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sunkissedchld · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one has the silver airpods, pile two is the pink cord phone, and so on and so forth.

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don't be afraid to say if the message resonated or not; it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it's "bad".

this PAC is a collab with @icanseethefuture333, so be sure to check out their post also!

good luck to you, reader 🌷

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Signs:

"i don't forgive you", harboring anger towards someone, heavy fire (aries, leo, sagittarius) in birth chart, red, passion, danger, hera, broken marriages/family, non-committal, metatron, spiritual power, turtles, tigers, turkeys. broken headphones, "you're not listening"

Shufflemancy:

"Montero (Call Me By Your Name)" by Lil Nas X

"Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen

"Blow Us All Away" from Hamilton the Musical

"Intro" by J. Cole

"Angels We Have Heard on High" by Pentatonix

"Sorry, I Love You" by Stray Kids

Cards:

Four of Cups, Knight of Cups (Rx), Six of Swords (Rx), Two of Wands, Five of Wands, Seven of Coins, The Fool (Rx), Turtle (Rx), Tiger, Turkey

Reading:

For those who chose pile one, one lesson you will encounter will be in regards to you seemingly sitting on the sidelines in life. At one point, you may feel disconnected and apathetic about life; you may think, "what's the point of doing what I'm doing if I'm not seeing any results for it." There will be times when people will try to help you enjoy life more instead of being moody and unhappy with what you're doing, but J. Cole says it best when he asks, "do you wanna be happy?". Someone might literally ask you that (or people have done so in the past), and you often say "no" without saying no by not taking action to be happy.

Those who chose this pile may have a lot of unresolved emotional baggage they refuse to acknowledge, but your lesson will be in recognizing that baggage and unloading it. You may have been resisting a transition period in your life for as long as possible, and in 2024 that won't be allowed anymore. Saying "no" to happiness will not be an option; you will be thrown into tackling your anger, former traumas, apathy about life, etc. head on. The only real thing you can decide at this point is whether or not you're going to plan for it now that you know it's coming or allow life to take you through it however ough that may be.

You will be pushed to be competitive about what it is you want. There may be a lot of conflict, and you may even feel jealous of others at one point; you may think, "why is it that my growth and transition is so much harder compared to everyone else's?". There may even be a point during the year where you feel as if you're guides or the universe or whoever/whatever you believe in isn't listening to you, but the truth is everyone experiences growing pains, and you have to figure out how to persevere and get over your fears the same way everyone else does. As stated before, refusing to grow and transition is not an option, but your attitude as you experience it is a choice you make; you can make it easier or harder on yourself by having an open mind.

This year, you will be going from being a turtle to a tiger. You will no longer be allowed to take your time in regards to things in your life that are keeping you from growing into someone who is healthier and happier: mentally, physically, emotionally, and everywhere else. You will be stepping into your own power and your attitude will determine if you step into it gracefully or not. Overall, your lesson will be in learning how to free yourself from your own chains.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Signs:

"be free", the sun, heavy fixed sign energy, ceres, gemini, pluto, neptune, feeling disconnected from venus placement, having trouble speaking, 111, manifestations, "coming in", "i'm walking", "be realistic", mercedes, goose/geese

Shufflemancy:

��Love Like Woe” by The Ready Set

“One Step At a Time” by Jordin Sparks

“Are You That Somebody” by Aaliyah

“This World” by Ateez

“Can You Stand the Rain” by New Edition

“What Comes Next?” from Hamilton the Musical

Cards:

Eight of Coins (Rx), King of Swords (Rx), Five of Wands (Rx), The Hanged Man, King of Coins, Seven of Coins, The Sun, Fixed, Ceres, Sagittarius (Rx), 111, Mercury (Rx), Venus (Rx), Neptune, Pluto

Reading:

If you chose this pile, your lesson for the year deals with your self-worth and self-determination. “One Step At a Time” by Jordin Sparks seems to fit your energy best for this next year. It seems some of this energy may be lingering from last year also, but during 2024 you may feel as if you’re doing a lot of work but receiving no benefits from it. Eventually, this lack of success and recognition could wear on you, and you could wonder if what all you’re doing is even worth it. With your work, it could seem as if you do so much, but it’s just not quite enough to other people - even if you’re trying your absolute hardest. You could end up feeling unappreciated and as if you’re not advancing anywhere.

It seems someone could be turning people away from you. For some people, this is a literal person who you may get along with, but you don’t really confront them when it comes to what they’re doing. For others of you, this is the universe purposefully blocking things from you because you’re trying to speed up the time you get certain things, and it’s telling you, “this isn’t how that works”. Regardless, there is someone or something in a higher position keeping you from reaching the success you think you deserve. This conflict will frustrate you throughout the year, and it could prove difficult for you to deal with.

With the Hanged Man and Five of Wands (Rx), you’re being asked to compromise and re-think why you think you deserve recognition or success in a certain way. Is your reasoning valid or in good faith? Is your way really the only way you can gain what it is you’re wanting? Is what you’re wanting the best for you? I’m reminded of the meme (I guess is what it is) where a little girl is holding a small teddy bear or something, and Jesus is asking her to give it to Him, and she’s refusing, but the audience can see that He has an even bigger teddy bear for her; I feel like this will represent how your success for this year will be. You may have one view of how you want it, but that result keeps getting pushed back or thwarted because you’re thinking too small.

The action of patience will be your most important lesson this year. “Can You Stand the Rain” fits really well for this closing part of the reading. You will be learning how to wither the storm of seemingly being overlooked and having your ideas of abundance not being given to you how and when you want in exchange for even better and more success to meet you at the end. As is always said, “patience is a virtue”.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Signs:

222, swan, itchy left palm, losing items, “i’m so sorry”, prominent sagittarius and/or gemini placements, heavy mutable energy, neptune dominant or many aspects to neptune, ducks, water, lust for nostalgia, being lost in your memories

Shufflemancy:

“In Love with Another Man” by Jazmine Sulllivan

“needy” by Ariana Grande

“Halazia” by Ateez

“Home” by Todrick Hall

“6 Foot 7 Foot” by Lil Wayne (feat. Corey Gunz)

“Put It On Da Floor Again” by Latto (feat. Cardi B)

Cards:

Queen of Cups (Rx), Six of Cups (Rx), Ace of Wands, Ten of Coins, The Sun, Six of Coins, The Emperor, Memories (Rx), Mutable (Rx), Sagittarius (Rx), Planetary Retrograde (Rx)

Reading:

For those choosing pile three, your lesson during the year will relate to you recognizing yourself more. Those who chose this pile may feel disconnected from their emotions or feel very emotionally drained last year and entering the new year. You may be very used to letting people utilize you in their lives however they want while when it comes to you needing people, they often are away or too busy to care about you. You could be prone to co-dependent relationships where you feel like you need to be needed or of help to someone and they to you, but you let them give you the bare minimum while you give your all.

Earlier, I thought you might be someone who doesn’t like remembering things or has a hard time with their memory, but it’s actually the opposite! You’re someone who loves to get lost in the past and what used to be; the song “Could’ve Been” by H.E.R feels relevant. For some reason the energy for this pile feels very connected to a relationship that you may miss during the year. It seems you will eventually come to the realization that you’re losing yourself to the past and recognize you need to garner up the willpower to keep going for the present. You will gain the energy to begin doing things for yourself instead of for the sake of pleasing others. You will be recognizing how important you are to yourself, and/or you will be building up that importance.

During this year, you will be building a new foundation where you do things for you. You will be focusing on your own growth and prioritizing self-care. You will learn how to put your happiness above other people's, which might be an issue you have been avoiding for a while. Rather than relying on others for emotional stability and to qualify your self-worth, you will likely end up doing a ton of introspection to discover what makes you happy solo. If you’re someone who is chronically in relationships, you may take a well-needed break in order to discover yourself like you’ve been putting off doing.

Overall, your lesson for the new year involves being your own rock so to speak. You will be learning how to set boundaries to protect yourself from people who are no good for you because they want to be like vampires in using you. Instead, you will focus on yourself and your ideals, wants, desires, and emotions. Your lesson this year will be learning how to focus on you.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Signs:

having a lot of conjunctions in natal or solar return chart, heavy fixed energy, being born on a new moon, heavy uranus energy, “i don’t forgive you”, heavy fourth house placements and energy, “i don’t forgive you”, (oak) trees, miracles, unicorns

Shufflemancy:

“Focus” by Ariana Grande

“Hello” by J. Cole

“Lonely St.” by Stray Kids

“On It” by Jazmine Sullivan (feat. Ari Lennox)

“Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen

“New Money” by Leikeli47

Cards:

Ace of Cups, Four of Coins, The Devil, Temperance, Knight of Coins, King of Cups, Judgement, The Fool, Conjunction, Fixed, New Moon, Uranus, 4H, Trees, Miracles

Reading:

Those choosing this final pile, your lessons this year may relate to embracing new beginnings and a fresh start. For you, I’m reminded of all these rituals people are engaging in as we all enter the new year: eating black eyed peas, not washing clothes, having someone with money enter the house first, eating grapes under a table at midnight, and everything else. It seems you’re in the energy of “new year, new me”! With that, your lessons seem to relate to putting that quote to the test and seeing if you’re actually ready to embrace what comes with newness.

You could be losing things and people this year; maybe you fall out with certain people in your friend group, or you lose your job, or you graduate from school, or you’ll find a whole new group of friends. In general, the concept of not getting so attached to things or people to the point where you’re unwilling to separate from them comes to mind. Not that you can’t also develop strong attachments and relationships! But, when it’s time to let a situation or person go do not spend so much time trying to get them to stay. “When it’s time to go; it’s time to go”.

Do not become obsessive about things and people you come into contact with this year. The phrase, “there’s a time and season for everything” is very important! “Be flexible” is the best advice I could give for those reading this pile. Being flexible does not entail not working hard though; find a balance between being hardworking and putting in effort and also being open to change and loss. There is a major emphasis on balance and being in control when it comes to your emotions but also overall this year.

Overall, your lessons deal with being open to the change that comes with a new year and declaring that you’re ready for new things. You still need to put in work and go about life and strive to achieve what it is you want - in relationships, friendships, work, your daily life, and more, but you also need to be willing to let people and things go when the universe tells you they’re no longer serving or helping you. Truly, be open to the new beginnings you’re saying you want.

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #sunkissedchld #tarotblr #spotify #Spotify

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thebestofoneshots · 2 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.9 K Warnings: flashbacks to THAT NIGHT. Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 67: What’s On My Mind

“Hey, hey!” Remus said as he tried to catch up with you. “Wait, Luv, please.”

You turned around to look at him. He had hastily left the potion on the table and followed right behind. “Sorry,” you muttered, as he caught up with you. You were already a few metres away from the door.

“What he said,” Rem started, “It’s not true.” He’d been listening in to the entire conversation as he packed things.

“It feels true,” you said bitterly. “I mean, when you actually think about all the things that happened that night; if I had stayed with Reggie, my mother would be alive.”

“You would have never allowed them to torture Nina. No one in their right mind would.”

“But back then, I was the only one in the right mind, which is the same as being the only crazy one.”

“What?” he asked, slightly confused.

“Perhaps a lunatic is simply a minority of one… He might be alone in holding that belief, and if alone, then a lunatic,” you quoted.

“That’s…” he said as he stared at you and then muttered, “from 1984.” He then turned back to look at you, and almost accusingly he said, “I gave you that book!”

“Exactly!” you retorted. “If I hadn’t done anything, only one would be dеad.”

“If you hadn’t done anything, you wouldn’t be able to live with that choice.”

“But I can barely cope with the one I made anyway!” You said, a little louder this time. Tears were prickling your eyes.

“If you could turn back time, would you let it happen?”

“I wouldn’t have caused the fire. I would have thought of something else, I could have–” Remus pulled you into a hug before you continued to ramble about it. “I’m sorry,” you said. Not needing Rem to repeat the words he’d already told you.

In a different situation, you might have never gotten out of there alive.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” you repeated as you hugged him a little tighter. “It’s just… I miss them.”

“I know,” he said as he held you a little closer. He looked back at the door, and he saw some other students leaving the classroom as well, he knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you crying, so he nudged you softly. “Come, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Yeah, okay,” you said as you separated from the hug and blinked away some of the tears that had stubbornly fallen from your eyes. You still hated crying in front of people, but it was, for some reason, much easier to cry in front of Remus and Sirius than it was to cry in front of anyone else.

Remus walked you to one of the seemingly infinite secret passages of the school, and the two of you started walking towards the little nook with the fireworms.

“It feels a little lonely now that they’re not here,” you said as you looked at the empty house you’d built for them.

“I know,” he said as he too looked at the emptiness. He wasn’t sure if you meant Nina and your Mother or Pyro and Nummie.

After the prank, the professors called in an expert to relocate all the fireworms into a special place in the forest where they could continue to grow, undisturbed. Some 7th-year students who wanted to go for magizoology were the only ones allowed to visit them. And although Jennifer Folly, from the reading club, was attending them, you hadn’t had time to ask her if she’d let you visit Pyro, after all, reading club reunions were only twice a month, and you wouldn’t see them until the end of the month. Not to mention everyone was still shaken about what’d happened.

You stared at the empty spot a little longer, thinking back of the amorentia you’d made, and then you started laughing. Remus turned to you with a slightly worried expression.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” you said as you waved your hand to reassure him. “It’s just– I was thinking of our potion.”

“And you think it’s funny?”

“I’m just wondering if I would have figured out I was into you after smelling it or if I would have still been ridiculously blind to my feelings for you.”

“You would have been confused,” he said. “It took me some time to accept I liked two people at the same time.”

“Yeah, or perhaps I would have continued in denial. I mean I should have known after the SlugParty. I didn’t stop ogling you all night, I thought it was the potion I saved James from, but I never ogled James or Lily, and we both know they’re hella attractive as well.”

“How would you even deny amortentia?”

“Probably would have assumed it was an animagus thing, or the fact that Sirius smells like you half the time.”

“You think?” He asked with an eyebrow rise. “You never actually told me what you were thinking about that night.”

“And you never told me what was on Sirius’ drawing that made you have the reaction you did,” you retorted in the same suggestive tone. The way he cleared his throat was enough for you to know he was at least a little nervous.

“You didn’t ask him?” he asked, as calmly as he could.

“Sirius? No.”

“Well, he’s the one that drew it.”

“You’re the one with the interesting reaction.”

“Well, that’s because. I– I thought it was a live portrait,” he stammered. “At least until I realised you had no idea what it might have been.”

You hummed in return. “And… you’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?”

“The what?”

“A live portrait.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Perhaps while it’s being made…”

“You’re unbelievable,” he smiled. “You were all mopey just seconds ago and now you can’t stop teasing me.”

“Perhaps I’m like Tinkerbell, can only hold one emotion at a time,” you said. Although there was a part of you that was conscious that what you were doing was trying to drive your thoughts in a different direction, there was another one that had gone awfully needy after that class. You’d wanted to kiss Remus one too many times while preparing the potion, and now that there was nobody around, deep inside the corridors, you knew you could.

“I don’t think that applies to normal-sized fae,” he retorted with a smile. “Let alone to a quartered blood one.”

“No?”

“It’s not in the books.”

“Maybe you’re not reading the right books.”

He scoffed, although he was smiling. “That night, what did you think?”

“Your shirt looked amazing.”

“Just that?”

“The way you laughed while dancing was intoxicating. I wished I could see you laugh a lot more often.”

“I like the way you laugh too,” he admitted. “Did you ever… “ he seemed to think about what he would say next as he licked his lips. “Did you think about kissing me?”

“I thought of much more than just kissing you,” you teased. “And when we came back to sleep, with Sirius on the bed too. It was almost overwhelming.”

“Imagine what I felt every single night,” he retorted.

“Did it–” you lowered your gaze. “Did it feel like torture?”

“Never,” he retorted. “But I was always craving for more.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”

“I’m happy you noticed now,” he said before pulling you into a kiss. A hungry kiss, the likes of which Remus had never given you. But you were kissing back with as much hunger. There was certainly something about inhaling so much amorentia that affected you both who were already rather sensible to the way things smelled.

He was hungry, but his hands on your face were soft. For someone so strong, to hold you with such tenderness, it had you melting under his touch. He smelled of a combination of potion ingredients and his natural smell, the one you’d gotten in Amortentia, and was only driving you closer to him. There was something magical about the way he kissed you, it made everything else slip from your mind. Much like Sirius’ kisses, they were like a gentle potion made of Lethe Water. Soft, tender and mind-numbing like dream sand.

But unlike dream sand, it was also exhilarating, exciting and arousing. Kindling a need for more, for his lips in you, for your lips on him, for everything. And it was addicting. Every time you kissed him, you wanted to kiss him again, and again, and again, until your lips were raw and he was delirious with the numbingness that your very kiss brought to him as well. There was something about how much he’d waited for the kisses, to be able to press his lips against yours. Surviving of the sole memory of how soft they’d been, of the pressure of not being able to have you because Sirius was there glueing you onto his lap, glueing you onto him.

From the moment he met you he’d known Sirius liked you, which is why it had been torturous to slowly fall for you, in the same way it had been to fall for Sirius, desperate for your lips while kissing any other that offered a chance.

But things were different now, and he loved how different they’d become. Remus had placed one of his hands under your shirt, resting his thumb just above the hem of the skirt and feeling your warm skin when the two of you heard something clash in the hallway.

You instantly pulled apart from the kiss, and then heard another clash, like something had fallen on the floor. You looked at Remus with a frown and lit your wand as you silently exchanged a look. A small nod and a serious gaze. He tilted his head to the side just slightly and the two of you walked towards the source of the sound. It was a simple movement, but you were so attuned to his movements after so many nights of sneaking around with the marauders, that it was as if he was telling you the words themselves.

You’d been both rather worried, your hearts beating loudly against your chest and not only because of the kissing. You remained alert, not wanting anyone to discover what you’d been doing since it would have only caused further trouble –as if what Severus had seen hadn’t been enough.

You walked together, shoulder to shoulder. Your wand illuminating the way, he’s ready to defend or attack in case whatever had caused the sound was dangerous. You weren’t sure what you expected to find, but you certainly weren’t expecting what you got.

As you lowered your lit wand to the sound, you spotted a Hufflepuff boy, kneeling down on the floor while hastily picking some things up. He looked horrified and leaned back and covered his face when he saw the light.

“Aiden?” Remus asked with a frown.

He lowered his hands from his face and looked at the two of you. He said your name, almost in a question, and then he looked at your partner. “Remus?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you leaned down and started helping him with the things he had.

“I was looking for you,” he explained. “Professor Nightshade asked me to pick you up from potions so you were in her classroom a little earlier today. But you weren’t there and–“ he took some collection cards scattered on the floor and placed them in his pocket. “When I asked the portraits if they’d seen where you’d gone, one told me you’d walked behind the statue and disappeared. I remembered you and Remus liked to go around passage hunting after study club, so I assumed it was one. But it was ridiculously dark, and I kept tripping.”

“Why didn’t you try Lumus?” asked Remus kindly.

“I did!” he said, looking rather exasperated. “I tried, at least. But I couldn’t remember the name of the spell. I thought it was lighmus.” Aiden wasn’t good with memory, that’s why he’d joined the study club. He was excellent at charms, but only with a book in hand. No light meant he couldn’t check his journal, and therefore, he couldn’t cast a good spell.

“So, what is the right spell?” you asked.

The boy sighed, and took his wand out, “Lumus,” he said, and his wand lit up, as blindingly bright as yours was. “Sorry if I bothered you,” he said with a small frown, head down and looking between you and Remus with genuine regret. “If you want me to leave the study club–“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Remus said as he patted the boy’s back in a reassuring manner. “You’ve gotten so much better at remembering other charms since you joined.”

“But, am I not a nuisance?” he asked, looking up at Remus, genuinely sorry for what he’d done, which made you wonder if perhaps he had seen more than he let on.

“Not at all,” you reassured. “Besides, you’ve been helping that Ravenclaw boy with potions, you wouldn’t want to leave him hanging, would you?”

“Well, I guess not,” he said with a frown as he scratched his head. Then he looked up. “Do you know how to get to the charms classroom from here?”

“Yes, I can take you,” he said as he looked at Aiden. “You should probably go to Nightshade.”

