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heyitsmerose · 4 years ago

Text

Letting Go

Pairing: Broken!Reader x Stranger!Yunho

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt Comfort

Word Count: 12.1k

Summary: You've never felt more down. Despite having a loving family and studying at a good school you still aren't happy. You may have many objective luxuries, but you don't have anyone to talk to. The stress from all around you is getting to you and you finally break. You can't take this anymore. Deciding to finally take matters into your own hands and end this for good, you go to your favourite bridge one last time to say your goodbyes to the world. Until someone stops you that is...

Warnings/Disclaimer: In no way do I mean to romanticise mental illness. Through this oneshot, I want to show depression and other mental heath issues for what they are. I will not sugar coat anything and will show them for how exhausting and painful they are. Again, I am not writing this to romanticise mental illness, rather provide comfort and create a safe space to talk about mental health. Remember, it's never too late to get help, and I'm always here for you. It can be as small as personally messaging me how you're feeling today, I'm here to listen :) This oneshot will obviously be talking about suicide, depression, obsession and mental health in general. If these topics trigger you, this oneshot may not be for you.

Suicide

Depression

Swearing

Mentions of Sexual Abuse

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Youtube Playlist

1:05 ───|────── 2:53

|◁ II ▷|

*I've spent a few weeks on this, I'm sorry if there are spelling errors, I've read the entire thing maybe 5-6 times.

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Facing the window in front of you, you sighed. You felt numb. It was raining and was around 6 pm. It was cloudy outside and the rain made the sky a few shades darker than normal. One of your windows was opened and you could smell the rain. The earth smell that made you feel all giddy inside. Excitement used to bubble inside you whenever you recognized the familiar scent of the wet earth, it indicated that it was going to rain. You loved the rain. It felt so comforting and the sound of the raindrops calmed you. At least that's how it used to feel. Now, you feel numb. Unaware of your surroundings and unfazed by a natural phenomenon that once caused you joy.

You sighed looking outside. It was frustrating. The rain that once comforted you was now frustrating. The constant pitter-patter noises bothered you and you were unable to get anything done. You slammed the window shut with all the force you could muster and plopped yourself back on your chair, redirecting your attention to what was on the desk. Ahh right, you had homework to finish. The bright screen of your laptop burned your eyes and caused them to feel sore but you couldn't care less.

You had 2 essays due tomorrow and although that didn't sound like a lot it was just the tip of the iceberg. Not only did you have 2 essays to start (and finish on the same day), you also had an oral presentation you had to give tomorrow for your music class. You didn't have your presentation ready and you were presenting to over 50 other people.

You had everything you could have possibly wanted. Your parents were not too rich but you were quite well off with a duplex in a multi-story apartment. Your dad had a stable career and was the country manager of a company giving him a good amount of power. Your mother was a social butterfly and had many connections. They sent you to a private school and let you study what you wanted. Although you didn't have any close friends in school, you had a few people you sat with.

See? You had everything you could have possibly wanted but you were still miserable. You knew this wasn't normal. For the past few months, you felt numb. There wasn't a better word to describe it. You felt apathetic and unfazed by everything. You were slowly starting to lose interest in the things you once found thrilling and fun and felt disconnected from reality. Your own parents felt like strangers and you felt like you couldn't talk to them. In actuality, your parents were loving and provided you with everything you could have possibly wanted. They took really good care of you and regularly showed affection. They were also quite understanding and were easy-going and fun. The fact that your parents are so caring makes you feel all the more guilty about telling them. You can't tell anyone.

You huffed, running your hands through your hair roughly. You gripped the roots of your hair and began to feel it again. The feeling of darkness creeping into your mind.

"what's the point of this?"

"I want this to stop"

"When will it get better?"

"Does it ever get better?"

In all honesty, you felt hopeless. You had to begin and finish 2 whole essays and prepare your presentation. Listening to music, eating anything, or even taking a break were useless, they would just distract you. You chewed the end of your pencil enough to make the end of it dent. Your teeth hurt but you continued doing so. At least the physical pain would distract you from this crazy workload. Or so you thought... You began to type on your laptop. You were writing your mid-term paper and were given the freedom to pick whatever topic you wanted as long as you felt like it expressed your emotions.

You typed the first thing that came to mind.

"I want to escape. I keep wanting for this to stop, I keep expecting everything to get better. It never does. It's an endless cycle of work and just more work. I feel like a robot and in all honesty, the lack of emotion is the only thing I'm feeling"

Your face had a stoic expression as your fingers fluttered across the keyboard. The gentle noise of keys clicking was the only thing heard for another hour or so. You didn't take any breaks and just wanted to get it done. At this point, you didn't care if it was good or even decent, you just wanted to get it done. That was very unlike you though. You were no topper, but you considered yourself quite hardworking and diligent. You were slowly falling behind though, but you couldn't care less. You just wanted to get it over with.

In the essay you wrote, you didn't get too personal, you simply wrote about your feelings and personified them. You spoke about your feelings as if they were an obstacle in your way. Despite being quite specific, you made it seem as though you were not talking about yourself. You fixed up the grammar and printed out your paper, stapling it, ready to submit it tomorrow. You looked outside and by now it was way darker. It was around 8:30 and it was time for dinner.

You went downstairs to get your plate of dinner and greeted your mom.

"Y/n, you're finally here, I almost forgot you were even living in this house" She chuckled and your dad joined in. You didn't laugh though.

"Hey, cheer up, your mom was just kidding, is everything alright?" Your dad chimed in.

In all honesty, you knew your mom didn't mean it, she was just kidding, but mocking you for the amount of workload you had didn't seem right. The question by your dad, however, completely caught you off guard. In your heart, you knew you weren't. You noticed how you started drifting off and spacing out while someone was talking to you. You noticed how you stopped feeling joy and noticed how you never had time for anything but school. Your face was glued to the ground and you nodded. You didn't want to lie, but you couldn't help it. You'd feel guilty for possibly making them feel like it was their fault.

Your parents both just sighed and your mom held your hand. She brought you to sit at the dining table and looked at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

"Y/n... We know something is bothering you. You know you can tell us anything right?" Your mom asked as she cupped your cheek. You looked back up at her and saw both of your parents looking at you worriedly.

You could feel the back of your eyelids stinging. Your throat got dry and you felt a burning in your nose. This was it. This was your chance to finally tell them how you felt. You wanted to tell them everything. From how you felt incompetent, to the constant stress and pressure. You wanted to finally break down your walls and tell them that you lacked the feelings you felt before. But you couldn't. The lump in your throat grew and you felt the corners of your eyes getting wetter. You couldn't get any words out. You badly wanted to just let it all out, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You also couldn't just break down all of a sudden or they would get really worried. You couldn't let them watch you break down. You would never forgive yourself if they ever thought the way you were feeling was because of them.

You simply sucked in a deep breath of air and looked away before they noticed anything was wrong.

"I just have a lot of work. I have more to do though, so if you could excuse me." You said, your voice wavering as you walked away from them.

"What about your dinner?" Your mom asked pointing at the counter. You just sighed and picked up a plate of food. Your hands trembled and your lip quivered from the overwhelming situation and you rushed to your room as fast as you could. As soon as you left, your mom just sighed and looked at your dad and her face showed immense concern. He brought her into his warm embrace reassured her. You would come to them when the time was right. You would eventually tell them what was bothering you. right? Although you didn't want them to feel guilty, they already did.

The second you reached your room upstairs you locked the door behind you. You tossed the food into the dustbin near your desk and put the plate aside. You felt guilty. Every day your mom would make you a full course meal only for you to throw it away without even having a bite. You couldn't help it though. You had a lot of work to do and eating was not your first priority. Besides, you already had lunch. This was not a rare occurrence. You would usually skip breakfast and dinner, directly eating lunch. Your stomach growled but you couldn't care less.

You rushed into the bathroom in your room and closed the door behind you. Your back slid down the door and your hands flew to your face. You almost blew your cover. It was quite an overwhelming situation. Your hands covered your mouth as the first sob wracked through your body. You were lucky that you were in the bathroom, in your room, on the second floor, it was practically impossible for anyone to hear you.

Your hands moved up to your hair as you gripped it tightly in between your fingers. Slowly, more cries came out. The bathroom echoed with your sobs and heavy breathing. You tried muffling your cries to no avail. You sobbed loudly while you shoved your palm against your mouth trying to stop yourself from crying but nothing worked. You tried digging your fingernails into your palm to distract yourself from all the emotional pain with physical pain but it still didn't work.

You tried breathing steadily only to break out into sobs a few seconds later. You let out gut-wrenching sobs that had been bottled up for too long now. Your throat was raw and your nose was red.

"Make it stop" You whispered to yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you overreacting? You didn't know and you didn't care. Your sobs slowly died down but your hands were still clamped over your mouth trying to get them to stop completely.

After a few minutes, you went to wash your face. You noticed your eyes were red and your hair was not in a bun anymore but was now all over the place. You sighed and washed your face with cold water trying to remove any traces of that sudden breakdown. Besides, you just wasted around 20 minutes of your time, crying when you could have been working and finishing off your other essay.

You didn't care to change your clothes and sat back on your desk. You sighed and looked out the window again. The rain had died down and there was now just a cool breeze. A layer of mist had collected after the rain coating the trees and plants outside. Despite living in the city, your window faced a big green space. In the mornings there were usually only around 3 people at max, making it quite empty. At night it was even more serene and lonely.

You drew shapes on your windows while trying to think of a topic to write your essay about. Your second essay was supposed to be an analysis report about any experiment of your choice.

You chose to write about the expectancy-value theory.

The Expectancy Value Theory suggests that motivation for a given behavior or action is determined by two factors: (i) expectancy, ie, how probable it is that a wanted (instrumental) outcome is achieved through the behavior or action; (ii) value, ie, how much the individual values the desired outcome.

You scoffed as you read it. Lies. All you've been taught to do is the work you've been given in school. You didn't want to do it. You didn't find it interesting and you couldn't care less about failing if it was up to you. The only reason you were working was because school wanted you to. If you had the option, you would gladly stop. So no, the expectancy-value theory, in your mind was not correct, since for some people, ie. you, motivation didn't come from yourself, rather it came in the form of forced requirements from others. Others have high expectations and expect good quality work from you, but if you were given the choice, you would take care of yourself instead of focussing so much on your studies. The expectancy theory, in your mind, as false as the only thing influencing you to work was other people forcing you.

You decided that was the perfect thesis for your essay and began to write. Although the point of the essay was to discuss the findings of the experiment, you went in a different direction. You wrote your entire essay about disproving that stupid experiment. You didn't discuss the data results but instead countered them with your own data. After another hour or so of aggressive typing and writing shit about Martin Fishbein, you decided you were finally done and decided to finish off your essay. You were happy with the way it turned out, although it was certainly not what was asked of you.

You wrapped up your essay by simply restating your points and you printed that too. By this point, it was already 11 pm and although you weren't sleepy, you just wanted to get this over with and rest. Your final task for tomorrow was your music presentation. All you had to do was pick your favorite classical piece and write a bit about it.

Music was one of the only hobbies you liked. You took pride in composing and making music, however, your school had ruined it for you. The only things they made you do were to analyze pieces of music and discuss the elements of music and their implication. You never got to actually compose or make your own music so you started to dread it as a subject too.

You picked up the first piece that came to mind. Dvorak's 'Humoresque'. Wow, how original, you thought. You began to listen to the piece and understand it better. As a kid, this used to be your favorite piece. Now? It just feels bland. It doesn't feel the way it used to. You began scribbling a few quick points about the song before beginning your presentation.

After taking notes, you finally began working on your presentation. In total, it took around 4 hours to finish and it was exactly 4 am. You sighed and uploaded your presentation to a pen drive before packing up your bag for school.

You had to be up for school by 7 anyway, so you'd get 2-3 hours of sleep at max. You hopped into bed as soon as you were done, not caring about putting anything back or even changing your clothes.

Unfortunately, unlike you hoped, you weren't able to fall asleep as soon as your head crashed onto the pillow. Instead, your mind preoccupied with other things was way too clouded with stressful thoughts to let you relax enough to fall asleep.

You tossed and turned in bed as your stomach growled. You huffed and tried blocking out the feeling. You didn't regret skipping dinner, it was necessary to finish off your work. You sighed and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. You lied for at least 10 minutes simply doing nothing. You tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing worked. Your mind was simply too preoccupied to let you rest. you closed your eyes trying to calm yourself, only for your thoughts to go back to yesterday evening. You remembered the short conversation with your parents and how they seemed genuinely concerned. Did they know what was happening to you? They were your parents, after all, they probably figured something was wrong.

Thinking about your relationship with them, you felt guilty. You realized how your conversations were never longer than 5-10 minutes and you were always the one to cut them short. You didn't spend as much time with them as you used to, instead of dedicating all your time to studying.

All of a sudden, you remembered how they used to take care of you when you were a child. You remembered the first time they taught you how to ride a bike, your first day of school, and your middle school graduation. You can't remember the last time you all were together as a family and enjoyed yourselves. You were usually too busy and you regretted it.

Unconsciously, you sniffled, your eyes getting watery again. You huffed, roughly wiping and rubbing your eyes, embarrassed that all it took for you to get emotional was a few memories. You sighed shakily, trying to get your thoughts away from that, or else you knew you'd have another breakdown. Still not being able to fall asleep for another 45 minutes, you gave up.

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You got up and checked your phone, only to see that the time was 6:30 am. How perfect. You didn't bother combing your hair and tied a messy bun, too tired and too unbothered to even attempt to look decent. You hopped into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and grabbing a towel. You looked back into the mirror as you did yesterday during your mini breakdown. You had dark circles under your eyes, your eyes were red and your nose was tinted pink. You couldn't care less though.

You hopped into the shower and turned the temperature to max coldness, trying to wake yourself up to make yourself look less tired and well... less dead. You shivered at the temperature but bared it for the sake of looking slightly presentable and more awake.

You grabbed your soap and began to lather some on your hands. A few seconds later though, you felt a mild stinging sensation on both of your palms. You quickly washed away the soap as it was starting to burn and inspected your hands. Your palms. They were bruised and cut slightly. You stared at your palms and the crescent-shaped cuts on both of your palms. There were exactly 4 crescent-shaped cuts on each palm with a bunch of bruising around it. You realized it was from digging your fingernails into your palms yesterday. You did so in an attempt to stop crying but it didn't work. Oh well, now you have this to worry about as well, could your life get any worse? You made sure to carefully lather on the soap being wary of the cuts on your palms.

