hesitant about dating now, even though we pretty much all want it more than anything else in the world.

Maybe we’re just hungry for love. Our father loves us — but it’s all twisted and sick, and it didn’t stop him from hurting us. Our mother likes the idea of us, the us we never were and never will be. We don’t know if anyone else loves us. Maybe not. Maybe we’re too broken and imperfect for it.

We’re nothing in the grand scheme of things. If we were gone, people would be sad for a bit, and then they would move on, just like you did, E. I’m pretty sure you don’t think about us anymore.

We were never that important, were we?

I can’t talk to a therapist now. I’d have to find my own and pay for it and I don’t have the means to do that, nor could I even go to my sessions all on my own, and I can’t let our mother figure out what I’m up to, or she’s going to question us again. I don’t want to be the person going to others just to vent and talk about how shitty our life is.

Hell, it’s not even that bad. We’re just pathetic.

That’s all I can think of right now.

…

Goodbye, from the untrustworthy monster.

#not tagging #🍭

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lostmyjets · 10 months ago

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I often find myself reflecting on the past. I have always struggled with holding on to things— people, places, memories. Whether it be too much or not enough, I fail to find a good balance.

I always tell people I wouldn’t take back my experiences because they have made me stronger, but I admit it’s a front. I admit that I’m damaged. Not beyond repair but it’s difficult for me to find the strength within to surpass it all.

I admit that I’m insecure. I never feel like I’m enough no matter what anyone says. I’m a people pleaser. I want you to think I don’t care what anyone thinks, but I care more than most; more than I should. I try to satisfy people because maybe if I’m exactly what they want me to be I’ll somehow be enough for myself.

I admit that I’m not a good friend. I have so much love in my heart but I struggle with reaching out. I resent myself for not being able to show up more for the people I care about. I often fear being left behind. On the other hand, I know there are so many people I’ve had love for that I simply never spoke to again. We never actually catch up when we say we will.

I admit that I’ve hurt people. I never wanted to but my actions can sometimes be selfish. I think I spent so much of my life not giving a fuck about being alive that I programmed myself to shut down, to shut out, even when I don’t really want to.

Every once in a blue moon I read the news articles from my abuser’s arrest over 10 years ago. I came upon a news article I didn’t recall seeing before and began obsessively digging for a specific press release and court documents to no avail. I hid it from my boyfriend while he laid next to me because I didn’t know how I would explain why I had to find it so badly— I don’t know why.

I still can’t bring myself to reconnect with anyone on that side of my family. My grandma misses me and I miss her but it’s so fucking complicated. Everyone else stopped trying to reach out a long time ago.

My biological mom makes me feel like the most evil person on the planet— rejecting a sick mother begging for my love. But she rejected a sick child literally screaming out for help, begging to be heard. I can’t find it within myself to forgive her excuses for being a bad mother. She’s dying and it haunts me that we may never reconnect again.

I remember being jealous of kids with visual illness. I was rotting from the inside and nobody could see me— I craved the love and attention and affection I watched those kids receive. I actually thought “maybe if I have cancer people will give a fuck about me.” I think I still have some of that mindset engrained in me.

I’ve spent the past year trying to heal from a relationship that put me back in a place I hadn’t been in a long time. I spent the better part of a year trying to prove to myself that this specific man could love me. I tried to find my worth in him. Instead he broke me and before too long I was completely emotionally unstable. I cried more often than not. I was miserable and I believe he wanted me to be. He felt that I deserved it. I know he still believes that I cheated on him and lied about being raped and that pisses me off.

I tried to take my own life and when that didn’t work I numbed myself with drugs so much that I put a dime-sized hole in my septum. That hole in my nose is a daily reminder of everything I went through and I fucking hate it.

I haven’t been the best at relationships since being with him. I dated someone who was almost too good to me because it was such a polar opposite from what I had just been through. He was a great guy but I began seeing my childhood abuser in his face. I told myself to look past it and shoved it all down and stayed with him. One night he was waiting for me to come home from the bar and I went home with someone else. I cheated on him and that was really fucked up of me. I own up to that.

I’m with someone I love so much now but I’m petrified of the ball that always seems to drop.

Life is fucking hard man. I get stuck a lot. I dwell. I can’t let some things go and let other things fall away too easily.

I just needed to dump my thoughts somewhere. Here’s a peek into my brain if you care.

#spilled thoughts #thought dump #trauma

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moonrisecalamityretreat · 2 years ago

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look at me now | mio | trial 4.3 | re: loic

There’s no world where anyone in this room’s confession will make Mio happy–

–And that, obviously, includes Loic Archambeault’s.

[♫♫♫]

Humans can lie. The evidence can’t. That’s what Hanji just said to everyone, isn’t it? And of course, the cut on Loic’s arm is no lie. No matter how you look at it, no matter how you try to slice it, or try to make an excuse– That cut undeniably means he was involved in the case. Sayuri stabbed her assailant with a knife. The assailant grabbed bandages and painkillers. The assailant left a notepad in the Angels’ lounge, and a blood smear in the Devils’.

All things considered, Mio should probably be fuming at Loic right now. Ken is Mio’s friend, and to see the others get so angry– rightfully so– makes its heart ache. There’s also the matter of processing the grief she’s feeling towards Sayuri’s death. It’s not like Mio’s just… Gotten over that with either brother’s confession. No matter how freakish or tiring this group may be at times, she knows for sure Sayuri didn’t deserve a fate so cruel for the actions of others.

(Why would she say something so kind to Mio if she were a bad person…?)

I’m sick of you, he says, and Mio suddenly feels like she’s the one who’s been struck with that meat mallet. Soon, tears fill the corners of her eyes and she shakes her head in disbelief, desperately trying to understand what Loic means by that. Sick of you? Sick of who? Someone in particular? Or… Does he mean… All of them? And if so, does that mean… He’s sick of Mio? What is Loic thinking, she wonders, as she gazes over at him.. Surely he doesn’t mean that. Still, she tries to piece together what ‘sick of you’ means, but as she does, it begins to worry. Does he think the people here– barring him and his brother– deserve that cruel fate?

Her eyes dart around the room. Even Yuriko? And Ken? And Hotaru? And Mikazuki? Does he think the people Mio has come to love… Should just…

Disappear…?

…

All of them…?

…

On instinct, it slowly reaches into its coat pocket. As the scary thoughts flood into its brain, Mio frantically runs its nails over the grooves of a square letter ‘M’ bead. The torn remains of her childhood friendship bracelet sit inside that pocket. Maybe she never knew Loic’s real thoughts, or [REDACTED]’s for that matter, but… Even though someone could have such awful feelings in their heart– Was it so wrong to want to love them regardless? Even if it seemed like they didn’t feel the same… The feeling had to have been reciprocated at some point…

Ah… Love…

i hope he would remind you of an older brother since he is one, but if you mean you’d like him to be yours, i think his applications are closed atm

but you could always submit one and see what happens ;)

i had this friend who was kinda like an older brother to me

maxime just reminded me of him… sort of

maybe ill apply :) wouldnt hurt if i did

When she said his brother was like a brother to her…

“You should tell him more about FNAF since, apparently, telling him about the Bite of ‘87 is enough to make him consider handing the title of favorite over to you. Twenty-five years of work stolen by Purple Guy.”

“Really? Well, now I gotta tell him more about FNAF if he’s thinking about it! …No offense or anything.”

“You should absolutely tell him more. It’s captured his mind in ways I can’t explain.”

It realizes now that– actually– both of the Archambeaults feel like family to her.

“Kids these days are too busy on their XBox.“ Loic says in his best Maxime impression.

"Bwaha!” It laughs loudly, doubling over a bit.

When he makes Mio laugh, it feels like he’s achieved something, and he smiles back at it.

At the realization, the dam holding back tears finally breaks, and quiet tears run down Mio’s face. But much like when she found Sayuri, she has no energy left in her to sob or wail or even sniffle. The tears pour like a stream and she pulls her shaking hands from her pockets, holding the frayed friendship bracelet in one of them.

She wants to hang out with Loic and Maxime in Quebec and learn about all sorts of boring art things at the museum Maxime works at and laugh at all of Loic’s movies while they eat poutine. She wants to tell Maxime all about FNAF against his will because Loic told her to and talk about all of Maxime’s cringiest moments with Loic. It wants to throw a big, fancy party with Loic again and get all dressed up… It wants to play board games and go on rollercoasters and listen to MEGALOVANIA on the piano and debate the cuteness of mascot characters and– and–

His words reverberate in her mind once again. No empathy. No team players. No– You didn’t listen to yourself, did you, Mio…? Maybe then– If you had just– Maybe then Loic… It thinks, mentally kicking itself, as if this all hinged on her.

Mio stares at her hands again, eyes glistening with tears as it sees the ‘M’ bead again. If he wants empathy, then…

He can have it.

So, with a purpose, Mio strides over to Loic and takes the hand of his uninjured arm, gently tying the remains of her bracelet to his wrist.

“I– I told you about him once, right? My friend… Who was more like my brother.”

…

“When I got adopted, he gave me this bracelet. I made him a matching one.”

…

“He told me that even if we never met– ever again– We’d have these to remember each other by.”

…

“I want you to have it, Loic.”

…

Her silent tears continue to fall, and it ignores the chaos around them as its tears drip onto his wrist. Mio finishes tying the knot. Let them yell at him and admonish him. She just doesn’t want Loic’s final thoughts of her to be something so bad. It wants him to see her empathy. Her teamwork. Her true thoughts. Her love.

“And I’m sorry.” She inhales sharply. “I’m– I’m so, so sorry…”

#ch4 #mio #submission

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guardianofrivendell · 3 years ago

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Perfect

Fíli & Kíli & fem!reader (platonic, no use of Y/N)

Requested: no

Warnings: talk about fat-shaming, refusing food, my favorite nickname returning, this is a very self indulgent fic

A/N: I wrote this ficlet because I experienced something similar this week and I had to write something about it to deal with how I felt and what I wished people around me would’ve said to me. Everyone deserves a Fíli and Kíli as their best friend, and I hope this comfort fic can help anyone who needs it. Never forget, you’re perfect the way you are 💚

MASTERLIST

Fíli knocked on your door, the sound of it echoing through the corridor. When there came no answer, he met his brother’s worried eyes.

“Try again,” Kíli said, “maybe she didn’t hear you the first time.”

Fíli raised his eyebrows in a “you think?” kind of way, but did as his brother suggested and knocked a second time, calling your name as well. Still no answer.

“Here, let me try,” Kíli pushed his brother out of the way, shoving the plate of food they brought in his hands and knocked a couple of times with a lot more force. “It’s us, your two favorite dwarves in the whole mountain! Open the door, mimûna!” (little one)

“Leave me alone!” They could barely hear your muffled voice through the thick wooden door but unfortunately for you, the Durin princes had known you a long time. They immediately noticed something was wrong, your voice was hoarse and missed its usual spark.

They looked at each other and agreed there was no way they were leaving you like this. Something was wrong and as your friends, they were here for you. Even if you didn’t want them there, they at least had to know you were safe.

“We’re coming in,” Fíli announced before he turned the doorknob and gave the door a firm push.

They found you sitting on your longchaise looking out the window, huddled in thick woolen blankets and furs. Without saying a word, Fíli placed the plate of food on the window sill and took a seat at the end of the chair, pulling your feet on his lap. Kíli crouched right next to you, feeling your temperature with the back of his hand, surprised to feel you weren’t having a fever.

“Are you ill?” he asked, taking in your appearance. You didn’t look sick, but your eyes were red and puffy and you hadn’t come out for lunch or dinner that day. You not feeling well would be a logical explanation in his eyes.

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine.”