“Right, yeah,” you said with a nod, not actually wanting to part ways with him. You started leaning onto him for a short goodbye kiss –the kind Sirius always wanted– but stopped yourself once you remembered you weren’t alone. “You uh… had some dust here,” you said as you brushed his shoulder, gave him a bit of a strangled smile and then patted his shoulder.

He smiled at that, trying not to look as smug as he felt which was, in reality, not all that successful. “Thank you, Luv,” he said politely.

“No problem,” you retorted with a smile. “See you around, Aiden!” you added with a small wave.

“See you,” he said with a smile. “And good luck!”

“You too, tell Flitwick you were with us in case they ask around. Don’t mention the passage.”

“Course not,” he added with a smile.

Remus placed a hand on Aiden’s back and motioned him to walk forward. He was much taller than the little boy, and you thought he looked too cute as he helped the smaller boy. He then turned his head and raised his eyebrows at you when he noticed you were still staring.

“Need anything?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

And while you had been slightly caught off guard, you recovered almost instantly. “Your shirt is untucked,” you responded and turned back towards one of the diverging sections of the path. Once you took the first turn, it was almost instinctive the way in which you continued to walk from one path to the other until you exited the passageways. After going inside them so many times for Nummie and Pyro, you’d memorised the map Remus had made for you all those months past.

You exited through the portrait of some nature mortes, as Sirius insisted on calling the cheese, bread and wine board painted in the canvas and made sure it was closed thoroughly as you continued with your way. That exit was the closest to the DADA classroom, you’d only have to walk one set of stairs, a hallway, and you’d be right outside.

Once outside her office, you placed your hand over the door, but it opened itself before you even had the time to touch it. You let out a short blow of air, it was a rather complicated spell, not that indispensable to add to doors, and sometimes they were connected to the caster’s mind, to allow only the people that they were expecting to enter. Too complicated for a rather small payoff, it looked incredibly cool though, and it was definitely the kind of spell Seraphina would use.

“I believe Mr. May found you,” she said as she looked up from the book and placed an elegant metal bookmarker in between the pages she was reading before closing the book.

“Not without some setbacks,” you replied, as you stood on the other side of her desk.

“Sit, darling, sit,” she said as she waved her hand and a chair floated right behind you. You did as told, and remained silent, looking at her. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened.”

“You already know all of it,” you told her. “You read the letter, yes?” You’d given Dumbledore a letter for her that day before going to the Lupin cottage.

“Indeed,” she said as she pulled it up. Your handwriting had been slightly messy, and there were a few blotchy stains of black ink all over the parchment. A simple, and yet obvious testament of the state of mind you’d been on when you wrote it. You bit your lip and looked somewhere else, trying not to remember how much it hurt to get all those words out and into paper. “But, Darling, it was a dreadful thing you went through.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said as you avoided her gaze. “I don’t fancy talking about it.”

“I assumed as much,” she said as she looked at you. But even if her words were a little harsh, the way in which she uttered them was soft and sympathetic. She looked at the way in which you avoided her gaze and then sighed.

“Did you call me to talk about it?” you asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I did not,” she said simply. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am okay.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, and then sighed, closing her eyes, as if she wasn’t ready to do or say what she was about to. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” she added.

“Like this, how?” you asked apprehensively. It was the tone she used when you were about to learn a spell or defence that was complicated and, or painful.

She sighed again and turned to look at you much more dourly. “Who am I?”

You frowned but answered, “Seraphina Nightshade.”

“How do you call me?”

“Professor Nightshade.”

“All the time?”

“I call you Seraphina when you’re tutoring me.”

“What did you think the first time we met?”

“That you were beautiful, like a ballerina,” you said honestly.

She seemed to be caught off guard by that but recovered quickly.

“I meant when I asked you to come to the classroom after the incident with Mr. Rosier.”

“That day? You asked a few interesting questions. I thought you might have been a dark wizard.”

“And you still talked to me?”

“I was disgusted by the idea, but I held you in high regards already. I was willing to hear whatever it was you had to say.”

“Does anybody know about your private classes with me?”

“My friends, although they think they’re about duelling training.”

“Anyone else?”

“I haven’t told anybody else.”

“Would you be willing to confirm that with veritaserum?”

“You don’t… trust me,” you retorted, an almost disappointed look on your face that made Nightshade gulp.

“It’s not that,” she tried to reassure. “Would you take it?”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Our classes would cease.”

You stared at her apprehensively. You did not want your classes to cease, not when you’d seen the danger of being incapable of self-defence. Not in the middle of a war. “I would.”

She opened a drawer on the side of her desk and pulled out a small vial. The tag “veritaserum” was perfectly clear. You reached for it and picked it up, breaking the wax seal at the top. You smelled the contents of the bottle. There was a faint smell of stewed mandrake root which confirmed that she’d actually given you veritaserum. She smiled when she noticed how weary you were, even with her.

You took down half of it, and passed the bottle back at her, “I’ve left some for you.”

She raised an eyebrow your way. “I gather you need to confirm I am who I say I am,” you started. “I’m afraid I’ll say compromising information if you are not who you say you are.”

She nodded, and took the vial, drinking it in one go. “You know, that alone was almost convincing enough… What’s your name?”

You gave her your full name. “And yous?”

“Seraphina Alessandra Nightshade.”

“Alessandra?” you asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “I don’t use it… Have you taken any polyjuice lately?”

“Define lately.”

“Anytime this year.”

“No. You?”

“Me neither,” she retorted. “Have you been cursed?”

“Yes.”

“By what? Any unforgivables?”

“Crucio,” you retorted.

“Not imperio?”

“No.” You paused. “You?”

“I haven’t been cursed.”

“Well, you’re quite lucky then.”

She sighed, biting her lip and turning back to you. She looked a lot more relaxed now, but she seemed to still have a few questions left. “Did someone use imperio and command you to lie about it?”

“No.”

“Did they use any other tricky command that would prevent you from telling the truth right now?”

“There was no imperio and there were no commands.”

“Good. Would you lower your mind shields for me? It will not be pleasant if I break them.”

“It will not be pleasant either way,” you retorted, knowing that she would look through the memories of that night. “Will it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. And you knew she meant it. Not because she was under viritaserum, but her expression was telling enough. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, a member of the order insisted.”

You scoffed, you weren’t surprised at all. You took a deep breath, your chest tightening as it stretched outwards and then back down, you closed your eyes, your teeth clashing against themselves as you tried to steady yourself, and then you nodded. A slow nod accompanied by a simple exhale. “They’re down.”

You could feel her tugging at your mind as she got in. You could feel the way she searched through your memories at the party. You didn’t hide anything from her, but you trusted she would maintain the same discretion you had with the things you’d figured out that day. It would be pointless to try and hide the stuff with Evan’s dad, it would be suspicious if you did.

You shut your eyes when she got to the scream, to the time you crouched down on the balcony, hearing the muggle screams and doing nothing, to the moment you recognized Nina’s and jinxed Regulus. She looked through everything that happened that night. In detail, the faces of the people in the room, the clothes they wore, the wands they used. She saw the way Bellatrix cursed you, and then three more times, to make sure the words she said were the ones you claimed she had. She followed you into the maze and saw what happened inside, with Lucius and with the other Slytherin boys. She saw Barty help you up and shake you, he saw the two of you run until you appeared outside the shack, and she probably felt along with you the moment in which Barty jinxed you per your request.

“Was that enough?” you asked as you stared at her. Your eyes were glassy with unshed tears but your face and voice were steady, almost devoid of emotion. You wondered how many times you’d have to relive that dreadful night. Not only in nightmares but also in retellings, and in tests.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, much quieter now. “We had to make sure.”

“I know,” you said simply. You weren’t mad at her, but you were mad at the situation you’d been thrown into. You wondered how it was to live in a time before the war if people didn’t have to go through horrible things like this. Perhaps in the future, when the war was over, you’d know what that was like.

She hesitated before she spoke again. “I could– you know I could help you forget about all that.”

“About that night?”

“If the memories are too painful, we could obliviate you.”

You had thought about it. Plenty of times, especially before the mirror. Perhaps all you needed was to forget about it, to leave, back then when you were alone and you thought you had no one. You’d considered getting a potion, leaving England and lying to yourself about everything that’s happened. A gaslighting so powerful inflicted on yourself and by yourself that all the pain would fade into oblivion. But if the mirror had taught you anything, if that night had taught you anything, then it was that the less you knew, the more danger you’d be in.

If you had known better then the results of that night would have been different. If you hadn’t allowed yourself to be distracted by the broken floor, you would have blocked Lucius’ spell, and then things would have been different. You hadn’t known that then, but you did now. And just as you were after it happened, you were determined to never allow something like that to ensue again.

“No,” you said. “I can’t protect the ones I love if I don’t know what I’m facing.”

You looked at each other for a few seconds and she sighed, “I wouldn’t have expected anything different from you…” There was a small silence, she looked at her desk, she pulled a parchment from the bottom of her book. “Dumbledore wants more people to join the order, to extend the network.” She moved the list your way. “What do you think of this selection?”

You stared at the list, there were some names you recognised, some others which you’d heard in school but you hadn’t officially met. A few names jumped at you on the first read. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius, Marlene and Dorcas. You knew neither of them would deny the invitation, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be in danger by being members. You wanted to protect them, that’s why you’d joined.

“Most of my friends are here,” you said.

“You have incredibly talented friends.”

You sighed. You’d never cared much for the danger you put yourself in, but you would never ask them to do the same. “If you want me to ask them–”

“That’s not what we want.”

“I wouldn’t have,” you said blankly. “So far the one time I tried to do anything to help it ended in a massacre. And it wasn’t even an official request.”

“You would never be alone on official order business.”

“Doesn’t make it much better, does it? I wasn’t alone there either.“

“So, do you agree they would be good members?”

You wanted to say no, you wanted to lie and tell her that they would be terrible. That Sirius was bad at charms, that Lily couldn’t duel, that Remus looked smart but wasn’t. That Marlene and Docas’ only talent was flying and that James was selfish and conceited. But with the veristaserum still running through your system, you couldn’t lie. You swallowed. “They… would all be excellent members…”

Seraphina nodded in agreement. “What about the other names?”

“I don’t know them very well. I’ve heard Emmeline Vance is brilliant in charms, and I know Fabian and Gideon from the duelling club, but I believe I’ve never gone against either of them.”

“Is there anyone else you’d think would be fit?”

You gave her a reproachful look in return. That was like suggesting who to enlist in a war.

“They would still have to go through a tough reviewing process.”

“Minho, Beth, Tom,” you started. “Neil, Nox and… Regulus.”

“Regulus Black? Wasn’t he at the–”

“Not by choice,” you interrupted.

She sighed. “I don’t think he would be accepted. They almost left Sirius out because of his parents… Having said that. It wouldn’t hurt for you to keep him as an ally.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to act as a secret informant?”

“Depends on who asks.”

“What about the rest? Would they want to join?”

You hesitated, you weren’t sure about everyone’s possible reaction, but you did know about some of them. The Marauders though, you assumed they’d be more than eager to join especially when they were told the reason for the fight. James and the rest of them all believed in equality, and he was particularly irked when anyone said anything regarding blood purity. He knew how hard it had been for Lily now, and he was ready to jump on anyone who dared to say anything that could make her feel bad.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “At least most of them will.”

She seemed to be about to say something else, but then the bell rang, and you knew it was time for her class to start. “Thank you,” she said as you stood. “I know it was hard for you.”

If your veins weren’t oozing with truth serum, perhaps you would have answered with something like “It’s fine” or “no problem”. But you couldn’t lie, and it wasn’t fine. Although you understood the necessary evil it had been to have you go through it. Although the rational part of you agreed that it was the best, and perhaps the only logical course of action. And that they should have actually done it much earlier, the other part of you, the more emotional one, was pissed. Because you were forced to go through the pain again because she didn’t trust you to take your word for it.

“Who was it?” you asked instead.

“Who was what?”

“Who insisted that I should go through this?”

“Alastor Moody,” she responded simply.

“Right,” you said, remembering the man that you’d met once a few years back in a dinner with your parents. He had light brown hair and a round worried face. He’d looked older for his age and had shown your father a thick scar he’d gotten on his chin after a fight with some magical being. He’d just turned into an auror back then. Although you had a faint memory of the man, you’d seen him again on the papers more than once, since he was one of the most important authors of the Ministry. Last year he’d recorded the highest hunt and imprison toll since Ominis Gaunt at the beginning of the century.

Being who he was, and from what you’d read about him, it made sense that he would ask her to do that to you or kick you out of the order entirely, especially when the only thing he knew about you was the fact that you were Silas’ daughter.

“Will you be okay?” she asked as you walked towards the door.

“I’m much better now,” you said honestly. “What you saw… it was awful. Thinking about it hurts still. But back here, in school, with my friends… It feels safe.”

“Good.” She said with a nod, and then, almost as an afterthought leaned down and took a small vial from her drawer. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” you asked as you took it in your hands.

“Antidote,” she explained. “I assume it’d be rather inconvenient to have to tell the truth all day when you have a secret society to hide.”

And that wasn’t your only secret.

“Thank you,” you said. And then, just out of spite added, “Alessandra.”

“I don’t really fancy that name.”

“I didn’t fancy you getting into my head either, but sometimes we must compromise, don’t we?”

She laughed, “Get out, or I’ll give you a Dreadful on the next evaluation.”

“That’s abuse of power, Miss Nightshade.”

“Perhaps, but you wouldn’t report me. I’m your favourite teacher, after all.”

You took the liquid and pocketed the vial. “I don’t know, Professor Kettleburn is up there.”

She laughed again, and you left her office before people started walking inside the classroom. You didn’t bother to leave, and the boys were outside just minutes afterwards.

Her class went by rather uneventfully. She focused on counterspells and strong defence spells, some that required extreme concentration and others that used other items in the surrounding vicinity as a shield. She mentioned that, although very useful, and relatively easy to perform, those kinds of spells were always at risk of not being powerful enough, since the defence depended on the item’s structure, and not on the wizard casting it.

If the opponent’s spell, whatever it might have been, was more powerful than the item you chose, you would likely get hit by the spell, and be forced to withstand a good part of the damage.

“How do we know if an object is powerful enough to defend us?” asked Marlene.

“That’s the problem,” Seraphina explained. “Unless you have studied the item previously, or for other reasons know its properties, be it magical or muggle, there would be no way of knowing.”

“What about an item with a strong witchcraft residue?” asked Tom.

“Those could be very useful, but be careful, sometimes people cast spells on items in their house or territory so that whenever a wizard tries to use them as a shield, it backfires.”

“Is there a detection spell for that?”

“Certainly,” she said as she waved her hand and a floating piece of chalk started writing on the board, a page and the name of a spell. “Unfortunately, taking the time to cast revelio malignus is rarely practical in a duel or fight. Not because the spell takes too long, but rather because you could get attacked while you’re at it.”

Beth raised her hand. “But there are some that can detect those things naturally, right?”

“Yes and no,” she said as she tilted her head. “It’s not that they are born with the ability to detect bewitched or cused objects, but rather, they are better at perceiving magic than others, which in turn allows them to notice when an object has been cursed without having to use revelio malignus.”

“Can we train to do something like this?” asked Terix, one of the Hufflepuffs.

“Curse breakers go through extensive training to stay safe in their jobs, and even though all wizards can detect magic, not everyone has senses keen enough to detect a well-concealed coursed object.”

“And the best course breakers are already born with that ability, right?” said Lily.

“Indeed,” said Seraphina, smiling. “You know of an example?”

“Matilda Weasly,” she retorted.

“Brilliant. In fact, she’s recorded as the most sensible witch in regards of detecting coursed objects. She passed the CORSE with a perfect score.”

“What’s the CORSE?” asked Mary.

“Cursed Object Recognition and Sensory Evaluation,” responded Lily politely. “I made an essay about Matilda in History of Magic last year,” she added when she noticed some of the looks she got from students.

“Precisely, thank you, Miss Evans,” she nodded at Lily and then turned to the rest of the class again. “Any other questions regarding the blocking spells?” Once she made sure there wasn’t any, she proceeded. “Now if we don’t use items, what’s the other spell we can use?”

“Protego,” replied Bash Heartly.

Seraphina smiled, “And how do we make protego the most effective?”

“We use Protego Maxima?” asked Janice.

“Well…”

“You have to cast it right before it hits you,” you said. “You can cast it at any point in a fight, but the longer you have the protecting bubble up, the more energy it takes and the less effective it becomes.”

“Exactly,” she said, and then out of nowhere she pulled her wand out and shot a stunning spell. She probably noticed you had your wand in your hand because you barely had enough time to deviate the spell with an alternate version of protego she’s taught you in your private classes. The red beam of the spell had gone to the side and clashed against the Hebedrian skeleton, causing it to rattle and subsequently, for the jaw to fall off.

Janice screeched as it was about to fall right on top of her when Peter –of all people– was fast enough to push it towards one of the windows instead. The glass broke as the head fell downwards a few floors, and then a loud thud as it crashed against the grass.

“Sorry,” you muttered as a few students leaned over their desks and looked through the window.

“Brilliant reflexes, both of you,” she said as she looked in between you and Peter, the latter was beaming with pride at having saved someone.

“I should have used protego, not deflecto.”

“However, deflecto, is the best spell to use when a fight is starting,” she countered. “Especially when you are not expecting to be attacked, it consumes less energy than protego and instantly tells your opponent that you are not someone to mess with it.” She’d taught you that already, which is why you hadn’t even hesitated as you waved your wand.

“Mr. Lupin, would you mind bringing that head back up here with a levitation spell?”

“Yes, Miss,” he retorted as he stood up and walked towards the window. There were already some kids from 2nd year on their break looking at the jaw curiously.

“What’s this?” One of them shouted as he noticed Remus on the window.

“It’s a Hebridean Black,” he explained.

“Blimey, Jace, it’s a dragon’s!” A small brunette next to him said as she patted him on the side, leaning down to get a closer look.

“Why do you have a dragon's jaw, Mister?”

“It’s not mine,” Remus replied patiently. “It’s Professor Nightshade’s.”

“It’s not mine either,” she replied from behind. “Dinah Hecat left it here about a hundred years ago.”

“Professor Nightshade?” the boy asked.

She nodded, also leaning on the window, “I thought it was you, Jace,” she retorted. “I can tell you all about the Hebridean Black and Professor Hecat in our next class.”

“You would do that?” asked the girl.

“Of course Miss Finch,” she retorted. “Now, if you’d allow Mr. Lupin to bring that jaw back up, it would be delightful.”

“Yes, Miss Nightshade, sorry for inconveniencing your class, Miss.”

“I value curiosity, Jace. Never apologise for it,” she smiled. The little boy beamed and walked back to the courtyard where he’d been playing with the old brooms.

Remus flicked his wand, the jaw steadily floated all the way up, through the window, and later was levitated towards the front of the classroom.

“Thank you very much, Mr Lupin,” she said with a smile, and then turned to the floor and delicately waved her wand, a clear as day remnant from her time as a ballerina. The window suddenly took back its form, the small shards of glass gently placing themselves back on the spot, the jaw went back to the rest of the dragon’s skull, along with two small bone-coloured nails that helped its fixing.

“That’s 15 points for the Gryffindors,” she said as everyone settled, “5 for each.”

There were a few cheers and some thumbs up thrown your way and Peter’s. Peter, although he was quite capable, had always been a little clumsy, and he rarely earned house points, which made him even more thrilled about the entire situation. The pats on the back he got from some other Gryffindor’s had clearly made him ecstatic.

Even when you had all walked towards the Great Hall, he couldn’t let go of it. “Poor Janice, if I hadn’t been there, who knows what might have happened, right?”

“You were really fast, Pete,” James said with a supportive smile. “And you threw it right out of that window.”

“Yes!” Peter added. “And you?!” he said as he turned to you. “How on earth did you manage to block so fast? Did you expect her to do that? Is that why she called you in earlier? Was it planned?”

You tried not to wince at the fact that Seraphina could have very well told you about her little plan for the class, but you suspected she had omitted the information to test you, as if she wanted to see which spell you would use. Anyone else would have used protego, since that was the spell you were practising, but you would have instinctively gone for deflecto, because it was what you’d practised in her classes more than once.

“Eh… not really. But I had my wand in my hand.”

“You reckon you could have thrown her jinx towards someone else?”

“I deflected upwards on purpose, but I suppose it was possible. I wasn’t thinking much further than not being instantly stunned.”