After you took a bath and got ready, you made sure to double-check that you had packed both your essays and the presentation pen drive. After confirming, you grabbed your backpack and hurried downstairs. Although you felt guilty for randomly rushing out during dinner, you didn't want to confront your parents. The nerves from your upcoming presentation were creeping up onto you and you were beyond terrified. You didn't feel hungry and didn't want any confrontation.

You quickly hurried down the stairs and avoided your parents' eyes. At this point, it had become regular for you to leave the house without a word. Your mom wouldn't bother too much since she knew you'd usually buy yourself something to eat at school itself. Or so she thought. It was a lie you told her a long time ago. Despite this, due to your unfinished conversation yesterday you feared they would come after you or confront you so you avoided them at all costs and rushed outside. Lucky for you, your parents didn't mind too much and carried on with what they were doing.

Outside, you noticed how the mist from yesterday had settled and was now fogging up the roads slightly. The mist collected on the grass on the side of the sidewalks in the form of dewdrops and you could smell the same earthy smell. You checked your phone once to get a glimpse of the time and realized you were quite early. Despite this, you still couldn't calm your nerves.

You gripped both straps of your backpack, not lifting your head. You stared at the ground kicking small pebbles along your way. The entire walk to school was quite uneventful and not too interesting. You mainly stayed on the same side of the sidewalk and luckily nothing came in your way. It was a 5-7 minute walk to school since you lived quite close to school and didn't see the point in wasting gas.

Once you reached your school, you tried ignoring everyone in your way, just trying to submit your essays. You were quite nervous and just wanted to remove some burden from your shoulders so submitting your essays early in the morning would be the best option. You rushed into the school building immediately setting your target on your science class that was a few floors up.

Fortunately, the hallways and stairways were mostly empty with just a few teachers and staff and maybe 5-7 students. That was one of the perks of being this early, you could get things done freely without being rushed by the students. You decided to stop at the principles office first, and then drop off your science essay.

You had to drop off your mid-term essay outside the principles office where a few teachers were collecting them. You made your way to the outside of your principal's office to drop off your paper. While walking there, the pace of your heart quickened, although you were simply dropping off your essay, something about being this close to the principles office didn't sit right with you. As you got closer you could feel the tingly feeling in your stomach, caused by the nerves. You carefully walked right in front of the drop-off desk and greeted the teacher. You were asked to fill in your name and the date dropped off, so you were handed a pen.

You were mindful not to let the pen put pressure against the cuts in your palm, but couldn't help but wince softly as the pen brushed against them as you picked it up. The teacher simply looked at you and you forced a smile. As soon as you dropped off your essay, you rushed away from there as soon as possible to a less scary area.

You made your way to your science class and dropped off your essay about expectancy value and took your seat in class. You were quite proud of the essay you wrote since you felt like you portrayed your opinion quite well. You also had science first period anyways, so you took your usual seat near the window in the front of the class and started to unpack.

You waited for at least 10 to 15 minutes before your science teacher came into class. He wasn't surprised that you were early since you usually came quite early. When you noticed he entered class, you immediately averted eye contact and looked somewhere else. In all honesty, your science teacher scared you.

All the other girls gushed over how he was just 5 or 6 years older than you and was handsome. You didn't see what they saw in him as you knew he had ulterior motives. You noticed the blatant sexism in class and how he always paid more attention to the girls, explaining it to them in detail while just brushing off the guys. You noticed how whenever everyone left class, he would stare at the exposed legs of the female students caused by the knee-length skirt that was a part of the school uniform. You noticed how he would favor the girls in general, letting them have their way, even letting them use their phones in class from time to time.

Although he hadn't made any advances, he was still really sleazy in general, and the very thought of him creeped you out. You didn't have too many personal encounters with him, just a few weird looks here and there, so you tried to avoid him as much as you could. When he noticed that you were not paying attention to him he sighed and collected his things. Usually, he would simply leave you alone, knowing school would start soon, but since the both of you were quite early he tried making conversation.

"Hey Y/n, Good morning!" He said all of a sudden. You whipped your head up, surprised that he was talking to you since he had never done so before.

"Hi" You hesitantly replied making sure to not seem too nervous, but also look a little busy so he would leave you alone.

"How's everything going? Are you feeling okay?" Although you knew he asked you that question simply wanting to ask you how you were feeling, you couldn't help but think to last night when you had a similar conversation with your parents.

"U-um, I'm fine, yeah, I'm good" You stuttered, diverting your attention elsewhere indicating you were done with the conversation.

He simply sighed and sat back down on top of his desk. He noticed that you had submitted your science essay/report and decided to read a bit of it before class started hopefully to give you someone on one feedback.

He picked up the paper and the rustling of the pages alerted you. You looked back at him only to notice that he was reading your essay. You felt nauseous and giddy all of a sudden. He wasn't supposed to be reading your essay now, especially in front of you. Your mouth got dry and you tried to calm yourself. You looked away so he wouldn't notice your stare as he continued reading for the next 2 or 3 minutes.

You looked back at him from time to time and noticed how his eyebrows were scrunched. You saw his somewhat disappointed expression and your stomach dropped. Was your essay not okay? Was he going to fail you? Your breaths got shallower and you looked around trying to calm yourself. All of a sudden, your science teacher spoke.

"Y/n, this was not what was asked of you" He stated matter-of-factly. You felt frustrated and embarrassed and your heart was in your throat. You tried clearing your throat to be able to speak. You looked back up at him, finally making eye contact, and gulped.

"I don't- I don't understand, I did what was-" You finally got out, only to be interrupted by him again.

"No, you didn't. It seems like you're disproving the experiment instead of proving it true. Meet me after class, we can discuss how to fix it." He stated, looking at you with a distressed smile. You forced back a smile and quickly looked away.

Eventually, students began to fill up the class and around 10 minutes after that dreadful conversation, the class had finally started. Unfortunately for you, you kept spacing out and couldn't pay attention to what was being taught due to your mind lingering on your stupid science essay. You began to think it was your fault. Maybe you hadn't studied hard enough? Maybe you just weren't smart enough? You put your head down and proceeded to bear the next 85 minutes or so, absentmindedly.

Luckily for you, your teacher hadn't called on you even once. He simply kept teaching and asking other students questions. You noticed how he tried to make jokes from time to time while all the girls giggled, and although your head was down, you knew he most likely had a smug smile on his face. You scoffed and kept getting lost in your thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, you finally through the class.

Now, it was time to finally confront your science teacher after class and you were not looking forward to it. You acted as if you were packing your bag so the other students wouldn't suspect anything. The last thing you wanted was for them to think you were spending time outside class with your science doing god knows what.

After everyone left, you sat back at your desk and waited for him to call on you, or notice you hoping, to get this over with as soon as possible. He grabbed your paper again and went through it again. You sighed and looked down. He slowly shifted his gaze towards you and ushered for you to grab a chair and sit next to his desk.

You huffed and picked up your chair dragging it to his desk. You plopped it down and took a seat on it. He sighed and brought his chair next to yours sitting on it as well. He began to explain that the experiment that he expected was a 'scientific' one with tangible results instead of a "social experiment" to quote directly. You huffed getting annoyed, how could he say that psychological studies weren't as valid? They were equally important. You sighed and looked away getting frustrated.

He wanted to explain it better, and went to get his pen that was next to you. Instead of asking you to give it to him, like a normal person, he rested his hand on your knee, reaching over to get it. On the outside, you kept your cool but inside you were freaking out. You glared daggers at his hand which was on your knee and didn't lift your gaze, as if staring at his hand was going to make him take it off.

Even after he reached over and got his pen, his hand was still on your thigh. He began to talk about some random experiment but you weren't paying attention. Why wasn't he taking his hand off you? You tried adjusting and moving your leg, crossing them over, to get him to let go, but his grip was firm.

"Hey, Y/n are you listening?" He clarified all of a sudden. You slowly pulled your gaze away from your knee and looked him dead in the eye. You glared at him, indicating you didn't want this. Despite this, he just didn't know when to stop, did he?

"Hey, calm down, what's wrong?" He asked sincerely. If only his actions reflected the same care, you knew he knew what he was doing. In an attempt to calm you down, his hand moved further up, grasping your thigh. You gasped and looked up at him with your mouth agape.

"Let go." You said sternly, you knew he was your teacher but he had to know his limits.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that, it's alright," He said, the grip on your thigh becoming tighter. No, this was most definitely not okay. Due to the thin fabric of your school uniform skirt, you could feel his hand completely. You scrunched your eyebrows in disgust as you tried scooting backward. He got up though, towering over your shorter figure. You tried pulling away only for him to grip tighter.

"I didn't do anything" He stated firmly, grasping your wrist. He held your wrist tightly, not letting go. You cowered under him, still trying to pull yourself away.

"You don't want this?" He asked shamelessly. You shook your head rapidly, tears stinging in your eyes. He scoffed, roughly releasing your arm. You sighed, instantly getting as far away from him as possible, grabbing your backpack. You quickly shoved your remaining stationery in the first zip you found and threw your backpack over your shoulder, rushing out.

As you were about to leave though you heard him speak up again.

"Do not speak of this to anyone. I'm afraid I will have to fail you for this paper" He said trying to make you feel guilty. You couldn't care less though, without looking back, you nodded your head and left the class.

You cleared your throat as it had closed up. You realized you were crying in the middle of the hallway, so you quickly rushed to the toilet. Luckily, no one saw you, but you still wanted to get away, to freshen yourself up. You splashed water on your face trying to forget what happened in class a few minutes ago.

After that terrifying incident with your science teacher, the rest of the day was quite uneventful. You eventually got through your other subjects including music, and your presentation was a disaster. You weren't able to pay attention to what you were saying since your mind was still in different places. You stuttered your words and kept repeating the same thing.

Your peers realized you were distracted and your teacher knew you were bothered since your presentations were usually quite clear and informative. Thus, this time, they decided to let you off the hook. You were thankful that no one commented on that crappy presentation and simply went back to your seat.

Since you had music for the last period itself you were able to call it a day right after. You decided to skip your after-school commitment since you simply had too much on your mind.

After that shitty day, you decided to try to get your mind off of it by taking a walk in the green space near your apartment. You knew that it would mostly be empty right now as it was a weekday and because it was almost 4 pm, meaning it would most likely rain again.

You were still 5 minutes away from home, so you decided to walk home to the green space nearby. The entire walk there was quite silent. You took this time to try to process and understand the emotions you were feeling. It was getting fairly chilly due to the cold breeze, wind, and mist blowing. You folded both of your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to get rid of the coldness.

The walk was quite short and you reached there in no time. Since the green area was right in front of your apartment, you could see your window from it. As soon as you reached, you saw your car leaving the apartment. Peeking around the corner, you realized it was your car. Your dad must have just left to go see your grandparents. You tried to hide a little, just in case. If your mom saw you here she would be disappointed that you lied to your dad about meeting your teacher after school.

You found a bench that faced away from your window just in case, so no one from your apartment could see your face. By the time, you found a good spot and settled and sat down, it was around 4:30 pm. You didn't really have a reason for coming to the park. You simply wanted to get your mind off of school, the workload, the stress, and what happened in the morning, so now that you were here, you didn't know what to do. Fortunately, tomorrow was slightly lighter. You didn't have any assessments due tomorrow, but you wanted to check in with your peers to ask them what you missed in the after-school session today and revise that before tomorrow.

Other than that though, you didn't know what to do. Due to this, you ended up spacing out. You simply sat on the bench rubbing your knees from the freezing wind from time to time just staring into the abyss. Quite honestly, it didn't feel forced, awkward or uncomfortable, it felt... calming. You felt a lot of comfort in the fact that you could just take time to process everything. Your way of doing that? Sitting out in the cold breeze, staring at nothing, mind blank. It didn't feel like a waste of time and you definitely didn't regret spending your time gazing at the nature.

Ever since you were young, you had a habit of counting the birds in trees or on the ground. Today was no different. Now that you were out in the nature, it made it easier to count them. You didn't do it for any particular reason, it was just a way of coping and de-stressing. You sat for a good 2 hours just observing everything around you and not doing anything. This included counting birds, staring into nothingness, daydreaming, and spacing out. You were suddenly interrupted by a honking car nearby.

You checked the time and realized it was 6 already. You freaked out and instantly got up, picking your bag. You didn't even realize it had started to drizzle and your sweater/school uniform started collecting water in the form of small droplets. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your back, walking home, which was just a minute away, right opposite the park. You looked around making sure nobody saw you. Although you quite liked sitting out and simply doing nothing, you could understand how other people might have thought you were absolutely crazy for sitting out and doing nothing for 2 and a half hours.

You sighed looking around. You didn't want to go home just yet and didn't have anywhere else to go. The rain started getting a little heavier and you just gave up, looking up at the sky. Your clothes instantly clung to your figure and you shivered at the coldness.

You decided to take a walk around the nearby neighborhood since you didn't have anywhere else to go. This was actually quite rare. You usually never had the time to come outside and think about your life or reflect on anything as you were always cooped up in your bedroom doing work.

You huffed, rubbing your hands together. By now, your hair and clothes were drenched and your face was covered in water drops. You decided to visit the Mapo bridge to view the Han river from above. Ever since childhood, it was one of your favorite places as you were able to see the Han river below you, the Yeongdeungpo district to your left, and the Mapo district to your right. It had always been a calming sight.

It would take around 10-15 minutes to get there by car from your house but since you didn't really have access to a car right now, you had to walk. You knew it would take at least 45 minutes to get there but you still didn't care.

Unlike the two hours you spent at the park doing literally nothing, this felt different. You thought about the events happening in your life over the past few days, weeks, and months deciding to reflect on them during your journey.

You thought about your parents. How they always welcomed you with open arms while you often gave them the cold shoulder. You felt guilty that was for sure.

You thought about your friends. You had no close friends and the ones you had were slowly starting to drift away. You hadn't sat with them or even talked to them in over 2 weeks.