Fíli placed his hand on your shin and gave a light squeeze through the blanket. “Don’t take this the wrong way, mimûna, but you don’t look fine.” He then noticed the tissues and the dried-up tear streaks on your cheeks. “Have you been crying?”

Kíli’s head shot up at his brother’s words, worry etched on his face. “Are you hurt?”

You sniffed and wiped a few more tears out of your eyes, the brother’s worried questions enough to make you emotional again.

“No-no, I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing, I promise,” you assured them, attempting a smile to back up your lies. You weren’t fine, and the last thing you wanted was to be left alone again but you didn’t want to tell Fíli and Kíli what had happened.

“We didn’t see you for lunch or dinner, so we brought you a plate,” Kíli said, pointing at the plate on the window sill. It was filled with potatoes, roasted meat and a few vegetables, your appetite usually rivaling that of the two brothers combined. “Don’t worry, we can go for more if it’s not enough.”

You cleared your throat before you buried yourself under your blankets again, pulling your feet off Fíli’s lap in the process. “I’m not hungry.”

Fíli and Kíli shared another look. This was very unlike you, normally you wouldn’t even think about refusing food. They both got to their feet and went to sit on either side of you, each of them throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Okay, out with it, little lady,” Fíli urged you to talk. “There’s clearly something wrong and we won’t leave until you tell us.”

You blinked a few times, hesitant to confide in your two best friends. They probably didn’t understand how you felt or would say you had no reason to feel this way.

Kíli called your name and hugged you with the arm thrown around you. “You know you can trust us, right?”

“I do, I do trust you, it’s just... “ You sighed. “Do you think I’m too big?”

“Well, you are of the race of Men so it’s not unusual for you to be taller than all of us,” Fíli began, not knowing why being taller than them would bother you all of a sudden.

“Although, you and I don’t differ much,” Kíli laughed, patting your head. “You’re not that tall for a human.”

“I’m not talking about my height,” you argued, clutching the blankets a little firmer. “Do you… Do you think I’m fat?” Your voice broke at that damned word, your chin started quivering again. The words of those horrid Dwarrowdams echoed in your mind.

“What? Where did you get that idea?” Kíli gasped, bolting upright.

“It doesn’t matter, it won’t happen again because I’m never going back there. Next time I need new dresses, I’ll be sure to go to Dale.”

Fíli quickly realized what had happened. You mentioned before that you needed new dresses and he suspected that the girls at the dressmaker’s weren’t very welcoming to you. He mentally kicked himself, they should’ve come with you.

He placed his free hand on your cheek and turned your head so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. He said your name with a stern voice, before he added, “I don’t know what was said to you, but trust me when I say that you are perfect the way you are. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you sniffled, “you’re gorgeous and in perfect shape. Yes, Kíli, you too,” you added before the youngest Durin brother could protest, “no one would even think twice to offend you.”

“They had no right to treat you like that,” Kíli spoke, his jaw tense. He knew first-hand how it felt to be mocked and he hated for you to go through the same thing. Fíli nodded, pulling a knife out of his vambrace before he started twirling it. “Who do we need to kill?”

You smiled through your tears, you could always count on them to make you feel better. How could you even think they wouldn’t understand how you felt? They really were your best friends, acting like your older brothers most of the time and you loved them for it. Except for that one time where you were finally approached by the cute vendor in Dale and Fíli and Kíli scared him away. Older brothers indeed.

“Even though the idea is very tempting, you won’t have to kill anyone. I know better than to listen to them but that doesn’t mean their words didn’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with them, mimûna. You are so strong. We know that, you know that and they do too. So they try to hurt you by using your insecurities against you.” Fíli shoved the knife back in its place and stood up from the longchair, holding his hand out for you to help you up.

“Don’t let them get into your head, it’s what they want. Fíli was right - yes, shocking I know, don’t get used to it - but you are perfect. They only say those horrible things because they can’t deal with how amazing you are. It doesn’t matter what you weigh, what size of clothes you wear or what you eat, it’s what’s in here that counts,” Kíli said, prodding his finger into your chest, “not the package.”

You swung your arms around the brothers and pulled them into a hug. “Since when did you become so wise? Thank you both for making me feel better.”

“Did you hear that, Fee? She called me wise!”

Fíli gave his brother a playful shove. “I believe she meant both of us, nadadith.”

“She clearly meant just me!”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

As the brothers kept fighting, trying to decide which one of them was the wisest, you tiptoed to the window and grabbed the plate of food, silently thanking your two princes for taking such good care of you. They were idiots at times and they could annoy you to no end, but their hearts were always in the right place.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @the-banannah @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @starry-cookies @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @emmapotato88 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash @beenovel @cassiabaggins @shethereadinghobbit @justfollowtheroad @laurfilijames @fizzyxcustard @brokennerdalert @linasofia @naimadrawsstuff @errruvande @m-sterboggins

#Fili #Kili #Fili x reader #Kili x reader #The Hobbit #The Hobbit ficlet #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit x reader #Comfort fic #The Hobbit imagine #The Durin brothers #The Hobbit reader insert

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years ago

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A Little Voice Told Me - Pt. 3

Poly! MC Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Part 1: HERE, Part 2: HERE Previously on A Little Voice Told Me...

The brothers had thought of a number of ways you could've reacted to them confronting you. Lucifer thought that perhaps you would snap at them and distance yourself further. Mammon, Levi, and Asmo expected a few small tears followed by a cuddle session. Satan imagined a slightly more dramatic telling, like something from one of his novels, that ended him being your hero and massacring all those who dared speak ill about you. Beel thought perhaps you could talk over a bunch of comfort foods that allowed you to remain calm and feel safe. Belphie had hoped that perhaps you hadn't believed what you overheard, and the two of you could laugh at how idiotic even the idea of them not loving you was. But you, breaking down into tears, sobbing the words "I'm sorry" over and over again? None of them had expected, nor were prepared, for that. Any anger or tension that the boys previously had was instantly replaced with worry about your well-being.

Asmodeus was the first to reach you. He quickly pulled you against him and held you as tightly as he could. "Easy now, dear. It's okay," he glanced up to look at his brother anxiously standing around the two of you, itching to comfort you but unsure as to what they should do. You trembled in Asmo's arms and fisted his shirt in your hands, no doubt wrinkling the expensive fabric. "They were right, were-weren't they?" you pulled away just enough to look up at Asmo. The poor man nearly choked on the remorse that filled him at the sight of your tear-filled eyes pooling with sadness, despair, and, most disturbingly, acceptance. "Y-You guys are breaking up with me? You-You finally realized you could d-do better than a-a-a-" you tried to continue but became too overwhelmed with emotion as you began sobbing once more. Satan rushed forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. "MC, hold on. We're not breaking up with you." You hiccupped as the others began to crowd around you. "B-But Asmo said you guys wanted to talk and I-I thought that maybe th-those other demons were right and y-you guys didn't want me anymore." With those words alone, you had shattered the hearts of every person in that room. In seconds, you found yourself in the middle of a group hug.

No one said anything. They simply wrapped you up in their arms and supported you as wept. Although they had been seconds away from tearing into each other moments before, none of that mattered if you were hurt. You would forever be their first priority. "Beloved, we love you exactly the way you are," Lucifer whispered softly as one of his hands caressed your back. "Whatever those simpletons said, they're wrong. They don't know you; just like they don't know us." Belphie was running a hand through their hair, hoping that his influence would help calm you a little. "If we could, you know that we would tear apart every person who ever spoke badly against you," he could feel his anger towards the idiots that caused this build-up again inside him. Satan nudged Belphegor's side and gently shook his head. The youngest demon sighed and rested his head on top of yours. "Even we aren't strong enough to control city gossip. We can't change what they think, necessarily, but we can make sure that you know that it's not true." You trembled in their arms as your cries slowly dwindled down to the occasional sniffle. "Th-They said that you guys were only dating me o-out of pity and that I was nothing compared to you, a-and how I was jus-just a nuisance," you whimpered as you recalled the hurtful words. "A-And I know that's not true. It was so stupid because I know you g-guys love me. B-But it made me r-realize just how insignificant I am compared to a-all of you. I d-don't understand wh-why all of you would settle for a human who won't live nearly as long as you, and w-who can't even use magic." Mammon frowned deeply as he squeezed one of your shoulders. "Treasure, look at me," you shakily did as told. Mammon was staring down at you with a desperate, anxious expression. His eyes found yours and your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. "Those assholes don't know what they're talkin' about. You're not insignificant. Even here in the Devildom, surrounded by all these different beings, you are so much higher above them. You're the brightest jewel among us MC. You're the only person to have ever formed pacts with all seven of the Lords of the Devildom. You're the ambassador of the human world. You have brought this family closer together in just over a year than anyone has managed in the centuries that we've been alive." Your lip quivered as Levi rubbed your arm. "He's right. I'm the literal embodiment of envy. I can tell you right now that all those people are just saying those things because they're jealous. They're nothing but low-level slimes. But you? You're the big boss that could have them destroyed with a snap of your fingers." Beel looked down at you guiltily as he patted your back. "I shouldn't have left you alone like I did. Even more so, I should've paid closer attention to what was happening around us. I'm sorry you ever had to go through this MC." You released Asmodeus to hug Beelzebub as you snuggled close to him. "It's not your fault, Beel. They were really careful about it when you were around. You couldn't have known," the redhead didn't say anything, he just bent down to envelop you in his arms. The eight of you stood there in the dining room, nestled closely with one other, taking silent comfort in one another without a single care for the world around you. "I think perhaps we should move this to the living room," Asmodeus offered as the boys began to release you from their hug. "Beel can make some snacks, Levi can find us a good movie to watch, Belphie can go gather a bunch of blankets and pillows and the rest of us will stay with you to make sure you don't get too lonely," he cupped your face. "I think a nice lazy day in would be good for everyone. Does that sound good, Beautiful?" I chuckled tearfully and leaned into Asmo's touch. "That sounds perfect. You guys are so nice to me. I don't deserve-" You never got to finish your sentence as Asmodeus captured your lips with his own. With that one kiss, you could feel your worries and doubts melt away as you could feel every ounce of affection,

desire,

and love that Asmodeus felt for you pour into your very being. "That's where you're wrong, dear," he purred softly against your lips. "It is us who don't deserve you," he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead before taking your hand into your own and leading you to the living room. He looked over his shoulder and smirked at his brothers. "Go gather the things. We'll just keep the couch warm while you're at it," you could hear the wink in his tone. "Oi! I want a kiss too!" "Y-Yeah, Asmo! You can't hog MC! That's not fair!" You giggled at Mammon and Levi's protest as you snuggled up to Asmodeus. You were so silly to think for even a second that these demons who follow you around like love-sick puppies would ever tire of you for a second. You were their everything, and they were yours, and nothing anyone said would ever change that.

***And scene! That was a wild ride, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for supporting me with this mini-series and thanks once again to @ang3lsblues for the request that inspired it all!***

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lubdubsworld · 3 years ago

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A Tale Untold. ( Jungkook x Oc)

Historical Au! General Jungkook! x Princess Oc!

Warnings : Non con/ Dub con, Manipulation, violence.

Rated 18+

Summary : The King of Elvyra is proud of his empire and of his perfect family. But the truth behind his ascension, is a tale that remains untold.

“The palace is so beautifully maintained your Majesty. Truly, such opulent splendor …..” The envoy from the neighboring Kingdom stood slack jawed in the Grand Hall, staring around at the gleaming trophies, mounted shields and gold embossed portraits that decorated the walls.

The brocade curtains had been left open, tied together with silk braided ropes with jeweled hangings, the light from the late afternoon sun setting the whole place aglow. On ornate tables scattered across the large room, stood little treasures and trinkets that had been taken as bounty from successful military campaigns against smaller, weaker Kingdoms.