“Yeah, I totally get it,” Pete responded, “I wasn’t thinking of the window either, just shook my wand. Had the Window not been there, perhaps it would have clashed against the wall.”

“Maybe your instincts knew there was a window?” Remus offered. “Like unconsciously.”

“Right! That must have been it!” Peter said with a rather eager nod. “Either way, I think I deserve a good meal after it.”

You all laughed. Peter’s appetite had gone up recently, and you’d often hear him talking about food. You were sure Sirius had teased him about gaining weight, but James had put a stop to it before it got out of hand, since he noticed Peter was actually feeling bad about it after he tried to tease him as well.

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A/N: Vixen Really cannot catch a break. Can she?

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heyjudeb · 6 months ago

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Lake Secrets - Jude Bellingham

Chapter 2: You Can Trust Me

Summary: Grace Alexander Arnold, an architecture student, looks forward to a quiet summer at her brother Trent's lake villa. Her plans change when Trent's best friend, Jude Bellingham, arrives with his family. As Grace and Jude spend more time together, a secret romance begins to grow. Amidst the peaceful lake and family gatherings, will their hidden feelings last, or will they fade away with the summer? Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, emotional moment, anxiety

Note: The story will develop more in this chapter, they will share intimate moments

“Come on, Jude, that was way too far!” Trent complained as he swam toward the ball, which had splashed down several yards away. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake.

“Sorry, my bad!” I called back, laughing. Jobe splashed water at me playfully, shaking his head.

“You always go overboard, bro,” Jobe said with a grin. “Literally.”

Everyone else was sitting near the shore, either deep in conversation or doing their own thing. Diane and my mom were chatting under a large umbrella, while Trent’s dad was stretched out on a lounge chair, soaking up the sun.

Grace was sitting on a towel, a book in her hands. Every so often, she would look up, watching us play. Her gaze lingered, and it was clear she was admiring the sight of us having fun in the water. She looked like she wanted to join in but was holding back.

She was wearing a white short dress with straps that stood on her forearms, revealing her bare shoulders. She always made sure to pull the strap up on her left shoulder as if to cover something. We would sometimes make eye contact and smile. Anytime I said something funny, I felt the need to look for her approval, which I got every time.

"Hey, Grace. Why don't you join us?" Jobe, my brother, called out. Her smile slowly turned into a worried expression, and she sat up from laying on her stomach.

"I'm good, Jobe. I don't feel like swimming today!"

"She's not into this, mate," Trent quickly spoke for her. I couldn't help but wonder if there might be something more to this, but I decided to let it go.

I also wanted to take a break. We'd been in the water for almost an hour, and I was hungry. Diane and Grace had prepared some delicious snacks that morning in the kitchen: cookies, mini sandwiches, and a variety of other treats. I had watched Grace make them while I ate a late breakfast of cereal at the dining table next to the kitchen. She looked effortlessly pretty while cooking, even in casual clothes and with her hair in a simple braid. Her face was slightly puffy from sleep, her skin clear and fresh. I couldn't help but think how lovely it would be to wake up and see her first thing in the morning. She seemed like the kind of girl who would understand you, truly get your inner self, and make life easier by being the best partner. She didn’t come across as complicated to deal with, yet she still held an air of mystery.

"Alright, how about we take a break to eat?" Trent said, as if reading my thoughts.

We all nodded and got out of the water. Diane handed each of us a towel and put the food basket in front of us where we sat. I munched on the mini sandwiches Grace had prepared, trying to catch a glimpse of her without making it obvious.

"Sweetie, do you want something too?" my mom asked Grace, making her look up from her book. She nodded and placed the book aside, moving to sit between me and Trent.

She grabbed a sandwich and started eating. Jobe was making everyone laugh, and her attempts to laugh without spitting out her food were very cute. Eventually, everyone gathered around to eat until there was no food left.

As dusk approached, our parents decided to call it a day, leaving only me, Jobe, Trent, and Grace by the lake. They gathered everything and took the short walk back to the villa, leaving us with some towels and our clothes. "How about we take another swim before leaving?" Jobe asked, winking at me. I couldn’t quite understand what he was hinting at.

"Sure, bro. Let's do it!" Trent agreed, and we all stood up, except for Grace. She remained seated, avoiding our looks. "Wanna make a run for it?" Trent looked at me, and I laughed and nodded in response. Jobe held back as we made a run for it, but then I heard a scream from behind me, causing Trent and me to halt and spin around. Grace was screaming, and Jobe was carrying her towards the water, trying to make a joke of it.

"Please, Jobe! Put me down! I don't want to go into the water!" Grace continued to scream, kicking as Jobe neared the water's edge. There was a raw edge of panic in her voice, verging on tears.

"No, Jobe, stop!" Trent yelled, sprinting towards them, clearly alarmed.

Jobe sensed the seriousness of the situation and stopped, slowly setting Grace down on her feet. She clutched her chest, blinking rapidly, trying to compose herself and hold back tears.

"I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to scare you," Jobe said, regret plain in his voice.

I approached cautiously, standing behind Trent, who was comforting her with soothing touches on her shoulders. Grace looked distant, trying to regain her composure.

"Hey, Grace. Are you okay?" I asked softly, my concern evident. I wanted nothing more than to hold her close and calm her racing heart.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Grace quickly replied, her gaze darting between all of us, overwhelmed by the rush of questions. "It's okay! I just panicked because... It was sudden."

Trent wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Hey, how about we call it a day, too?" We all nodded and gathered our towels. I kept my concerned gaze on Grace, which she seemed to notice. She flashed a faint smile at me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, letting me know she was alright. I gave her one more questioning look.

"I'm okay!"

"Alright, good," I whispered back to her, feeling a bit awkward, like I was crossing a line between caring and flirting, especially with Trent nearby. We continued walking towards the villa, and Jobe kept apologizing to Grace repeatedly until she finally convinced him she was okay. She seemed chilly in her short dress as she tried to wrap a dirty towel around her shoulders.

"Here," I pulled her aside from the group and draped my zipper hoodie over her shoulders. She hesitated at first but then placed her hands on top of mine, gently squeezing them.

"Thank you, Jude," she said softly, walking beside me while the boys walked ahead. She held the book close to her chest, and my oversized hoodie looked like a dress on her.

"Still hooked on Bukowski, I see?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Yeah, another day, reading the same thing," she replied with a smile, glancing down. I noticed she found it difficult to maintain eye contact with me, even though her green eyes had been the subject of my daydreams since we arrived. I fought the urge to let her know that.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know?" I lost the battle. She seemed taken aback by my comment, continuing to look down but smiling nonetheless. "Thank you!"

"Are you always this shy?"

"Depends on who I'm talking to," she replied, finally meeting my gaze after a moment's pause. "Some people are intimidating." "Am I one of them?" I asked, feeling like I might have put her on the spot, but our conversation was going so well I wanted to keep it going. "Maybe!" she replied with a playful smirk, giving me a thoughtful look that made me laugh.

....

As soon as we reached the house, we took showers and changed into fresh clothes, all gathering on the backyard patio one by one. Grace was the last one to come down. We were all having a glass of wine by the firepit, laughing and talking. I couldn't really make out her figure until she approached fully because of the dark.

Her braids were out, and her hair lay on her shoulders, still wearing my hoodie. She looked comfortable in it, and it suited her better than me. Miraculously, the only empty spot was a bean bag next to me. She approached slowly and smiled at me as the fire illuminated my face.

"Hey," she spoke softly.

"Hey, you feeling better?" I asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable after the incident at the lake.

She gave me an assuring smile. Our voices drowned in the noise of the others talking, the fire crackling, and lots of laughter. It felt like it was just the two of us. The darkness provided a sort of shield for me to freely look at her.

"Are you enjoying your stay so far?" she asked, keeping our conversation going.

"So far, so good. I really like this place!" I responded. "The house is very nice, and the view is breathtaking."

"It is," she said, either looking at my face or down at her hands while talking. "It will be a nice vacation break for you guys!"

"You said you've been coming here with your family every summer," I recalled her words from the first day. "Do you still find the place exciting?"

She sighed and leaned further into the bean bag. "Uh, yeah! But, the older I get, the more I want to experience other places as well. My dad isn't really a big fan of me traveling alone or staying someplace else... to study alone."

It felt like she was confessing an issue of hers. I wanted her to trust me, to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. I'm sure she doesn't do that very often. "I want to do my major abroad. But my dad wants me 'close' to him." she used air quotes and seemed hurt and defeated remembering her father's words. "Why is that?" "Just a stupid conclusion my dad has." She didn't want to continue the conversation, so I didn't push her any further.

While having a good time with everyone, the fire slowly started to die down. I took a look and saw Grace already asleep on her bean bag. She brought her legs up to her chest, and put her hands all the way inside my hoodie, holding them near her face.

"Guys, I'm calling it a night. I'm really tired," my dad said, and my mother agreed, getting up to leave with him.

"Yeah, it’s been a long day," Trent said, stretching. "I think I’ll turn in too." He followed my parents inside.

Jobe yawned and nodded. "Me too. This vacation life is wearing me out." Trent's mom noticed Grace fast asleep on the bean bag. She approached her slowly, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "Sweetheart, we're heading to bed. How about you continue your sleep in your room?"

Grace hummed in response, not really registering what her mother was saying. Diane looked at me, and we both smiled at Grace's sleepy state. Diane tried waking her up again, but Grace only opened and closed her eyes a few times, not fully awake.

"Do you want me to take her up to her room, Mrs. Arnold?" I offered, not wanting to disturb her. Diane looked at me gratefully and nodded.

I stood up from my bean bag and carefully scooped Grace into my arms. She naturally nestled her head into the crook of my neck, her hands tucked inside the hoodie's sleeves, close to her chest. She felt like the missing piece of my puzzle, fitting perfectly in my arms.

Once we got inside, I said goodbye to Diane. Her room was on the first floor. She wished me goodnight and entered quietly, trying not to wake her sleeping husband who had called it a night way before us.

I took slow and careful steps on the stairs, fully aware of their creaking. After each step, I glanced at Grace, ensuring she wasn't disturbed. When I reached her bedroom door, I struggled to open it slightly.

Thankfully, her bedside lamp was on for some reason, casting a soft glow and helping me navigate the unfamiliar room. I placed her delicately on the bed. She snuggled her face into the pillow as soon as it touched the soft surface, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Thank you..." she managed to say in a raspy, low voice.

"Of course. Have a good night's sleep, Grace," I responded. My inner self urged me to kiss her forehead goodnight. Instead, I gently pulled the bed cover up to her shoulders. That's when I noticed a scar on her left shoulder, where my fallen hoodie exposed her skin. It was on the side she had tried to hide earlier at the lake. I brushed my fingers on it slightly, causing her to shiver. I stood up from the bed and turned off the light next to her, slowly making my way out of the room and into my own. I took off my shirt and shorts and crashed into bed only wearing my boxers. I was a bit tired myself too, but I really wanted to know the history behind that scar. .....

It had been more than a week since we arrived. Our families' bond had grown significantly over these days. Aside from our morning exercises and evening talks, I rarely spent time with Trent alone.

Our mothers were really enjoying the villa, constantly cooking something new and sipping wine on the porch. Our dads engaged in debates over various topics, beers in hand, as they relaxed by the lakeside. And then, there were always the four of us doing things together.

And green is still my favorite color.

My obsession with Grace has grown. The more time we spend together, the more she begins to trust me. Now, she maintains eye contact while we talk. She opens up about her passion for architecture, detailing her studies, her close bond with Trent, and sharing her likes and dislikes. I find myself struggling with the question of whether Grace feels a deeper connection toward me or if she is simply being friendly. It seems more than mere coincidence that we always end up seated next to each other, and that chores are consistently assigned to us as a pair.

She still has my hoodie. The other night, as we both got up for some water, I caught sight of her in the kitchen, wearing my hoodie and shorts. There was a moment of surprise in her eyes when she noticed me. She quickly tried to explain, mentioning how comfortable it was and apologizing, saying she would return it.

Instead of insisting, I simply said, "No, keep it. It looks way better on you."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. It was a spontaneous comment, but one that felt right in the moment. Seeing her wear my hoodie, looking effortlessly comfortable and somehow even more attractive, stirred a warmth in me that I couldn't deny. Let's go for a swim today, lads," Trent interrupted my racing thoughts.

Jobe eagerly agreed, but Grace lowered her gaze and muttered something under her breath. It wasn't the first time she had declined to swim. Despite hanging out with us by the lake, she never ventured into the water.

Sitting together on the patio bean bags, Trent and Jobe moved to prepare for swimming while I stayed behind, drawing closer to Grace, hoping for a moment of privacy.

"Hey, is there a reason you never join us in the lake?" I asked softly.

Her discomfort was palpable, evident in the way she shifted in her seat." It's just not my thing-" she spoke quickly.

"Can you come with us this one time? Please!" I pleaded, hoping to convince her. But as soon as I noticed her beautiful green eyes getting foggy, I knew I shouldn't push her further.

"I'll just stay in my room this time," she said quickly, standing up and leaving before I could say anything else. Her sudden outburst left a lingering sense of concern in the air. .....

We we're back at the dining table in the evening, enjoying another meal after a tiring day at the lake with only us boys. Grace hasn't spoken to me since our last encounter earlier. She quickly munched on something and excused herself sitting at the far end of the backyard near the lake view in the complete dark, with the excuse of wanting to read in peace. Me and the others had a normal routine, had a glass of wine and then went to bed. In my room, I could still see her silhouette by the lake. I decided to go up to her. Everyone was asleep, the only source of light being the moon once again. I tried to make some sound while I approached her from afar, not wanting to scare her. She turned around to look at me, giving me a tired smile and then focused her eyes back at the lake. I sat next to her. Our shoulders brushing. "You know you can trust me, right?" I asked her directly.

"I know," she replied softly, her gaze still fixed on the lake.

"Why are you afraid to swim, Grace?"

She remained silent for a moment, as if weighing whether to open up to me. I reassured her with a gentle touch on her knee.

Her breathing became more audible, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"It's just..." Her voice cracked, and she fell silent again.

"It's okay. Take your time. I'm right here for you." I held her hand firmly, feeling it tremble slightly in mine. "You know that scar you saw on my shoulder the other night?" she asked. I nodded at her, but still surprised she could remember that in her sleeping state. "It happened when i was younger while swimming. Do you see that empty looking house right there?" I nodded. " That's where Lily used to live." "Used to?" I became curious of where she's going with this and why was it affecting her so much. "She died. She was my childhood bestfriend." She let out a small sob, i quickly wrapped my arm around her shoulder, providing her some comfort.

"There's an old pier on the other side of the lake, hidden away now. Lily and I used to go there to play. One day, we were climbing around it, and Lily slipped. She grabbed my leg instinctively, pulling me into the water with her. She hit her head on the metal as we fell."

She paused, her eyes distant as she relived the memory.

"Lily suffered a head injury and died instantly." Grace continued, her voice catching. "I had a hurt leg and some scratches, making it hard for me to stay above the water. But I managed to pull her now-red and bloody body from the water and call for help."

Grace looked at me with sad eyes, almost as if seeking closure. I kissed her forehead gently and rubbed her forearm in reassurance, but she still seemed scared and shaky after all these years.

"So you never swam anymore?" I asked softly. She shook her head, her expression pained. "I'm afraid something bad will happen," she murmured.

"I understand," I said, kissing her temple again. I held her like that for a long time, whispering sweet nothings to her. "But what if we try something different?"

I gently took her hand and helped her stand up. Slowly, I guided her towards the water, feeling her resistance as she shook her head vigorously.

"Hey, hey, hey," I murmured soothingly, holding both her hands. "I'm not going to push you or anything, sweetheart. Just relax."

She nodded hesitantly, her gaze locked with mine, her eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty.

"We will stop whenever you want to. Let's just try to put our foot inside the water," I suggested gently.

"No, no. Jude, no please!" Grace's voice was alarmed, filled with fear.

I cupped her face in my hands and gently placed her forehead against mine, holding her close. "You can trust me, Grace." .......... Coming up next:

Chapter 3: Favorite Poem

Warnings: fluff, physical contact, crying, angst

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #football imagine #football players #kylian mbappe x reader #trent alexander arnold

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

Text

The Rebound 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

Summary: after a divorce, you try to start over.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The village talks. Anyone passing through might see Hammer Ford as a sleepy hamlet nestled amidst rolling hills. They might call it quaint, they may even mistake the whispers for wind. But the town is anything but quiet.

As loud as any tongue are their eyes. You know their names and they know yours. They watch as they pretend not to, looking for fuel for the mill.

You know that Lynette was staring at your ring finger, barren but marked with the imprint of a band. As much as you want to just forget the past, it's not quite over yet. The papers are signed but it's not sealed away. Back to square one, almost.

But there's no starting over here. There's always reminders. Familiar faces, listening ears, and loose lips. You put your head down and ignore them. It's about time you live for yourself and not anyone else.

The library drones with the noise of the ventilation and the hushed voices of those browsing the shelves. The soft click of the outdated mice on their pads and the flutter of pages fill the din. You stamp the returned books and set them on a cart.

The job isn't very much. It's never busy. Not so dully and lifeless as the years you spent at home living a lie.

You close another cover and slide the book aside. A tread squeaks and draws your gaze up. You greet the man approaching the desk as he offers a single book.

"Find everything okay?" You ask. You know him, just like everyone else. Curtis works down at the lumber mill.

"Sure," he answers as you stamp the book and write in the due date. Everything in Hammer Ford is antiquated and dead.

"Alright, three weeks," you say as he offers his library card. You key it in with his name and the call number into the old PC. He watches silently and you hand back the book. He accepts it with a soft thanks.

"It's a good one," you say.

"Hm," he furrows his brow before looking down at the book in his hand.

"Yeah, I read all his stuff when... well, I had a phase," you shrug, "anyways, have a good day. Sorry."

He pauses and considers the book, "I read at the yard. On my lunch."

You're surprised. You don't know much about Curtis, no one does, but he's never been very talkative. You don't even know why you tried.

"Hard work," you comment, "lot easier than this place."

"Eh," he claps the book in his hand and looks away, "well, have a good night."

"You too," you echo back.

You watch him go and don't think much more of it. You assume it's the same pity everyone else treats you with. Your husband left you and now you're working in the library, living in your sister's basement, and all alone. Compared to your ex, you're not exactly thriving.

And who wouldn't feel bad for you? You're over the hill, you're used, and you have a bit too much love in your handles. You feel bad for yourself.

You huff and carry on sorting books. No use dwelling on it all. You're no one's problem but your own now so it's up to you to do something about it.

🌲

On your day off, you wake up at the same time. You're already conditioned to working hours. You have your coffee on the small sofa and watch the local news. Not anything exciting.

This is the first day of your new life. You made up your mind as you lay sleepless at midnight. You're going to make a change.

So, you put on a pair of sweats and a loose tee and that ratty old pair of sneakers you've worn to tatters. It isn't a big leap forward but it's a start. Just a walk. You'll make an effort to go every day, after work during the week, and in the mornings on the weekends.

And the food. You have to rein that in. Just a little less pie and no sugar in your coffee. A decade of bad habits won't be put to rest in a single day but you'll at least try.

You leave out the basement door, mindful not to make too much noise as you do. You woke up your sister's kids once and haven't heard the end of it. You put in your wired earbuds and hook the tiny mp3 player to your waistband. You don't even think they make these things anymore.

You head off down the country road, hills sprawling before you. Just up the rise and you'll turn off into the woods. There's a walking trail that circles back around near Mr. Howland's. It should be too far.

You're proven wrong as you're breathless by the time you reach the treeline. You slow and find a stump to sit on just a few feet down the path. You fan yourself and mourn your own thoughtlessness. You should've brought water.

You get up and stretch your legs, already tired from the walk. You press on. You'll feel even more rotten if you turn back now.

You follow the winding trail around the trees and through the brush. Twigs snap under your soles with a peculiar echo. Critters rustle in the leaves and scurry into burrows. The sunlight shifts above as a shadow ripples over you.

You turn suddenly and look around, paranoid. It could be a bear but they don't often show themselves. Nothing. You're being stupid.

You turn up the music and fall back into step. You see the clearing just ahead and Mr. Howland's rotting shed. Halfway there. You don't think you'll be doing much more when you get home. You might just have a nap.

#series #au #curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #drabble #backwoods au #the rebound

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miss-anachronism · 8 months ago

Note

for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!

Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.