You thought about your studies. How you always stayed up late doing homework and taking notes while it never paid out. Instead, your crappy work just got you in more trouble.

You thought about the incident with your teacher today. How he touched you inappropriately and gripped your thigh. You shivered, pulling your skirt down slightly.

Unconsciously, tears had started to fall from your eyes. Luckily it was raining so nobody noticed anything too out of place. Despite this, you definitely got some weird stares. At first, the tears were silent. Your face was stoic while tears poured out of your eyes. Eventually though, recalling the painful memories and feelings was too much and your eyebrows furrowed. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to contain your cries. It started off as light whimpers and occasional gasps.

You rubbed at your eyes and felt yourself losing control. Your cries got louder and you had to clasp a hand over your mouth. At this point, you didn't really care about anything else in the world and were overwhelmed by pain.

You threw your backpack onto some random chair god knows where, and continued walking. No without your backpack you felt freer, and both your hands flew to your face, as you walked in the cold rain.

Meanwhile, you had reached Mapo bridge and began to walk across the pedestrian section. Since it was raining, almost no one was on the bridge and you could finally let your emotions out freely. Your gasps got louder and you let out a strangled sob. Your hands flew to your face trying to cover it up, only for it to be followed by more cries.

As you walked to the middle of the bridge, stumbling across your steps not paying attention to what you were doing. You read the signs on the bridge.

"많이 힘들었구나" (It must be very hard)

"잘 지내지" (How are you)

"파란 하늘을 봐 봐" (Look at the blue sky)

They were mocking you. It was hard, you were not okay and nothing could make this pain better. Your eyes unconsciously closed your eyes and you let out a string of sobs. You choked on your tears, covering your face with your hands sobbing into them.

You rubbed at your eyes but nothing would stop this pain. You looked up at the Han river and thought for a moment. You looked down over the railing of the bridge and noticed the drop.

This was your chance. This was your chance to let go of all your pain and finally be free.

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Yunho was out with his friends. It was a rainy day and he had just gotten back from practice. On rainy days such as this one, he would often simply go on a drive with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung. They were the three that enjoyed the rain and loved going on long drives. Their building was in Mapo but they decided to take a drive over to Yeongdeungpo since they had the rest of the day off.

The Mapo bridge was actually quite empty today. There weren't any cars or any people on the bridge. Since this was quite a rare occurrence, they decided to savor the moment and drive slowly enjoying their playlist while listening to the rain.

Wooyoung was driving while Seonghwa and Yunho were in the back, eating snacks and Hongjoong was picking a playlist. After popping a gummy bear in his mouth, Yunho decided to look outside and observe the Han river. All of a sudden though, around a hundred meters in front of their car near the left railing, a moving figure caught his eye. He was surprised that anyone would be out in the rain at this time. As they got slightly closer he realized they didn't have an umbrella either. As the car got even closer he realized that the figure was a girl. Your hair was drenched and so were your clothes. He stared at you weirdly wondering what on earth you were doing. You simply slid down the railing sitting on the floor, sobbing your eyes out and Yunho's eyes widened. He realized you were crying as your entire body was shaking with sobs and your hands were over your face.

He suddenly felt the urge to help and spoke up.

'Woo, slow the car for one second" He whispered softly and Wooyoung simply looked back and Yunho shrugging. He obliged and slowed down the speed of the car. Yunho continued to observe you. He didn't want to get out of the car since it was raining and he didn't have an umbrella but continued to watch you.

He watched the way your hands came up from your face and you gripped the roots of your hair. He watched how you tried to cover up your cries by cupping your hand over your mouth from time to time only for your to cry harder as your eyes squinted shut.

While they were driving past slowly, everyone was minding their own business while Yunho was still staring at you. Hongjoong had realized how Yunho was giggly before and then became silent all of a sudden and decided to check up on him. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho from the rear mirror, only to find his gaze locked on something outside. Hongjoong followed his gaze and found you as well. He saw that you were crying and stayed silent not knowing what to do.

Yunho was still looking at you and didn't notice how his leader was now also intrigued. He noticed how you roughly rubbed at your eyes getting up. He thought that you were done crying and that this was just a mini breakdown. Besides, everyone had bad days and maybe your way of letting it out was crying in the rain. Hongjoong averted his eyes as he saw you get up, giving you some privacy while Yunho kept his gaze locked on you.

He noticed how you were now facing the railing and looking out at the river. All of a sudden though, he saw you take off your shoes and a sudden wave of urgency washed over him.

"Stop the car!" He yelled at Wooyoung, while everyone in the car visibly flinched at his sudden voice, looking at him with concern. Wooyoung abruptly stopped the car, causing everyone to jerk slightly. The door immediately flew open and Yunho ran out of the car not caring whether his clothes got wet. Seonghwa had gasped and scooted to Yunho's side, peeking through, looking at what was going on.

Meanwhile, Yunho's intuition was correct. He knew something was wrong and the second you took off your shoes, he knew what you were trying to do. After you took off your shoes, you firmly grasped the railing of the bridge, hoisting yourself up, to sit on it. You looked around you, making sure no one was watching, although you didn't care at this point. Your mind was made up.

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You slowly scooted to the end of the railing, your hand tightly gripping the railing. You looked down, all that was below you was a 60-foot drop and lots of water. You sighed out shakily and looked back one last time. Your hands slowly let go and you breathed in a deep breath of air. You looked up at the sky and let out a wave of sobs before pushing yourself off the railing.

You expected to immediately feel the cold breeze hitting you as you fell over the bridge but you didn't. Instead, you felt a strong force pulling you backward.

The back of your head roughly collided with the concrete ground of the bridge and you let out a yelp. You looked around you processing your surroundings. You expected to be in the water by now, taking your final breaths. Instead, you were still back on the bridge and you fell back instead of forward.

You looked around suddenly, gripping the back of your head wanting to know who or what the fuck stopped you from doing so. Although you were mad you couldn't help but cry.

You sat up on the ground, knees close to your chest as you covered your hands and sobbed. You let out such painful cries, guttural noises, filled with pain. You cried, each cry letting out more sorrow than the last.

Little did you know, someone was scanning all your actions on the side, not knowing how to process the situation that just happened. He just witnessed someone who almost committed suicide.

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The second, he realized you took off your shoes, he knew that you were going to jump. It was a common occurrence, especially on this bridge. His intuition was proven correct when he saw you hoist yourself onto the railing. You were going to jump.

His body was moving on its own at that point and kicked the door open, rushing out as fast as possible. He didn't care about his clothes or his very expensive shoes, keeping only one goal in mind. As you scooted closer to the edge of the railing his heart stopped. He sprinted to the railing as fast as he could, almost slipping along the way. He roughly wrapped his big arms around your waist and he yanked you backward. He fell back onto the bridge and let go of your waist, catching his won fall, while you simply fell backward with force.

As you broke down in front of him, he felt a stinging in his heart. By now, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had also stepped out of the car with an umbrella, a little more cautious as they stood near the car itself, giving you a little space.

Yunho decided to slowly make a move to check up on you. He called out softly, but you didn't hear him.

"Excuse me?" He asked carefully, bottom lip caught in between his teeth from nervousness. You couldn't hear him over the rain and your sobs and frankly didn't care about anything else but the overwhelming pain in your heart.

He looked around nervously, before lifting a hand. He hesitantly brought it closer to you, doubting whether to touch you. He was wondering if you'd be comfortable, but he really wanted to help. He resorted to gently tapping your shoulder with his hands to alert you of his presence.

The second you felt his touch you immediately flinched, not noticing another person's presence. You looked up at him, before clasping your hand over your mouth. Although you knew that it was futile at this point, you still tried your best to cover up your sobs. You let out a string of sobs before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering apologies nonstop.

You kept stopping yourself with your cries but continued to whisper apologies. Yunho's eyes widened as he rapidly shook his head. Why on earth were you apologizing to him? As you looked up at him he noticed how strands of your wet hair clung to your face, your swollen and red eyes as well as your pink-tinted nose. He knew you must have been crying for a long time as your eyes reflected nothing but pain as they were completely bloodshot.

"Hey, hey, hey, I've got you" He whispered as he started patting your back. You nodded as you scooted closer. At this point, you didn't care how you were acting, simply trying to process what was happening. You pulled yourself together trying to get words out.

"May, I lean on you?" You softly whispered, voice breaking in the middle. Yunho hesitantly agreed, opening his arms up for you. You broke down again. You knew that you had been crying a lot that day, and maybe you were overreacting a bit, but in the heat of the moment, you simply couldn't stop.

You leaned into his warm chest taking in his musky scent that was slowly being washed away by the rain as he slowly crept a hand up to your back, rubbing it up and down.

"I'm here, I've got you, You're alright" He whispered into your hair. He knew you weren't in the right mind, but let you have your way just for now. You scrunched his now wet hoodie in your smaller fists as you tried to regain your composure.

You pulled away from a little embarrassed and looked away, knowing very well that he had already seen you, so there was no point. Yunho scooted further a little embarrassed too.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly and you shook your head, looking back up at him. You were surprised to see that his nose was slightly pink and his eyelashes were glistening in tears too. You felt guilty and apologized, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," You said all of a sudden, and he shook his head rapidly.

"No, please don't apologize. I can't even begin to imagine the pain you must be in to want to take your own life." He whispered the last part, still not wanting to agitate you. You nodded and backed away. Yunho suddenly then realized the situation he was in, it was raining and the coldness was starting to get to him, he couldn't even imagine how much pain you must have been in to completely feel numb to it.

"It's raining and it's cold outside, do you want to sit inside our car, we have a heater" He interjected all of a sudden. You got nervous all of a sudden not knowing how to respond.

"I- I- can't-, I'm not sure" You stuttered your words and he noticed your discomfort, trying to divert the topic.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" He asked looking at you sincerely and you shook your head. You couldn't go home like this. You averted your gaze while he tried to come up with a solution that you were comfortable with. All of a sudden though, you spoke up.

"Where are you going?" You asked and he tried to come up with a comforting answer real quick, one that would convince you to go with them.

"We are just heading to Yeongdeungpo, would you be interested in tagging along?" He asked sincerely. Your grandparents lived there, and you knew they would welcome you without asking questions, so you could go stay at theirs if you wanted to, so you nodded your head.

"Are you sure?" He confirmed with you and you nodded.

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It was safe to say the car ride there was anything but comfortable. You were in a car full of strangers wherein 2 of you were soaking wet.

"What on earth were you thinking?" One of them asked you all of a sudden, and you noticed the male who was with you earlier glared daggers back at them.

"I- um, I didn't- I'm not-" You kept fumbling over your words.

"She's not obligated to answer that." The man from earlier said sternly. You mumbled a thank you and continued to look outside. A few more minutes of silence passed as he tried to break the awkward silence.

"I never got your name by the way," He said all of a sudden, and without looking back you answered.

"Y/n," You said, cutting the conversation short. You weren't in the mood to talk. The other male nodded and introduced himself and the others.

"Well, I'm Yunho, this is Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung" He pointed at them but you didn't look at them, simply nodding, facing the other direction. Through the side mirror of the car, you noticed the boy in the front, the one that had slightly longer hair in the back, and was significantly shorter, glaring at Yunho. You assumed they were not comfortable introducing their identities just yet and you were okay with that.

Most of the car ride was quiet. You let out occasional sighs and whimpers due to the cold but there were no other comments or conversations.

Halfway through the ride though, the boy from earlier, the one who asked you what you were doing on the bridge, Seonghwa, spoke up again.

"Are you okay though?" He trailed off at the end. The other three boys looked at him with wide eyes, presumably glaring, telling him off, when you suddenly cut those thoughts off.

"I don't know" You answered sincerely. In all honestly, nobody had expected you to speak up, so when you did, they were all ears. You sighed before continuing.

"Everything is just so hard on me" You sighed out, as your voice broke at the end of the sentence. You decided that was enough or else you knew you wouldn't be able to stop if you said more. Although your answer was somewhat ambiguous, they didn't want to pressure you.

They all just nodded trying not to make it seem like a big issue. You noticed how Yunho sighed silently next to you before scooting closer to you. This didn't go unnoticed by you. His knees made contact with your fingers which were on either side of you, on the seat, and you looked back up at him questioningly.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I'm all ears, you don't have to worry about feeling vulnerable. In all honesty, it's best to let your feelings out. You seem like the type to bottle everything up, but you clearly have a lot on your mind, you can tell me if you're comfortable." He whispered sincerely, only of you to hear. You were still looking into his eyes, and unconsciously tears started welling up in your eyes again at the sincerity and care in his voice. You had never told anyone about your problems and this was your chance. A tear slipped down your cheek and you roughly wiped at it, scoffing softly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me today" You let out a soft breathy laugh, but the both of you knew it was not funny. He looked at you sternly, faux anger on his face as he felt frustrated that you were treating yourself this way, frustrated that you were reducing yourself to an emotionless robot.

"Don't say that. Emotions are what make you human, you don't need to feel embarrassed." He said and you nodded, slowly scooting closer to him. He didn't mind. Although the proximity was making him a little nervous, he was trying his best to comfort you.

He decided to test the waters by putting his arm around you. He slowly and slyly snaked his arm behind your back, since you were leaning forwards and slowly made contact with the small of your back. When he noticed that you were comfortable with it, he tried putting a little pressure to pull you closer and you went with the flow. You leaned into him, with your head on his shoulder, as one of his arms was around you. You both needed the warmth anyways as you were freezing. It was silent for a bit before you decided to speak up.

"My science teacher molested me." You said breathily. His eyes widened as he tried pulling away from you. With this new bit of information, he realized that the close proximity of you two could be making you nervous. He wasn't able to pull away though since your back was flush against the back of the seat, and you didn't seem too uncomfortable so he decided to keep it there. He rubbed your back up and down urging you to continue.

"I don't- I'm not sure what I did wrong. I disproved the experiment instead of verifying it and he got mad." You paused and took in a shaky breath of air. At this point, your voice sounded pathetically weak and vulnerable but you knew only Yunho could hear you since you were whispering to him, so you had nothing to worry about. He just let out a hum into your hair as you continued.