All of it a testament to the unchallenged power wielded by General Jeon Jungkook, the King of Elvyra. He was not like the other monarchs. He still commanded his army personally despite wearing the title of King.

Jeon Jungkook, who stood to my left, with his arm wrapped around my waist in a possessive grip that was just shy of painful.

“ You must thank my beautiful queen for that, I’m afraid, Sir Cha. She has been much occupied with setting the Hall and the Palace to rights after my ascension, and her efforts have paid off. Have they not, princess?” Jungkook whispered, turning around to brush soft lips against my ear and I felt physically sick.

The last endearment was a sneer. And insult. A reminder of what I was : a captive.

“Yes, my King.” I said softly, keeping my tone level. I wouldn’t dare act up in front of guests, because Jungkook’s punishments would be cruel and merciless. He would keep my sister away from me, or worse, he would forbid me from spending time with our oldest son.

Jihwan was only seven, but already he was being trained as the heir, spending hours on the training fields with his father and it took endless hours of begging and servicing Jungkook in his bed and out of it, for me to be allowed a scant few hours with the boy.

Jungkook drilled into his head the importance of power, the need to instill fear in his subordinates, raising him to be just as ruthless and cruel as he himself was and I had only those few stolen hours to speak to my son about the values that I had grown up with. My heart ached when I remembered the kind of monarch my own father had been : a kind, gentle man who loved his Kingdom. And my elder brother had been raised with morals , compassion and justice in his veins, only for Jeon Jungkook and his barbaric army to invade our home and destroy it all.

“Your beauty outshines all of this, my Queen.” A man simpered next to me and Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at him. I swallowed. Jungkook didn’t like others looking at what was his.

“The story of your ascension to the throne here, we would love to hear of it.” One of the women said and my breath caught in my lungs, Memories flooded my head, traumatizing and painful. My skin went hot and then icy cold and my husband laughed next to me.

“It was quite simple. I was offered the throne and the lovely daughter of the Kingdom, in return for saving them from ruin, was it not, my dear?”

Liar.

“I.. Yes.”

“Ruin? Was your kingdom is trouble, my Queen?” the woman asked.

~~~~~~

No. We were rich and thriving. Everyone was treated equal here. My parents ruled with a heart of gold and everyone was well fed and joyful. We held festivals every month, celebrated life and never deemed ill will to anyone else. We loved each other. The commonfolk dined with the royals in the courtyards and the King himself drank at the cavern down in the village. The oldest prince, my brother, he played with the boys in the village, taught them how to wield the sword and the bow and arrow and my sister and I… we spent our days in the meadows…. Making daisy chains and stealing kisses from the stable boys.

~~~~~

“ They were in desperate need of firm leadership. My father in law, may he rest in peace….he had a weak heart that gave out soon after our alliance. Her brother followed soon after leaving me no choice but to take over.” Jungkook’s voice held a note of genuine sympathy and I felt sick to my stomach.

~~~~~~~~

The sight of my father, kneeling in front of his throne, shackled and in chains. My mother on her knees, begging for mercy and Jungkook’s men held a dagger to her throat. My brother standing in front of me and my sister, arms spread wide as he stared right at General Jeon, refusing to kneel.

“What you’re doing goes against every law on earth, Jeon. The moment you attack a foe when he has his back turned you reveal yourself to be a coward.”

And Jungkook had laughed, loud and uncaring.

“And if I stab him through the heart when he’s right in front of me? What does that reveal?”

It had happened in a flash, the quick movement of his wrist, the flash of silver as he drew his weapon and then the sickening squelch of the blade as it sunk through skin and flesh. The hot wetness of my brother’s blood as it splattered all over my face, the dawning horror as I realized that he had run the sword right through my brother’s heart and the endless screams from my mother and sister as my brother died right in front of our eyes.

I had stood there, too stunned to scream watching the boy who had taught me how to walk bleeding to death in front of me and when I had looked up, Jungkook’s eyes had been trained on mine.

“Bring her here” He had said firmly, pointing right at me and my entire world had exploded in agony. I screamed in protest as his men grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward with such force that my legs gave out, dragging over the rough stone floors as they pulled me to stand in front of the man who had invaded our home without remorse.

“General Jeon….” My father’s voice came from behind me , soft and yet firm. I could hear the grief and pain in the syllables, and I wondered how much my father must be aching at this moment. He had loved my brother with his whole heart “ We’ve offered to surrender, offered you the throne. Please. Spare my daughters and my wife. There is a summer palace at the edge of the kingdom . We will retire there and live our lives out in exile. Please… don’t hurt them. They are too young to understand what you’re doing.”

One of the men standing next to Jungkook stepped forward and I glanced at him, my eyes widening when I saw his face. He looked like an angel, pristine and flawless. And his gaze was trained on my sister . I felt my heart began to pound as he began making his way over to her.

“No!! No… Aline!!” I screamed and Jungkook’s hand shot out gripping my jaw and forcing my mouth closed.

“Hold your tongue, woman.” He whispered. “ My patience wears thin.” He glanced at my father and the smirk on his face grew bigger. “ I think that would be such a pity, your highness. A face like your daughter’s … it doesn’t belong in exile. It belongs on the throne…. does it not, princess?”

“Your daughters are beautiful , majesty. They deserve to have handsome, brave husbands, do they not?” the man who had gone to my sister called out, his fingers curled around her arm as he dragged her to the front and I felt my heart crack in two as Aline burst into loud, miserable tears.

“Lulu…. Lulu make him stop… tell him to let me go…” She whimpered , punching fruitless against the soldier’s armored chest and the man seemed amused as he stared at her.

“Please…she’s too young…” I begged, staring at Jungkook beseechingly. “ She’s only sixteen summers old… Please don’t hurt her…”

“Sixteen isn’t a child. She is old enough to bear one herself.” The man holding her snapped angrily and I stiffened.

“A fair enough point, Taehyung- ah…” Jungkook laughed “ but we’re not barbarians. Let her go for now.”

“What?” Taehyung growled. “ No. I want her. Jungkook I’ve never taken anything from any of the countless kingdoms we’ve ravaged but I want her.” He shook my sister like she was ragged doll and Aline looked catatonic with terror.

“Please , let her go, she’s shaking…” I begged , trying to yank my arms away from the men holding me and Jungkook growled.

“Shut your mouth or your father dies.” He snarled and I was too stricken, too distracted to register what he had said, too focused on my baby sister to listen.

“please Jungkook, don’t do this… She’s young and she’s scared….”

Jungkook’s snarl of rage made me go white as a sheet and I watched in horror as he pointed straight at my father with the sword that still dripped with my brother’s life blood.

“ Get rid of the old fool.” He roared and my heart ripped straight in two.

“NO!!!!!!!”

My loud cry did nothing to deter the men holding my father who showed not a moment of hesitation, raising their sword.

“Remember who you are, Iseul!!” My father said loudly and I turned my face away, closing my eyes as the sickening sound of the blade coming down rang through the place, my mother’s howl of agony following shortly after. I stared at the floor, going limp in the arms of the men holding me up, my body numb and throbbing in disbelief.

“Now look what you made me do.” Jungkook snapped. “ I was going to let the poor fool live, somewhere in the dungeons with your mother but your complete and utter disregard for my authority….it fills me with rage, Iseul.” He snapped.

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs constricting. They were dead. My father and brother, the only two men who had protected me and my sister all our lives, they were both dead. This man. No, not a man. A monster.

This cruel, heartless monster had butchered them in front of my eyes.

“Look at me.” He said suddenly, stepping in front of me.

I didn’t respond, keeping my gaze trained on the floor and his hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “ Come morning we will be wed. I will be your husband. You will belong to me. You will give me strong heirs and all of your wants and needs will be mine to fulfill. Do you understand what that means, Iseul?” He demanded.

I choked on a sob.

“Jungkook we need to get rid of the bodies. Give them a proper funeral at least.” Another man stepped out of the shadows and Jungkook sighed.

“Yes, hyung. Taehyung-ah… Why don’t we take our new brides to our chambers?” He smirked, “ I could do with some stress relief now that the hard part of this whole thing is done.”

“Took you long enough. Come here my pretty doll…” Taehyung grinned, dragging Aline away and I whimpered, stumbling to try and follow but Jungkook’s arm came around my waist squeezing tight.

“That’s her husband now. Think of it that way and it will hurt less. Your sister is married to a man who will love her , protect her and cherish her. He will give her nice strong children. What more do you want for her?”

I exhaled shakily, turning to him.

“ What do you know of love, you monster?” I whispered.

Jungkook hummed.

“Then how about this, my princess. Let me teach you what I know of pleasure, and you can teach me all about love.”

It was a lesson that I never forgot. A painful, humiliating excruciating lesson in his bed where he stripped of my clothes, my dignity and the last shreds of my honour.

I stared at the ceiling as he lay over me, the large expanse of his chest pinning me to the mattress, the slick drag of his member inside me making me ache and throb, his lips, pressing kisses against my throat.

“you smell like a flower garden, my angel. So pure and precious. Made for me, I see….” He whispered, hips pushing up against mine as he ducked into me with long, rough strokes.

I stayed still staring into nothing and he pinched my nipple, twisting the buds till I whimpered.

“Please…”

“please what?” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine, forcing me to stare into doe eyes that seemed to glitter like the clear sky on a spring night. What a beautiful monster.

“Please stop…” I whispered.

“Stop…” He laughed cruelly. He pulled out fully before slamming back in with more force. Pain lanced up my body. “ Now why would I do that?”

“Hurts…” I whispered, exhausted. My hands lay limp and tired next to my head, throbbing from trying to punch him countless times to no avail.

“Poor little love. It hurts because you aren’t used to it. I will do this often and well and soon, your body will know that I belong inside you. And then you will beg me to make it last longer… not stop.”

I closed my eyes, staring into my mind. Remember who you are? I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Of course, it was a pity that the royal blood came to an end that way. But some things can’t be helped.” Jungkook said firmly, arm still wrapped around me in a vice like grip. I glanced at the sun as it dipped lower in the sky. Was Jihwan done with the training? I wanted to see him. To hold him and remind myself that there was still some goodness in the world.

“But under your rule, the kingdom has thrived, your Majesty. So it was all for the best.” The man said brightly and Jungkook chuckled.

“That is true. Would you like to view the training grounds now?”

“If, I maybe excused?” I asked softly and Jungkook frowned.

“Is something the matter?”

“I feel a little unwell…” I said softly and the look on his face darkened.

But he didn’t protest, merely dipping his head lightly.

“Jihwan is in the west wing. He’s working on his scribing skills. You may visit him for a while and after our guests retire, I will fetch you from him.”

I bowed respectfully.

“Thank you, my King.”

~~~~~~~~

“Mother!!!” Jihwan’s loud cry rang through the hallway as he came barreling into my arms. I caught him too my chest, eyes stinging because soon he would be too old for me to hug and kiss and caress.

“My darling child, I’ve missed you..” I whispered.

“You saw me last night at dinner…” He laughed.

“And that is entirely too long ago.” I brushed the hair of his face. “ did you eat your meals? Have you been keeping yourself safe?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae bought me a new dagger.”

I felt my heart drop. A dagger?

“Darling, please be safe…Is it too sharp?”

“A little. But Uncle Tae told me I’m old enough to learn how to use it to fight.”

I closed my eyes, willing my self not to scream in frustration.

“Alright. But now unless your father is there to watch you, alright?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Yes, mother. Mother…. “ He hesitated. “ Do Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae love each other?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“She looks so sad, sometimes.”

I bit my lips, willing myself to smile. Unlike me , my sister didn’t know how to put on an act. She had always been a delicate child and the trauma of our parents death and Taehyung’s cruelty had taken a toll on her. She was deeply depressed but her husband didn’t care. All Taehyung cared for was her body and the two sturdy sons she had borne him, a third child on the way.