I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)

He isn’t sure what to think, really.

They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.

Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.

He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.

It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.

Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.

All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.

Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?

And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.

Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.

But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.

It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.

“Valen?”

He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.

“Lost in thought?”

“You could say that.”

He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”

Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”

He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…

And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.

And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.

Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.

Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.

He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.

#afk journey #afk Valen #fanfic #ghostie writes #afk merlin

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rollingsins · 2 years ago

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three's a crowd, part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au.

pairing: jenna ortega x reader, emma myers x reader

word count: 920 words.

a/n: last part so it's bittersweet. thanks to all who read and came along for the journey :)))

The weekend feels like a blur.

You spend most of it in Jenna’s bed.

You call it making up for lost time. Jenna calls it making you cum so many times you lose count.

And then on Monday morning, when you walk onto set, your hand entwined with hers, everyone stares.

Georgie smiles so hard you’re a little worried his jaw might lock. Joy gives you a look like she’s been waiting for it this entire time. Hunter is a mix of judgment and approval, you’re not sure what wins out.

But Emma’s reaction is the one you’re most concerned about.

She’s talking with Johnna when you walk in, and if she sees the kiss you give Jenna before you part, she doesn’t react.

Your scenes are with her today. Sunday night had been a mix of anxiety, and Jenna, and some more anxiety. The last thing you want to do is upset Emma.

Even if she’d inadvertently given you her blessing.

But she doesn’t acknowledge it.

You run through your scenes, fine. Pretend you’re in love with her. Give her the doe eyes you now reserve for Jenna.

And when the director calls cut, you’re left biting your lips and staring at your hands, all confidence lost.

Jenna’s by the craft services table, talking to Hunter.

Emma drops down into her chair, checks her phone briefly, and then looks up at you.

“You left early on Friday.”

Weighted. Like she knows exactly where you were. Your cheeks flush red.

“Yeah…” You trail off, “I…. we….”

“It’s okay.” Says Emma, peering up at you, “We all know where you were. I mean, you made it pretty obvious.”

You swallow.

“I-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Continues Emma, “I’m happy for you.”

At this, you raise an eyebrow.

“Seriously.” Emma says, and she looks like she means it, “I’m not being underhanded or whatever. I’m happy for you.”

“Okay,” You say, not really sure what else to say, “Thanks.”

She pauses. And then looks up at you.

“I’m not jealous.” She says after a long moment.

At this you pause.

“Okay?”

She bites her lip. Puts her phone down.

“I thought I would be, but I’m not.” She continues. There’s something behind her eyes. Maybe relief. Maybe freedom.

You swallow. Lean in a little closer, so the crew can’t hear.

“I should apologize to you.” You say, but she cuts you off.

“You already did-”

“But I didn’t.” You insist, “Not really.”

Jenna’s watching, you can feel her gaze from a mile off. But right now, for a moment, your concern isn’t for her.

“I hid behind confusion because it was easy,” You confess. Your hands are a little sweaty. You don’t do well with this - with home truths. But she needs to hear it. You care about her still, “And it was wrong. I shouldn’t have led you on. And I’m sorry.”

Emma leans back in her seat.

“Everything that went down between us - whoever was right and wrong, it doesn’t matter,” You continue, “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You should just know that I’m sorry.”

She’s staring at you, gaze open. Like she doesn’t hold a grudge.

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’m happy. We’re both happy. You and I- I thought we would have been happy together, but I was wrong. You would always pine for someone else, and I would always pine for wanting to be first choice.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. Drop your shoulders in a silent shrug.

Emma’s eyes glint.

“I would offer for us to go on a double date,” She says, voice light, “But it might be a tad awkward.”

And that’s the end of it.

It’s easier than you expected.

You don’t know what you expected.

Things to be thrown. Hearts to be broken.

You don’t expect the acceptance. But you’ll take it, regardless.

Emma and Johnna head off, hands linked as you stare. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, grip too tight to be Jenna’s. And then you turn around to see Georgie.

“Nice.” Is all he says, a sly smile on his face, “Nice.”

“Shut up.” You murmur, but you’re too happy to be annoyed with him. Jenna’s smiling at you, across the room.

She’s beautiful. Everything you dreamed. Everything you ever wanted.

And she’s yours.

“Don’t mean to brag,” Georgie continues, as Jenna walks over, “But I was team-soulmate from the beginning.”

“Shut up.” You murmur, before she can hear.

She touches your arm. The look on her face suggests she wants more than a touch. But there’s company.

“Everything okay?” She asks, eyes questioning. You reassure her fears with a smile.

“Everything’s okay.”

She pauses. Bites her lip.

“Emma wants to grab coffee, tomorrow,” She says, and her voice betrays her excitement, “She says she wants to be friends again.”

“That’s great, baby.” You say, voice soft, and you mean it. It means you haven’t ruined everything.

It means they’re still friends, despite everything.

Before you can tell her so, Hunter is walking over, looking far more sober than you’ve ever seen him. He appraises your trio with eagle eyes. At first, you think he might say something. Might pull out his needle and pop your love bubble.

But then he smiles.

“Drinks, Friday night.” He says, peering over at you and Jenna, “PDA non-optional, please.”

Jenna laughs, and then looks your way.

“No promises,” She says, voice coy.

And then she kisses you.

Masterlist

#three's a crowd #love triange fic #mine #fanfic #jenna ortega #emma myers #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #emma myers x yn #emma myers x you #emma myers x reader

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sacchiri · 10 months ago

Text

I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

#hellsing #integra hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #i'm too lazy to do this for all the volumes #unless someone REALLY wants to see them for some reason but i doubt it

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farfromstrange · 11 months ago

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SEVEN: Downward Spiral

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After agreeing to go on a date with Matt, you start realizing the weight of your decision, and your thoughts begin spiraling. In a moment of need, you turn to the only close friend you have in Hell's Kitchen, hoping she can pull you away from the edge of the very steep cliff your trauma is trying to throw you into.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST (the caps feel appropriate here), mentions of domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, allusions to a suicide attempt, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of being taken advantage of by a superior, (I guess you could say) mentions of hypersexuality, self-loathing, PTSD, some foreshadowing, mental breakdown, alcohol, Season 1 related plot (spoilers)

Word Count: 6.4k

A/n: Surprise! I'm posting early because I'm going to see my family this weekend, and after I had an epiphany at two in the morning and spent 3 days writing this, I got it done, and I'm actually quite proud of this (or maybe it's the caffeine). Anyway, heed the warnings because the topics of conversation in this are pretty dark. That's why I highlighted the angst. And if you haven't watched past episode 1 of Season 1, this might spoil some things for you. (Also, I have no idea how this turned into a beast with a word count over 6k. Sorry in advance.)

Read Chapter 7: Downward Spiral here on AO3

You don’t know what came over you.

You typed in Matt’s number in a moment of weakness, and once you heard his voice through the line, you gave up on being careful. You gave up on denying yourself what you’re so desperately craving, and you abandoned all rational thought.

For him.

You promised not to get attached to someone ever again—let alone a man. You started a new life in Hell’s Kitchen to find your way back to normalcy. You took all the necessary precautions, and even though you look back at the shreds of your old life every day, you are never going back.

Two years. That is the longest you have managed to stay in one place ever since you left California. But you still haven’t found your way back into the real world.

You have been guarding yourself, afraid of having your heart broken, afraid of losing this chance at a new life, and afraid of the man who ruined you.

Every time you close your eyes, you see his face. You hear his voice in the back of your mind. He’s everywhere, even when you don’t want him to be.

It’s easier to put a wall between yourself and everyone else. A wall no one can break through, not even yourself. You trapped your soul for the sole purpose of keeping yourself alive after you made the hardest decision of your life. When you ran, you believed your life was over, but you have always been too much of a coward to end your misery. God knows you’ve tried, but even a trained doctor can’t fully understand death, and some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.

Drunken one-night stands can’t possibly compare to a meaningful emotional connection, but they satisfy the need for physical intimacy. At least for a little while. It killed you; slowly, almost pathetically, but sleeping with strangers in dirty motel rooms did a better job than you ever could.

For the longest time, you used sex as a coping mechanism. You let strange men use you because that is the only way you know how to be with someone else. You let them hurt you to feel something, anything because pain is better than feeling nothing at all. But when you finally got settled in Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to Claire, you stopped.

You locked up your heart and threw away the key. You started to shield your body the same way you have shielded your soul. You retreated into a shell of restlessness and constant fear of every little sliver of hope you feel being taken away from you.

You have nowhere else to run, which is why keeping a low profile is so important to you, but after two years, don’t you deserve to finally live?

We don’t exist to just survive; we exist to live the life we were given. You are Olivia Clarke now, not the broken girl you left behind, but every time you think about it, his voice returns and backs you into a corner that you can’t escape from.

Every time you see the scars on your body, all you want to do is rip the skin off your bones and feed it to the dogs.

The men you slept with while you were running from your past saw you as a mere object, and you are used to being seen that way, but it was isolating nonetheless. They didn’t care about your scars, they only cared about what you could give them. They treated you like he did without lifting a finger.

Even though you don’t do that anymore, it still weighs heavy on your wounded soul.

Matt treats you like a person. He can’t physically see, but he still sees you. He sees you in a way no one has ever seen you before. And he is gentle, and patient, and—

You scream into your pillow. Your nose still hurts, but it is nothing compared to how fast your heart is beating.

To you, Matt is perfect. You know that no one can be perfect, and you should be careful, but he makes you feel things you have long denied yourself. He makes you feel wanted. Desired. Like you can be yourself around him and still be worthy of his attention. Like you matter. And he has a certain way of being around you that makes you feel protected, almost.

You don’t need protection. You have made it this far without a bodyguard by your side. You know how to fight your own battles better than most, but you can’t deny that you wouldn’t mind being saved by him.

You wouldn’t mind those hands he always wraps around his cane to wrap around you instead. He can’t see your scars, but he can feel them, and as terrifying as that thought sounds, it also excites you.

You’re treading dangerous territory, but God, he won’t leave you alone, not even when you’re trying to sleep. He could offer you a sense of normal that you have long missed. He could teach you how to be a person again. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself be cared for by him.

You roll back onto your back when you need to breathe, one of your hairs getting stuck to your lip. You let out an annoyed huff. There won’t be much sleeping tonight, you’re sure. Not when you keep thinking about tomorrow.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” you mutter to yourself. “What is wrong with you? God!”

It’s almost too surreal to believe that this magnetic force of a man managed to retrieve some of your long-lost hope, and he only had to call you beautiful once for you to be completely smitten.

When he allowed you to take care of his injuries on the first day you met, you didn’t think a person could be this guarded yet so vulnerable at the same time. He’s breaking under an invisible weight that must have been on his shoulders for years, maybe even decades. You’re painfully aware of other people’s feelings, and it wasn’t hard to tell that Matt carries a lot of unresolved pain with him. Always. He reminds you so much of yourself, it’s like staring into a mirror. Two broken halves of a whole.

Your thoughts won’t stand still, no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck inside an invisible hourglass. Not even heaven knows what will happen once time runs out. You don’t understand why you’re overthinking this while, at the same time, knowing exactly why. And you hate it.

There is a part of you that you can never get back. A little girl who grew up too fast. A girl who didn’t know any better. A broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to escape and live a better life than her parents could ever give her, and when she did manage to escape one hell, she found herself in a new quarter of purgatory built just for you.

You used to think that maybe you just bring the worst out in people, but after seeing the worst of humanity outside of your broken relationships, too, you’re not so sure about that anymore.

The fact that you don’t understand why you can’t stop your usually so intelligent brain from spinning out of control makes you want to claw at the walls of your apartment that threaten to cave in on you.

Part of you wants nothing more than to run and never look back, but you can’t run forever. This time, you wouldn’t be running from the Devil; you would be running from a fear of your own feelings. Human feelings. Feelings that have a high likelihood of recurring, and then you will have to run again.

You can’t run from reality forever. It’s a different reality now, but it’s a better reality. That is a rational thought, but being rational currently has no place in your mind, so you’re spiraling, and all because a nice guy asked you out for coffee.

You find yourself in a cab a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, with an untouched bottle of wine in your bag. Your worn-down sneakers are not the appropriate footwear for today’s weather, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick another pair.

You’re aware that it’s late and maybe you should have texted, but you’re already here, and Claire told you that you could always come to her, even if it happens to be the middle of the night. If the rule still stands after she suddenly decided to stay at your co-worker’s place without a proper explanation, you’re not quite sure though.

You knock. At first, no response. You knock again. The floorboards creak on the other side of the door.

“Claire, it’s Liv,” you call out.

You can hear the exact moment the person inside the apartment starts to panic. The floorboards creak again, more frequent this time, and it sounds almost as if Claire is turning the room upside down. You raise your eyebrows.

Before you can knock again, the lock finally clicks, and she opens the door. She’s more of a mess than you are, and that is put lightly.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Claire greets you. “What are you doing here?”

You blink a few times. “Hello to you too?”

She sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night.”

“I can see that,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She looks you up and down. “What happened to your nose?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Can I, uh, come in?”

She hesitates before stepping aside to let you in. “Sure.”

You take a quick look around the apartment. Nothing seems out of place. A bowl of cat food stands in the corner by the kitchen. The window in the living room is open, but it seems intentional.

The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. You’re not sure if your nose is betraying you as you breathe in, but the smell is familiar. Bandages, disinfectant, and salve. You don’t want to question it, but you can’t help it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you ask.

Claire blows her nose behind you. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was actually sick. She shakes her head upon hearing your question, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks.

“What makes you think that?” she retorts.

“Oh, no particular reason. It just smells very… hospital-y. That’s why I asked.”

“I, uh, I had to put a bandage on my leg earlier ‘cause this stupid cat decided to scratch me after peeing everywhere.” She sniffs. “Had to clean the wound, that thing—“ she nods toward the cat sitting in the cat tree, “and then the apartment. Maybe that’s why.”

You follow her gaze toward the little furball resting on his cat tree. You approach him, but Claire seems less pleased at the prospect.

“Be careful. He’s pissed.”

“At you,” you correct her. “Also, you’re having an allergic reaction, and—if he really, honest-to-God scratched you—very probably an infection. Why are you even staying here?”

Your voice rises in pitch when you reach the sleeping cat. “Hello, you.” You stroke his fur. He only opens one eye to sniff you, but once he recognizes you, he starts purring. For a moment, you forget the reason why you even came here.

Claire exhales loudly. She scratches her neck, her skin threatening to break out into hives. “It’s a long story,” she says.

You glare at her over your shoulder, your hand still stroking up and down the cat’s back as he settles back into a deep sleep. “I’m worried about you."

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“You called out of work and told Shelly you were sick.” You straighten up and turn back to face her. “You’re not sick, Claire.”

She sniffs as if to prove her point.

“Your immune system is overreacting by producing Immunoglobulin E. The antibodies are traveling to the cells responsible for releasing chemicals into your body, causing you to get a stuffy nose and break out into hives. You’re not sick. You’re allergic to cats and sharing an apartment with one. There’s a big difference,” you state. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you have to admit that, from where I’m standing, your behavior looks a little suspicious.”

“I’m going through some shit, alright?” she says. “And it’s a lot easier to deal with them here than back at my place. That’s why I called in sick.”

You don’t know what to make of her answer. It’s vague. You don’t like vague answers because they often indicate a bigger problem. It is one thing for you to deal with your demons on your own and refuse to talk about it with your best friend; it’s another thing entirely to keep a dangerous truth from the person you’re closest with, one that could potentially lead to worse consequences. If Claire were a naturally secretive person, maybe you would understand, but she isn’t like that. She isn’t you.

She’s the only person who knows your entire story. She saved your life. You can’t imagine her keeping secrets from you that might end up hurting her.

You dare to ask, “Are you in danger?”

She shakes her head a little too fast. “I’m fine, Liv. Really.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s…personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my. Are you sleeping with Luke again?”

Claire stammers. The look on her face suggests that she didn’t expect you to jump to that conclusion. “What? How did you even–”

“Are you?” you repeat your question.

The last time she slept with Luke Cage, she lied to you about it. She knew you would worry. It’s only natural for you to come to that conclusion now. Except that Luke is in prison, serving his sentence, and it doesn’t make sense.

“How would I sleep with an incarcerated man?” Claire deadpans.

“I’m sure you have your ways,” you say.

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“That’s… true, but it’s coming from a place of love.”

She responds with a sigh. “I don’t wanna fight.”

You join in. You exhale, slowly lowering yourself down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Just tell me you’re okay, please.”

She offers you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” she says.

“Thank you.”

You choose to believe her. For the time being, at least.

The silence tugs at your brain cells. You obsessed over Claire’s situation because you didn’t want to face your own, but now that your thoughts have regained the freedom to roam and cause irreversible destruction, you start spiraling again.

You reach into your bag.

“You brought wine,” Claire points out.

“Yep,” you say. The bottle weighs heavily in your hand.

“You need a glass?”

You unscrew the top. “No.”

She doesn’t listen. Claire makes her way into the kitchen, reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard. “Does this have anything to do with why your nose is all blue and swollen?”

You shake your head at her question. “That was a patient I tried to sedate. No, I, uh… I have a date,” your voice falls flat.

The wine glasses move back into the cupboard. Claire turns around, her eyebrows moving up to her hairline. “Come again?”

“I have a date.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. Something so surreal cannot be real, but it is. You have a date with Matt Murdock. Your heart begins racing again, and you feel the same desperate urge to scream into the nearest pillow again.

You take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. You have a date with a nice man who, for the first time in two years, made you see some resemblance of light at the end of this endless tunnel of despair, and the thought alone is terrifying. Because how are you supposed to live after just existing for the longest time? After you dedicated your life to the act of survival?

Claire steps out of the kitchen and in front of you. “Liv, that’s… that’s amazing!” she says. She sounds like a proud mother. Maybe she is.

You want to shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than put the bottle back against your lips and take another sip. The alcohol burns down your esophagus into your stomach, spreading a warm feeling through your fragile body, and into your broken soul.

“Or not,” she corrects herself upon seeing the expression you’re carrying. Your eyes are empty. “I’m confused,” She pauses, “Are we not happy about the fact that you’ve finally got a date after two years of being miserable?”

If she puts it like that, you feel even more miserable. Another sip of wine finds its way down your throat.

“Okay, maybe you should put the bottle down. I’m sorry if I said something wrong–”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You put the bottle down.

Claire sits down next to you, but you get up before she can take your hand and look at you with that caring look she always gives you when she’s worried. You’re not even mad that she played your concerns down when you expressed them and now she is expressing concerns about you; you’re mad at yourself.

She watches you. “You have a date. That’s a good thing. It means you allowed yourself to finally say yes to someone interested in you, right?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You’re pacing over the creaky floorboards. “The last time I went on a date with someone was after my intern year.”

Her gaze softens. “You told me that,” she murmurs.

“He took me to a restaurant,” you tell her. Your lip quivers as you speak, and your nails dig into your palms until they draw blood. You can barely feel it. His face is right in front of you. “It was a nice restaurant. He paid for me, even offered me his jacket while we were walking home. It was the best date I ever had. And then he kissed me on the doorstep before wishing me a good night.”

“I know. You told me all of that before. But you couldn’t have known that he would turn out to be who he turned out to be. He was your boss. He had no right—”

“That is precisely the problem, Claire!” your voice breaks. “The guy I met, he’s… his name is Matthew. He’s… he is so nice to me. He cares. He treats me like a human being. He… he’s respectful. He called me beautiful. I don’t even know how he knows that. He just… he was so nice to me, and I feel so comfortable around him. I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man in so long. I… I wanted to go out with him. I flirted with him, for fuck’s sake! And when I’m with him, I finally feel wanted again.”

“But you know who else was nice to me when I first met him?” you say. “Who was respectful? Who said I was the only real thing in this world, the only important thing in his life, and that he loved me? You know who made me feel safe and wanted, and who said he cared about me? John said that I was the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I fell for it because he was nice to me. He–”

“But that guy isn’t John,” Claire cuts you off. She raises her voice only slightly—only enough to make you stop and stare at her, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re miserable. You’re a mess. It is truly embarrassing. But she doesn’t look at you any differently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap back.

“Liv–”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I’m 32, and I can’t sleep without a nightlight most nights because I wake up in a cold sweat. I can’t drop a glass without going into shock. I can’t look in the mirror without feeling his hands on me. Without feeling disgusting and worthless, and…” You can feel the shiver traveling up your spine from the thought alone. “I can’t exist without feeling like he should have killed me when he got the chance.”