"He called me to stay after class the discuss the paper and I stayed. I fucking stayed. I stayed despite knowing his sleazy ass would try to pull something on me. After all the students left he called me over to his desk..." You stopped yourself off as you felt your voice wavering. At this point, Yunho could feel his stomach doing flips just thinking about the situation you were in. The fact that it seemed like you were blaming yourself made him feel even worse. Nonetheless, you continued.

"He grabbed my knee and then my thigh and when I told him to let go, he didn't. He even had the audacity to ask me whether I wanted to go further. When I said no, he- he said I would fail. This is all my fault, what the fuck is wrong with me." You let out breathily into Yunho's wet hoodie. His heart broke when he heard you blaming yourself, you couldn't be further from the truth.

"Hey, please don't blame yourself. You have no reason to blame yourself, Y/n. You put your heart into that essay and he didn't like it because his narrow-minded brain couldn't accept new ideas. Furthermore, I'm sure he only used it as an excuse to hurt you. I'm sure your essay was great, and please don't blame yourself for him touching you. What he did was wrong and is all his fault." He paused finally, a little breathless from rambling. You nodded thinking he was done, only for him to continue speaking.

"I'm going to give you my number... Feel free to call me after today, I want to help you. I want to help you speak your side and arrest your science teacher for he did to you" You mumbled a soft okay as you leaned deeper into his embrace.

"I shouldn't feel like this" You suddenly said. Yunho had assumed the conversation was over when you told him about your science teacher but regardless he was ready to listen, no matter what it was.

"Why?" He asked sincerely, ready to scold you again for putting yourself down for having emotions.

"I have loving parents. I study at a good school. I usually get decent grades. I have 2-3 friends who I talk to sometimes. My family can afford the resources I need to feel content. Then why the fuck do I feel like this?" You asked more to yourself than Yunho and he knew this, but he had an answer.

"So?" He countered, waiting for a reaction from you but you had none.

"Even the most privileged people are not happy hun. Satisfaction and content come from within. You may have everything you need but still not feel satisfied with yourself. Is there anything about yourself that is bothering you?" He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. What he was saying made a lot of sense...

"You- I-, I guess... I feel stressed all the time, and I'm not happy with the work I produce since I'm stressed and overwhelmed, but how did you know-"

"How do I know?" He interrupted you while you looked at him with wide eyes.

"Because I've felt the exact same way a few years ago." Now it was your turn to be shocked.

"I'm training to be an idol and I spent countless nights practicing my dancing and singing, but I never felt happy with my skills. I always thought I could get better, and that led to a sort of addiction. I stayed up late at our studio practicing and my sleep schedule was fucked up." You chuckled breathily at his word choice and how he let a curse word slip in. He noticed and smiled back down at you.

"When I finally understood and accepted the problem I got better. My mental health took a turn for the better and I was more proud of my accomplishments. Besides, I consider myself a decent singer now" He laughed at the end as you joined him.

"I'm proud of you for reaching your goal and bettering yourself," You said honestly as you patted his chest.

"I just hope I can fix myself one day too." You said honestly.

"I'm sure you will be able to. It takes time and perseverance, so please never give up. You're a beautiful, talented, and valuable person, never doubt yourself." He said and you nodded in his embrace.

That's where the conversation ended for now. The silence was not awkward at all. Instead, it was quite comforting as you had a lot to think about and process. Yunho's words definitely shifted the way you looked at life.

Yunho got a little more confident and trailed his arm upwards of your back and into your wet hair. He ran his hands through your wet hair as you scooted closer to him. He gently rubbed his hands across your scalp relaxing you. Despite him being a stranger, from the way he listened to you, saved your life, and comforted you, you knew he was someone you could trust.

Meanwhile, the boy in the front, Hongjoong looked through the rear mirror, looking at the position you and Yunho were in. He and Yunho suddenly made eye contact through the mirror, and Yunho got nervous, his eyes widening as he realized his leader had seen the position he was in, but that went away as he realized Hongjoong was smiling back at him with a soft smile across his face.

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Unknowingly, you had fallen asleep in Yunho's arms. When Hongjoong realized you fell asleep he patted Seonghwa's shoulder pointing to the two of you. You had fallen asleep on Yunho's shoulder, resting your head against it, while his head was on top of yours, also asleep. Seonghwa almost squealed when he saw the position you were in. They exchanged a few knowing looks before you finally arrived at your stop.

Yunho woke up before you and you were awoken by a messy-haired, still sleepy but smiley Yunho, ushering you to go outside. You got up, rubbing at your eyes as you looked around. You realized you were still in the car with all of the boys looking at you. You got embarrassed and quickly fixed yourself before shooting a confused look at Yunho. Suddenly, the man driving, Wooyoung, spoke up.

"I dare you and Yunho to go to 7/11 to get us snackssss" He playfully said and you smiled.

"Don't forget to get yourself a new pair of clothes too, you're soaking wet and probably cold. Although, I don't think that was much of a problem considering you were practically on top of eachoth- OOF" Seonghwa was cut off but Yunho roughly shoving his side. For the first time in the past week, you let out a genuine laugh and all the boys turned to look at you, as you bent over in laughter. Their eyes widened and Yunho swore it was the most melodious sound he had ever heard.

Feeling empowered and having a new perspective on life, you decided to go with the flow. Besides, you were given a second chance at life, you weren't going to waste it, moping around. You decided to make a change, and that change started today.

"Well big boy, are you coming with me or not?"

116 notes · View notes

ironwoman359 · 3 years ago

Note

Completely agree on nagas being underutilized and having a ton of potential. Both as the whumpee and the whumper….

So now I have to know. Which do you prefer…(and maybe why…talk whumpy to me lol)

Naga whumper? Or naga whumpee…

cw: whump, captivity, dehumanization, possessiveness, abuse, torture, angst with little to no comfort

Oh, I am delighted you asked, friend...it's not like I just did a bunch of research on snake health for a bad things happen bingo fic* with a naga whumpee....it's not like doing so gave me MANY more ideas than I was able to fit into that one story...and its not like I have many thoughts on how nagas could fit into the traditional creature whump tropes (that I also was reading and rereading for 'research' while writing We Blankly Stare). This is going under a cut, because, like all my fics, it got longer than I meant it to. (also, to my regular followers who aren't into heavy whump, don't mind me as I go off on a tangent into a totally different fic community; you can skip this one if you need to; at the very least mind the content warnings <3)

SO, nagas. Beautiful creatures. Like centaurs, 'human' on the top and snake on the bottom. SO much lovely whump potential, either as whumpers or whumpees, but lets focus on the whumpee side for now. In no particular order...

Pet Whump:

Decorative collars set with jewels that compliment the pattern of their highly polished scales and delicate gold chains weaving their way along their body, equal parts jewelry and restraint. They are highly prized, beautiful things, and what is the point of owning one if not to show it off?

Inviting a crowd to come and watch them feed, demonstrating their dislocating jaws and sharp fangs as they toss rodents to them whole. Bonus angst points if raw meat actually makes your naga whumpee sick, or they can eat raw meat but cooked is better. Just because they look like a snake doesn't mean they eat like one

Is your naga whumpee poisonous? Have their owner remove their fangs or poison glands, leaving them utterly dependent on them for food (and utterly helpless if they do ever manage to escape)

Nagas bred in captivity, so the only life they've ever known is one of imprisonment. Do they even consider freedom as something attainable? Or do their owners have them convinced that they're better off like this?

Lab Whump:

Nagas that are actually human/snake hybrids created in laboratory experiments just to see if it was possible.

Nagas who are kept in order to produce venom, what the venom is for could be anything!

Nagas 'enhanced' with mind and/or body altering drugs or magic to serve in the military as the perfect warrior

Nags used for experiments and drug tests because they are seen as less than human

Torture Whump:

As is the case with most torture whump, the 'why' the whumpee is being tortured isn't really important here. Maybe they have information the whumper wants, maybe the whumper is trying to get revenge or hurt whumpee's team, maybe they're just cruel. This isn't really about the 'why' so much as it is the specific 'hows' that having a whumpee who is part snake provides.

Pulling/cutting off scales, pulling out or filing down fangs, clipping or tearing off claws (a creature whump classic)

Naga specific (this is more of a lizard thing than a snake thing, but nagas aren’t real, we make the rules here!) body part removal: cutting off the tail! It doesn’t matter that it grows back, it still hurts every time. (or maybe the tail doesn’t grow back, and the naga is left unable to ‘walk’ properly)

Rough iron collars around their neck attached to a ball and chain, bonus points if the length of the chain prevents them from rising to their usual 'standing' height.

Hang them from the ceiling with cuffs and chains by their tails; upside down, right-side up, however you choose!

My those snake bodies are long...I wonder how long they can stretch?

I have one word for you: thermoregulation. Reptiles cannot regulate their own body heat, they are dependent on their environment. This gives us a whole HOST of reptile-specific torture techniques:

temperature shock: dump them in freezing water or spray them with a high-pressure hose. Unpleasant for any kind of whumpee, for the naga whumpee this has the added bonus of being fatal very quickly if they aren't warmed up.

It's not good for a snake to be too HOT either, they need to cool their bodies off just as often as they need to warm them up (don't quote me precisely on that, snake tumblr). A whumper who keeps their naga under bright, hot lights nearly constantly so they're dehydrated, covered in blisters, and/or always feverish (can a naga get a fever? idk, up to you. snakes don't, but snakes don't have human torsos. we can be wishy washy with health issues)

So extreme heat and extreme cold are bad, but did you know that (while it's breed specific) most snakes lose its ability to thermoregulate at around 70 degrees Fahrenheit? When their body temperature drops below this (but not so low that we're in hypothermia territory), their movements are sluggish, they cannot/will not eat, and it is very easy for them to develop infections, scale rot, all sorts of problems. Does the whumper keep them in low temperatures to make them weak and pliable in their hands, easy to control? Does the whumper use these conditions as a punishment for bad behavior? Or give reprieve from them as a reward for good behavior? There’s just SO much that can be done with temperature alone! It’s one of the things that sets nagas apart from other creatures and THAT is one of the most criminally underused aspects, in my oh so humble opinion!

Other Fun Concepts:

Nagas with their tails trapped under rubble, unable to pull themselves free.

Nagas kept in a cage that's far too small for them, their body wrapped up so tightly they can barely move.

Did you know that when a snake's body temperature is too low, it can't digest its food? And that if it does eat something and then doesn't have the energy to digest it properly, it will either instinctually regurgitate that food back up or run the risk of the food literally rotting in its stomach? Take this knowledge into literally any of the pet or torture scenarios and you have some A+ snake specific whump

Tiny nagas! Like the western hognose snake or the ringneck snake, these little guys can fit in the palm of your hand! Apply literally any previously listed scenario to your tiny naga for instant fantasy g/t whump! also vore...that's not my scene but it was one of like, two things i found while looking for naga whump on tumblr earlier, so I feel obligated to mention it.

Giant nagas, YOU can fit in THEIR hands. Does that make them the whumper, or still the whumpee? You decide!

Water nagas! combine mer whump with naga whump and you’ve got a water snake to hurt!

Nagas with scale rot, respiratory infections, kinks in their spine, or other snake health issues, either from mistreatment from a whumper or natural causes.

As you can tell, I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, lol. I hope you enjoyed, and if anyone writes anything based off these, I’d love to see it! Also, HAVE I been considering making a whump sideblog for awhile? yes. Did writing this post convince me to finally do it? Also yes. So I'll be over at @ironwhumper359 if you'd like to talk more whump with me, I’d be delighted to have you :)

*if you would like to read said bad things happen bingo fic, know that while it is labelled Sanders Sides, because that’s the fandom I mainly write it, the first chapter only has one character from the series in it and is honestly much more of an original whump piece than it is a fanfic. The second and third chapters are more fandom specific (though you’re of course still welcome to read them even if you’re not a sanders sides fan), but that first one can be read as stand-alone whump!

#whump #naga whump #naga whumpee #pet whump #dehumanization #creature whump #whump prompts #lab whump #torture tw #angst #asks and answers #simplygrimly

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Text

Conquest

A commission I did for a lovely person, staying anonymous! ♥ Thank you so much for commissioning me, this was a lot of fun to write!

Characters: Yandere!Claude von Riegan x f!Reader Rating & Warnings: Explicit/Lemon, Yandere, Infidelity

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Laughter filled the grand room, made explicitly for entertaining guests and visitors despite it only being you and Claude that night. The mansion was grand, but in this room, you two had your peace. You were well aware that there were a lot of servants out in the halls that could have potentially bothered you two, but you sent most of them home early, buying their silence of who came to visit you, while your fiance was out on a mission, by giving them free time. And the few guards left, you bribed with some wine, so there really was no one who’d invite themselves to your little party.

In reality, this was less of a festivity than it was a sad, farewell get-together. Pouring Claude some more wine, you looked into his dazzling, green eyes, quick to avert your gaze as to not fall for them again. You two had been much more than just acquaintances for most of your life now, despite him being away from home for a good portion of time due to the war. But ever since he returned, you two had been barely separable until… your family decided to end the love affair between you and the king.

It wasn’t your decision, nor was it his. You had to follow what was decided for you, and it was reasonable enough to believe that it was the right way. Even if you were of noble blood, you couldn’t stand your ground to the royal family Claude was from. He’d have a good choice of partners to marry, but you wouldn’t be one of them. In return, you’d marry a fine young noble working directly under him, a sticker to the rules, and a provider for all of his family. But after all, he wasn’t Claude, and you could already feel your heartache, knowing you’d have to part with the king that night, and the next time you’d see him, it would be at the side of your husband, with you as his loyal wife.

As much as you wanted to be good and please your and the family of your fiance, even pouring your guest wine seemed like a tedious task. If that was how your future events and invitations would go - you, only there to smile and serve drinks to your husband - then you were expecting a very dull life ahead of you. He might seem like a good choice to marry to everyone else, but you knew that besides work and responsibilities, there wasn’t much excitement or love in his life to give to you. Not like Claude, who’d have you on your toes all day long and show you the wondrous sights of the world through his eyes. Sighing about the thought, you put down the carafe, a hand immediately coming up under your chin, lifting your face back into Claude’s direction.

“Already sighing? The night hasn’t even started yet,” Claude reminded you, a smile dancing on his lips, and you picked up on the innuendos in his words. You did your best to show him an amused smile, but his mind was sharp than ever, not missing any cues you were giving him. Deciding it was the best to be straight-forward, you offered him the chalice with wine you poured him before speaking. “I am just thinking that this is the last night we’ll be sitting together like this, and it saddens me.”