“Of course darling. You do know, Han and Jiwoo are going to have a younger sibling soon? She must be tired from growing the baby inside her.”

“Will I have a sibling too?” He asked innocently and I opened my mouth to refute the idea when a shadow fell over us.

“Would you like one, my brave little tiger?” Jungkook’s voice rang over us and I stiffened.

“No.” I said swiftly, “ He enjoys having all of mama’s attention, don’t you darling?”

Jihwan wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t know. A little sister would feel nice.”

Jungkook hummed.

“I like the idea of that. If you give me a daughter then we can have her betrothed to Han at birth.” He said casually and I felt sick.

“Jihwan, you must go back to your lessons, now. Your mother and I will see you at dinner.” Jungkook said softly and I flinched when Jungkook gripped my shoulders tugging me away from my boy. Everyday Jihwan looked less and less upset at leaving me and I wondered if one day he would begin welcoming my departure.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, turning me around and leading me gently to the opposite wing, where our bedchamber lay. It was a path I traipsed a million times in the seven years we’d been married and yet, it felt just as unbearable as it had back then.

The sight of the King made the maids and footmen scramble away in a panic and I swallowed as he opened the large engraved doors , prompting me to go in. I stepped in only to have him press against my back at once. I stayed still, letting him untie the strings of my train, before moving to undo the button of my gown. He stopped halfway through.

“This is tedious. Strip for me and get on the bed.”

I didn’t move. What did he want? Surely he wouldn’t be thinking of humoring my son? The idea of bearing more children for him was abhorrent to me. I wanted to cry. But I did as he said, carefully stripping out of all my clothes ,m placing them in a neat pile, on the table nearby before moving to climb into the bed for him. Jungkook moved into sit against the headboard, before grabbing my wrists and pulling me to his lap.

“Look at me.” Jungkook said, once I sat straddling his thick thighs, the curve of my bottom resting against the hardness of his arousal. “ I was right, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him as his hands came up to pinch both of my nipples at the same time, playing with the hardened numbs till I began squirming on his hard length.

“ You were made for this weren’t you? To be my queen and my wife? Such a perfect mother too. I was right to choose you, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him, the handsome face that I wanted to hate., But it was hard. He had given me Jihwan. He had let me keep my sister at arm’s length. He had let my mother live out her years in the palace, although the grief had killed her two years ago. It could be worse, I told myself, lifting and moving to line the tip of his member against my body and sinking down on him. It could be so much worse.

“Fuck…yes. Just like that angel….” He gripped my waist, bucking up into me and my body caved, now used to the intrusion.

“Yes…” I choked out, when his thumb moved to press against my center, rubbing circles.

“I was right….I’m always right . Your body knows I belong inside you.”

He pulled me close, arms a vice around my body and I choked as he fucked into me .

“Say it… “ He demanded and I closed my eyes, sorrow and helplessness welling into tears and brimming over my eyes onto his shoulders and down his back. But Just as I was used to him inside me, Jungkook was used to the tears soaking him whenever we did this.

“Don’t stop.” I breathed.

The King after all was always right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note : Would you guys like another part? But please tell me what you thought !!

#jungkook smut #bts jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere smut #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts scenarios #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fanfics

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thekindwolf99 · 2 years ago

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So I’ve been scrolling through AO3 for the last week, reading my way through several #Polin stories and I have noticed something

Maybe it’s just me but there is a real lack of Hurt! Colin or Hurt! Pen or one of them being terribly ill. Just the entire trope of the person I didn’t know I was in love with is sick/hurt and I can’t live without them and then oh s”it I’m in love with them, seems to be missing from tags.

Like I’ve read RMB and I’ve watched the first two seasons on Netflix (side note, I am buzzing for season 3 🥰😅) so I know these guys go through quite a bit of heart-ache (especially Pen) throughout the book and series.

But it’s just I’m in the mood for this trope as well as the Alive! Edmund Bridgerton stories because damnit he was a good dad who deserved to live longer to see his kids grow up and find love and not be killed suddenly by a bee sting (spoilers)

Now I know people would say if you want it so badly why don’t you write it yourself?

And to that I’d say I’m not that confident in my own writing. I have written some brief Harry Potter and BBC merlin fics on fan fiction.net (under Kind Baudelaire) but I got side tracked and never finished. I also have a good portion of my Grammarly account filled up with half ideas for fanfics that will never see the light of day.

I mean to be fair I could try but my anxiety and procrastination would mean that I would never get one completed and if I did they would not be any good.

So please if anyone knows of any stories with either of those tropes please let me know and include it in a comment or repost. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #polin #ao3 fanfic #Bridgerton #romancing mister bridgerton #fanfic ideas #sick trope #hurt trope #alive Edmund Bridgerton #because damnit that man deserved better #violet bridgerton #bridgerton season 3

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hereforhalstead · 3 years ago

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“I’m all yours” Part 2

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

• Requested: Yes.

• Warnings: angst/Swearing/adult themes/unloving relationship/mentions of mental abuse

• Summary: Part 2 to “I’m all yours” as requested! You can find Part 1 here.

• Words: 6138

• A/N : Thanks so much for all the great feedback on it and for your continued support - hope you enjoy and that it lives up to part 1! Got the inspo from watching ‘Workin Moms’ on Netflix, highly recommend.. also as before, I do not condone cheating or the treatment of any relationship like this. My inbox is always open if you want to talk and I know it's very hard but remember you're worthy and you deserve the best. Please do not hesitate to let me know if anything in this is too close to the mark as that’s the last thing I want (i might be reading too deep into this but want to be sure I’ve made myself clear

***

“Jay. I need you in here with me” Voight swings the door open, forcing Jay to release you from his tight grasp and turn his back to you as if he didn’t have you pinned to the wall whispering into your ear a few seconds ago.

“Am I interuppting something here?” his gruff voice questions to which you shake your head “Right well come on Halstead, you’re with me” Voight exits the room, allowing you to finally release the smirk you’d been witholding. Jay turns back to you, running a hand along his jawline as he chuckles but you can still see the hunger behind his eyes as he winks “To be continued”.

You take a moment to yourself, running your hand through your hair before allowing yourself to lean your back against the wall to take the weight off. It all seemed to happen so fast that you could barely recollect the situaion but all you knew was you hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. That passion building, waiting for the other to lean in first, the way your skin burns when he touches you and the rate your heart is beating even after he’s no longer here was enough to solidify how bad you wanted him and even better, he wanted you more.

You watch through the one sided glass as Jay and Voight enter the room, Jay now looking as stern as ever, a complete 180 from the man who was just stood before you. He bores his eyes down onto the suspect and you feel your stomach flip at the mere sight of the way he leans his hands down on the desk and towers over the man, finding yourself instinctively chewing at your bottom lip and consumed by thoughts you shouldn't be having at your place of work about your partner.

You continue to watch, time flying by as you sit back and watch Jay do what he does best but despite how well he can calm Voight down it wasn’t working. Voight was loosing it which was spurring the suspect on to act more of an idiot by the minute, clearly getting some form of pleasure of out of he was getting under Voight’s skin.

“Sarge, can we step outside a moment?” Jay interupts Voight who currently had the suspect by the collar of his shirt, his eyes dart to Jay and then back to the man who was laughing in his face. You actually felt for the guy, not knowing what he was letting himself in for but also not being jealous of the pair of them currently trying to interrogate him but clearly failing. Voight shoves the suspect back into the chair and storms out of the room to be shortly followed by Jay, you watch as the man seems to stare directly at you and even though you know he can’t see you, you still feel the chills run down your spine at the emptiness behind his eyes and the slight smile he has on his lips.

You hear Voight and Jay exchanging heated words just outside the door and you flinch when the door to the room you were in swings open “Y/N, you’re up” Voight orders and you instantly feel sick that you would have to face the suspect who clearly had no means of confessing. Normally you’d stand up for yourself but the way Voight held his fists at his sides and the vein throbbing in his neck it was hardly the situation to argue so you did as you were told. Voight takes your place observing and you exit the room to be met by Jay leaning back against the wall, passing you the file as you approach him “you got this?” he asks with a slightly raised brow, you nod and try to ignore the hand he places on your lower back to usher you into the room with a hushed chuckle “you’re the only one I can rely on these days”.

You didn’t have the most experience when it came to interviews so whenever you were in this room you felt on edge, let alone when you know Voight is burning his eyes into your back and watching like a hawk, but something about Jay being by your side made it that tiniest bit easier. You begin to probe the suspect who was now slouching back in his chair, clearly also at ease by the lack of Voight’s presence and you sat across from him instead. You felt ill at the way he was looking at you and the way Jay’s muscles were tightening as he glared at the suspect didn’t go unnoticed either. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing” he comments with a grossly inapropriate smile and you scoff “Don’t look at her, look at me” Jay extends his arm across the desk to get his attention but it doesn’t work so he’s on his feet and leaning over the suspect in seconds “Lose the grin, or I will lose it for you”.

You cough to break the tension, already predicting Voight would crash through the door at any moment to stop the interview but luckily there was no sign. You continued your questioning and it was clear neither of you could get through to him “I can’t be asked to sit here and let you waste my time” you sigh, standing from your seat and grabbing the file to exit “leaving so soon, pretty girl? that’s a shame” he comments and you shake your head with a pity laugh. “Where you’re going, you’ll be the pretty girl” you comment, smile spread as his face drops and you see Jay cover a smirk with his hand “she’s not wrong” he shrugs his shoulders, also standing from his seat to join you in leaving the room “enjoy your time in there buddy” he pats him on the shoulder as he passes “you’re gonna need it”.

You walk down the corridor with Jay, still laughing between yourselves but a sudden silence when Voight appears before you “What the hell was that?” he barks as you stand wide eyed but luckily Jay speaks for you “he’ll confess Sarge, we just need to let him sit” he reassures but Voight wasn’t satisfied “we don’t have time to let him sit Jay, you’re all gonna swan off to this party tonight so we need to get him by then” he demands “What like you’ve always got them to confess the first time?” he comments under his breath and Voight see’s red.

“I think you need to remember who you’re talking to Detective” he presses his finger into Jay’s chest and you step in “Sarge, you just gotta trust us. We know what we’re doing” you can see he is slightly taken back by the way you defend Jay but he isn’t shocked “just get it done” he groans before storming back into his office to leave you and Jay alone again. "thanks” Jay mumbles, frustration laced through his whisper, you lay your hand on his back and you notice him slightly relax under your touch as you offer him a reassuring smile and a shrug of your shoulder “always”.

***

Tonight was some big police annual gala and usually you were buzzing for it but tonight just wasn’t the night for it. You and Jay had spent hours trying to break down the walls of the suspect only for it to get you no where, you felt defeated and tensions were running high. It fell to Voight and Olinsky to eventually crack him but after some of their ‘persuasion’ of course.. This left you feeling not as guilty for not getting to him as they clearly used different methods to you and Jay so were incomparable in terms of techniques.

Even when you had a spare minute to yourself you find yourself replaying what happened with Jay in the observation room, the way he had you pinned and the hunger you could see and feel in the way he grabbed you set something off inside you. You’d barely been alone with him since then due to the busyness of the case but the occasional glances and minor touches as you passed his desk was making the tension unbareable but you still couldn’t ignore the pit in the bottom of your stomach. You still had somewhat of a boyfriend, even if he was a piece of shit who didn’t make you feel wanted, he was still your boyfriend and to your annoyance it wasn’t sitting right with you.