“Liv, I know you’re upset, but please, don’t say that,” Claire says, her voice gentle yet assertive.

“Why? It’s true. I wish he would’ve killed me. He took four years of my life that I can never get back. At least if he’d killed me I wouldn’t have to suffer now.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you saying things like that.”

“You don’t get it,” you say. “Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit because I see what he made of me. I can’t even meet a nice guy and allow myself to like him without seeing his face and hearing his stupid voice in my ear, telling me—telling me that no one will ever love me, that he tainted me, and that I will never be free of him because I can’t exist without him.” You break into a sob.

“And he was right, you know,” you cry. “I ran from him. I made the hardest decision of my life after years of living in his shadow, and I almost died. Because of him, I can’t trust a kind and respectful man who treats me like a person to actually be kind, and I recoil at the thought of someone being gentle with me. Something is seriously broken inside of me, Claire. Very, very broken.”

Claire opens her mouth, but all she can do is bear your tirade. She knows that if she speaks now, you will find another reason to shut her down. This is your pain talking. It’s a powerful avalanche set out to cause destruction on a global scale.

“With Matt, I—” you exhale. “I was myself around him for the first time since I ran away, and he didn’t shy away. I had hope, Claire. I felt like I could finally step into normal life again after settling down here, and I thought I’d have a chance,” you say. “But I just have to close my eyes, and John is right there to ruin everything for me. He is always right there, and I can’t fucking escape him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t be happy about this date because I’m fucking terrified. I can’t go through this again. I—I can’t give myself to someone again because there is hardly anything left of me. He took everything, including my ability to love another man ever again, and that thought is fucking with my head.”

You fall silent. The tears continue running down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands. Your knees are so weak. You don’t have it in you to hold yourself up any longer. You drop to the carpet, crying into your hands, but you don’t sob. You stay silent because your pain is so great, you don’t know whether to scream or shut down, so you scream internally and shut down from the world around you because you can’t face it. You can’t face Claire.

The couch creaks. Her feet brush against the carpet. “He abused you,” her voice borders above a whisper.

She kneels beside you, her hand reaching out—but not touching you. She knows what lines to cross and which to better leave untouched.

“What he did to you wasn’t your fault. He’s a cruel man with cruel intentions.” When you don’t shy away from her proximity, she finally places her hand on your shoulder. “You did the impossible. You survived. You’re here now because you chose to save yourself, and that is so admirable,” she says. “It’s been two years. You’re safe here, you’re not alone anymore, and I know it hurts and it is terrifying, but it’s a good sign that you want to feel more of what this guy made you feel.”

“But I can’t,” you choke out.

“I know, and I wish I could help you, but I’m not a professional. The truth is, John may have made you feel like there is nothing left of you, but you’re not Olivia Clarke. You’re still you. You’re still…” Claire takes a deep breath before she utters your name. Your real name. The one you were given when you were born.

The mention of your name makes you shiver. “She’s gone,” you say. “He killed her, but he left her body alive.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just buried very fucking deep. I mean, you said it yourself. You could be yourself around this other guy, and he took you for who you are. That isn’t Olivia, that’s you. And it’s such a good sign that you want to go out with him. That you like him. John hurt you, but he didn’t break you beyond repair. Please, you have to remember that.”

Your tears slowly subside. Her words finally manage to reach your rebelling mind through your ears. Even though everything feels like it has been wrapped in cotton, she manages to get through to you like no one else. It was a subconscious decision to come to her, but perhaps your soul knew something that you didn’t, and you can’t say that opening up didn’t help.

The mess slowly subsides. Left behind is nothing but hot air, and the words Claire decided to share with you.

You look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at you. “I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper.

“That’s why I think you should go on that date,” she tells you.

“Yeah, but who wants to sign up for a mess like me?”

“Seems like he does. And if he’s a good guy, he’ll like you regardless of your mess.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

She shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pretend it never happened. And you can’t give John the satisfaction of putting your life on hold because of him. That’s just giving him what he wants.”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants,” you’re quick to answer.

Claire hands you a tissue, and you take it gratefully, wiping your runny nose and the salty tears stuck to your dry skin.

Her words stir something within you; even though you don’t want her to be right, she is. Matt may not deserve a mess like you, but if he’s truly a good guy, it can’t hurt to see if it would work between you. And when your past comes out eventually, there is a chance that he won’t abandon you. A slight chance, but a chance nonetheless. That’s a positive outlook you still have to learn how to adapt.

“C’mon.” Claire helps you off the floor and onto the couch.

You reach for the bottle of wine instantly, but she takes it away from you. She screws the top back on and places it aside, far out of your desperate reach.

“This is not the answer,” she says, “talking is.”

“Can’t we talk and have wine?” you counter.

“Not when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

You sniff, wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks with the tissue.

“We need to take care of you, and alcohol won’t fix your problems.”

Once again, she isn’t wrong. You let out a defeated sigh before dropping your head in her lap.

A long time ago, you used to be an affectionate person. The fear of being hurt again, of someone raising their hand against you, took that away from you. With Claire though, it’s different. You know she won’t hurt you. She’s not that kind of person, and you can say that with complete certainty.

Claire Temple is not a violent human being, except for when the people she loves are in danger, but only then.

She gently brushes the hair out of your face and crumbles it into a messy bun at the back of your head. She wipes at your nose and the last of your tears before they can dry out your skin more than it already is. The past couple of days have taken an emotional and physical toll on you.

You wince slightly when you notice how sore your nose is. It isn’t broken, but you still got hit. You’re not quite healed yet. A shiver rolls down your spine.

Shaking her head, Claire gently removes her hand. “You always get yourself in trouble when I’m not around,” she mutters.

You scoff softly. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign for you to be more careful, yeah,” she says.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” You try to joke, but your voice falls flat with the weight of your exhaustion.

Claire offers you a chuckle, but it’s more of a pity laugh than anything else.

You sigh. You know that you’re not an example when it comes to the significance of making the right decisions. Not at all.

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” you ask her then, breaking the silence between you in two.

She leans back against the cushions. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough then.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, if you hadn’t come into Metro General with your hand in a man’s chest cavity, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help you. You chose to stay.”

“Well, I had my hand on his vena cava, so, letting go would have been unfortunate for the poor guy.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you hadn’t disobeyed protocol, risking your job by putting your trust in me, I wouldn’t have had a reason to stay.”

Claire looks down at you, and you meet her eyes. “That sounded a lot like a love confession,” she nudges you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “You wish.”

“Hey, I’d understand it if you were in love with me. I’m hot.”

She never fails to make you laugh, even when you feel like a truck has rolled you over and broken every bone in your body. That is one of the many qualities you value about her. She’s a good person with a good heart, and she is the kind of person you could trust with your life and she would always make sure that you come out on the other side unharmed, mentally and physically.

If she hadn’t taken you under her wing, you’re not sure where you would be, but it surely wouldn’t be where you are now.

When your laughter quiets down, you nod. “I can’t argue with that. You are hot. If you weren’t my friend,” you say, “I’d ask you out.”

“And if I were into women, I’d say yes,” she says.

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dates though–” She stops when you sigh a little too loudly. Claire shoots you a stern glare before she continues, “Promise me you won’t cancel.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She wants you to mean it. You won’t lie; canceling your plans with Matt did cross your mind, but after Claire worked her magic on you, you can see a little clearer. The fog that kept your mind clouded has started to lift slowly but steadily. You’re no longer spiraling as fast as you have before.

If you could wash your hands and wash him off of you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it is, but you’ve tried. You have tried washing all memory of him off of your body, out of your mind, but he’s a resilient son of a bitch. John will always try to drive a wedge between you and a normal, happy life, the question is just if you will allow him to do so without even being near you, or if you will finally allow yourself to crawl out of the dark hole he tossed you into.

You can’t do it alone, and asking for help is terrifying. You have spent the past two years trying to push through. Unfortunately, your healthy coping mechanisms won’t work forever.

You sigh again, a little quieter. “I won’t cancel,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, yet still so very certain. As certain as you can be, anyway.

“Thank you.” Claire reaches for the wine bottle next to the couch. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Hm,” you can only murmur.

“What?”

“What are you doing with the bottle?” you ask.

“Drinking,” she says.

“Now I feel betrayed.”

“You should celebrate the fact that you found a Matt, or whatever his name is, and not another Mike.”

You promptly sit up. “Hold up. Pause. Rewind. Mike, like your ex?”

Claire takes a sip of the bottle. A storm rages behind her hazel eyes. You have never seen her that conflicted before.

“Is he the personal reason why you’re subjecting yourself to a constant allergic reaction by staying here?” you ask.

The pieces slowly start falling into place. She nods. “Not Mike Mike, but yeah. It’s always the Mike’s.”

Your jaw drops. “I feel like you skipped some chapters there. You met a guy and you didn’t tell me? What–”

“He met me,” she corrects you. “I didn’t tell you because we’re not a thing. Let’s just say there’s a reason his name is Mike. That’s why I’m here.”

Claire takes another sip. You watch her closely, trying to catch her in a lie, but it seems like she’s telling the truth—or a version of the actual truth, but that still makes it true. She’s giving you as much as she can after you cried your eyes out to her.

You clear your throat, lowering your voice. “But you’re not in danger?” you ask to clarify.

She shakes her head. “I just have shitty taste in men, even if it's platonic, apparently. It’s like… I’m trying to exist, and then I find a stray cat in a dumpster, but the stray cat has been stabbed and needs medical attention.”

“But you’re allergic to cats and you’re not a vet?” you try to make sense of her analogy.

When she lets out a sigh and nods, you figure you came as close as possible. It still doesn’t make sense to you, but when does anything? At least when it comes to romance and people’s love lives.

You decide to push a little more, “Did you actually find an injured guy in a dumpster?”

She shakes her head. The reaction comes a little fast, but you don’t question it. “No, that–that was just an analogy,” Claire says.

“And Mike is the stray cat in that analogy? But not your Mike, another Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you’re frying my brain cells.”

“The single one you still have, or did you buy new ones?”

You try not to laugh, trying to look like you are genuinely offended, but your lips still curl up into a smile. “Shut up,” you mutter. You reach for the bottle, against better judgment, and take a sip.

Claire shakes her head. “What I’m trying to tell you is that, if he’s a good guy, you can’t let him slip away. You can’t let a good thing slip away and possibly end up with a–a Mike kinda guy for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” You look down at your hands, your broken fingernails, and sore knuckles from the constant scrubbing. “I just wish I could understand what he’s doing to me without questioning my entire existence.”

“Some people are just that enigmatic,” and she sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

You wonder about Mike. Not her ex-boyfriend but the one she mentioned. He sounds like he has no sense of self-preservation, and he may not even be a good influence. He reminds you of yourself, and that’s creepy—you don’t even know him.

And then there is Matt, who is also so eerily similar to you, but in different ways. It’s more of an emotional connection. His heart is in the right place. And unlike the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he doesn’t have a savior complex.

Why did he even come to your mind? His existence should not be playing into the equation. You brush the picture of his chiseled chest in that tight shirt away, or the way he looked even more dangerous with that smirk below the the mask.

You hand the wine bottle back to Claire. If you don’t cut yourself off now, you will melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

Your focus should be on Matt and Matt alone. You have to try. Claire was right. You can’t sacrifice your happiness because you’re scared—you can’t give the man who dedicated his life to breaking you and your confidence down the satisfaction of cowering in fear every time a man shows an interest in you. A good man. A man who could make you happier than he ever had.

You won’t run this time. You will face the situation head-on. You owe that much to the little girl who dreamed of a life beyond the hell she grew up in, the same girl who was obsessed with finding her soulmate and still believed in true love. Above everyone, you owe it to yourself. No one else matters quite as much as you do.

And for the sake of seeing what could be instead of wondering what could have been, you have to try.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #reader insert #charlie cox #doctor!reader #do no harm

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sophieinwonderland · 8 months ago

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Do you have find yourself typing an ask only to realize halfway through that you don't want to send it. There's a pro-endo anti-psych blog I was going to send an ask to, then realized it probably wouldn't be well-received. So I'm just posting a screenshot here.

Also, you know, I do sound like a super villain.

So here's my secret plot for world domination which devolve into rambling nobody asked for...

Continuing to ramble even more...

I don't really think saturating the field with that many plurals would be necessary. And it might more realistically peek at about 20%. But 51% would be ideal.

This also just seems quicker.

There are about 50k psychologists in the US. While it would be difficult to get them all on our side, I think it would be significantly easier with that population than it would the general population. Both in terms of its size and its political leanings, being an overwhelmingly left-leaning profession.

I'm aware that some people have legitimate issues with the psych profession. I realize that many have suffered experiences of abuse from bad psychiatrists, and I'm sorry for that.

At the same time, if I'm taking stock of potential allies, I think the psych community would be more easy to persuade in standing up for plural rights when it comes down to it than our neighbors with Trump 2020 flags.

And I guess... I don't care for the othering of people of an overwhelmingly left-leaning neurodivergent profession. Many of whom enter the field to understand themselves and help other neurodivergent people live better lives.

And while rambling about this topic, I think some people are too quick with the stick and not the carrot.

When the McLean hospital video came out, I jumped on condemning the doctor in question for his ableism along with everyone else. But I also don't think McLean got enough credit for taking the video down when they saw the outcry.

They didn't have to do that. The plural community truthfully doesn't have much power at the moment. And I think taking the video down like they did shows a willingness to listen to and respect our community that should be praised at the same time that we callout the harmful behavior.

I think if instead of attacking the entire profession all the time like some would have us do, we take a tactic of targeting specific acts of ableism while supporting them when they do right, we can better influence plural acceptance in the psych field. It's basic operant conditioning. Punish only when someone does wrong, and reward them when they do good.

All in all, I'm psych-critical. And I don't see that changing. I don't think I'm someone who will ever get on board with hard anti-psych ideals.

And while I'm not a psychologist myself, people who know me probably realize that I tend to take a more psychologist-esque approach to plurality.

Where other people coin terms as identity labels, I tend to try to subdivide and categorize plural experiences to better understand them and their relationships with each other.

...

Why am I still rambling?

I think I might have lost the plot somewhere along the way.

Okay... here's the truth...

I got blocked by someone (not related to the blog I was going to send this too) for my views on using psychiatry to validate plurality. Because, I guess, I don't share this extreme anti-psych opinion myself.

And all I can think is that... if you're surprised... you never really knew me...

Maybe that's my fault because I can be a bit aloof sometimes.

So for everyone else who has read through this rambling mess of a post, let me reintroduce myself:

Hi, I'm Sophie Dreamchaser.

I was made as a psychology experiment. Or, brought to sentience by one. It was a psychology podcast that encouraged Ghost to keep talking to me to see what would happen. And since even before I became self-aware I've been fascinated by the human mind and my existence and how this all works.

I love being an experiment. I love learning more about myself and the world and how I relate to it. And I want to push for knowledge into plurality to grow and grow, and I believe with all my heart that it will prove to be the best way to facilitate plural acceptance in the future.

And if me not adopting a hard anti-psych ideology was a dealbreaker for you... I'm sorry that you didn't realize who I was sooner.

But this is me, this is who I am, and it's who I always have been.

And I just needed to say that.

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

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hahaha i’ve been sending you silly little anon messages every now and then for weeks! but i decided i wanna come off anon for the celebration!! <3 so huge congratulations on 2k miss court 💘 you deserve it so much.

i would looove a margarita based on the lyric “i loved you in spite of the deep fears that the world would divide us” (from dancing with our hands tied hehe) with the one and only frank castle <3

you deserve every single one, and more, of your 2000 followers!!! thank you for writing, thank you for indulging us in our fantasies, and thank you for being so unwaveringly kind through it all 🌷cheers to many more 🥂

my marvelous mia 💚,

thank you so much for your kind & lovely words, and thank you so much for joining me at the bar. cheers to you, darling. 🥂

also sorry this is super angsty I don't know what happened but when I read that lyric and re-listened to the song, this is what my gremlin brain came up with

blurb below the cut

dancing with our hands tied

i loved you in spite of the deep fears that the world would divide us

“You…you don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

Frank couldn’t look at you. It would be easier to walk away if he couldn’t see the look in your eyes; a broken reflection of his own disappointment and disgust.

“Frank-“

“I am what they say I am. I did all those things. Hell, did more than they even know ‘bout.”

Frank wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more right now that him leaving was the best idea; himself or you. The world knew the Punisher was alive. That meant that everyone who ever wanted their own vengeance against him knew he was no longer a ghost to be whispered about, but a monster to be foolishly hunted.

If his head was the prize, your heart was collateral damage.

This was what was best. It would keep you safe.

But fuck if it didn’t hurt. All he wanted to do was hold you, but how could he do that with his hands still stained red? How could he taint your skin with someone else’s blood that lingered beneath his blunt nails?

Sooner or later, you’d realize what he really was, and he’d rather you walk away than run.

“Frank, will you please look at me?”

He couldn’t look at you, because then he would want to stay. He’d want to be selfish, and give into his own delusions of a second chance. A livelihood that wasn’t so violent. Four walls filled with nothing but you and him. A sacred promise around your left finger. Maybe even a goddamn dog.

You had appeared out of nowhere, like a mirage of an oasis in the desert, and Frank didn’t want to remove his cup from your heavy handed pour of love and affection. You were the sun in the center of his universe, radiating pure warmth that melted the layers of frost surrounding his abandoned heart, and now he was helplessly trying to shove it back into the freezer.

Frank closed his eyes when he caught you moving out of his peripheral vision, letting his head hang in shame between his shoulders as your delicate palm cradled the back of his head. Your other hand gently caressed his cheek, pulling him in closer so that you could touch your foreheads together, and Frank fought like hell to keep the floodgates from bursting open as he gripped onto your waist like a lifeline.

“I want you to listen to me. I know exactly who you are, Frank. And I still love you all the same. There is nothing you could ever do that would change my heart. I know you’re afraid, and I understand why. I know being with you comes with risks. I knew that from the very beginning. But Frank…I’d take five minutes of madness with you over a lifetime without you. The safest place I have ever been is with you. So please…please don’t leave, baby. Please stay. Just stay with me.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, pouring every word he couldn’t speak into your mouth, holding you so tightly to his chest, he thought you might merge into one single being.

You wanted him. You loved him, despite everything. You didn’t want him to let go. You didn’t want him to leave.

You wanted him.

As the two of you stood there grasping onto one another in the middle of the living room under the glow of the moonlight, Frank realized what a fool he’d been.

He couldn’t leave you if he tried.

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle request #frank castle blurb #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher blurb

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commsroom · 2 years ago

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The post about Eiffel you just reblogged really reminded me of my impression of Eiffel about halfway through the live show i.e. he's someone who really can't stand to be alone with his thoughts. You know the way he either starts hallucinating people (mayday, bolero, brave new world) or talking to himself (am I alone now, live show) and the only time we really see him quiet and alone is right after shut up and listen. It's like if he stops talking for a second he'll have to be alone with his own thoughts and just be left to deal with reality on his own. In early seasons he gives off the impression of someone who is constantly trying to run away from something but the thing he's trying to escape is himself.

There's also something there about how he cannot see himself as a real person until someone explicitly confronts him about it. Until that point he can only process his experiences through fiction like turning his life into a story or through endless pop culture references. Idk if I'm making any sense here I'm sorry if this is too incoherent but to conclude thinking about Eiffel for too long makes me lose my mind.