Claude’s expression turned sour for a moment before he accepted your offering, taking a sip of only the finest alcohol your home had to serve. As for you, you weren’t much of a drinker, but when he offered you his drink, you didn’t refuse him. You even went so far as to take a big gulp, hoping it would lessen the heartache you were feeling significantly. But of course, it didn’t make it disappear, it just made your mind fuzzy, and your thoughts diverted from it for a little bit. You leaned back into his arm around the backrest of the seating arrangement, comfortable with the feeling of his familiar warmth. Instantly his fingers caressed your open shoulders tenderly, massaging the tense knots building in them, and you were more than okay with him doing that.

“You know what we should do?” he asked you with a chuckle, a hand lowering onto your sparely covered leg. He dragged his fingers up, applying pressure, but before he came to high, he let them slide back down, caressing you like this until you felt the warmth spread under his touch. Grinning, you detected the suave undertone in his voice, paired with his touch, letting you know exactly what he was talking about. But you played the clueless one, knowing that getting it on with the king, now that you were affianced, was frowned upon.

“I think we should use the time that we have together to the fullest; what do you say?”

As much as you wanted to give in to his thoughts, lay yourself bare and have him ravage you up into whatever heaven you thought there was, you only laughed timidly, reaching for his hand on your leg and stopping it from advancing towards your hip. “You know we can’t. We really shouldn’t, and besides, what if my fiance returns any minute now? I’ll be in trouble for even receiving a visit from you.”

Humming thoughtfully, Claude leaned forward, apparently undeterred by your words as his lips trailed down your neck, sending prickles over your skin. Unfortunate as it was for the situation, it was one of your favorite spots to be kissed, the familiar tingling of excited anticipation in your lower back while he climbed down your neck towards the crook and up under your chin again. “I sent your fiance on a very important mission for Almyra this weekend. Don’t think that even if he wanted to, he could make it back home before the start of the new week.”

The huff you let out was unhelpful, as it opened your mouth for a sigh in pleasure right away. “That was a little sly, your Highness. As if you had planned this rendezvous in advance?”

Feeling his lips curl into a grin on your skin, you couldn’t help but reciprocate, your hand loosening your grip on his, immediately allowing it to creep up and between your leg. As if the feeling of his touch and kisses wasn’t enough to send shivers down your spine, the moment his fingers dug into the fabric of your underwear, rubbing their full lengths along your slit and teasing your clit with the thumb, you couldn’t hold back a gasp, followed by a moan.

You laid your head to the side, allowing him more freedom to roam. His second hand came up to push away hair that got tangled between you two, the kisses now falling behind and under your ear where your skin was especially sensitive, all while he kept working and teasing you through the fabric of your panties.

Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol, or simply, the influence Claude had on you, that you let him do this to you. You had only ever known him as cunning and strong-willed, always going for what he wanted. But at the same time, he had always treated you well, allowed you a wonderful life at his side despite you two not being officially in a relationship, and treated you nothing short of how he’d treat his queen.

Despite never asking him how he felt about the fact you were to be married off to someone else, you wanted to believe it might have affected him badly too, driving him to such extremes for which he’d send you fiance away so he could have you to himself again. He probably also expected you to not turn him away as he stood at your doorstep at these late hours, as no one would have dared to do that to a king anyway. But you had special reasons not to, and he knew there wouldn’t be a better chance than that night.

If you thought about it this way, you two were to be pitied.

In love, yet denied the possibility to live out your desires and wants to the fullest. This situation now wasn’t ideal, and certainly nothing you should do in your position now. But if Claude wanted you so badly too, who were you to deny him? At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself through the haze of alcohol and waves of pleasure colliding inside of you. Oh, you were so glad to not have worn any obstructive clothes that day, maybe even because deep down, you hoped for these things to happen. But this way, it was easy for Claude to peel you out of the bits you wore or move them aside for his convenience.

His free hand wandered over your body, painting circles and lines all over your skin until he found your breasts, a dominant grip falling over your right one. It was then that he pulled you closer to him, his hands conveniently on points of your body where he could lift your leg over his and your butt into his lap. As always, you were so pretty in the dim flickering of the candles that illuminated the room, gracing you with their warm shimmer against your skin. A sight Claude loved almost as much as the one when you laid below him, chest rising and falling quickly under the ecstasy of pleasure, gasping and moaning his name.

The switching of his hands escaped your attention, but not so the discarding of your clothes, exposing your bare chest to the warm air. Clearly, you were already feeling hotter than the room temperature, but it was only rising now that he found your left breast, teasing fingertips exploiting the chance to work your freed nipple. Claude had a way not only with his words and strategies but also with touches. He always knew how to fire you up, make you turn your heads towards him to use his lips to calm the echoes of your voice ringing out.

“We really shouldn’t,” you managed to press through your lips on his, but your body pressing up and moving into his as if there was no holding back spoke volumes about how you really felt. Having someone you actually loved touch you, had so much more meaning than any other arm around you or words of endearment from any other person’s mouth. The King was undeterred by your comment, minding only the passion in your kiss and the feeling of your nip flicking through his fingers.

What a guilty pleasure this was, having someone who knew your body like his own show up unannounced at the empty estate of your future husband whose company you didn’t care for. Having Claude all to yourself with no one intervening or minding your business was a delicacy, and whatever rode you to this act of infidelity definitely was a secret that was only set free between you two.

Touching his hand tenderly, you encouraged Claude’s teasing of your breast and also the second hand on your clit. Never had he disappointed you with a touch before, and even if the pulling and releasing of your sensitive nipple made you clench your teeth, you were instantly rewarded with pleasure taking over the sting of pain it left. You were all too willing to open up your legs on your own now, allowing him more attack surface for his teases, mixed with husky chuckles coming from your spine and sending goosebumps over your arms.

However, you, too, weren’t a bad partner, moving back and into his crotch until you could feel the firmness of a bulge against your ass. It should have been illegal how well his length fit against you, but by the occasional gasp he let out, you were glad to know he was feeling as ecstatic about it as you were. His fingers dug lower into your crotch, finding the opening to all the good feelings, and entered you without hesitation. It wasn’t long until they were covered in your slick, moving in even deeper, and you could barely keep your voice at a low.

This, plus the constant teasing around your nipples, didn’t help to cease the fire burning up in your core, and when you gazed at him with your eyes veiled in lust, Claude wasn’t one to reject your wish for more. After all, how could he, burning with desire too? Grinning, Claude’s fingers disappeared from you, gaining a disappointed mewl from your mouth before you gasped as he lifted you up shortly before laying you down onto the lounging couch. Seeing his grinning, excited expression suddenly very close before you, you couldn’t help but letting out a sweet chuckle, cupping his face and pulling him down into a kiss.

With his hands steadily finding their place against your lower thighs, Claude held them up and out of the way while you reached out to unpack his cock. You almost found it lucky that Almyran clothes could be everything you imagined, but they weren’t hard to undo in situations like these. Eagerly, his full length jumped out as Claude’s pants fell out of the picture, the smooth fabric very tempted by the gravity that laid over you all, and you stroked his member eagerly, gaining some approving kisses from your king.

Right that moment should have been when you resisted. Put down a foot and returned to being ‘good’ and how everyone wanted you to behave. But this time, when you looked into his eyes, your body simply gave in, closing your lids as you placed his tip against your entrance, Claude inching closer to make this all the more enjoyable. And when he finally stretched you out, you were in your personal heaven, arms clasping together behind his neck while you welcomed him fully into you.

Nothing else than knowing he felt the same way could have made you happier than the feeling of his hips crashing into yours.

If only you had known how lucky you were not to know all of Claude’s thoughts. The twisted reality in his mind, only presented to him and for him to deal with. Claude and you, you two went way back. To the tender ages of your youths were there weren’t kings or nobility to keep you apart. His days spent at the Monastery without you were filled with desire and longing for you. With waiting and anticipating another letter in between the troubled times he encountered.

He still remembered the first kiss you two shared after a hunt, beneath an old tree, with only the forest being witness to the confessions of love you whispered. He still knew how beautiful you looked after your first night together, waking up with rays of sunlight shining down on you as if you were an angel sent to him. Never had he imagined to find anyone as precious as you, someone who could endure his teases and laugh with him earnestly and not out of fake sympathy like everyone else.

And now, someone else decided that you two should not be together?

As if he would have allowed that.

He didn’t become king so other people could tell him who he should be spending his life with. Much too long, Claude had to listen to old seniles who thought they ‘knew it better than the young’ and never bothered to listen to them and their objections. Nights had gone by where Claude had bitten his nails while trying to find a solution to this problem. The sun always rose way before he found sleep, and there still was nothing he thought he could do to keep you by his side. He tried raising your ranks, make you an official in the positions - anything that would keep you from being wed off.

There would have been no way Claude would ever approve anyone else by your side. Still, everyone knew what he was up to whenever he proposed a new scheme to get you two closer together again and dismissed it as if this wasn’t a matter of urgency to the king. He thought about every scenario, even really, really bad ones. A hunting accident, your fiance lost on a mission or never showing up to the wedding. All of these sounded great to him, but he also thought about the other side of the coin.

What if he could make you undesirable to everyone but him?

What if you had a cut over your face, a limb less, or no tongue to utter another word? Would there be anyone else loving you then, aside from him? Certainly, Almyra loved battles as much as they loved desserts after dinner. Claude despised violence, but if that meant keeping you at his side, who knows what he would have done for you. But then a better thought came to mind. With one month before your wedding, you were supposed to keep yourself pure and docile, leave a good impression on your new family. Clearly, that wasn’t on your mind right now as you called out his name beneath him ecstatically.

Claude leaned down, softly biting into the flesh of your neck, gaining a shiver from your body as well as a gasp. This was only the first of many of his plans, leaving you littered in the pattern of his teeth and hickies. Moaning and groaning, both of you enjoyed the continuous pumping of his hips into yours, the exploring of your inner walls that so happily greeted his cock with clenches and shudders. You were overwhelmed by the feeling of his member filling you out and the touches all over your body that he so charitably spread everywhere Claude could reach.

You were so cute wiggling under him, happy and satisfied. He could feel your orgasm building up, hearing it in your voice as you begged and praised him, urging him on to fulfill the deed. How adorable it was that you didn’t know what expected you any second from now on. The face you made while wholly engulfed in pleasure was almost innocent in comparison to the knowledge Claude had.

Claude wondered if your fiance had finally arrived at the estate, wondering why so little servants were around to welcome him. Wondering where his future wife was since he sent a letter ahead that he’d arrive in time before bed that day. The very same letter Claude intercepted, making his way to the estate before the potential husband would even know the king had arrived for ‘talks’. Talks, or rather, using the lady of the house just like he deserved to.

“C-Claude!” Your voice tore him out of his thoughts as you screamed for him, walls clenching tightly together around his member, unwilling to let him go. Your climax was strong enough to lift you deeper onto his cock, and though he couldn’t move, trapped in you, Claude felt his own orgasm erupt, spurts of hot semen filling you your insides.

It was just in time for him to hear the door to the room open, a long, creaking sound accompanied by the gasps of servants who quickly averted their eyes despite the shock. Only one pair of eyes widened as it saw you, back arching and toes curling while you lived out your personal height. There were no words from either of you three, but Claude’s lips curled into a satisfied grin - knowing his plan had succeeded just in time - while he slowly pulled out his cock from your pussy, semen dripping from it.

He was almost tempted to have you finish the deed and lick it off in front of your fiance. It would have been nice to see the appall on his face, or perhaps despair he felt if he had to watch you do those things to the king you two served. The future held so many open questions about the ‘why’ and the ‘how’, and they all wouldn’t be answered that night. Claude fell back onto the comfortable seating, knowing exactly what he had done to you two that night. Still, all he was interested in was if your fiance would be able to forgive you for it.

And if he didn’t forgive you for it, Claude would have you back very soon, and even more so, with the most satisfying conquest there was.

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emersonfreepress · 4 years ago

Note

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

#lovely anon #answered #hotmess #ok I am truly so sorry for going on and on like this #writing #ch design #ty for this question it was really nice to revisit this stuff 😃#and a nice reminder to not look back lol #scrapped

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calpops · 4 years ago

Text

falling facade | c.h.

part four: falling failures

part one: falling flowers || part two: falling freedom || part three: falling fears

5k words

<< >>

Explanations were needed and time was not a luxury that Calum and Arden were afforded. Pressure from parents and media began to intensify at the release of the paparazzi photos. The ring was splashed across headlines again, the first public appearance of the new couple sparking more than Calum could have anticipated. His friends were asking questions as well and they were getting harder and harder to avoid. Missed calls piled up and the pressure of secrets sat heavy. Only a day had passed since the obligatory paparazzi walk and things were getting wildly out of hand. They couldn’t avoid it forever; that’s exactly what he told Michael when he paid the Clifford house a visit and asked to see Arden. He realized he didn’t even have his fake fiancée’s phone number and she was completely off the social media grid. They were due for answers and they were due for posts.

Management wanted to start the presence of the relationship in the public eye hard and fast and frequently and then start to taper off to convince of the eventual split. Michael nodded his understanding when Calum showed up in search of Arden; he disappeared to yell through the house for her and in just a moment Arden took his spot in the doorway. Calum could tell she was tired. Her soft hair was in a messy bun and strands fell down to frame her face. She wore an old and oversized T-shirt tucked into shorts where her hands found a home in the pockets and a mild expression captured her face with dark circles under her eyes. She leaned against the door frame and licked her lips, teeth catching in their venture and reminding Calum of momentary bliss on a dance floor.

“We need to figure some things out,” he started with and when she frowned and her knees knocked into each other he knew that was too open ended and nerve wracking of a statement to start with. “We need to get our story straight is all. We need to figure out who we’re telling what.”

“Oh. Right,” she mumbled and craned her neck to look behind her and into the house before looking back at Calum. “Not here. Please. Can we go somewhere else?”

“Of course.”