Jay was everything you needed and you knew he could give you everything you wanted and so much so that it scared you. He was perfect in your eyes and you felt as though you didn’t deserve him, you’d never be able to tell him this as you knew he wouldn’t stand for it but you couldn’t help the way you felt. You were so defeated that you felt as though you deserved a trashy relationship and weren’t good enough to be with someone like Jay. This made you feel worse as no matter how much you desired him you still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

You tried to rack your brain to think of the last time your boyfriend Mike had made you feel half as good as Jay does but you couldn’t even think of anything close. You were trying so hard to give him an inch of self worth but there was nothing, he hadn’t made you feel wanted or even like he loved you yet you still felt bad for showing interest in Jay. You’d have to put your feelings for your partner to one side and no matter how impossible it seemed you’d try to convince yourself he wasn’t for you.

You’d managed to escape the district without anyone seeing you and by anyone you meant Jay. Unlocking your car and dumping your bag into the back, you jump when you see Jay standing there as you slam the truck down in frustration “You trying to kill me?” you hit his shoulder as you pass but he doesn’t move, instead his eyes scan as you slightly graze him to try and get to the passenger side “You’re just gonna leave without saying anything?” you could feel your heart pull at the hurt behind his words, the concern sweeping across his brows and the way he held his hands together like he did when he was nervous. “I need to get ready for tonight” you fake smile but he wasn’t buying it.

“So you’re going back to him?” he kicks a stone on the ground and you follow his gaze as he looks back up at you “I don’t have a choice Jay” you plead, causing him to cup your cheeks in his hands to force you to look at him “Of course you have a choice Y/N. You always have a choice” he reassures but you stand in silence, unsure how to respond “If you’re scared of him, I’ll come back with you or hell I’ll go and collect your stuff for you and you can stay with me for a bit” he runs his thumb gently across your cheek and for that split second you can’t hold back your desires as you find yourself leaning into him.

You manage to catch yourself and put your hands against his chest to stop “It was a mistake Jay, I’m sorry for leading you on but it’s not gonna happen”.

You pull yourself away from him and open the passenger door to get inside before he has a chance to pull you back “ That’s bullshit and you know it Y/N” he leans against your door, speaking through your car window but you keep your eyes focused on turning the key to start the engine before mumbling “I’m sorry” and driving away.

You look into your mirror, watching as Jay stands there defeated with his hands hung low and his head dipped “You’re a fucking idiot Y/N” you curse yourself before taking another look in the mirror to see Jay was gone.

***

You flicked through the dresses in your wardrobe, really not being in the mood for the party was in a strange was urging you to put more effort in to hope it would lift your spirits. You’d poured yourself a few glasses of your favourite mixer and had some music playing in the background to assist in your motivation. Of course you were home alone, what else is new..

You were used to coming home to an empty apartment, after moving in with Mike after just a few dates there was always such excitement to return from work to see him lounging on the sofa and ready to engulf you in his arms but that didn’t last long. He would be out until late, without even so much of a text message which would leave you sitting around waiting before eventually giving up in the small hours of the morning to retire to bed alone. You found it funny at this point, the classic ‘gotta laugh or you’ll cry’ really was how you dealt with it and you thought that was for the best.

You’d stumbled upon a little satin black dress that you’d bought for your birthday last year but due to staying late at work you never got the chance to wear it so it would be perfect for tonight. After a little touch of make up and keeping your hair simple you stopped to examine yourself in the mirror and for the first time in a while you were surprsingly pleased at who was looking back at you. You’d hardly bothered with your appearance anymore, going out to a party was a rareity so it always did seem to take you back a bit when you looked like this and you were feeling good.

After taking another sip of your drink your mind started to wander, Jay creeping up behind you and snaking his arms round your waist as you admire yourself. His lips pressing into your neck as he whispers into your ear of how good you look and how lucky he is to have you sent the chills down your spine. You’d wrap your hands around Jay’s forearms as he trails his lips along your shoulder, lifting your hair to the other side to allow him access to your exposed skin as he nips lightly at the corner to make you giggle.

You were so lost in your thoughts that when the door slammed you almost dropped your drink in fright, you quickly downed the remainder before heading out of the bedroom and into the main open place space. Running your hands over your dress to smooth out any creases you look up to see Mike ripping the tie from around his neck and shoving it onto the counter. You stand in the doorway, waiting to see if he notices you and gives you the attention you now so desperately crave, even if it wasn’t from him.

Instead, he heads for the kitchen and pours himself a drink, takes the glass and slumps on the sofa without so much as a second look at you. You clear your throat to get him to look up but still nothing. With your hands on your hips you strut over to stand in front of the TV so he had no choice but to see you blocking his view. He takes a sip from the glass and shrugs, still trying to look round you to see the pointless comedy show that was playing on the screen “going somewhere?” he questions, eyes still averted from you. You lean into your hip and raise your brows down at him “It’s the gala? You’re meant to be my plus one?”. He takes another sip with a shake of his head “Don’t know what you’re talking about”.

This is the first time you’ve spoken in hours and he already has that look of grimace on his face, looking straight through you as if you’re not even there. Luckily, the liquid courage had made it easier to deal with as you let his words bounce off you, the thoughts of Jay quickly making their way back into your mind. How his jaw would drop if he walked through the door and you greeted him like this, infact even if you were in joggers and a sweater he would still tell you how gorgeous you looked. He’d wrap you in his arms, running his fingertips up and down your sides as he admired his girl standing in front of him with the confidence that no matter how many guys drooled over her she would still go back to him. You wanted to be that girl.

“Just change your shirt, we’re leaving in 5 minutes” you demand, heading into the kitchen yourself to grab yourself another drink as you had a feeling you’d be needing it. You hear him grumble something as he clambers from the sofa and drags himself into the bedroom, a part of you shocked he actually did as he was asked but the other part regretting reminding him as the thought of spending the night alone with Jay was sounding all the more tempting.

A few moments go by and you’re sitting at the table waiting for him, legs swinging with your head resting on your hand as your mind is clouded with the thoughts of the all too familiar detective. Was he going to be wearing a suit? Would he need help choosing a shirt and tie combo? You’d sit on the bed as he’d groan into the mirror when he couldn’t work out which one looked better. Turning to you to ask for your opinion as you tie the best looking one round his neck, feeling his breath on your lips as he glares intently down at you. His hands finding their way to your hips as you button the top few buttons of his shirt up before hooking his collar back over the tie. Feeling him watching you’re every move as his grasp on you tightens, sitting back down onto the bed to pull you onto his lap. You swing your legs over each of his as he leans back and pulls you on top of him, his arms keeping you on him as you try to escape as you tease about how you were going to be late-

“How’s this?” a voice interrupts your thoughts, looking up to see Mike in a fresh white shirt tucked into black jeans “No tie?” you ask, slightly dissapointed but he scoffs “It’s not that fancy, don’t know why you’re so dressed up” he comments, feeling the all too normal pit in your stomach as you brush it off “lets go then so we can get this over with”.

From the moment you arrived you felt on edge, you hadn’t seen Jay yet and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart dropped at the thought of him not being there. Deep down he was the only reason you’d dressed up, the motivation for you to be there and the only thing you could look forward to was seeing him but still no sign. You were stood at the bar, watching as Mike eyed up every girl that passed like they were piece of meat and it made you feel sick.

You stood chatting with Kim who was soon joined by Adam, draping his arm round her waist as they stood opposite you to make conversation. You could feel Mike wasn’t paying attention and had even taken a seat at one of the bar stools so he wasn’t even part of the conversation. You couldn’t help the thoguhts drift back into your mind, how you knew if you were with Jay he would proudly have his arm round you when you were at an event or even have his hand protecvitely resting on your lower back to let you know he was still there as a form comfort. He’d whisper in how he can’t wait to get you alone, making you giggle as his breath hits your ear to make the hairs on your neck stand on edge. He’d love to tell people how you met at work but always knew there was something more, others would comment on how smitten he was with you and how he looked at you with those doting eyes like you were his whole world and he wanted everyone to know.

Kim hits your arm in laughter to bring you out of your thoughts but Adam was looking like he could murder. Glaring at Mike like he wanted to lay into him, scoffing at the disrespect and the poor way he was treating his friend. You slightly dreaded how Jay would react and honestly hoped they wouldn’t see each other but it was too late.

You were chatting away, in efforts to try and distract Adam from the way Mike was behaving when you saw him appear through the crowd from over Adam’s shoulder. It was like a cliche movie, you zoned into him like he was the only one in the room, Kim’s words fading into the background as you could almost hear the laughter falling from his lips as he engages in conversation. You suddenly felt safe, like you knew nothing would happen to you as long as he was there and you just wanted to be tucked under his arm for the rest of the night but you had to play it cool.

Watching as he heads towards you, drink in one hand with the other stuffed in his pants pocket. The crisp black shirt that was paired with a black tie finished it off, that man could look good in anything but seeing him in all black flicked a switch inside you and gave you that all too familiar feeling of the craving you had for him. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there, roaming your body and admiring every inch before Adam nudged him to get his attention “Bro, you didn’t look at me like that” he acted hurt, his hands on his heart as he pleaded “I just want Halstead to look at me like he looks at Y/N. Is that too much to ask?” he pretends to wipe a tear as you roll your eyes “Look like that in a dress and I’ll think about it” Jay comments, still with his gaze on you as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks “You look alright too I guess” you tease but this is when Mike decides he finally wants to join in.

“You must be Jack” he extends his hand out to Jay who looks at him with a laughter in disgust “It’s Jay” he grimaces a smile and you try to hide yours by taking another sip of your drink. Mike drops his hand as Jay doesn’t meet his gesture as Kim breaks the silence “Who wants another drink?” she asks and you raise your empty glass “You’ve had enough, don’t want you making a fool of yourself” Mike mocks, expecting others to laugh at his comment but no one does.

You notice Jay’s fists clench at his sides and if Adam didn’t look happy before, he certaintly doesn’t now. Kim places a hand to his arm to calm him down and you only wish you could do the same to Jay but instead you watch as he eyes Mike, only imagining the thoughts that were going through his head as his nostrils flare. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom” Mike announces before excusing himself, leaving you stood in silence as Kim hands you another drink with that familiar sympathetic smile “I’m gonna kill him” Adam scoffs and Jay hums in agreement “You’re telling me”.

It had been a while since Mike left your side, you’d barely noticed until Kim commented on how long he had been. You took a quick scan of the room but couldn’t see him anywhere and it’s like the feeling in your gut was trying to tell you something as you find yourself heading towards the bathroom before you can think. You march your way through the people, ignoring the calls from behind you and too focused on what you knew you were about to see. You slam the stall doors open one by one but he wasn’t there, a sigh of relief as you didn’t want to catch him out at one of your work parties was soon ruined as you hear a moan coming from down the hall. You storm towards the noises, blocking them out as you get closer and turn the corner to see Mike holding an unfamiliar girl up against the wall with her dress hiked up around her waist.

You can’t move. As much as you want to scream and run, it’s like your feet are glued to the floor and you can’t move an inch. Instead you stand and watch them all over each other, him with a dare you say smile on his face as their lips intertwine. A sudden noise from behind you forces him to look in your direction, doing the quickest double take when he see’s you standing there but he still didn’t stop. Instead he dug his head further into her shoulder with every thrust, stopping to look up at you with an evil glint in his eye as he clearly enjoyed the fact you’d caught him and wanted you to watch.

You finally come to your senses and headed back to the bar, no urgency in your walk, anger in your head or even tears in your eyes as you kept your head high and acted as if nothing has happened. As you approach you see the heads turn to you with concern “Where the hell were you?” Kim questions with a hushed tone “Did you find him?”. You shake your head “Want me and Jay to go and look for him?” Adam suggests and you chuckle “If I want to find a body in the river tomorrow, I’ll give you a shout”.

You down your drink in one as Adam and Kim resume their conversation, Jay brings himself over to you and rests his hand on your lower back as he leans into you “You wanna get some fresh air?” he asks and you nod “like you wouldn’t believe”. He keeps his hand pressed into your back as he guides you out of the room and towards the exit into the majestic grounds of the hall. You can’t help but constantly look through the faces to try and spot Mike but there was no sign, probably still with that girl in the bathrooms or even better he’s taken her home to the apartment you shared and was fucking her into your bedspread.