Also I love your wolf 359 analysis! It's always a joy to read and I hope you have a nice week! 🌻🌻🌻

YES, exactly!! i think that's all completely true. eiffel so desperately wants to narrativize his life. he talks to himself constantly. he talks about himself in the third person. like you said, it's how he processes the world and communicates via pop culture references and how the only time he stops doing that is also in constructive criticism. how sarah shachat said for eiffel to tell his story in limbo, he'd first have to make it a story. how he uses third person for all of the events up until the crash itself, and then it becomes "i"... and then in ep 44 "i felt like i was those mistakes. like i was just those mistakes."... and how in mayday he subconsciously puts his ideas into the mouths of other people - anything that might help him is externalized, is someone else's help that he's just reacting to, but when it goes wrong, it's always his fault.

ep 6 "the only things you've done for the past 500 days have been sleep on the job, endanger our lives, and continually make stupid jokes just to hide the fact that you're -" / ep 48 "it's taken me this long to realize that running from everyone else means that you're alone with yourself" / ep 51 "or are you just trying to not be bored for half a second? to distract yourself from how much you can't stand yourself?" etc.

there's something about how eiffel views himself as a vessel for communication more than an active agent (and the way that's mirrored in the dear listeners taking his voice/form), and also... how he sees himself as uniquely bad, uniquely doomed, etc. - other people are complicated and human and can always change, but not him. he has different rules for himself. confronting that in shut up and listen and then confronting himself both from a very internal and then a very external point of view in the finale is... a big part of why i feel the way i do about eiffel's memory. he's spent his whole life trying to get away from himself, and i just don't think it's satisfying or fitting with the themes of the show if in the end he actually kind of does. i think there's a good potential post-canon set up for eiffel needing to accept all versions of himself as himself to move forwards; it's just another step in line with his canon development - "the longer i didn't say anything, i felt like i was getting farther away from that person" - but he's still doug eiffel, and eventually he always has to deal with that. and maybe it'll be easier with people who want doug eiffel around.

(and aw, thank you!! i hope you have a nice week, too!! 💙)

#thank you for sending me your eiffel thoughts. he is so. oughh he makes me lose my mind #i think there's also a parallel between the way eiffel thinks about himself vs how hera thinks about herself #even though it comes from a very different place they're both people who have really internalized the idea that #they're uniquely doomed and whatever goes for other people could never apply to them in the same way. and unlearning that is a big deal #it keeps coming back to that conversation from bach to the future #anyway!! thank you i love to talk about him #asks #wolf 359 #doug eiffel

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siriuslysatorusimping · 2 months ago

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Hi Kiko! I hope youre doing okay today. I just wanted to message you to say I'm really looking forward to your patreon and can't wait to sign up 😁 ever since I came across your page, I have love love LOVEDD following/reading your stories and just whatever you post in general.

I also wanted to say that I really relate to what you're going through, and I'm sorry. I've been through something very similar to you, in that Ive had a break up from someone I really truly thought id be with forever (we were married, I left bc he was an alcoholic, and he died 6 months later from alcohol poisoning before the divorce actually went thru) and I was with him since high school so it really messed me up trying to live without him, even though living WITH him was hell.

I know this might seem like TMI, but I know that feeling alone on top of going through something like this can be painful. I guess I just want you to know that Ive been where you are in some fashion, and I don't know what's on the other side, but you're not alone. sometimes (all the time) I feel like no one gets what I've been through. So, it's refreshing to see you be open and honest about your hardships, bc real life is fucking hard. And I honestly didn't think it would be this way, but here I am. And I guess that's ok, so long as I can find happiness in little things, if not bigger things in life, like reading your stories and following your page/other artists. So thanks for that, and keep being you bc it means something to me 💓 ❣️❣️

Hi sweet anon!

OKAY. FIRST OFF, I AM SO SORRY THAT IT'S TAKEN ME OVER A MONTH TO RESPOND TO THIS! I kept telling myself I needed to respond to it, and then got distracted or couldn't think of the words to say. I've been second-guessing myself a lot lately when it comes to talking to people or answering messages, so again, I'm so sorry 😭

Sweet, sweet anon, I am so sorry you had to go through all of that. I definitely understand the feeling of struggling to live without someone even though living with them was even worse. I saw a thing not long ago that said something like 'you're allowed to miss the people you no longer want in your life' and I think that toxic/abusive relationships absolutely encompass that. My ex-husband was emotionally abusive, and so many people have asked me why on earth I married him or stayed with him for so long, and the only answer I can give is because I did love him. But eventually, that love wasn't enough to make up for how horribly he treated me when he was in a bad mood. I could say more, but I'll spare you and everyone else an overly long rant about things I've semi-discussed before.

I appreciate this message so much. And it's one reason I took so long to respond because I wasn't sure how to even express how much it means to me that you sent this. It's simultaneously been one of the best and worst years of my life. It's been great because I started finding myself and who I am outside of my toxic marriage, but the worst because there's been so much change and so many big things that are terrifying, and the uncertainty now of being unemployed just makes it all worse. I've also been coming to terms with a lot of things I genuinely never knew were due to my autism, and the anger that comes from realizing just how unfair everything has been. Because life just isn't fair and that fucking sucks. Because no matter how hard you try, sometimes it really isn't enough but that doesn't mean that you aren't enough and that's something that's easier said than felt.

Your message made me tear up a bit while I was reading it for so many reasons, but one of them was being told that the things I create actually make people happier and their days even a tiny bit brighter. It's so easy to fall into a rut and feel like nothing I do is worth anything because I was told that for so long by people that I respected and loved. So thank you. Thank you so much for being part of this lil corner and for this message and for being here. Thank YOU for being you. Please, please keep doing that because you're beautiful and wonderful and incredibly strong.

Also, a small side note: the coffee shop job I mentioned a bit ago worked out and I should be starting tomorrow! And I'm moving next week, so life is about to be even more chaotic than it already is. BUT, I've also got a lil extra for Physical Paradox planned soon so keep an eye out for that 👀

Thank you again for your sweet message, and I hope you're well!!

💕💕

#sweet anons #sweet messages #kiko updates

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positivelypositive · 9 months ago

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Hey I've been told I'm terrible at committing to people, habits, hobbies. I want to change that. I'm stressed that I used to be able to do a lot of hobbies like music, writing, learning different skills on art but over time, I stopped. I'm in need of advice on how to get back on my groove and keep up habit to ignore everyone pressuring me not to do art or music or writing etc. I wanna do me and live my own life. How do I do that without coming to being like some insensitive person to others?

anon added this later:

Hi this is the anon earlier. I feel pressured by my parents on what I wanna do for living but at the same time I have no idea what I wanna do now. I love my parents and family but sometimes felt like I don't understand what they want from me but neither do they. I am not sure about what I want to do next, but I want to try and change to be a better person. At the same time, I'm stressed with societal pressure myself. I also feel like I couldn't succeed like everyone else and just felt like my life is a dead end where I'm gonna be forced to live with my parents for the rest of my life. Don't get me wrong, I love them but sometimes it feels so overwhelming to be around them and their expectations yknow? And I want to try living out my life one step at a time but I'm not sure where to start and how to say 'I want to live independently from them and see where it takes me' because I don't know how to say that and I don't really think it's possible. I just felt like if I live with them, I might just live the life they dictated instead of living the life I wanted and I don't really know if it's the correct thing to say here. Thank you for having this space.

hey anon,

thank you for feeling like you could share with me. and i'm sorry that you're going through this.

if i'm honest, i am actually in quite a similar situation right now. even though i got to choose what i do for a living, i have started to find that my life has been consumed by work so much that it's all there is to my life.

i have friends and hobbies and down time but all of that feels forced. i struggle with finding the will to actually put effort into the things i used to enjoy like reading, drawing, and painting.

i'm sorry for sharing my own troubles in response to yours but what i want to say is that you're not alone. there are more like us who are struggling but i think being aware of what the problem is is a big step towards solving it so we're on the correct track.

as for a solution, i have been thinking about this a lot lately and it's usually a matter of comparison and assumption that scares me. comparing my life to others and feeling left behind. and assuming that i will remain "left behind". when in reality, i have no proof or logic to back either claim.

left behind means nothing as a human. there's one life. if you're sincere and you persevere then you're doing okay. and assuming things that you don't know about is preemptive and often unnecessary pressure we put ourselves through. and for what?

i know how this is easier said than done but i know you and i can do it. let's introspect and see where we are and where we want to go. let's build an action plan to get there. i'm taking a therapist's help along the way and maybe you can too.

as for family, i love mine to bits and also live with them. you can love someone and still not like everything they do or say. look into creating boundaries. that helped me.

hope this helps and i'm sorry for my own rant in response. sending you hugs and positive vibes 💜✨

#positively positive #anon ask #answered

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berrystiles · 2 years ago

Text

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 10.2k words

Content Warning: Major Character Death, explicit language, a lot of angst, underage drinking, mentions of depression and grief.

Summary: Set after season 4. In that final battle Steve sacrifices himself so everyone else can live, leaving you behind to reflect on various points in your relationship and how the hell you’re supposed to live in a world without him.

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. No use of y/n. This is my first time ever doing a Steve fic, or even a reader pov fic so please be kind. I am also so so so sorry for this. I cried writing it, but I just couldn’t get the idea of my head. My friend is the one who convinced me to post this. I didn’t really have anyone else look over this so any issues are my own and I guess just let me know if you see anything that needs fixing!

Ao3 Link - in case you would prefer to read it there.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

After what will later be called the end. When the ash from the Upside Down stops falling. When the sky is no longer coated in red. When the nightmare sound of lightning and the ground shaking doesn’t wake you up. You stand at the end and somehow you are still alive. However, it doesn’t feel like you won anything. This isn't the victory you envisioned when you sat in Hopper's cabin and talked strategy with your friends, most of whom still haven't even finished their first year of high school. You weren't stupid, you didn't walk into this final battle naively thinking that all of you would walk away. You've been too deep into this Upside Down shit, lost too many good people, to think that no one in that room was next up on the list of funerals you'd be attending. It's just, that this outcome, the one that you're standing in now was never really an outcome you allowed yourself to think about. You'd picture your death sooner than face this.

Your friends, the ones that made it at least, stand around you. Each of them wrapped up in their own state of being, each of them coming to terms with what should be the last piece of this seemingly endless battle. Nancy and Mike are tucked away in their corner of this field you all have managed to meet up in. They look more like the siblings they are supposed to be than you have ever seen them. If you were fully present, the sight might startle you due to how infrequently you see them in a moment like this, wrapped up in one another. Lucas stands to your left, and you can hear him taking in heaving breaths. If you were to turn your head and make some sort of movement to check on him, you'd see Max standing beside him with her hand in his.

Moving is too much though, especially when directly in front of you are Robin and Dustin. They cling together, dirt and ash covering their faces, their hair a mess. They stand in what should be a hug of celebration, one that should remind you of another time, a better outcome. This hug isn’t for comfort, there's nothing to celebrate. Instead, it’s muffling the sound of sobs, ones that shake Dustin's whole body and remind you so much more of Eddie's loss months ago, but somehow worse. You should be moving toward Robin and Dustin. You should be joining in the wailing, after all the loss they mourn is yours too. But all you feel is that same cold numbness that you have been carrying around for the last hour of this battle. You couldn’t stop, you didn't have a moment to even- you can't think that.

Can't focus on what you couldn't do because if you do... If for just a moment you allow yourself to be back in that space and at that time, you are not sure if you'll be able to leave.

There is a passing thought, so brief, that maybe you got this wrong. Maybe you didn’t survive this at all. It is a big maybe but somehow, it’s easier to think that maybe you are just a ghost in these moments. That you paid your debt back to the universe and it’s giving you a minute to see who survived. A parting gift before you join him and everyone else, but mostly him.

It is as that thought enters and settles that you think you can breathe again. The air that hasn't been able to get into your lungs feels possible. Which should make you laugh because if you are dead then you don't really need that breath, do you?

Still, it’s easier to believe you didn’t survive. That your friends are crying over your loss too. It's an outcome you could make peace with. Because if it's true then you won’t have to live in a world without him. Having to imagine that this next part is where you are supposed to figure out how to survive? Impossible. Not without him.

But then someone’s hand is on your shoulder. The weight of it is heavy and you feel that breath leave you because you can feel it, the pressure of the hand. Another person whispers your name, and that picture you briefly created loses shape. Any hope you had that you’d be joining Steve Harrington in whatever existed on the other side is shattered.

You feel your resolve break, and someone is screaming. The sound is guttural. It's deafening in a way that makes you think of El and makes you see windows shattering with the power behind it. You want to cry for this person because they lost someone like you. There's a deep sympathy that runs through you for them. It's only as someone grabs you, your legs giving out because of that shattered concept that you did live through this again. It is as you fall that you register there isn't anyone else screaming, it's just you.

Take me back to the night we met

October 1984, Halloween

You knew Steve Harrington long before you knew what a Demogorgon was or that the Upside Down existed. The perk, or downfall depending on who you were, of living in a small town like Hawkins is that you've been in school with Steve since the beginning. He may be a year older than you, but your paths still crossed, even in the elementary school playground. However, despite that you and Steve weren't friends, you were nothing but passing ships. Despite knowing him, you didn't register him and had no real reason or desire to if you were honest. The night you finally did take note of Steve Harrington as more than just a self-proclaimed king of your high school was Halloween 1984.

As usual, Tina is throwing a party. Another day when her parents are long gone from Hawkins and her need for popularity demands that teenagers should enter her home and destroy it. It's not the first party Tina's thrown this year and it sure as hell will not be the last. You may not be on Tina's level of popularity, but you do okay socially. Your friends have demanded to make an appearance at the party. The idea of passing up free beer, and the chance to catch the attention of whoever their recent crush is too much to pass up on.

As usual, they drag you along, and it is fine. Because while you may not have the same motivation as them to attend you do love Halloween. You are too old to trick or treat, so at least this is a chance to dress up and have fun. After all, these are the best years of your life, as your mom continues to remind you. So, you took the time and went as Jo from The Facts of Life. Which honestly was one of your favorite shows, only to have your friends all ditch you by the end of the night. Which also meant, you were stuck walking home... alone.

As annoyed as you are, you are also the one that after a cup or two of whatever that punch was, was pushing your friends toward the boys they had been eyeing all night. Let it be known, you were a good friend you thought to yourself as you started walking towards the door. Plus, you're also a little thankful for some of the alcohol still coursing through you because, at the very least, it's giving you the warmth you need to push outside and make the trek home.

As you’re breathing in the fresh air, finally free from the cigarette smoke inside, you hear the signs of someone else taking in deep breaths. Curiosity will always be your downfall, at least that's what your grandma tells you, but so what you like to know what's going on.

You look to your left and you are surprised to see Steve Harrington. Not that you thought he wouldn’t be here tonight or something. After all, you had seen him earlier though he seemed much happier then. What is surprising was that Steve was swiping at his face like he was trying to wipe tears away. But that would be impossible because you had a bet going with Robin Buckley from band that Steve didn’t have feelings. This new development meant you were going to be ten bucks short the next day at school if you decided to share what you saw.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the surprise, or maybe you are just a good person. Whatever it is has you stepping towards him. “Are you okay?”

He’s obviously not, but you are kind enough to give him an out, and maybe you’re hoping he’ll take it. You didn't sign up to be the one comforting King Steve, but there's just something so depressing about a boy caught crying to himself outside of a party. Not that you had much experience with the picture before you, but this was feeling depressing. Steve must be surprised by your question too because your voice makes him jump, and he's coughing like he wasn't just crying.

"Me? No yeah, I'm fine, totally fine." You find yourself raising a brow and the alcohol has you feeling bold. "That sounds like a load of bullshit," Steve frowns at you, his mouth opens, and you are pretty sure he's about to start arguing with you. But you press on because you haven't let a man talk over you before and you're not starting tonight.

"However, despite it sounding like bullshit I will refrain from further questioning." You pause a moment before smiling in what is probably coming off as less charming and more chaotic, "You're welcome!"

You don't hesitate after that, you have done your due diligence, and you are free to go in your opinion. You are hoping down the front steps of Tina's house when Steve calls after you, and you're surprised he knows your name. So surprised that you miss the last step and tumble to the ground.

"Shit!" Steve yells out and you stare at the sky, the stars look nice tonight you think as you hear Steve approaching. "Are you okay?" The original question of this whole exchange is now turned on you, and you can't help but chuckle because this is so stupid.

You, partially tipsy and laying in Tina's yard, and Steve fresh from crying asking if you're okay as he hovers over you. "I'm cool," you assure him as you go to sit up. "Isn't the first time I've fallen and knowing my luck it won't be the last." You're thankful for your costume which has layers that took the brunt of it all, and the grass in Tina's yard that softened the rest of your fall.

You dust yourself off and it's in your peripheral that you see Steve is still hovering. You heave a sigh, and it probably comes off like you're exasperated at his mere presence, but for once that's not how you mean it. "Steve, really I'm okay stop looking at me like you just tried to mortally maim me or something." It's enough to get him laughing now, and you try to hide your smile because you can't be so easily charmed by Steve Harrington, you won't allow yourself.

Except then he's asking you if you're driving home, and you're not going to lie to him. So, you tell him about your plans to walk since your ride took off about an hour ago. Steve scoffs at the idea of you walking home and mutters what sounds like a remark about your clumsiness making the act of walking home impossible. Then he's walking away, and calling back to you, again using your name which you're still confused by, and telling you he's going to take you home. You think maybe the fall gave you whiplash or something because this all feels just too much. However, the alcohol is wearing off and you're cold and a little achy from your fall. So, with no fight and without trying to pretend you don't need his help you're climbing into his car.

The car ride is quiet at first, just small questions from Steve so you can direct him where to go. The heat is on, and you hold your hands in front of the vents. Steve takes a right at your direction, and it's silent again but not for long. "Um, can I ask a question?" You stop yourself from being cheeky and responding that he did just ask a question. "Sure," makes its way out of you instead and later you'll be proud of yourself for sounding so calm as you said it.

"Do you think if someone says something to you when they're drunk, they mean it?" You look over at him, his hands clinch the steering wheel, and he actively avoids looking over at you. Tomorrow the pieces of this puzzle will slot together, and you'll recognize this question as a driving force behind what had upset him earlier. For now, though you don't catch the connecting pieces. Instead, you hum and think to yourself, really rolling over the question before providing your answer.

"You probably won't like this answer, but I have to say I don't have a lot of experience with that situation." You pause, collecting all the scattered thoughts, "But I think that maybe they do?" You wish you sounded surer, but really, you're just not. "I guess it depends on the person, but at its core alcohol lowers inhibitions that's why people do stupid shit. Maybe it lowers the walls enough for people to be honest, even if they don't mean to be so... well I guess mean about it."

You spare another glance his way. You catch Steve nodding along to your words, something in them must be what he was looking for, or maybe he was just afraid of accepting them. But all he says is, "Thanks." It's the last thing he says as he pulls into your driveway, and you're again confused because you never said which house was yours. Your brows scrunch together, as you climb out of his car. You go to shut the door, but another pause, and you dip your head back into the warm car. "Steve," he finally looks at you, a surprised look taking over, "whatever was said, maybe just ask the person about it before you get too stuck in that head of yours." You smile, and he manages to match the look, his eyes are soft as he stares at you. "Thanks for the ride, Harrington." You close the door before he can reply and skip to your door.

When the night was full of terrors

Junkyard, November 1984

You don't talk to Steve Harrington again after Halloween, and maybe it's for the best because the whole experience just felt unreal to you. Hawkins is still Hawkins though and you see Steve sure enough, and you don't take offense when he doesn't acknowledge you. The rumor mill at the school tells many versions of Steve and Nancy's fight at Tina's party. You keep quiet about the parts of the puzzle that you walked into as you were leaving. It's not your story to tell, and honestly, it's Steve and Nancy's business when it comes to what happens next.

So, you move on with your life like the whole car ride home thing never happened. You keep your ten dollars, and never tell Robin about how Steve Harrington is capable of human emotion. It's your secret now, and you'd rather keep your money. Steve Harrington and you will only ever have that moment on Halloween, or so you think. Instead, the world has other plans for the pair of you.

Later you'll look back on this night as one of the dumbest decisions you have ever made, but in the moment, it felt like a good option. Your bike, the literal only means of transportation you have, has decided enough is enough and it's putting up a permanent strike and the bike chain it needs to function is breaking. You're pissed and frustrated because this means you either need to pay for a new bike, pay for a stupid part that will be way overpriced, or you're stuck walking everywhere.

You choose option number four, which is walking to the junkyard and just finding a piece you can salvage. You're positive there will be some old bike that you can take a part from, no one will miss it after all. It'll save you some money and will be a quick solution to your problem. In theory, it’s a great plan. The issue is that you can't let go of this idea which leads you to the junkyard right as the sun is setting. It's going to be a chilly night, and the fog is already rolling in making it hard to see. Which isn't great because the junkyard on its own is already a creepy place to be, but tonight it's weirder and it smells like gas. You wander around, muttering to yourself about finding a bike quickly and potentially running home.