They went to Calum’s place where it was quiet and private and they could think out loud with each other, with only Duke to listen in on them. Calum could see Arden visibly relaxing from the nervous state she was in at the doorway. She sank into the plush couch and Duke surprisingly made his way over to her; let her scratch under his chin and settled at her side. Calum sat on her other side and let them both have a moment to think through the questions they knew needed to be answered.

“It’s so quiet here. I don’t think it’s been this quiet at Michael’s since, well—since I got there,” she said and let out a tired sigh. Calum wondered if the noise of so many inhabitants living in the house had interrupted her sleep. “This is nice. I can actually hear myself think.”

Calum wanted to tell her she could come over and stay whenever she liked, for the quiet. But with only four days of a fake relationship under their belts and years of not knowing each other after years of orbiting each other, he thought it might be too soon. He let her have a few more minutes of quiet, her tired eyes casted her gaze out the window and towards the mid morning sun. Her hand lazily pet Duke who careened into her side and was satiated by the touch. Calum could see her eyes were heavy with every blink lasting longer than the previous. Her feet slightly wiggled as they couldn’t quite reach the hardwood floor and short stuff affectionately made way into Calum’s thoughts. He tried to bite back a grin at the memory of her feisty dislike of what Calum might now consider a term of endearment. From there his mind sank into other memories; trying so hard to place Arden in more moments. But she had disappeared for years. He couldn’t conjure up an image of her in a concert crowd. Never saw her backstage. For some reason, she avoided the band. Calum then realized the band would be the best tool to utilize for their situation.

“I think Ashton and Luke need to know,” Calum suddenly blurted out and he wasn’t sure why or where the words came from but they killed the silence and the relaxed look on Arden’s face. “At least them. They can help with the PR stuff. It’d make it easier. They can have my back in interviews when it’s brought up. If they know the game we’re playing they can help me fill in the gaps when you’re not there. And it would get them off my back.”

Arden bit her lip and absentmindedly or perhaps with a mind full to the brim; nodded. She didn’t say anything in response immediately but turned her gaze over to Calum. He knew she was scrutinizing the situation. She looked him up and down once before speaking.

“We can tell them. You’re right. They could help,” she affirmed—Michael’s help could only go so far, it would be unrealistic for the rest of the band to be out of the loop. “But can we hold off on telling our parents? At least for a while? I don’t think I’m ready to face all of that yet.”

Calum recalled her words at the diner from the previous day. Disappoint my parents. Arden believed they wouldn’t be okay with the situation, that they would think less of her for their drunken night and reckless decisions without coherent thought processes and all that rained down on them because of it. He still didn’t have the full story to that reasoning and it didn’t seem she was wanting or willing to offer it now. He wanted to know why; to have a reason and justification for white lies and half truths to his family. But her comfortability and wants needed to be factored in as well. They had created all of this together. He found with another look at her that he couldn’t deny her of the request, not when her eyes were pleading and her lower lip was trembling. Maybe not ever.

“We can tell them we’re still trying to figure us out,” Calum supplied a half truth. In all honesty he wasn’t sure what they were to each other. “We can be vague. We reconnected while you were visiting Michael. We went to Vegas for a wedding and maybe we got swept up in the romance and got engaged. But we’re still trying to figure things out. They don’t need to know about the details.”

Or about the contracts.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that? I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie for me.”

Calum didn’t tell her that it might not feel like lying. He just shrugged and cleared his throat. She took it as a confirmation and a tired smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth. He couldn’t help but notice her lips were glossy and faintly remember the taste of sugar on them. It had been days since the kiss. He missed the sweetness and the soft touch. He didn’t miss the feeling of falling or wind at his back; that was ever present and all consuming. It was shifting. Some moments it was an easy and exhilarating descent through soft clouds. Other times it was a free fall filled with inhibitions and anxieties. But here, in the quiet with just the two of them and walls crumbled down and secrets able to be shared, Calum was content to enjoy the feeling.

“We can call them tomorrow,” Calum decided; knowing their parents wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. He wasn’t sure what tactics Arden was employing to hold her parents off or how much they might be hounding Michael for explanations as well. “But we are due for a post today.”

Calum knew once whatever photo they took went up there would be an influx of questions. Luke and Ashton would be on him in a second, and recognizing the house they might even drive over to get their answers. He could probably stall his parents' curiosity with some texts. Calum hadn’t even spared the comments on the initial photo any thought. He almost didn’t dare to look. He could picture them in his mind and he figured they were better left online. He was grateful Arden wasn’t online anymore. Her socials had gone dark months ago and Calum found some peace of mind from that.

“How do we do it our way?” She asked, referring to the fact they wanted to keep as much of themselves to themselves. She reveled in privacy and feared losing control of her life. Calum wanted to play the publicity game in a way they could win.

He had put a lot of thought into how to go about posting. The paparazzi photos had worked in their favor. Her hidden face and back to the camera provided a sense of security and left most of the comments circulating about the ring and the way Calum looked at her. Management had no complaints about the way they conducted the pap walk. Calum came off as protective and she was portrayed as shy. They needed to keep that narrative in their hands and on the board. They couldn’t let false claims and the wrath of the PR team take over.

“The most important thing right now still seems to be the ring,” Calum mused and took a glance down at her hand still coddling Duke with pets to see it fit to her finger. He was surprised she was wearing it; his visit was unprompted and though a post was scheduled for the day he didn't mention it before leaving. “Good thing you’re wearing it.”

“I haven’t taken it off,” she admitted with a faint blush and stalling hand. Duke let out a small whimper at the loss of contact as she brought her hand up but nuzzled into her further to make up for it. “All those people at Michael’s don’t know it’s fake. I also don’t want to lose it and get us in trouble.”

Her reasoning made sense and Calum was hit with the thought that pretending for her was a lot more permanent with the lack of privacy at the Clifford compound. It followed her everywhere. The weight of the ring was a constant reminder. At least when Calum got home he could stop pretending. Though, he was then faced with the question of how much was real and how much was fake. The ring was fake. The feelings that followed him were a whole other battle that he was entirely unprepared for.

“Next time we decide to get fake engaged, let’s pick a less hideous ring,” she said as the glare of the diamond picked up the sunlight and glinted on the couch. “I don’t know why people would want to see this thing.”

Calum smirked at the lighthearted words and the gaudy ring that was too big for her small finger. “It’s not that bad.”

Arden gave him a serious look with an arched eyebrow and a tilt of her head.

“It is pretty bad,” he admitted in a grumble of defeat. “But I’d rather the attention and scrutiny be on it.” Rather than you.

Arden seemed to understand the implications of those three unsaid words. She went to fidget with the ring but stopped herself and instead pet Duke who appreciated the attention with relaxed eyes slipping closed and a small groan. Calum couldn’t believe how well the old dog took to her. He was usually standoffish around new people. Hardly liked attention from anyone other than Calum. But he was soaking up her pets and his tail was wagging at every word she said directed to him. Calum was awestruck and an idea hit him; another way to keep Arden from taking the brunt of the attention and invasion of privacy. A way to stay themselves in the face of pretending.

“What are you thinking?” Arden asked and Calum knew she could see the wheels turning in his mind and how loudly his silence spoke in that moment.

“I know what we can do,” Calum began, then shifted to grab his phone out of his pants pocket and brought himself even closer into Arden’s side. He beckoned for Duke who hesitated a moment, wanting nothing more than to stay under the affection of Arden. But he slowly sat himself up and gave Calum a cursory glance with uninterested eyes.

Calum reached over to pick him up and when he gave a little wiggle and huff Calum laughed and placed him in Arden’s arms. She didn’t hesitate to receive the disgruntled dog or coo to him to get him happy again. Calum’s heart was warm at the exchange; a smile growing with every baby voiced word she said. The sun spilled in through floor length windows and lit her in a soft glow as Calum pulled his camera up. The ring was visible in her position of holding Duke. Sensing what was happening Arden did her best to hide her face in the embrace of Duke. Calum leaned in with his arm outstretched and the camera facing them. He gave her a small kiss on the cheek, helping to obscure what could be seen of her face. He snapped a photo and then a few more when she was grinning and Duke was set down. Calum’s arm fell and his lips hovered as Arden turned to him.

Honey and peaches and sugar were just before him. Her eyes were hooded and soft, hazel gleaming in the light and Calum couldn’t help but inch closer. He vaguely heard Duke jump off the couch and pad off to his own bed but he was too caught up in the moment to give it much more than half a thought. She blinked slowly and Calum did too and without seeing or knowing he was kissing her again. Tiny alarm bells rang in his mind but they were drowned out by the sweetness invading his senses. He didn’t care that Arden was Michael’s sister. He didn’t care that the pretenses of their relationship were fake and constructed by contracts—but real with a date and a kiss preceding all of that. All he cared about was the moment and the feeling of her lips against his. And the way his hand found its way to her jaw, fingertips light and tingling as they trailed along and his fingers tangled in her hair.

The moment was bliss and longer lived than on the dance floor. But still, all too soon she was pulling away but staying still in his hold. His eyes shot open to find hers still closed, lips pouted and pink dancing across her cheeks. Her eyes opened slowly; he saw the even rise and fall of her chest. She was calm and that reinforced the feelings of bliss Calum experienced in their brief moment. Words were evasive and meaningless when their gazes held and his fingers drifted from her hair back to her jaw. They were silent and let that speak for them. He could hear the tiny breaths escaping her. Could see her eyes dart up and down as if in contemplation of what might happen next. As Calum began to think that through—debating if he should lean in again or not—she made the decision and pulled away, leaving his hand to fall as a sigh escaped her.

“Guess we got caught up in the charade,” she said as her gaze went distant and the pink on her cheeks began to fade. She bit her lip and leaned back into the plush cushions of the couch.

“Yeah,” Calum agreed though he wasn’t too sure of that on his end.

His camera still captured the screen of his phone and a tiny photo sat in the bottom corner. It reminded him of what the moment was and what needed to be done. He pulled up his social media and found the photo where Arden was mostly hidden by Duke and Calum’s kiss. He was apprehensive and indecisive when captioning it. Arden was silent behind him, relaxed, while he was hunched over with phone in one hand and chin in the other. Settling for the less is more tactic he simply put a heart and leaned back and angled the phone for Arden’s eyes.

“Is this okay to post?”

He wanted to make sure they were always on the same page when it came to the stunt. He wanted her permission. Even though it was his profile, her comfortability of being on it was more important. She nodded and Calum hit post with his heart in his throat and sweaty palms still gripping the phone. He could still feel their kiss, could still taste sugar when he licked his lips and turned to face her. She was seemingly at ease while Calum was at war with himself.

It only took a few minutes of the post being up for the calls and texts to start piling up. Calum had called his family the previous night after he and Arden decided to hold off. He evaded their questions as best he could and said he’d explain when the time was right and they were ready. It was a sinking feeling to be engulfed in; he had never been so evasive with his family before. But it was justified to keep Arden okay. He knew they were picking up on the fact he couldn’t say things, not that he didn’t want to or didn’t trust them. But Luke and Ashton were still in the dark and seeking the light. Others had questions; a few exes popped up in search of answers, but they weren’t important.

“Should we bite the bullet and tell Ash and Luke the truth in one go?” Calum asked as his phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Ashton, again.

Arden took a moment to think it over and when a grin spread across her face and mischief twinkled in her hazel eyes Calum couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“We could have fun with it first,” she said and Calum knew exactly what she meant as she sat up.

He slid back and wrapped an arm around her, let her head rest against him and started a group call with her hand and ring in the shot; it delicately rested against his chest and he was sure she could feel the beat of his heart just like she did with her face to his chest at the wedding. It was bound to skip and thump a little harder than usual. The connection came alive at a moment’s notice and Ashton lit up the screen with his mouth already running; throwing questions around rapidly—with some choice words to highlight his confusion—until the realization Arden was right there and snuggled into Calum’s side donned on him.

“What the fuck?” Ashton’s new tirade of questioning began with an expletive. “Don’t tell me you two idiots actually got married in Vegas?”

“Married?” Luke asked as he joined the call and caught Ashton’s last sentence. “You married Michael’s sister?”

“Management must be covering it up with just an engagement. Oh god, it makes so much sense,” Ashton reasoned though he was wildly wrong. Calum and Arden stayed quiet; mildly amused by the guessing game ensuing, even egging it on by nuzzling closer together. “Nothing good ever comes from Vegas. No offense, but what the hell were you guys thinking?”

“They were probably drunk,” Luke supplied and then tacked on in a mumble. “Sure glad I don’t have a sister.”

They let Ashton and Luke simmer with comments and questions for another couple of minutes. They came in and out with Calum’s subpar internet connection. Only when the speculation started getting out of hand; wild theories of a secret relationship for months or years tumbling from their lips. Calum decided to cut them off and Arden backed away; the fun quickly dwindling and crashing back into reality.

“Guys stop. We’re not married,” Calum said in a raised voice, he thought he felt Arden flinch next to him. Once Ashton and Luke’s theories died on their lips and the connection went quiet Calum cleared his throat. “We didn’t get married in Vegas. We haven’t been in a secret relationship.”

“Then what the hell is happening?” Luke asked.

“Not married but engaged then?” Ashton questioned and blew out a huff. “Who goes to Vegas and just gets engaged?”

“We’re not really engaged,” Calum stated and eyebrows shot up in surprise as a response. They both stayed quiet on the other ends and gave time for Calum to explain. “It was supposed to be a joke, we think… We were pretty drunk. Management didn’t think it was funny. Now it’s a stunt.”

The few sentences it took to wrap up the explanation was enough. They had all had their own individual and band struggles with management and PR disasters. Calum didn’t need to offer up why management didn’t find it funny or why they had taken it so seriously they made it into a stunt. Luke and Ashton were aware of how extreme things could get in the matters of the press. In the face of maintaining or creating images. A lot of things came down to the will of management. Arden’s fear of losing control wasn’t so far fetched or fantastical. But Calum had already swore to himself he’d do anything and everything in his power to keep her from spiraling at the hands of the media and management.

Arden stayed quiet as Luke and Ashton absorbed the news and asked a few follow up questions—how long, what commitments did they sign up for, was there anything they could do to help. Calum responded in the best ways he could and kept an eye on Arden all the while. She sank back into the couch, knees resting on the cushions and fingers playing with the hem of her shorts. She was barely within the shot of the camera now. Calum dominated most of the picture and explanation. He wanted to wrap it up and get back to Arden. Craved more moments made just between them. Thoughts of the diner and a simple line drawing in red crayon and secrets slipping out like they didn’t matter captured his thoughts as the call was winding down and questions were finally answered. Ashton and Luke were on board to do whatever they could to aid them in their cause to keep playing it their way.