As soon as the fresh air hits you it feels like a sigh of relief, it was just you and Jay with no one else around, a complete contrast from the noisy crowded party and you wouldn’t want it any other way. There was a side to you that wanted to blurt it all out, knowing Jay would storm in there and lay into Mike was something you really wanted to see. The anger rising in his body as he clenches his fists, the vein in his neck popping as you confess or the desperation in his eyes as he asks you to tell him where he is, but there was the other side that wanted to keep it bottled up.

You knew the second option was wrong as it would just be another plan of self destruction and there was no way you could go back to that apartment tonight. There was only one person you knew you wanted to leave with and that same person was now the only one standing before you.

‘Fuck it’ you thought to yourself and there it was, the moment you built up the courage to push your lips onto his. His arms clung at your waist from the sudden contact, pulling you into him but soon retracting when he realised what was happening “What’s going on? You sa-” he began but you leant in to try and cut him off but he wasn’t having it. His hand was still pressed into your back so you were inches apart, his eyes flicking between your lips and back up to your eyes but he was trying to control himself and make sure it was what you wanted. Normally this would make your legs weak at how sweet and considerate you knew he was but you needed him, you longed for him, you craved him and now you had the fear he didn’t want you.

“You said you didn’t want this?” he questions with a huff “I was lying” you smile “I want you. You know I want you Jay” you yet again lean into him but he puts his hands on your waist firmly to keep you apart “Has something happened?”. Without words he already knows, the way your breath hitches and you harshly swallow was enough to set off the rage in him “Did he do something to you?” you can see his temper rising while trying to stay calm for you “Did he hurt you Y/N?”.

The panic sets in as you see his anger grow “I swear to god Y/N, if he laid a single finger on you”. You instinctively put your hand to his cheek to ground him “Jay he hasn’t touched me” you reassure, wording it carefully to not say ‘he hasn’t hurt me’ as after what you’ve just seen that would take a certain person to not be hurt. He relaxes ever so slightly under your touch and confession but he was still rigid, the frustration running through his body as he tries to scan your face for answers but you’re giving him nothing.

“Can we just forget him?” you try to push past it, moving your hand down his chest and fiddling with one of the buttons “Or do you not want me?” the crack in your voice kills him, there shouldnt be a shadow of doubt in your mind about how bad he wants you, he’s needed you for so long that he should be taking you to be his right now but there was something stopping him.

“Of course I want you Y/N, are you kidding?” he grips at your waist to further cement his words “I want you so fucking bad that you’re all I can think about” he groans as you pull him closer to you by his shirt collar and just as your lips are about to meet you hear that all too familiar voice call out for you from inside the party. Your head snaps round so fast you’re surpsied you didn’t pull a muscle and the grip on Jay’s collar tells him you dont want to see Mike.

He switches the position so he was closest to the door, his body shielding you as you cower behind him as he was the only one he could trust to protect you and be the one between you and Mike.

Mike spots you through the door, clutching onto Jays shirt like your life depended on it but not in a way through fear. You weren’t scared of him as you knew nothing would happen to you as long as Jay was there but it was through a nervousness as you just wanted to forget the situation ever happened and just cut ties but he clearly wasn’t feeling the same way. He points his finger to you as he storms through the open doors, cursing yourself for having left them open as he may not have though to look out if they were closed.

“Turn around and head back inside” Jay warns, keeping one hand behind his back and ensuring you stayed there “Get away from my girlfriend buddy” Mike scoffs which amuses Jay as he smirks “Sorry that’s my fault for not being clear. Turn around. Head home and stay the fuck away from her”.

You step around Jay but he still keeps an arm on you which you’re more that grateful for “Was she good?” you ask, confidence rising knowing he could no longer bilittle you how he pleased “What?” he questions and you roll your eyes “How was she? Tight enough for you?” you notice Jay straighten up beside you, clearly realizing what’s happened and increasing his anger and determination to end the man standing in front of him.

You place a hand to Jay’s upper arm and squeeze lightly in reassurance. “Go home, I’ll send for my stuff” you scorn but Mike doesn’t move “I don’t know if you heard her but she said go home” Jay takes a step towards him and as much as you trust Jay and know how he acts, this is the first time you’ve questioned if he will be able to stop himself. “You really don’t want me to tell you again” Jay threatens, Mike matches Jay’s step and closes the gap between them when you interject and stand between the pair with a hand on each of their chests.

Looking up to see the fear in Mike’s eyes but the anger and darkness behind Jay’s “Go. Home” you instruct to Mike who pauses for a second to look down at you and then back up to Jay “You’re lucky she’s here otherwise you wouldn’t live to see another day” Jay smirks, putting an emphasis on every word he spits out at Mike.

The three of you stand in silence, watching as Mike and Jay stare at each other was laughable. Mike didn’t stand a single chance again Jay on a normal day let alone now, he was full of rage and needed an outlet so you feel a sigh of relief when Mike takes a step back and turns to head back inside “If I hear you’ve even breathed near her. I promise it will be the last breath you ever take” Jay calls out to him, his lips puling in an evil smile to which you hit him on the chest. His expression soon changes when he looks down at you and you feel your heart skip a beat, the vengeance in his eyes that told you the inner battle to control himself was getting impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out, the least of what you were expecting him to say, the softness as he reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and continuing to trace your jawline with his fingertips. You loop your arms around his neck, leaving one to pull him closer to you as his arms find their way back to your hips with an urgency “I don’t want your sorry” you comment, his thumb runs along your bottom lip as he lightly tugs on the corner at the roughness of his skin “I want you”.

He didn’t need telling twice, his grip on your waist pulled you onto him. Your legs wrapping round his waist as he steaded you against the wall, rocking his hips into yours as his lips made their way along your collarbone to lightly nip at the skin causing you to yelp “I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated” he moaned into the crook of your neck with another light blow to the now damp skin from his lips “and we both know, it will be only me that can show you that”.

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Drigka (Orc)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Orc/Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Orc, Orc Boyfriend Content Warning: Psoriasis, Psoriatic Arthritis, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Skin Condition, Physical Illness, Depression Words: 4183

Commissioned by @acahope311! A young woman in college breaks up with her boyfriend after his callous attitude toward her medical condition, she suddenly reunites with him years later. Please leave feedback!

Drigka had been your highschool sweetheart. The two of you had grown up together in the same small town and started dating in eighth grade. The puppy love the two of you had fostered over the course of your childhood turned into real love as you blossomed into adults. He was everything you could have ever hoped for in a partner. He was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Then, halfway into your second year of college, you got sick. At first, it was just a case of strep throat, but it didn’t explain the sudden rashes that developed on your body a few weeks later. The doctors simply thought it was stress from college causing hives, but after a few months, the symptoms got worse, becoming more like scales rather than human flesh, making you extremely self-conscious. Before, your weight had always made you feel very self aware, but you thought you wouldn’t complain about being overweight for the rest of your life if this skin condition would just go away.

It took almost a year and several rounds of testing to be diagnosed with plaque psoriasis. Then, you began having stiffness in your joints, pain when you walked, and constant aches all over. Another battery of tests revealed that your condition had the potential to evolve into psoriatic arthritis, and there wasn’t a cure for either condition.

You started on preventative anti-inflammatory medications and considered going on immuno-suppressants as well, with talks of the possibility of joint replacements in the future if treatments didn’t work. The entire ordeal put you in a deep depression and it was all you could do to complete the semester.

Drigka tried being supportive, but it was clear he couldn’t relate to you anymore. He had never been sick nor had he ever known anyone who had been sick, and as such, had no idea how to help you or what to do about it. Well, neither did you, but you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

A few months after the diagnosis, you could feel him pulling away. He didn’t take you out on dates anymore, whereas before he had always made it a point to make time for you, regardless of how busy he might have been. He stayed at work later, and started taking more overtime. He began screening your calls and leaving you on read. It made you feel even more anxious when he made excuses not to see you, and made your depression worse.

You were pretty sure he wanted to break up, as much as the thought hurt. You were getting tired of the anxiety of wondering when he would finally drop the bomb, and of him tiptoeing around you like you were made of glass, so eventually you decided to confront him.

It was then that he broke your heart.

He hadn’t meant to say it; it slipped out of his mouth in the heat of the moment during the ensuing fight, but once he said it, there was no taking it back.

“Look, I deserve to know if you’re going to break up with me!” You told him. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve been busy!” He retorted, though he wasn’t looking you in the eye, and instead was focused on his work. “I’m not going to break up with you, will you stop being paranoid?”

“I’m not being paranoid!” You insisted, pulling the papers he was going over from his hands, making him look up at you angrily. He tried to reach for them but you held them away. “I’ve known you my whole life, Drigka. I know when you’re losing interest in something. Maybe you don’t want to admit it to yourself, but at least be honest with me.”

“I am being honest!” He said, standing abruptly. “Look, we’ve both just been stressed out, okay? I’m not losing interest. Do you want me to break up with you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then why are you harping on this?” He snatched his papers back out of your hands and sat back down. “I’m trying to get my work done, my thesis paper is due. Just leave me be for a while.”

“You asked me to come over, Drigka,” You reminded him in frustration. “You told me we were going to talk about things. But you’ve been ignoring me since I got here.”

“Because you don’t want to talk, you want to fight,” Drigka said dismissively, sitting back down at his desk.

“That’s not true! I wouldn’t be fighting with you if you’d actually sit down and have a conversation with me!”

“What do you want from me?” He shouted back. “I have my own life! I have my own problems! I can’t drop everything I’ve got going on to take care of you!”

“I’m not asking you to!” You shot back. “I’m just asking you to stop pretending everything is fine and ducking around me like I’m contagious! Acting like nothing is wrong is just making the problem worse!”

“Then you’re doing that on your own, because I don’t have a problem!” Drigka said, glaring at his work.

You sighed explosively. “If I’d known you were going to behave like this, I wouldn’t have come.”

He snorted derisively without looking up.“And if I’d known you were going to get sick and make that your whole life, I wouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.”

Your mouth fell open in shock and you actually stumbled backward, feeling as if you’d been stabbed in the gut. Tears prickled your eyes and you couldn’t find your voice. In the silence, he looked up and saw your face and sighed.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, okay? Can we just--”

He stood up and reached for you, as if you hug you, but you darted out of his grasp. You shook your head slowly at him, the tears rolling down your face, and you backed away.

“I didn’t get sick on purpose, Drigka,” You said softly. “This isn’t something I’m doing to you.”

“No, I know that--”

“Am I inconvenient?” You asked him in a venomous undertone. “Are my health problems an inconvenience to you, Drigka? Is me being sick and sad a bother?”

“Babe, I said I was sorry--” He said impatiently. He reached again, and you ducked him.

“Don’t touch me,” You spat.

“I’m trying to apologize,” He said, folding his arms, a scowl on his face. “Calm down for a second and listen to me.”

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you? You just want me to stop being mad at you. Let me save you the trouble and save myself from the headache of waiting for you to do it: I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?” Drigka said, scoffing. “Seriously? Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that,” You said, folding your arms over your chest.

He looked at you incredulously. “So ten years of dating means nothing to you? Twenty years of being friends? Just because you’re mad?”

“When did I ever say it didn’t mean anything to me?!” You retorted. “The problem isn’t even that you don’t understand, it’s that you’re not even trying to understand! Maybe it’s best we don’t talk again until you do.” You turned and walked toward the door.

“So you’re shutting me out? Completely?” Drigka said in disbelief. “You’re not even giving me a chance?”