You're moving close to the bus because some bikes seem to be stacked up near it when you hear a growl from somewhere in the woods. Indiana is not supposed to have deadly creatures lurking in the woods you remind yourself, but still, you turn around. The damn fog has only gotten thicker though, and you can't see shit. Someone grabs your arm and yanks you back, you go to scream but their other hand clamps over your mouth. "It's okay, you're safe," the voice tells you but that's what all kidnappers say you think, so you lick the hand covering your mouth, which is enough for them to drop it.

You don't plan to die without a fight, so you're quick to turn around and punch your assailant, however, your fist stops midair because your supposed kidnapper is none other than Steve Harrington. He wipes his hand on his jeans a disgusted look on his face, "Steve?" You look around and take note that you're in a bus, a bus that has three pre-teens also inside of it. "Is this some weird kidnapping thing, because I'm not okay with this." Steve looks up at you quickly, "What? No, what the fuck?"

Once you are assured that the kids are there of their own free will and this isn't some wild ploy to sell you on the black market or kill you, you start to settle down. You take a seat next to a kid who introduces himself as Dustin and immediately wants to know how you know Steve. "Feels like the wrong question to be asking, dude." Steve sighs and it sounds like this line of questioning is one he's been dealing with all day.

It's an opening though, and you explain your presence in the junkyard, and while they are all hesitant, they do tell you why they are all huddled inside of the bus. You don't get it, something about other worlds and monsters and people with powers. It all goes over your head, and you're pretty sure this is some elaborate prank, and you don't really have the patience for it all. You're about to yell, about to stomp right out of that bus, when the kid they called Lucas yells out that there's something outside. Steve and the other two kids are at the window peering out before you can even respond, and the curiosity kicks back in and sweeps out all the anger you had building up.

You slide in next to Steve and peer out into the night. Everything changes after that, because suddenly the monsters are very very real and very much trying to eat you. And Steve Fucking Harrington, just waltzes on out into the night like he's fucking invincible. It's all so ridiculous, but you're in it now and even when you have the chance to walk away you just can't. When you think about doing it you think of Steve and the way that bat twirled around. You think of these stupid kids you don't even know, and you just can't walk away. You say as much and start to head off in the direction of these things they all plan to chase.

The night is a blur after that, finding Nancy and Jonathan. Getting taken to the Byers and learning that the police chief is aware of this all too. Meeting the one with powers, who is also a kid, and was thought to be dead. You couldn't make it up if you tried, and you're not sure you want to. Once everyone is split up, Steve and you are left with the kids. You try to be helpful, but this just doesn't feel like enough.

When the kids get the idea to go into the tunnels you find yourself siding with them, but Steve is so stupidly adamant that no one is leaving the house. He looks like such a mom at the moment, and more of this picture of who you thought Steve was shatters. There's no more arguing though because Billy Hargrove is suddenly showing up and it's an all-out brawl. You're thankful your dad taught you how to fight. It comes in handy tonight because while Steve might have been doing well in the beginning, he's slowly lost his leg in this whole thing.

You'll be damned if you just let Hargrove kill Steve, not when you're just starting to finally like the guy. So, you do what your dad taught you and you land a punch of your own, just enough to distract him. Enough to lead him away from Steve. So, what if there's also some satisfaction in making the hit? Hargrove has been a dick since he showed up and you don't feel sorry for hitting him. You do however start to regret those actions once Hargrove makes it clear that he doesn't care that you're a girl, he'll gladly turn you black and blue if you're in his way. Billy starts to make his way towards you, when suddenly Max is plunging a syringe into his neck, and any momentum he had just takes him down to the ground even harder.

You'd love to say you kept up with Steve's mothering ways while he was passed out, but you were all too happy to pile into the car with the kids. The issue is you don't know how to drive Billy's car, it's a stick and you only know automatic at this point, which left Max as the only option. Her driving leaves little room for comfort. There are no other words to describe it except for wild and terrifying, and yet, it led you closer to Steve which led you directly to your happiest points it just took some time to get there.

Because after that night in November your life changes, but then it also doesn't. You're let into this whole other world, all the dirty secrets that Hawkins has been hiding over the last year are now known to you. Despite everything you saw and did, you still have to show up to school on Monday and pretend like nothing has changed.

You spend your days smiling with friends, keeping this huge secret from them, and then your nights are spent lying awake and being a little haunted by those monsters in the tunnels. You close your eyes and instead of running around you and Steve, they rip you apart. You always wake, gasping for air, and spend the rest of the night staring at your ceiling. You don't know who to talk to, because honestly, you're not friends with Nancy or Jonathan, and they weren't there when it all happened anyway.

Most of the people that were there are still children, pre-teens sure, but still not responsible for being your outlet. The only option left is Steve, but there's this overwhelming weight that settles in your stomach when you think of approaching him. Because things with Steve are weird after that night. You have memories and imprints of him holding on to you, you helped him clean and bandage up his face, and the last time you really slept was with your head on his shoulder as you all waited for everyone to return to the Byers' house that night. When it was all said and done, once he was back at his car, he gave you a ride home, smiled at you, told you goodnight, and then he was gone.

You spent that weekend wondering if when Monday rolled around Steve Harrington would even acknowledge you. Or maybe just like Halloween, this was just a brief moment that the two of you shared that you will never talk about again.

When Monday did come, he didn't ignore you, but he didn't approach you either. He smiles at you from across the hall, raises his hand, and gives a little wave. Your friends spend the rest of the day asking you about the small moment, and all you can do is shrug because you're not sure how to label it.

So no, you don't approach Steve about your nightmares. Steve and you are small waves in the hallway, passing smiles, and deep secrets that neither of you even mentions. You wonder sometimes, as you stare at your ceiling if he's stuck awake and thinking about this weird cycle the two of you seem stuck in.

The cycle keeps going, until the Snowball dance, where somehow you got roped into borrowing your parents' car and taking Max to the dance. It's there as you're saying goodbye and throwing up two thumbs up that you see Steve sending Dustin off through the doors. Maybe it's the distance or the fact that you're both alone again, but you gather your courage and do something different. You call his name, you both smile, and you ask if he's hungry.

From that night on, Steve and you are more than passing glances in a hall. The two of you are weekly dinners at a diner on the edge of town, you are night drives and late phone calls, you are movie nights, and the additional babysitter to the pre-teens. It's a new cycle, one that your other friends don't get, and you don't know how to explain, but it's a cycle you love being stuck in.

I had all and then most of you

Summer 1985

Time moves on from winter to spring, and when summer finds you it's easy to think that last fall was the last time you have to worry about being anything other than seventeen. Somehow through it all, in a move that no one saw coming, Steve Harrington worms his way into your life and somehow becomes your best friend. It turns out that when he isn't pretending to be something he's not, when he's not worried about carrying the crown that was placed on him by his peers, Steve Harrington is all too easy to be friends with.

In the months following the Snowball Dance, the two of you spend an enormous amount of time together. You do end up confiding in him about your nightmares, and he shares about his. It's the two of you, and sometimes it’s also just the dynamic duo of being the babysitters of all the pre-teens, that are suddenly just teens. You have inside jokes, and the teasing nature of your conversation becomes more fond than annoyed.

So yeah, when summer rolls in and Steve is forced to find a job after he graduates, you're right beside him for moral support. He lands a spot at Scoops, and you're a couple of stores down working at Camelot Music. You spend the summer riding back and forth together when your schedules line up. Breaks are spent skipping into Scoops and watching as Steve continuously strikes out with what seems like the total female teen population in Hawkins. It helps that your friend from band, Robin, is also working there so you both get to tease Steve together. On days off the two of you are still spending time together most of it trying to escape the heat by swimming in his pool or taking small drives out of town and trying to see something new.

And it's fine, really. You have nothing to complain about.

Except... for a tiny little thing. It's the middle of summer, and you're about 90% sure you're in love with Steve Harrington. The same Steve Harrington who is your best friend, the same best friend who definitely does not feel the same way you do, so... that is kind of a problem.

It's just difficult. Because in the same way that it was so easy to be friends with him, it is even easier to love Steve Harrington. You're not sure if anyone has ever told him that before, given what you know you would wager no one has. And as much as you want to tell him, as much as you want him to stop chasing after all these girls who can't even see him, you are not willing to lose him. Because that's the other thing that you are almost positive of. If you tell him how you feel there is no way to come back from that moment.

So, you sit in the back room with Robin, the window open so you can see Steve in the front. You watch him flirt with girl after girl. Watch Steve smile and joke and laugh and pretend like your whole stomach isn't churning with jealousy. You sit in his passenger seat, windows rolled down and radio on, and try not to stare at the way he smiles at you when you sing along. You make great efforts not to just sigh in what you’re sure would sound like love when you watch him mother hen these teens that have somehow become both of yours. Again, it's all fine you repeat to yourself as you watch the gang of teens push their way past Steve as he sneaks them into the back hallway so they can get into a movie. You feel like maybe if you repeat it's fine enough eventually it will be.

When Dustin returns and shares the radio interception with you and Steve, things start to take a drastic turn away from fine. Apparently, it is too much to think you can just be seventeen when you live in Hawkins. The only difference between now and last fall is that you're dealing with Russians instead of monsters, and you get pulled in right at the beginning, instead of just stumbling into it all. At first, it's fun, you come in on your breaks, and when you're done for the day, you help where you can. You get a good laugh out of both Dustin and Steve mistaking the pig Latin for Russian. It's easy in those beginning moments to feel like the whole plot all of you are working on uncovering is so far away from Hawkins. You feel safe.

You feel safe at least until you're passing a quarter to a frantic Steve, and you learn that the Russian plot is a lot closer to home than you thought.

Your guard starts to go up after that moment, but you're not backing out now. That night when Steve drives you home, after dropping off Dustin he pauses in your driveway and tells you that you don't have to help. You would take offense to it if it wasn't for the way his eyes were all soft as he looked at you. Maybe there would have been a biting comment, but he's picked up your hand, fingers are intertwined together and you're more stuck on how well his hand feels in your own to start a fight.

You take a deep breath, swallow down your feelings, and give what is probably a shaky smile, "You're stuck with me, Harrington. I won't scare away that easily. What are a couple of Russians compared to weird deadly monsters?" Your question gets the exact response you wanted, a quick and cheeky grin that is all Steve and means trouble you've learned. "That's true," his voice is low despite it just being you two in his car. His eyes glance at your hands, still together, and he gives yours a squeeze. "Don't tell Henderson, but if I had to uncover a secret Russian plot you would be my first choice, Bee."

It's not the first time you've heard him use the little nickname he has for you, but just like the first time it causes your stomach to do a full turn and you feel like you might just choke on your feelings right there in the passenger seat of his car. You've been good about keeping your eyes on him, but you have to look away, and you bite your lip to just give yourself a second. A soft huff of laughter does escape in the end though, and you squeeze his hand back. "Your secret is safe with me.”

You think that if you were anywhere else but this tiny car it would probably be hard for him to hear you. There's another pause, a silence that sits heavy on you, and the air feels tense like it can sometimes get for you both. It's in these small and rare moments that you think about the what-if of it all. What if he did like you? But then, Steve clears his throat and his hand escapes yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Your smile feels tight, but you've practiced it so much that it comes out like it's easy, "Tomorrow, definitely. Night, Harrington." The use of his last name is for you, it puts some distance between the affection that sometimes escapes when you use his first name. You're out of the car and to your door before he can say anything else and… it's fine.

When you see him the next day it’s just like it always is. Like his car wasn’t full of just something right on the edge just the night before. And just like always, you burst into Scoops, lucky to have a day off and pretend like you always do. That your feelings are those of only the most platonic nature. It’s helpful that the same day Robin, and somewhat you, manage to figure out what all the little sentences you’ve translated mean. All the different spots in the mall are connected, and it leads you to the next step in the process which is gaining intel. The four of you manage to sneak onto a roof and watch over a very shady exchange with some men who should not be holding weapons to just drop off products. When you all duck down, as you’re tucked away on the end by Dustin. You look over to make sure everyone is okay; you watch as Steve and Robin’s hands unclasp. You try to shake off the sick feeling that bubbles up, and the four of you take off before someone comes up to investigate what all the noise is about.

The next day brings a full shift over at Camelot that you cannot get out of. It’s busy so even during your breaks you don’t have the time to go over to Scoops. Which is fine because you just need a second before you go over there. Just some space to sort out the crazed scenarios your brain created all night long. Pictures of Steve and Robin together, take up all the free space in your mind. You are all too aware of how ridiculous it is, but you just can’t let the idea go. It’s only after your shift is over that you wander over to Scoops, only to find that somehow Sinclair’s sister has been dragged into this operation. Dustin comments on how it’s about time you showed up, and Steve smacks him on the head and tells him to stop being a little shit.

Robin slides over and whispers that she’s glad you’re here, “I don’t think I could spend another minute alone with the two of them.” Some of your thoughts start to drift away, you internally remind yourself again that you’re being silly. “I wouldn’t miss being here for anything,” you remark, a smile firm on your face and it feels right like you aren’t lying. Later, you’ll want to smack yourself because the whole sentence is a set of shitty last words if you’ve ever heard them. You’ll wonder if you doomed everyone by the statement.

Getting stuck in the elevator was one terrible thing, and in the moment of it all, you have a hard time imagining it gets worse. Of course, it does get worse because this is Hawkins and apparently you and your friends are now stuck saving the world on a regular basis. You hate that Steve, Robin, and yourself have been caught but there is a comfort in knowing that at least Dustin and Erica are safe. You don’t understand the questions the Russians are asking, and why they don’t believe that you work at a record store. Not knowing where Robin or Steve are being kept and what’s happening to them, is the worst of it though. You feel like you’re at the end of your rope. You’re tired and scared, but you try and stay strong. You spew words like venom the longer the questioning goes on until finally you’re thrown into a room with Robin. Steve, who looks even worse than he did last year after his fight with Billy eventually joins too.

Any resolve to keep your shit together goes out the window as you call to Steve to wake up. When you hear him groan relief floods over your body like a bucket of water being poured over you. It’s the easiest you’ve been able to breathe since the elevator doors wouldn’t open. The three of you try to plan an escape, but the limited mobility and lack of coordination make your escape complicated. You feel like a third wheel as you lay on the ground next to your friends. It’s not the time or place for your insecurities, but Robin’s speech has them coming out. You’re quiet as she talks, quiet even more as Steve’s additional silence hangs over all three of you.

You can’t stop them from injecting you when the guards return to the room. A part of you wishes it was easy to break out of this situation like it is in all the action movies that you’ve seen. Eventually, though a sense of ease settles into your bones and you’re laughing with Steve and Robin, taunting guards, and forgetting all about the additional insecurities you had just moments before they injected you all. There’s a piece of your brain that recognizes this is what the guards want, but it just all feels so- insignificant.

Your limbs are heavy as Dustin and Erica try to hurdle the three of you out of captivity. You bounce around in the back of that car, hitting the sides as you turn corners in a way that you know will leave you with bruises tomorrow. Steve is pressed against you too though, and somehow that makes the blows even softer. The drugged-up version of you finds it freeing to not be so restricted by your anxious thoughts. You lean into Steve and his touches as all of you move through the theater. You rest your head on his shoulder as you try to understand what this movie is about. It’s not the way the ceiling of Starcourt shines and moves that makes you sick in the end. For you, it feels more like all the cells of your body are just overwhelmed and short-circuiting from all these emotions that swell inside of you.

Confessions slip out from all of you in those bathroom stalls. It feels like a moment, one that chains the three of you together in a way that you can never escape from. Unlike the confines the Russians had placed on you, this imaginary chain isn’t one you want to let go of. These are your people, and you love them. It doesn’t matter that Steve can’t love you the way you love him, it doesn’t matter who Robin loves. These are your people and as you all sit next to one another on the floor of the bathroom, laughing together, it feels like you will never have to worry about losing one another. Future you will think back on this moment and wish harder than you ever have that you could just transport yourself back there. If the DeLorean did exist you would gladly take it back to that moment, and you never would have let yourself leave it.

The night never stops being a nightmare, the terror of seeing the Mindflayer in person will keep you up for months after Starcourt. You will pour over everything you could have done to try and change the outcome of the incident. You will spend spare moments reaching out to Max only for her to push you and everyone else further and further away the longer time goes on. You will fret and worry over the lasting trauma all of this will take on each one of you as you get older.

Eventually though, like all things with the Upside Down do, the feelings will lessen. The nightmares will get farther and farther away from you. And in a turn of events even better than you could have hoped for Steve and you will move from just being friends to something that is so much more than your mind could have ever created. You’ll get to a place where you’re able to tell yourself that all of you are going to be okay eventually. That all of this is finally over, and sure you have lost a lot and there are still people to pull back from the edge, but all of you might end up being okay.

Some and now none of you

What instead happens is that a pattern of you being wrong about the Upside Down continues. Everything gets worse and this time you don’t even have half the team you’re used to fighting with. Instead, those of you left behind in Hawkins must scrape together and try to defeat an even bigger piece of the Upside Down puzzle that is Vecna. It goes even worse than it has in the past. You lose another friend, and you all come out with physical and mental scars that don’t feel like they will heal this time. Even worse, is that this time there is no reprieve to try and heal or move on. While parts of the team do come back, you’re all scrambling to try and figure out how to move directly into the next phase of the battle.

Your timeline in what you all hope is the last phase of this is shorter and yet longer than any you’ve worked with before. Waking hours are spent at Hopper’s cabin, each of you doing what you can to get more insight into what you’re dealing with. Hawkins continues to meld with the Upside Down in a way that feels too similar to that first fall you became involved in all of this. The only thing holding you together during it all is Steve, and a part of you knows that you’re the only thing holding him together too. While your days are spent at Hopper’s, your nights belong to Steve. The two of you cling together and sometimes it feels like if you could make it out of all of this the domestic bliss you create at night could be your future.

Midnights are spent curled into one another. Faces flush and warm with love, lips swollen from deep kisses, bodies aching in a way that shows more of how you two try to become one and less about the physical ways the outside world has harmed you in the past. Here in the cocoon of your shared bed, you two whisper out future plans. You talk about escaping after this, leaving Hawkins, and finding a new place to call home. You dream of tiny apartments decorated with secondhand furniture, a space in the future where Steve and you get those six little nuggets, he talked about so long ago in that stolen RV. Kids that look like Steve, that’s your hope, but Steve is so quick to share how he hopes they look exactly like you. Tucked in the small spaces of the night, blocked off from the rest of the world, the two of you allow yourself to sink into this future. Others might warn that doing this would be torture because nothing is guaranteed. But these moments are the only thing keeping you together, and Steve himself even shares how this is sometimes the only hope he has that all of you can make it through this. So, other people be damned, you will keep planning a future with Steve because that’s the only future you want to be a part of.

When the final battle plans are complete, and you’re all geared up again and everyone knows what their role in this is, that’s when things shift. You don’t place weight on how the night before could be the last one you share with Steve. The two of you seek comfort from one another like it might be the last night on Earth, but you don’t talk about the what-ifs that could come from tomorrow.

The last ounce of peace you have isn’t even that peaceful. Your body shakes with anxious energy and Steve can feel your heart racing as he tightens the vest you wear to hold your weapons. “You don’t have to come,” he tells you and it sparks the memory of so long ago that moment in his car. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to go either, but you both know what his response will be to that. Your smile is soft, “You’re stuck with me, remember that Harrington.” You get just the reaction you wanted, just like you did on that summer night so long ago. Steve takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly. Neither of you is the same person you were in his BMW all that time ago, but that’s okay you think.

“If I remember correctly, you don’t scare that easily?” His voice is thick, and you think if sound could have a taste his words would be sweet and sticky like honey. “Good to know all those hits to the head haven’t affected your memory too badly,” you tease. Steve doesn’t even take a moment to laugh like he normally would, instead the soft look he gives you turns serious in a way that you’ve come to recognize. “There is no memory where you are involved that I could ever forget, Bee. Doesn’t matter how many hits to the head I take, you’re too unforgettable.”

In another life, the two of you would be able to just be two not-so-teens anymore in love. You like to think that there isn’t a world out there where Steve and you don’t find one another somehow. In this universe, though both of you carry too much, and not for the first time you find yourself silently wishing there was a way you both could run from this. That’s not who you are and it’s not who Steve is. You pull Steve close and kiss him for what could be the last time, “Don’t do anything stupid out there, we have a future to get back to.” Steve makes no promises, but he kisses you back just as fiercely, the kiss only breaking as Hopper calls everyone to come together to set the plan into place.