When Calum finally hung up he looked back at Arden. She was still and the picture of tired. Although Calum wanted to take her away again; off in search of somewhere real where more stories could be shared he could tell she wasn’t up for it. He laid back against the couch and didn’t move when she rested against him again; it was almost as if they were both working on instinct and seeking comfort from the other. He soaked up the essence of honey and sweetness and breathed her in. She let out a drawn out sigh he swore must have been a yawn she was trying to hide.

“Wanna stay here a while?” He asked just barely above a whisper and felt her nod against him.

He had no complaints for that. His day was free and the mid morning was painting a lovely picture out the window before them. The couch was comfortable and her presence made him warmer than the sun heating his skin. He had a culmination of plans for them that he could sit with in the silence. For everything fake they had to do he wanted to follow it with something real. He wanted to show Arden the sides of him that no one else got to see. Wanted to show her the places that made him feel like himself. And if in that process he got to see the sides of her no one else knew or secrets she had never shared before then that was a bonus.

They sat in a comfortable silence and position. Time slipped past unbeknownst in the quiet that surrounded them. Calum had never been one for something like this. He had never been so at ease he didn’t need words or background noise or distractions. But with only the sound of her small breaths, his heart beating a little louder than usual and the occasional snore from Duke he was convinced he was finding a liking for it. Without thinking his hand wandered to her hair. Just minutes before his fingers were tangled in the strands and his lips pressed against hers. This time he calmly stroked through the soft tresses and ate up the content sigh that escaped her. She watched out the window and he watched her until her eyes slipped closed and he allowed himself to follow her into sleep.

When they woke the sun was behind the tree line, hiding between leaves and branches that were casted in a warm and golden glow. Calum was first to wake and take a moment to gather his surroundings. The couch. A usual napping spot for him. Arden. She was still rested against him, his arm still around her and fingers falling on her collarbones where their trail of brushing through her hair ended. Duke was still in his bed but peaked up with a half interested gaze as Arden shifted as she woke. She greeted Calum with slow blinks and a slow smile crossing her face.

“I haven’t slept that well since I’ve been here,” she admitted around a yawn and a stretch; leaving Calum’s side with the motion. “I should probably get back before Michael thinks we’re up to no good.”

She reached for her phone in her shorts pocket, Calum assumed she was going to call for a car and stopped her with a hand on top of hers. “I’ll bring you.”

The car ride was quiet as they both contemplated the events of the day. The plan for their parents would need to be set into motion soon. Luke and Ashton could now help in their endeavors. The new photo was exploding with buzz and speculation. The kiss on the cheek lingered and became something much more. Their real moment when the camera and their guards dropped was tailspinning through Calum’s subconscious. Calum could see how busy Michael’s house was when they arrived. Cars spilled onto the road and people passed in the front windows. He put the car in park and caught the end of an eye roll from Arden as she took in the added company.

“Give me your phone,” Calum said quickly in a force of realization. “We need each other’s numbers.”

Arden gave him a puzzled look but handed the device over unlocked. Calum quickly added his number to her contacts and sent himself a text so he could have hers too.

“Text me whenever you want to get away from the noise,” he offered as he passed her phone back.

She bit her lip and looked down at the screen; seeing his name and the small message sent to his phone. A ring in the message box made her laugh and for the first time he noticed small dimples appearing as her smile grew.

“You’re ridiculous,” she commented as she shook her head and tapped the screen. He leaned over to see what she was doing but she angled herself away until she was done; showing his updated info to include the ring in his name. “Just in case I ever forget we’re fake engaged.”

She said it with a wink and a small giggle that filled Calum’s chest with a nervous warmth and flutter as he laughed along with her. She unbuckled but didn’t make a move for the door handle. Instead she leaned over towards Calum, a now familiar brush of her lips ghosting on his cheek as she thanked him. Calum swore he’d never tire of her gratitude though he wasn’t sure he truly deserved it. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything worthy of a thank you; but he never rejected her words or the warmth of her closeness. It was all so consuming and just a bit addictive.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon,” she said with a pointed gaze at the colossal house filled with too many people in front of them.

“I look forward to it,” he replied with every ounce of honesty in him.

Arden left Calum with a smile and a wave when the door was shut. He made sure she got inside okay, waited to drive off until the door was shut behind her and his head stopped spinning from the overwhelming scent of peaches lingering in the car. He drove home with the windows open in an attempt to get his head above water and mind away from places it shouldn’t dive into. She said it herself; they were caught up in the charade. Everything meant nothing more than the facade they had to put on. A speck of doubt pushed its way through his thoughts; her words were drawn out and unsure. He wondered if she too was trying to convince herself of that. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it was all fake. At least not on his end. Falling failures crashed around him in plumes of smoke that threatened to choke him; his descent was becoming more and more dangerous as each smile and real moment forced him down faster and faster.

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 13

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: N/A

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 13: Laying Low

Finagling last-minute accommodations for the night proved more difficult than you'd expected. Apparently there was some kind of parade or festival happening that week, bringing in plenty of other travelers to the otherwise desolate city. That, and the fact Boba was short on funds meant there weren't many options - at least no pleasant ones. But the night was already dragging on longer than you wanted, so by the time you did find yourself in a crummy hotel room, you were more relieved than disgusted.

"It may not be up to your standards, but it could certainly be worse," Boba was saying as he inspected the room, though for what, you did not know.

"I don't know where you got this impression I'm high maintenance, but it's seriously misguided," you said through a yawn.

Boba turned from peering through the curtains of the small window across the room and blinked at you. He couldn't seem to offer up a reason.

"Honestly. I'm just glad to finally sleep in a bed. And take a shower."

You'd cracked open a door on your left and discovered the little bathroom with a shower that didn't look as gross as it could have been... Exhaustion now forgotten, you itched at the prospect of finally, finally, being able to wash away the grime and stink of months worth of space travel.

"Well, we're going to need supplies," Boba said, drawing you out of your revere. "It's best if we get them now while it's still dark. Train leaves at ten tomorrow."

"I'll be fine here," you stated. Boba seemed hesitant, so you added, "I told you I'm not trying to run away anymore."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he muttered. Maybe you were just tired and imagining things, but he almost sounded embarrassed. He moved past you and jiggled with the lock on the door handle. "You keep this locked and let in no one. I have the key and should be back within the half hour."

You realized his concern wasn't you leaving, but someone else coming in. You nodded at his instructions, not keen on the idea of being captured yourself. You were only just enjoying freedom again.

"What if someone does come? How do I contact you?"

Boba looked at you with a frown. "You don't. Any comms frequencies could be tapped into."

"Then how..."

"I'll find you. But if you can, try not to let it get to that point."

He moved his cloak to the side, showcasing the various weapons and pouches he had strapped to his belt. He plucked off one of the smaller guns and handed it over to you with a smirk.

"Thanks," you said hesitantly, taking the gun from him and immediately setting it on the table next to you.

He left the room and you could hear him turning the lock with his key on the other side. A few moments later, and the stillness around you began sinking in. You realized this was first time you'd been truly apart from the bounty hunter in a long while. Even the times he had left you on his ship while he went off on his missions, it had still been his ship... there had been a sense of safety and control. Now you were all by yourself in a room that felt flimsy and hollow, on a strange planet where anything could happen. You weren't exactly scared, but you couldn't say you weren't just a little nervous.

You did not, however, let any of those little nerves get in the way of you enjoying a shower.

There'd been a time in your life, not too long ago, where you'd been particular about things like temperature and water pressure. But not now. Oh no. It felt glorious just as it was. You let the water run through your hair, wash over your skin, soak into your pores. Your body was still bruised and tired, but you felt more alive than you ever had before. You let yourself hum in contentment, a soft little tune you made up as you went, creating the melody to your own happiness.

A soft knock on the door outside brought you snapping back to reality. Your heart clenched in anticipation, but only for a moment, as a familiar voice called out to you.

"I'm just setting some clothes here for you," Boba said.

That was fast, you thought at first, before realizing you'd been in there for a lot longer than you'd planned.

There was a creak of the door, a quick burst of cold air as it flooded in from outside the now steamy bathroom, and then another creak as the door shut again. You quickly went to work scrubbing away at your skin with the little bar of soap provided, even lathering some up to use on your hair. It made the strands squeaky and dry, but at least you would no longer smell like the bottom of a sewer.

The clothes Boba had gotten for you were surprisingly thoughtful. There was a plain shirt but in the same color as the top you'd picked out for yourself in that crazy shop with the tampons. And there were two pant options, one soft and snuggly to wear to bed tonight, and the other a rougher, tougher material for when your travels resumed tomorrow.

Once you were clothed and had dried your hair as best you could, you finally came out of the bathroom. Boba was sitting on the edge of one of the twin beds, shoes off and one of his pant legs rolled up to his knee. He was applying some kind of salve to a cut on his shin. He looked up at you as you emerged, and again, you weren't sure if your tired mind was playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn he had a faint smile.

"Feel better?" he asked, sensing your renewed spirit.

You only nodded in response, fatigue finding its way back to you. Your eyes were starting to droop.

"I have food if you want it," he said, motioning to some cans that were stacked on the table next to various other supplies. "Otherwise, I suggest you get some rest. You need it."

"So do you," you said pointedly, suppressing a yawn so your point wouldn't be lost. "I don't think I've ever seen you sleep."

"That's because I usually have my helmet on. I've been asleep under there more often than you think... usually when you're blabbing on about something."

You raised your eyebrows. Was that a joke? Was he actually trying to be humorous for once? He'd turned his attention back to his leg, now wrapping a bandage around the wound, but his demeanor definitely seemed much less stiff than usual. Not that you were complaining, but it was curious.

"I don't... blabber..." you said under your breath. You went to the other bed and crawled under the sheets, focusing on how nice it was to finally lay on a mattress and ignoring any thoughts about it having been used by who-knew what kind of creatures.

It was almost too soft. You spent a good minute shifting positions, trying to find one that worked the best, before finally settling in. Your mind was ready for sleep, right on the edge of shutting out the waking world and drifting away into the land of dreams. But you could hear Boba rummaging through his pile of supplies, unloading and reloading his guns, anxiously peeking out the windows.... He was quiet enough you could've slept through it, but you held on to consciousness for a moment longer.

"Boba. Seriously."

He tut-ed at you. "I'm fine."

"No, you're tired. Just admit it and go to bed." You sounded like a parent scolding a child. But that tactic didn't seem to work as the stubborn man continued to fiddle away. So you sighed and purposefully removed the crankiness from your voice.

"How are you going to steal a ship tomorrow if you're tired? How are you going to protect me or help Hondo or find the buyer with the rest of your money?" you asked softly.

There was a moment of silence before the lights were finally clicked off, and the bed beside you rustled as Boba slid into it.

"Fine. Happy?"

Your gaze naturally drifted to the slivers of moonlight peeking into the room from around the window. Each blink grew slower and slower as you finally let yourself go.

"Yes, I am," you murmured.

#star wars #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba x reader #eventual romance #eventual fluff #mystery #team up #bounty hunting #lots of planets #making deals #trusting pirates #gentle slow burn

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silver-lily-louise · 5 years ago

Text

A Whole New World - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Summary: 'He leaps to his feet, standing in the kitchen doorway, unable to tear his gaze away as the smoke coalesces into a figure. And when that figure – a tall, lean, incredibly hot man decked out in silver jewellery, and colourful silks, and dramatic eyeliner around his golden eyes – turns to face him, Alec’s pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds.' When Alec frees a genie trapped in a lamp, he earns three wishes, and a new temporary housemate.

AO3 link, or alternatively, read Chapter 1 below!

~oOo~

Chapter 1: A Diamond in the Rough

Not a bad find, Alec thinks, a pleased smile on his face as he lifts the bundle of white crêpe paper from his satchel. He’d only gone to the thrift shop to donate some old clothes, but the display marked Oddities had glinted in the late afternoon sunlight, catching his eye – and when he saw the lamp, something about it just spoke to him. He checked the price ticket, and finding that it was less than twenty dollars, he decided it was worth an impulse buy. The cashier had smiled politely, and asked, ‘You an Aladdin fan, then?’ ‘Of course. It was one of our first VCRs – my brother and I watched it until it practically wore out.’ ‘Well, if you get your three wishes, remember where your good fortune came from, hm?’ They chuckled, and Alec had left in a distracted haze of nostalgia.

Now he’s finally home, he sits down at the kitchen table, and unwraps his treasure. The lamp is small, only about the size of a single-serving teapot, and it’s a little grubby, which is probably the reason it was such a steal. But under the dirt, the design is beautiful – the brass is mostly covered in blue enamel, detailed with an ornate sweep of jasmine vines from handle to spout on both sides. Once it’s cleaned up a bit, it’ll look lovely on the mantlepiece. Curious, he tries to rub some of the grime away with his thumb; and then he nearly drops the lamp when the friction unexpectedly reverberates around the base of it. Some sort of structural damage?, he wonders, but when he turns it around, there isn’t anything visible from the outside. Perhaps if he lifts the lid – but he abruptly finds he can’t lift the lid. Closer inspection reveals the problem; there’s an almost imperceptible layer of white wax, firmly attaching the lid to the main body of the lamp.

He was going to focus on cleaning it up, but if there’s some sort of crack on the inside, he doesn’t want to risk applying pressure in the wrong place and damaging the lamp. Instead, he finds a toothpick, and gets to work scratching away the wax seal.

The last piece breaks away, and Alec lifts the lid. His vision is immediately obscured, and he’s choking on a cloud of bright purple smoke – and before he can begin to worry about what sort of toxic shit this thing could have been loaded with, he nearly jumps out of his skin, because an unfamiliar voice says, ‘Finally.’