“I gave you plenty of chances, Drigka,” You said. “Every time I asked to spend time with you and you made an excuse, every time I ignored my pain to listen to all of your troubles, every time I expected a shred of concern from you but all I got was disinterest and disappointment, those were your chances. It’s not my fault you failed.” You turned back to look at his furious face for a final time. “Admit it: you’re not mad that I broke up with you. You’re mad you didn’t do it first.”

And then you left.

The first few months after the breakup were hard, especially because he kept texting and calling. He vacillated between being hostile and apologetic, insisting that you were overreacting and if you’d just listen to him, he could explain. Eventually, you blocked his number and deleted him from all your social media. It was when you made plans to transfer to another school in another state that he finally got the message.

What he’d said hadn’t just hurt you, it made you feel like a burden; like getting sick hadn’t just ruined your life, but his life as well. You felt guilty and ashamed of yourself, even though you knew it was just something that happened and wasn’t really anyone’s fault. There was no one to blame, but there was an instinct to try and blame someone, and it was easiest to blame yourself. Drigka’s words made that blame seem justified.

Six years had passed since the two of you split, and you had settled as well as you could into life after college and in a new town. You’re symptoms were well managed and you hadn’t yet developed any severe arthritis problems, and the doctors were optimistic about your long term prognosis. The new medications and therapy was working wonders. You still had flare-ups and days of fatigue, but you were doing better than you could have hoped.

You were working in a forensic accounting firm and the boss was understanding about your condition, letting you work from home on days when you felt like going into the office would be too difficult. He suffered from Crohn’s Disease himself, so he was intimately familiar with how sudden chronic illnesses could strike. You felt extremely fortunate to find this position; you’d had a few jobs before this that weren’t quite as understanding, and it was extremely disheartening to hear your boss and coworkers dismissing your condition as not a big deal.

You still thought of Drigka from time to time. He had been your best friend since you were babies and your first love. You hadn’t dated anyone since breaking up with him, partly because you’d been too busy, and partly because… well… what he’d said stuck with you. What if the next person thought your condition was a burden, too? Those words had echoed in your heart and mind ever since and it always made you feel like garbage. You didn’t know if you could handle hearing it a second time.

About a month after starting your new job, your boss called you into his office.

“Ah, I’m glad you’re here,” Mr. Bronston said, looking up. “A representative from the car dealership will be here with the internal accounts. He thinks someone in his team has been embezzling money and needs someone to do the forensics. Are you up for that?”

“Of course,” You said immediately, taking the invoice from him and scanning it. “Do they have a suspect yet?”

“No, but their books definitely aren’t adding up. There’s a deficit of about three hundred thousand.”

Your head rocked back in shock. “Whoa.”

“They’ve been taking small amounts over a long period of time, so it must be one of the senior associates.”

“So not the representative, then? Didn’t you say he was a new employee?”

“Yep, he was hired a few months ago. He’s actually the one who caught the discrepancies.” A knock on the door interrupted him. “That’s probably him now.”

Mr. Bronston walked to the door and opened it, and your heart dropped into your shoes.

He looked different than when you last saw him, but you’d have recognized him no matter what he wore or how he presented himself. The familiar orc man standing at the door was wearing a fitted grey suit rather than his normal jeans and t-shirt. His long hair, which he’d normally let fall free back in college, was pulled tight and braided elegantly behind his back. His face, which paled with shock when he saw you, was just as handsome as it had always been.

You felt as if you’d been punched in the gut. Seeing him now when you’d just found your stride was nothing short of infuriating.

“Hello, Drigka,” You said with a frustrated sigh, staring at him dryly.

“...hi,” He replied in a small, startled voice.

Mr. Bronston looked between the two of you in surprise. “Do you know each other?”

“...we dated,” You told him flatly.

“Oh,” Your boss said, frowning. “Do you need me to take you off this account?”

You sighed and contemplated saying yes, but this was the first big case you’d been assigned. This would be a perfect opportunity to show Mr. Bronston how professional you could be.

“No, it’s fine,” You said. “As long as he can keep personal matters out of it, I have no problems working on the account with him.”

“If you’re sure,” Mr. Bronston said, putting a hand on your shoulder sympathetically. “But if you change your mind, do tell me.”

“Yes, sir,” You said, smiling gratefully at him. Mr. Bronston was a fatherly type and you felt thankful for his generosity. You turned to Drigka and the smile faded. “Do you have the records with you?”

Drigka jumped as if goosed and motioned to his briefcase. “Yes, I have them here.”

“Then let’s go over them in my office,” You said, not looking forward to spending time with him alone. “If you’ll follow me.”

Drigka gulped but trailed behind you as you walked back to your office. You could feel his eyes on you, boring a hole in the back of your head. You opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

“Now, show me the discrepancies you found and I’ll start on the framework.”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” He said, sitting on the chair across from your desk and opening his briefcase. “Several vehicles have been sold for a few hundred dollars less than the asking price, but several customers have told us that they are paying the full amount without discounts, so the money has gone somewhere and we can’t find it. The problem is we can’t pinpoint it to one individual, since the cars were all sold by different salespeople.”

“Could multiple people be at fault?”

“I certainly hope not. It would mean that everyone at the dealership is involved,” Drigka said, frowning.

“Unlikely, but it could be one or two, or possibly a team,” You said, rifling through the papers. “Did they have an internal accountant before you were hired?”

“No, one of the salespeople was handling the books.That’s part of the problem, the accounts were a mess. I had to call every single person who bought a car from that lot in the last five years to get accurate details.” He grimaced and sighed. “It was a nightmare.”

“Okay, well, I’ll start making a spreadsheet,” You said, laying the papers out in order. “It won’t take long, I’m a fast typer.”

“I remember,” He said with a slight smile.

As you worked, he sat quietly, but you couldn’t help noticing how he kept looking at you surreptitiously.

“How are you?” He asked after a few minutes.

You paused and looked at him over your glasses. “Fine,” You answered shortly.

“How’s your condition been?”

“Managed.”

“Do you--”

“Drigka,” You said curtly. “I don’t want to talk about personal matters at work.”

He nodded diffidently. “Right, of course.” He placed his elbows against the edge of your desk, clasping and unclasping his fingers. “I don’t supposed I could persuade you to have dinner with me tomorrow evening, for old time’s sake?”

“No,” You said, concentrating on your work and not looking at him. “I have a full day tomorrow and I won’t have the energy for dinner.”

“Do they pile on the workload here?” He asked, attempting a casual smile.

“No,” You replied, glancing at him. “I have physical therapy and a dermatology procedure scheduled tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see,” He replied. “Do you still not drive?”

“It’s not that I don’t drive, it’s that I don’t see the point of owning a car when I can walk to work and the grocery store just fine.”

“Isn’t it bad for you to walk with pre-arthritis?”

“It can be if I’m not careful, but I take precautions.”

“I could drive you,” He said. “To your appointments. I don’t mind.”

“I’ve already got the ride-share service booked.”

“Cancel it.”

“It’ll be all day.”

“I’m fine with that.”

Your hands stopped typing and glared at Drigka. “Why are you doing this?”

“I just… I just wanted to talk. And apologize. You said we shouldn’t talk again until I understood why I was saying sorry. I think I understand now.”

“Really?” You said, folding your arms doubtfully. “And why is that?”

He sighed heavily. “About two years after we broke up, I contracted Mono. The kissing disease, you know? I got a pretty severe case: in addition to the normal symptoms, I also got rashes and an enlarged liver. My throat hurt so bad that I didn’t eat and I lost a bunch of weight. It lasted for months. I felt like I was going to die, but everyone around me laughed at me and asked me why I was making such a big deal about such a normal illness and told me to suck it up and get over myself. My boss actually got angry and fired me because he accused me of using the illness to slack off.” He looked at you with a contrite expression. “I thought of you and I wondered, ‘Is this what I sounded like? Was I this callous? It’s no wonder she was so mad at me.’ I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know how to get ahold of you anymore.”

“So you got something like the flu and now you think you understand?” You said brusquely.

He shook his head. “No, I know I don’t. But I do know it’s hard to live a normal life or be happy when no one is understanding to your struggles. I do get that part now. And I’m sorry for what I said. It was stupid and selfish and it never should have even crossed my mind, let alone come out of my mouth. It was a shitty thing to do to my best friend and the woman I loved. And I’m really, really sorry.”

With your arms still folded, you sat back in your chair. “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you.”

“I know,” He replied.

You chewed the inside of you lip pensively. “I have to be at physical therapy at nine in the morning, and the dermatologist’s office at eleven. Is that fine with you?”

He perked up. “Yeah, sure. What procedure are you having done?”

“I’m having a pre-cancerous mole removed.”

“Ah, I see,” He replied. “Skin cancer is more likely for psoriasis sufferers because of the chronic inflammation.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read some literature about it.”

“Hmm,” You unfolded your arms and started typing again. “Can we get back to work now?”

“Yeah, of course,” He replied, seemingly more comfortable.

The next day, he arrived at your apartment with a light breakfast and a smile. It reminded you of the early days of your relationship with him and you smiled in reminiscence.

Physical therapy started with massaging lotion into your skin before doing various exercises to keep your joints loose. Drigka sat patiently in the waiting room until you were done, and then took you to the dermatology office. He went with you into the examination room and even held your hand while they numbed the affected area with a local anesthetic and removed the mold, sending it off to be biopsied. It was just after lunchtime by the time it was done.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. “You only had a small breakfast. We can drop off your prescription at the pharmacy and get some lunch, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” You said. “Although, I don’t know many places yet. I just moved here a month ago.”

“Really?” He said with a smile. “I’ve been here for about a year. It’s amazing we haven’t run into each other yet.”

You snorted. “In a city this size? I doubt we’d have run into each other if we’d lived here our whole lives.”

He laughed. “Do you still like Thai food? There’s a really good place nearby that I think you’ll like. I’m a regular there.”

Your brows furrowed. “But you don’t really like Thai food.”

He shrugged and side-smiled. “Yeah, but since it was your favorite, it reminded me of you, so I developed a taste for it.”

You smiled softly to yourself. You almost forgot how sweet he’d been to you when you were together.

Lunch was delicious, and the two of you sat there for what seemed like hours, catching up on what had been happening these last six years and reminiscing about the past. At some point you realized his hand was covering yours. He went silent and stared at the table.

“I’ve missed you,” He said softly. “I regret the way I treated you after you were diagnosed. I was an idiot and I took you for granted and I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He looked up at you. “I’m not arrogant enough to ask for your forgiveness, or even for a second chance to be with you, but… can we be friends again?”

You sighed and linked your fingers with him. “Friends sounds nice, but you’re going to have to earn it. At least another thirty lunches. Maybe even delivery on demand.”

He grinned widely. “Deal.”

He’d been incredibly supportive and caring in the weeks after you’d reconnected, buying you expensive specialty lotions and giving you massages, reigniting your desire for him. Whether he was doing it with that intent in mind, you weren’t sure, but you were enjoying the attention all the same.

It was a month later when you kissed him again. The two of you were celebrating closing the embezzlement case: it had been a team of three salespeople working together to skim money from the company, and they were all fired. You’d earned a huge commission for closing the case and you treated him to dinner for the first time. When he escorted you home, you kissed his lips, surprising him.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked him.

“Very much,” He replied, pulling off his tie as he crossed the threshold into your apartment.

The two of you shed your clothes as you made your way to the bedroom. He laughed when he looked at your bed.

“You still have that awful cheetah print comforter,” He said, grinning.

“It was a gift,” You said, pulling his hair out of it’s glossy braid. “And it’s comfy and warm. It’d be a waste to get rid of it just because it’s a little ugly.”