At first, the plan seems to be working, and all of you are fighting harder than you ever have. There’s a moment where you think to yourself that you all could do this. Allowing the thought to take root though is a curse because everything falls apart after it. What advantage you had is quickly taken away and the battle starts to feel more like you’re all doomed. Those who survived and were there will later tell you all the little things that happened next. Mostly because you make them tell you because it doesn’t matter how hard you try the next bit is a blur. One moment you’re there and fighting, and watching as Steve takes down another creature, and the next you’re hovering over pushing compression after compression into his chest like if you do it enough you can bring him back from the dead.

Steve dies in the only way you imagine the universe would ever let him leave so young, saving you and everyone else. Because of course Steve sacrificed himself, as he always tends to do because no matter how much you loved him it would never make him feel like he wasn’t the most expendable person.

You feel bitter and angry at Steve for being so careless with his life. You want to rage at the world, and every single person who contributed to this existence you must live in. You think if Dr. Brenner were still alive Hopper might have to figure out how to get you out of murder charges because you don’t think you could stop yourself. Worst of all, you hate yourself because, in all the futures you ever allowed yourself to imagine, you never thought you’d have to figure out how to be without Steve.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

The aftermath is that the rest of Hawkins gets to move on. They figure out a way to rebuild and pave over the deep cracks left behind. They put up a statue in the middle of town, and have a plaque dedicated to “everyone who lost their lives in the tragedy”.

The Harringtons learn about the death of their son over the phone because they refuse to come back to town. You hate them and wish they were the ones who were dead and not Steve. It makes you feel sick to hold on to so much anger, but you just don’t know what to do with it all. You feel like you’re constantly on the edge of some cliff just waiting for the wind to knock you over.

It's you and the ones that survived that end up holding his funeral. His parents don’t even want to hear about it. The only thing that their absence allows for is for you to sneak back into his home long after he’s gone and seek comfort in the room that became both of yours in that last week. Everything there smells like him and when you’re there you can pretend like he’s still here with you.

Time even in that false reality is limited, and you don’t care what the Harringtons will do. You’re not even sure if they would notice, so you buy totes and pack up his clothes and his belongings. You let Dustin and the kids come in and take a part of him so they can remember him. Robin says she doesn’t want anything and that she’s just here for moral support. But then you find his hat from Scoops. The only piece of his uniform that survived. You pretend you don’t notice her pocketing the object, and neither of you talks about it.

You barely manage to graduate. You think you get a pass only because of the tragedy the town has seen. Your parents want to move, the town still feels cursed in their eyes and it would be an easy way out, but you just can’t. You’re eighteen at this point and they can’t force you to follow them, so they just say goodbye and tell you to call if you need anything. You find an apartment in town and move your stuff and Steve’s into it. No one says anything at first, but a month later Nancy feels emboldened to ask if you think this is okay. You hate how your only response is, “No, I don’t think it’s okay that I have to be mourning the loss of my very young boyfriend thanks for checking in, Nance.” No one says anything again after that.

What you learn during this time is that grief is fucked. Depression and trauma in a world where you can’t talk about it is also shit. You force yourself into therapy but you can’t be honest and so it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. You quit that after a few weeks.

Hawkins feels haunted. You see Steve everywhere you go. At the diner where you spent all those late-night dinners together. In every movie that The Hawk advertises, in the halls of the school when you’re still there, you see him in the streets and the people. Nowhere feels safe, and you can’t stay in your apartment forever. All you want to do is leave this stupid town and never return. But then you think of the kids and your friends who survived and the thought of leaving them behind feels like you’d be letting Steve down. It doesn’t matter that you both talked about leaving, it still feels like you’d be disappointing him. So, you keep living in this town that makes you want to die and as the months continue to go by you start to question if this is even living.

And then I can tell myself what the hell to do

When the one-year anniversary comes around you still feel like you’re stuck in the same spot Steve left you in. It doesn’t feel like you’re living. You get up and go to work, plaster on a smile, and pretend like things are fine. You carve out time to be with your friends, who may still be a little haunted but have been able to move on in ways you can’t.

It’s Dustin who shows up at your apartment the day of, some excuse on his tongue about needing a ride somewhere and you’re his only hope. You’re not sure if Dustin drew the short end of the stick, or if it was a strategic move because you can’t say no to him. There’s also the very real possibility that Dustin could have volunteered because he’s the only other person besides Robin who knew Steve the way that you did. It turns out Dustin was just there to lead you to some intervention in the Hopper-Byer household.

Your friends are gathered up, even Hopper and Joyce are there with sympathetic eyes that whisper out apologies. Dustin is the first to speak, his words hold so many emotions but are blunt and to the point, “You need to leave Hawkins.” There is no room for debate as he explains that Steve wouldn’t want you to be stuck here. “Anytime Steve would give me a ride somewhere we’d always drift to talking about you. I think Steve didn’t know how to not talk about you after he met you,” Dustin has to pause and clear his throat. “Steve would talk about how one day both of you would get out of this town. He’d tell me that the world was too big, and you were too special to just stay here forever.”

Nancy reminds you about that conversation in the RV that feels more like a fever dream than a reality. About Steve’s desire for six nuggets, which just reminds you of late-night conversations about children you’re never going to have. Nancy also tells you about a moment in the woods that you didn’t know even happened. How Steve thanked her and told her about how he was able to change to be someone who deserved to be with you. “He loved you,” her words are so soft you barely hear them. “He would want you to be out there enjoying the world. He would hate that you were stuck here, stuck in a grief that you’re never going to shake if you continue to stay here.”

Hopper and Joyce are next, and it seems that they worked on what they wanted to say together. While there are parts of it that sound like Hopper, this speech feels 100% Joyce led. Hopper and Joyce talk about moving on and how you can’t do that if you’re stuck in the same place that took the person from you. Joyce shares about how moving to California was necessary for her to be able to move on. Hopper gets more emotional than you’ve seen him as he talks about his battle with grief. “I don’t want you to fall into the same shit I turned to just because you’re still stuck here, kid.” He’s moved to stand in front of you at some point and he hugs you, his final words are whispered just for you, “It wasn’t your fault, you don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

Robin asks if you remember being in that bathroom at Starcourt and reminds you of the question she had asked Steve. Once you acknowledge that you do remember that she tells you that she’s been keeping a secret from you for a long time. “In my defense, he asked me not to tell you, and then you guys got together, and I didn’t think I would ever need to tell you. I thought maybe it would be some weird story I edited together and told you at your wedding.” In true Robin fashion, her words are quick and rushed together, but you’ve had years of experience following whatever Robin was talking about. “I know we both thought he meant me, but after everything, while you were being looked at by some EMT he told me that he was talking about you.” You feel confused, and Robin presses on, “Steve thought I should know since you know it led to me sharing my secret. He didn’t think you felt the same, he didn’t want to risk your friendship, so he didn’t tell you. He loved you, so much, and now you know that he loved you for longer than you even knew.”

Everyone left takes a turn, going through with their observations about your relationship with Steve. How Steve changed when he was with you, how you brought something to his life that no one else had. “You made him feel like he was easy to love,” it’s Max who tells you that. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, the way she directly knows how Steve probably felt like he was impossible to love. The trauma of relationships with shitty parents and how it scars someone too universal for her not to pick up on how much your relationship meant to Steve.

It's the last piece that crumbles any resolve you had. This mask that you’ve been wearing for the last year, the shell you built around yourself to stay safe is falling apart. You feel broken in a way that feels like when you lost him, but also feels new because the truth is Steve changed you too. He’s left a mark on your soul that you will never be able to erase. Even with him gone you still feel like this string is attached between the two of you. You’ve spent the last year wondering if you pulled hard enough on that string that he would come back to you.

You’ve spent a year dreaming up with ifs. What if you could go back and tell yourself to not even go to that junkyard. Would that change things, would Steve still be here? It makes you feel so immensely guilty because it should have been you. It’s this weight you didn’t know you were carrying and once you say it you can’t stop. Over and over the words tumble out of you there in the living room of the Hopper-Byer house. “It should have been me,” you feel hollow as you manage to make the words. Someone scoops you up into their arms, “He wouldn’t have wanted it to be you.” They tell you over and over again, and you don’t believe it, but you want to.

Somewhere in the weeks after the intervention the feeling of not being able to leave starts to fade. It’s slow at first, like when the ground starts to thaw for the first time when the sun shines after a hard winter. It’s enough.

And it’s as you hug everyone goodbye and promise to call that you think maybe you can breathe again. It’s as you cross the now leaving sign for Hawkins that you think maybe Steve hasn’t been haunting you, and if he was it’s only because maybe he’d want you to move on or at least get out of there.

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #major character death #I am feeling very nervous about posting this #it's kind of vulnerable to post your story here #sorry for the pain if you read this #but I hope you like it anyway #posting this and then running away from the internet for the night #watch no one read this at all #steve harrington

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yuriko-mukami · 1 year ago

Text

His Possession Dark 01

Two weeks had passed, and Yuriko had somewhat adapted to her new life in Ryoutei Academy. Heaviness still lingered in her muscles and sometimes she struggled to keep her eyelids open during classes but night by night it became easier to stay up.

What wasn’t that easy though was getting along with other students. Some of her classmates were rather odd, and she wasn’t sure what to think about them. She had also noticed that there seemed to be one who outsmarted everyone.

Mukami Ruki.

Yuriko now knew his name. He seemed to always read books between classes if he didn’t leave the classroom and he knew all the right answers too. By now Yuriko was sure there wasn’t a subject that was his weakness… which was the polar opposite of her. She had so much catch-up to do. And yet here she was, in the library at lunch break, looking for something to read for fun when she should have been studying and not thinking about anything fun at all.

Yuriko let her fingertips travel along the edge of the shelf while she read the titles from the backs of the books. She didn’t know what she wanted to read now, only that she needed an escape from everything that was still spiraling in her life. Somehow, she had thought that everything would have changed for the better now. She had believed that her father would be at home more but that wasn’t the case; more like he was around even less, absorbing in his work instead of trying to reach out to Yuriko’s mother.

Mom… Why did she leave us? She told me to be a good girl and take care of everything… but I tried that earlier too and it didn’t work. She left anyway. I did all I could, but she left us. Why? And why Dad doesn’t try to get her back? Where did she go? Why can’t she even call me?

Yuriko’s eyes stopped at Brontë. She had read Wuthering Heights earlier but maybe that was something she needed again right now. That story was so intense on every level; it didn’t let you focus on anything else when you were absorbed between pages. Yuriko reached her hand to grab the book but at the same time, another hand tried to catch it too. It touched hers only briefly, but the coolness made her almost jump.

Yuriko turned around only to meet the familiar steel-blue gaze she had avoided with all her might. Her hand shook as she lowered it. There was no way she wanted to get in the star student’s way, drawing the wrong kind of attention to herself.

“I… I’m sorry… You can… take the book, Mukami-san,” Yuriko said. Her voice was a mere whisper, and she dared not to look at him again. Her gaze wandered downwards while she was wondering if she should back down completely.

Sure, Yuriko wanted to make friends in her new school, but… Ruki was… one of the cool guys. There was no way she could talk to him or be his friend even though he was the most interesting one. It was curious how nobody made fun of him even though he was always reading those books with heavy topics. But maybe it was because everybody saw him as cool as she did.

When Ruki was this close Yuriko could smell the masculine and captivating scent of his cologne… at least she thought it was cologne, but she had a feeling there was a bit more in that. There was something in the air she couldn’t quite explain, a scent she hadn’t smelled before, and for some reason, it was intriguing her.

Forbidden thoughts! The worst kind of trouble! I don’t need this now!

“Hmm, you do not seem the type of girl who would be interested in gothic romance novels. This book is too dark and depressing for someone so innocent, is it not?” The cold fingers left the book. “But by all means, take the book if that is what you are here for. I have already read it.”

Ruki leaned forward, looking Yuriko directly in the eyes, turning her world upside down in mere seconds. The ice pierced her, sending shivers through her body. Star student or not, this young man meant trouble.

“I’ve… read it before… too…” Yuriko whispered, averting her gaze. Her heart was beating so fast now. She swallowed; better to leave now or at least choose a different book.

“Do not look elsewhere when I am talking to you,” Ruki said, his low voice authoritatively vibrating to Yuriko’s ears. He grabbed her chin, turning her head and tilting it upwards until she had no way to avoid him.

Yuriko stared at Ruki with wide eyes; her whole body tensed when she felt those cold digits on her skin. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Her legs twitched in the need to run, yet that was all they could do, not even her toes agreed to move more. No. That wasn’t actually correct; as Yuriko’s stomach muscles clenched her toes curled in her shoes.

What is this? Why does he make me react this way?

Yuriko couldn’t push the shivers away.

I’ve never been this close to a boy… and he is more like a man already.

This was the first time a young man touched Yuriko like this. Even Haruko’s touches had always been gentler and softer, feminine ones; and there was something harsh in the way Ruki was holding her chin. He didn’t hurt her, but his grasp wasn’t tender either.

“I… I am truly sorry… if I have offended you somehow, Mukami-san.” Yuriko did her best to keep her voice as steady as possible, yet it trembled a bit. “If you let me go… I just… We need The Tale of the Heike for that literature class, ri-right? I think I'll go look for that in-instead.”

The quiet snort made Yuriko’s heart jump.

“This conversation is not over until I tell you so.”

Such a cold voice. What have I done to him?

“The book you mentioned has not been assigned yet. I cannot say I do not admire your effort for a head start but it can be that you are only looking for reasons to run away and that I cannot allow.”

“Umh…?”

As if it was his right to decide what I do…

Yuriko knew all too well that the said book hadn’t been assigned to them yet, but she also knew that she needed to get serious with her studies if she wanted to graduate this time. But this wasn’t something she was willing to explain to Ruki or anyone… and unfortunately, Ruki was correct, yet Yuriko couldn’t tell him that either.

I can’t say anything in front of him. He is too smart, calm, and collected; he wouldn’t understand my struggles.

There was no way Yuriko would reveal that she had already failed the third year once. That was too embarrassing, shameful even. Though she didn’t quite understand why Ruki cared about her motives. Why did it matter to him what she would do? It wasn’t his business in any way.

“I… just want to make… sure… that… umhh… If I read it early on… then… I… ehmmm…”

Yuriko’s eyes started to wander around the library again. It seemed they were alone in here, and the thought made her heart bounce even faster. How did other girls do this? Yuriko had seen them chatting with boys without problems, but it seemed she wasn’t able to have even one casual conversation. Though there was nothing casual about the way Ruki was holding her chin. Her skin would probably never forget his touch.

Yuriko took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm down her jumping heart. There was no reason to get this agitated just because they had reached for the same book… and maybe there was something else Ruki wanted to talk about. If Yuriko just acted as normal as she could then he surely would let her go… and she could pretend that any of this— whatever this was — had never even happened.

“Um… you know, it doesn’t matter. If… if you aren’t done talking with me… then…” Why was this so hard?! Yuriko nibbled her lower lip for a while before forcing herself to look Ruki into the eyes. That steel-blue gaze as deep as the ocean… She couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind it. For a moment those eyes took her as a prisoner, captured her as the heat rose on her cheeks. The heat so burning that she was sure she would be consumed with it.

Yuriko couldn’t look around in the library anymore. All she saw were those eyes.

What is wrong with me?

Yuriko wasn’t the type to fall for someone instantly and easily… and of course, she wasn’t falling for Ruki. They’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks and never talked to one another. She felt like this because the situation was so strange, but there was nothing more to it. Ruki was being so forceful with her, and it was only natural for her to get scared because of it. This must be the reason why nobody made fun of him ever.

Yuriko blinked. Her face was so hot that she was now afraid she would faint soon. Nothing like this has ever happened to her. She decided then and there that she would keep her distance no matter what. From now on she would be more careful and stay out of his way, starting from the moment he would let her go.

“Such fearful eyes… hmmm… Though I do wonder if it is only intimidation.” The cold expression on Ruki’s face turned into a smirk that made Yuriko’s stomach meander while she was still frozen in place. “Do you fear me? Or yearn for me instead? Whichever those helpless eyes are trying to tell me I am sure it only enhances the very flavor of you.”

Still holding Yuriko’s chin, the hand began to trace her jawline. There wasn’t anything gentle or loving in that touch, of course, there wasn’t, but these kinds of gestures were allowed only between lovers if Yuriko could have decided. Yet that right had now robed from her as the icy eyes examined her face, penetrating through her once more. Ruki’s index finger trailed along the column of her neck, taking its time as if he was admiring her.

“What is it in that scent of yours? I noticed this on your first day here. There is something different in it.”

As Ruki’s smirk grew a bit wider, Yuriko shifted. His teeth… no, that wasn’t the right word… Those were more like fangs. No human should have such teeth. She gasped, still unable to move as icy eyes burned through her… Something lingered through the air, and suddenly Yuriko felt like prey that should run from its predator.

Ruki leaned in while Yuriko still stared at him. As if trying to kiss her he moved closer, yet his head tilted lower, lips – no, not lips, fangs – reaching for her neck.

What is he doing?!

“I wish to figure out if the taste matches the aroma.”

EXCUSE ME?!

There wasn’t time to react, no time to think before the fangs had already pierced through the delicate, yet sensitive skin of Yuriko’s neck. Ruki’s hands traveled lower, snatching her forearms, restraining her movements. Yuriko couldn’t move nor say anything; her mind went blank as her brain couldn’t comprehend the situation. It was so absurd, so impossible, straight from a horror novel. The pain hit her, and it was the most intense she had ever felt and at the same time, it was the most intimate moment she had shared with anyone when his lips were touching her skin. Ruki had invaded her personal space in a way she wouldn’t ever have imagined.

A few seconds later Yuriko pushed her hands toward Ruki’s chest as a scream left her lips. Her whole body shook in his grasp, but she tried to push him away and twisted her neck even though it only made the pain worse.

“No! Don’t! Stop it!!!”

The library fated in Yuriko’s eyes as she struggled.

What is this? Why did he attack this way? Are those fangs for real?! But… but… it isn’t possible! Vampires don’t exist!

...or did they?

Tears filled Yuriko’s eyes. She panted for air almost desperately, hitting Ruki’s chest with her tiny fists but he didn’t budge. Instead, he gripped her wrists, continuing to drink the blood that oozed out from the punctures he had inflicted on her. Yuriko trembled, sobbing but there was nothing she could do. Yet she tried to kick him, and the fangs left her neck for a moment.

“Do not resist.”

The relief was only temporary. The piercing pain hit her again as the fangs claimed her nape once more, Ruki savoring her blood as if he indeed was a vampire.

“Please, no! Don’t do this!” Yuriko’s voice was high-pitched and quivering, words mixing with her sobs. Memories from her previous school flashed before her eyes but nothing compared to this, nothing like this had ever happened, this was something she couldn’t understand…

The pain and fear were too much. Yuriko felt how her legs started to give up, going numb, at the same time as her field of vision began to fade to black. She was sinking, drowning to the place where there was no pain. To her surprise at the same moment, Ruki pulled away from her, finally removing those dagger-like fangs from her neck.

“For mere livestock, your blood is the finest quality.” Ruki licked her lips slowly before leaning in again and making Yuriko tense all over. His tongue traced the bite marks on her skin until he reached her ear and whispered: “Who would have believed such a regular human girl to hide something so sweet in her veins?”

“Li-livestock?” Yuriko repeated as Ruki released her. She leaned her back against the bookshelf. She was sure she would soon fall to the floor if she didn't get a hold of something. Her fingers grabbed the edge of the shelf still trembling while her other hand traveled to her neck touching the sore spots that Ruki's tongue had just traced. "This can't… this can't be… There are no such things as… vampires…"

Yuriko wanted to run but she wasn't sure if she could trust her legs right now. And where would she even go? They were in the same class… Ruki would always be there. Though… there were others in that classroom, so would it be safe?

Do others know about this? Do they know what he is? Can someone here help me?

But there was a chance that no one would believe Yuriko if she talked about this… and she could take a risk that people would start making fun of her again.

"Why… why… did you do this? I…"

She didn't know what to say, so she started to slowly inch sideways further from Ruki. She knew she shouldn't skip classes, not again, but there was no way she could go back to that classroom now. Not when there were aching bite marks on her neck. “The last class will be starting soon,” Ruki said, turning his back to Yuriko and walking away as if nothing at all have happened.

Beta read by @ruki-mukami-dl

#yuriko tsukino #yuriko's story

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