He snorted and kissed you again, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He entered you while holding you up, then eased onto the bed while inside you. He lay you down on the pillows and began to thrust, moving in that circular way that he knew you liked. No one knew you like he did. You reached up and touched his nipples, circling and flicking them with your fingertips, and he groaned. You dug your heels into his ass to encourage him to speed up, and he obliged, smacking his body into yours.

“I missed you, too,” You told him. You’d been careful never to talk about your relationship in the past with him or your feelings toward him after the breakup, but it felt right to do it now. “I never forgot you. I was angry, but I still loved you. I’ll always love you.”

“Oh, honey,” He breathed against the skin of your collarbone. “I love you so much.”

He thrust hard and fast, and you could feel him pulsing inside you, close to his peak. You cried out as the wave of pleasure hit you and your body tensed all over. He grunted, thrust three times, and stopped, his hips jerking, groaning with each spasm, before growing still, perched up on his hands while still inside. Slowly, he lowered his body on top of yours.

“I love you,” He said again, though it was sleepy-sounding and slightly muffled as his mouth was squished sideways on your chest.

You laughed softly through your nose. “I love you, too, Drigka.”

He picked himself up with a grunt and looked down at your face. “Does this mean we can start over?”

You nodded. “Yeah. If you want to.”

“I want to,” He said. “All I’ve thought about for these last six years was seeing you again. I won’t make the same mistakes I made.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. But you still have a lot of forgiveness to earn, you know.”

He smiled at you fondly. “Whatever you wish, honey. You’re stuck with me.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Orc #Creatures of Habit #Drigka #Psoriasis #Chronic Illness #Chronically Ill Reader #Reader Insert

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

“Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together.

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking. "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming. Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile.

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.”

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive.

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving."

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him.

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria.

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled.

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was."

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating.

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged.

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault.

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy.

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in.

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over.

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged.

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her.

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear.

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch.

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered.

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home.

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips.

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her.

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock.

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted.

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head.

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise.

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind.

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

"Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you.

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript.

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive.

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch.

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface.

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger.

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground.

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face. Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out. “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.”

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #knives out

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years ago

Note

Gwynriel- when Gwyn confesses to Azriel about being in love with him but he thinks he isn't good enough for her so he runs away, but while he's gone Gwyn gets injured and then he confesses too

It's been a couple weeks since I got this one but I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoy it and please stick around for the ending it's my favorite part. also if anyone likes it and wants to send me more prompts my inbox is always open

‘hold me until we are all but dust’

“Azriel,” she held his hands in her own, gripping them as she looked into his eyes. “Azriel, I think-no I know you are my mate. And I know that you struggle with conveying your feelings so you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know that,” She felt her eyes begin to water and she huffed out a laugh. “That I love you, and I didn’t think it would ever have been possible for me to feel this way after what had happened to me. And god did I want it, but only in my wildest dreams and fantasies did I think that even a fraction of how I feel now, was possible. But you, my shadowsinger, have exceeded any expectation I could have ever hoped for and I know there will never be anyone else who can make me feel as safe, has been my friend, challenges me, and infuriates me as much as you do.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed.

She delicately cupped his face in her palms, gently wiping a tear away. Gwyn whispered, “you idiot I love you.”

“Gwyn,” he said again. So rarely was he at a loss for words but it seemed he could say nothing more than her name. The words were there, screaming at him to be voiced, pleading, begging, and yet he could do nothing. He didn’t deserve her, in what world was this beautiful, spirited female allowed to love him. Everywhere Azriel went, he hurt and destroyed but he would not hurt her. Gwyn deserved to thrive, to grow, but he was all darkness, shadows, and endless voids. He was where light and warmth went to die. “Gwyn,” he said one last time and opened his mouth to voice every incoherent thought he had, in his mess of a mind. But once again no words came.

“Hey.” she forced him to look at her. “Hey. I am not asking for you to say anything back and when you are ready you will tell me but I just needed you to hear it. Ok?” she turned away from him but not before he caught the slight look of disappointment. She didn’t look back.

Azriel stood there minutes after Gwyn had left, stunned. He had hurt her, he had let her down and the thought of ever doing that again left him hollow and with an urge to break something.

Subconsciously he felt his shadows begin to wrap and weave around him, folding Azriel into his own darkness.

He opened his eyes to find himself at the gates of rosehall. The house was in a corner of the night court where few lived. Outside the limits of velaris, but far from the horrors of the court of nightmares. Azriel’s mother loved it but he knew sometimes she felt suffocated from the simplicities of what life had become. His mother craved adventure and excitement, the domestic life was one she still wasn’t fond of.

Az hadn’t been planning a visit but might as well see his mother since he was here. He knocked on the gates, the magic recognizing his own, and opened.

She was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting and quietly humming to herself. She was only a few centuries older than himself but illness caused her to look much older.

She sighed not looking at him. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I just want to see my beautiful mother every once in a while?”

She rolled her eyes seeing through his bullshit. “You do see me, sometimes I think you’re here too often. So I ask again, what did you do?” Maybe it was magic, some gift, maybe it was just mother’s intuition but somehow she always knew.

He kissed her on the head and began to make way to the room he kept in the house. “The sickness is finally getting to you, you’re making things up.”

She snorted, “Hunny you’ll know the day this thing beats me but it sure as hell won’t win without a fight.”

“Of course mom.”

“It’s alright I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She winked at him as he winnowed to his room. Azriel heard her mumble “won’t even use the damn stairs anymore.” and he chuckled softly.

Within seconds Azriel collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes to ignore the tug he felt within him. He wasn’t running, he was doing what was best for Gwyn. That’s a lie, the subtle hiss sent shivers up his spine. Azriel shut his shadows out too. She didn’t need him and he didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t sleep, when he slept he was drowning in nightmares. For five days he cared for his mother, catching up on the occurrences of each other's lives. Azriel was careful to avoid Gwyn in his recaps. And every day he could tell his mother was growing more and more concerned. He desperately wanted to be with her, he could feel the pull in every inch of his body but Azriel had always been stubborn, so he stayed with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing.

He felt his mother watching him, studying him until finally, she spoke. “Az is this extended visit about that girl.” she paused trying to think. “The redhead? For the love of god this stupid illness, I can’t remember her name, Gwyn? Was it?”

Azriel’s eyes flitted away giving her confirmation her guess was right. His mother sighed, grabbed her cane, and began to stand. He got up to help her only to be met by a dagger-eyed glare that said you help me and I cut your arms off. She was several inches shorter than him but as his stubborn mother hobbled over to him, she held out an arm for him to take. He took it without hesitation but the question remained on his lips.

“We are going for a walk.” she beat him to it.

They walked in silence, ever so often her arm clutching his tightly as if she were about to fall. Memories flashed of his mother before she was sick. When she could not stay still for more than a moment, even centuries-old and still she had carried a youthfulness with her that could not be replicated.

As if she could read his thoughts she raised her eyebrows, “I’m fine.”

“I would never suggest you weren’t.” Although they both knew she wasn’t fine, denial was bliss for those with limited days. His mother studied Azriel as he looked around at the plethora of roses covering the entirety of the gate.

“I hate them.” she scrunched her nose in disgust at the bright flowers as Az snorted.

“Then why don’t you do something about them.”

“They were here before me and they will be here long after me, what right do I have to disrupt them from their home?” She paused. “To the displeasure of my eyes and nose, I will not be moving them.”

They continued their leisurely walk until they finally reached a well. It was a considerable distance outside the boundaries of what was her home. She began to fill up the bucket with water from the well. It was a slow process for his mother's stubbornness forbade him from helping her. When she was finished she grabbed the pail and walked away from him leaving Azriel behind.

“Wait-”

She turned to face him. “Close your mouth, my dear, you wouldn’t want to swallow a fly,” and kept walking.

“Are we not-” he fumbled for his words. “Going to talk about her.”

“Well, I came out here for some fresh water.” She looked at him innocently. “Would you like to talk about her?” His damned mother played him. Her gaze softened.

“I may be sick but I know how to get my son to talk to me even when his own stubbornness refuses.”

He sighed. “I will never doubt you again.”

She sat down on a bench a few feet from the well and motioned for him to join her. “Now tell me what happened.”

He was quiet for a second before he spoke. “Gwyn, she, she told me she loved me.”

“And do you love her back?”

Without hesitation, Azriel responded softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then why are you here with me and not with her.” Azriel looked away. “Is this female your mate?” He nodded. “And you’re in love with her?” He nodded once again. “The female you have been looking for your entire life wants to be with you and you ran away?”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair. “It is more complicated than that.” “Why?”

“Because- because I don’t deserve her. Gwyn, she’s full of this light and she has a spirit unlike anyone I have ever met and I know that I cannot give her what she needs.”

His mother appeared speechless for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. He scowled at her. “You men are fools.” It was Azriel’s turn to be speechless. “Listen to me, is she worth it?”

“God yes.”

“Then it is not your place to decide what she needs. I have never been one to sugar coat and I won’t start now, there is a chance that this may crash and burn. But you have to decide if the possibility of pain and rejection is worth letting yourself be happy. Gwyn is telling you that she wants to take the leap with you and that regardless of whatever you may think, she believes you are worth it.”

Azriel stared straight ahead as his mother spoke. But she forced him to look at her. “Azriel, it’s not selfish to want to be happy. And this female makes you happy.”

At that moment Azriel felt a lurch in his chest. A tug stronger than any he’s felt. It was intense, it was dizzying, it took over every one of his senses. “Gwyn. it’s Gwyn she needs me.”

His mother gave him an incredulous look. “Then what the hell are you doing here? Go to her.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Azriel didn’t think, he just let his shadows wrap around him and instinct took over.

He opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes caught a flash of red, he bolted and found Gwyn laying on the ground limp. She was bleeding. No No No. Too much blood. His heart was a drum in his chest. Azriel, as gently as he could, lifted her into his arms. There was an arrow sticking out of her chest, just barely missing her heart. “gwyn. Gwyn. GWYN.” Finally, her eyes opened slowly. Her lips were purple and her skin was a sickly shade of white. He ripped off his own coat and wrapped it around her.

“Az” she croaked and let out a groan of pain. “It seems the Illyrians don’t like me very much.” She whispered each word a struggle to speak. Her eyes drifting closed.

“Shhh don’t speak don’t speak. Gwyn, my love, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

“Take it out.” she huffed.

“If I do that you’ll bleed out and I need you to live.” In his mind, Azriel screamed for Rhys. Over and over he thought the words. Gwyn’s bleeding out I can’t move her, we’re deep in Illyrian territory please come quick.

Seconds passed and it took every inch of concentration for Gwyn to keep her eyes open. Azriel watched her internal struggle, knew the feeling of being on the edge, how it would be so easy just to close your eyes. To rest.

“Please Gwyn” his voice broke. “I need you to- I need you.”

He just barely heard the words. “Why?”

“Because-” Azriel took a deep breath. “You make every moment better. Because I have lived 500 years and yet you still find ways to surprise me. Because I have never known what it meant to love and be loved as fiercely and absolutely as we love each other. You never gave up on me, not once, because you are stubborn and determined and I could walk this world for millennia more and I know without a doubt in my mind I could never find anyone like you. Even if you weren’t my mate they would never and could never compare to you.” He took another breath. “And I know that I hurt you but I need you to live to be mad at me, live to scream at me for all the things we both know I did wrong, live to hurt me as I hurt you, I don’t care just please Gwyn. I need you to live.”

“Say it.” Azriel laughed a shaky, desperate, nervous laugh.

“You idiot, I love you.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers, and held her close to him. Azriel had never been religious but in that moment he begged and pleaded and prayed to the mother, to the cauldron, to whoever was up there watching that this was not the end. This couldn’t be the end.

#gwynriel #gwynriel one shot #gwynriel I love you #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #I had fun writing this #these two istg #but I love them in all their stupidity #I'm looking at you shadowsinger

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