He leaps to his feet, standing in the kitchen doorway, unable to tear his gaze away as the smoke coalesces into a figure. And when that figure – a tall, lean, incredibly hot man decked out in silver jewellery, and colourful silks, and dramatic eyeliner around his golden eyes – turns to face him, Alec’s pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds. ‘Ah!’ the man says, his eyes glowing as he flashes Alec a brilliant smile. ‘I suppose I have you to thank for my freedom?’ Alec can’t reply – he’s not sure he knows what language is at this precise moment in time – but the man seems undeterred, extending a hand. ‘I’m Magnus.’

Alec finds his voice then – but rather than anything intelligent, like Izzy put you up to this, didn’t she?, or at least semi-intelligent, like You’re welcome. I’m Alec, what comes out is a hoarse whisper: ‘What the fuck?’

The man – Magnus – frowns, and steps closer, freezing when Alec scrambles backwards with a frantic cry of, ‘No, no no no – just – don’t – Don’t come any closer.’ Magnus raises his hands in surrender. ‘It’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you,’ he says, in the same soothing tone Alec once used on that cat he found cowering under a dumpster. ‘I just think you ought to take a seat before you fall over.’

And maybe this man is a stranger, an intruder, but Alec is feeling a little woozy right now, and good advice is good advice. ‘Yeah.’ He swallows. ‘Yeah, that’s – that’s probably…’ He stumbles over to the couch, falling onto it more than sitting. His eyes stay fixed on Magnus as he wanders over, keeping his movements slow, taking a seat in the armchair opposite Alec. After a few seconds, Magnus tilts his head as if carefully considering the man in front of him, and waves a hand. ‘Here. Drink this, it should steady your nerves.’ A glass of amber liquid appears on the table in front of Alec, and he just stares at it; first in bewilderment, and then suspicion. Magnus seems to understand – though at this point, Alec’s not ruling out genuine psychic abilities – because he rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh, even as his face twitches in amusement. ‘It’s not poisoned, dear. That would be an awfully inconvenient way to do you harm. Not to mention extremely rude – as I said before, I’m fairly certain I owe you my freedom.’

Alec takes the glass in a slightly trembling hand, and downs it a lot faster than he probably should. He’s not much of a drinker, usually, but these are somewhat exceptional circumstances. Magnus gives a satisfied nod, and sits forward a little. ‘Okay, good. Now, here’s the rundown: No, you’re not going crazy. No, you’ve not been dosed with a particularly effective hallucinogen. And no, this is not an elaborate practical joke pulled by your sibling, partner, or best friend.’ ‘Who are you?’ Alec asks, and feels his face flush. At some point, he hopes to start talking in more than just blunt, three- or four-word sentences. Magnus laughs. ‘I told you, I’m Magnus. However, what I suspect you’re trying to avoid asking is what I am. Very polite of you…’ He raises an eyebrow. Alec starts, realising he’s being prompted. ‘Uh – Alec.’ ‘Alec.’ Magnus smiles. ‘And in answer to your question, I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I am, being as everyone and their cat appears to have seen that hack-job of a film Disney put together in the nineties.’ He shudders in exaggerated distaste. ‘So, you’re… you’re actually…’ ‘A genie,’ Magnus confirms.

Alec digests that for a moment. ‘So, what, someone put that wax seal on to trap you?’ He’s not sure why his brain has leapt to that question, exactly – but hey, at least he managed a proper sentence this time. Magnus grimaces. ‘No. Unfortunately, that was me.’ He snaps his fingers, and the lamp appears in his hands. ‘It gets awfully inconvenient having a fully detachable lid, and I was tired of misplacing it. Everything was going swimmingly, until I decided to visit the seafront.’ He waves his hand again, and there’s a dull flash of blue light. Alec blinks, and suddenly the lamp is free of all the grime that covered it earlier, and Magnus is holding up a small, round stone. ‘This is the culprit. It fell into the spout, effectively sealing me inside. Don’t get me wrong, I like it in there – I’ve had centuries to get it set up perfectly – but it’s nice to get out of the house every once in a while, wouldn’t you agree?’ Alec watches as Magnus squashes the stone in between his thumb and forefinger, flicking away the resulting dust. ‘How long were you stuck in there?’ he asks. ‘That depends. What year is it?’ ‘Twenty-nineteen.’ ‘Oh, good!’ Magnus beams. ‘I’ve barely missed a couple of years, then. Excellent news. I knew it didn’t feel like I’d hit the decade mark, but you never can be sure.’ Alec isn’t sure what to say to that, and so he just nods, turning his empty glass in his hands as Magnus levels a curious stare at him. ‘I must say, Alexander, you’re taking this remarkably well.’

Alec laughs, sharp and surprised. ‘Yeah, well, I’m only forty percent convinced that I’m awake right now.’ ‘Good point.’ Magnus sits back in his chair. ‘So, as for that favour I owe you – assuming you’re awake, and this is real, which you are and it is, by the way – will the usual do? Three wishes, excepting any feats of necromancy or wish-inflation?’ ‘I – uh – yeah, I mean, that works for me.’ He frowns, suddenly worried. ‘Do I have to make them all now?’ ‘I mean, you can, but you’ve had something of an intense evening already,’ Magnus says, a teasing lilt to his words. ‘I can wait a while.’ ‘I don’t want to hold you up, if you’ve got places to be-‘ Magnus raises an eyebrow. ‘I’ve lived for nearly eight centuries, Alec. I can afford to stick around for a week or two to return a favour. Of course, that’s providing you don’t mind me staying put for a while.’ ‘I… I don’t mind, but I don’t have a spare room,’ he says. Magnus smirks, fixing Alec with a look that makes it hard to breathe again for a moment. ‘We could always share,’ he says suggestively. Alec opens his mouth to protest, or something, but no sound comes out. Magnus laughs, apparently taking pity on him. ‘I’m joking, Alexander. Even I’m not that forward. But don’t worry about the room, I’m quite happy in the lamp.’ He looks around the room, assessing, then snaps his fingers in a gesture that declares: aha! ‘This should do nicely,’ he says, placing the lamp in pride of place on the mantelpiece, in between Izzy’s graduation photo and the golden mantel clock left to Alec by his grandmother. He turns back, gesturing to his lamp as if displaying a piece of art. ‘What do you think?’ Alec smiles. ‘Actually, that’s perfect. Exactly where I planned to put it when I bought it.’ Magnus claps his hands, looking delighted. ‘Excellent. Well,’ he says, giving a little mock-bow, ‘goodnight, Alexander. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.’ ‘You sure?’ Alec asks, and he feels himself go red yet again at Magnus’ quizzical look. ‘I just mean – you’ve been stuck in there for a while. You sure you’re okay heading back in so soon?’

Magnus looks stunned for a moment, before his expression softens into a smile. It’s warmer, more genuine, than any smile he’s put on so far, and Alec’s heart skips a beat at how beautiful it makes him look. ‘You’re very considerate, Alexander,’ he says softly. ‘But yes, I’m sure. Like I say, I like my lamp – it’s home, after all. It was only the frustration of being stuck in there I didn’t like. Now that I’m free to come and go, I’ll be absolutely fine.’ Alec nods, and Magnus waves his hands, conjuring a gentle light as he begins to melt into smoke once more. ‘It’s late – you should get some rest, too,’ he says, and then there’s only that purple smoke, which is rapidly drawn back through the spout into the lamp.

And Alec is alone in his apartment again.

He drags a hand down his face, yawning widely. It seems that Magnus is full of good advice, because sleep sounds like an excellent plan. He wonders if he ought to worry about leaving a stranger unattended in his home; but Magnus is a genie, an all-powerful magical entity, and short of sealing the lamp again – an idea that feels simply repugnant to him, given how grateful Magnus was to be free – it’s not like Alec would be able to stop him if he was inclined to create mischief or mayhem. Somehow, though, he doubts that Magnus will. It might be stupid to trust a magic man you just met after he appeared out of thin air in your kitchen, but Alec’s not sure he cares. Izzy’s always been the smart one, anyway.

He makes his way to bed, and that night, he dreams of flying over city lights on a magic carpet, next to a figure he can’t quite make out – except for their warm, beautiful smile.

~oOo~

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #malec #malec fanfic #malec au #genie!magnus #mine #alcohol cw #drug mention #please let me know what you thought!

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seeroftodayandtomorrow · 5 years ago

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A Musical Affair

Chapter 8

Read on AO3

“Would you call me a hypocrite,” Kurt asked, “for ranting against Rachel when she gives me money, but liking it very much when she gives me food?”

They had stopped kissing for the moment, but were still lying on the blanket, close together, legs intertwined. Kurt was nibbling on a slice of sweet pie, laughing as he tried to keep the filling from squishing out. Outside, the day was moving on, but in here, time seemed to stand still. Far too soon, Blaine would have to leave in order to get home in time for dinner, but for now, he was happy where he was.

“It's food,” he said, shrugging. “Most people like food.”

“Most people also like money,” Kurt pointed out. “And don't get me wrong, I do as well. Having money is very convenient.”

“Then-”

“Are you aware,” Kurt interrupted, “that more than half of London's population lives the way I do, or in far worse circumstances?”

“I...never really thought about it, to be honest.” Blaine was slightly ashamed; Kurt, however, looked like he hadn't expected anything else. Few of Blaine's social standing were aware they lived in a protective little bubble in which they met only people of their own class, and the craftsmen, merchants and servants that provided for them but were mostly ignored.

“I am not poor. A lot of my acquaintance consider me quite well-off. I have my own room with a window and a fireplace, I can afford to support my stepmother and still eat, and most of all, I earn my living doing something I love. It's only people like Rachel that consider me a charity case, when there are so many more worthy projects she could set her mind to.”

Blaine couldn't help thinking that Kurt was right. Watching him here, in his own space, he didn't seem like he was lacking something.

“I'm not out on the street or sleeping on the rope,” Kurt continued, “unlike some other people I know who grew up in quite similar circumstances. There are a lot who'd need Rachel's money much more than I do.”

Then he smiled again as he took another bite out of the pie. “Food, on the other hand, especially food like this - is just a gift from a friend.”

Blaine sat up and also took a slice of pie. “I happen to know,” he said after a little hesitation, “that Sir Jesse and Lady St. James donate a lot of money to a lot of causes. I think, maybe, that for Rachel, the money she gives to you is also just a gift from a friend.”

Kurt looked at him. After a while, he nodded. “You may be right. Still, I don't like it, and I have repeatedly told her so. But well, what do I expect—it was never her way to listen to somebody else when she thought she knew better.”

After a moment of silence, he shrugged, smiled, and pulled Blaine towards him. Blaine rather hurriedly put his slice of pie aside. A glance at the window showed him they had time for a few more kisses, at the very least.

“Now, what do you do to ask someone to dance?”

“I go to whatever lady I plan to dance with, bow, then ask her to honor me with the next. Then I will try not to look on the floor and count my steps while I step on her toes for a song or two. Afterwards, I escort her back to her parents or friends. But this will never happen. I've been excusing myself from dancing up to now, and I will keep doing that in the future. I don't know how to dance.”

“We'll come to that later. But as I told you, you can afford to be known as a bad dancer, but not as someone who doesn't know how to behave. Now, what else have I told you about dancing?”

Blaine was, by now, a little exasperated. Sebastian was not a bad student, but sometimes Blaine wished he would just take him at his word every now and then instead of questioning everything.

“Um—never exert myself to the point of sweating. Men who refuse to dance at all make themselves more unpopular than bad dancers—thank you, I understood that, you know—and—oh, never dance too many dances with the same young lady.”

“Right,” Blaine said and tried to come up with a way to teach Sebastian to dance without having to actually dance with him.

“But I don't understand that,” Sebastian said, causing Blaine to sigh. “Why can't I dance again with a girl I like, if we, say, talked about something interesting the moment the music ended?”

“Because people will think you want to marry her. You will raise hopes in her and her family, because, let's face it, you are a very eligible match.”

He remembered all too well the speculative glances and whispers if he happened to be more attentive to one girl than the others. It was one part of being an earl—or heir to one—he really didn't miss.

“What if I want to marry her?”

“You—you want to marry?”

“Well. I thought getting married and producing an heir was part of the whole thing of being an earl.”

Blaine couldn't help but nod. It was; there was no denying people would expect and even pressure Sebastian to marry, and soon.

“But—you don't like women.” Blaine wasn't quite sure why he was protesting; it was by no means unusual for men like him to get married—be it as camouflage, because they wanted children or for a thousand other reasons. It was even possible that Sebastian did like women as well as men.

But he was shaking his head.

“No, I don't. Not that way. What's your point?”

“I just thought -” It was stupid. He hadn't even made up his own mind about whether or not to marry, back when that was still an important question.

“You thought it'd be the honorable thing not to marry when I won't love my wife.”

Blaine nodded, somewhat sheepishly. His parents had not loved one another, and while their open loathing had been seen as somewhat indecent, like hating each other should be done behind closed doors, nobody had seen it as unusual.

“Well,” Sebastian continued, “I plan to make sure my wife won't love me either. I want to someone who will take me solely for my money and my title, and who, if possible, will tolerate me looking for entertainment somewhere else, and who will make a decent companion otherwise. I will treat her with respect, the need for discretion will make sure I don't flaunt my affairs, and I'm sure I will be able to give her a child or two. She'll have it better than a lot of other women. At least my wife won't die alone in a little room behind the kitchen while her relatives discuss if she's worth the cost of a doctor.”

Blaine could not think of anything to say in the face of Sebastian's bitterness. He guessed that his mother had died like this, and he felt a great deal of shame for his father, the late and unmissed earl, who had let his first wife die in poverty and loneliness.

“You're right,” he conceded in a low voice. He still thought it was dishonest somehow, especially since Sebastian's wife probably would not have the freedom to seek her pleasure elsewhere.

But that was the way their society worked, and in the end, there was no big difference if the husband strayed into the bed of another woman or into that of a man.

“Speaking of discretion,” he said, both to change the subject and because it was something he had meant to talk to Sebastian about. “You need to be more—well, discreet.”

“What?”

“You have been seen in the company of the same young man twice; a young man, I might add, who is—at least in certain circles—known for frequenting molly houses.”

“So?”

Again, Blaine was at a loss for words. He remembered his own first meeting with Sebastian, and the reasons he had listed for being able to be so...open in his solicitations. All of these still applied: Sebastian was an earl, and his wealth and title would protect him, if not his partners, from most of the consequences a discovery would have for most men. If he was indeed, as he had said, a good pugilist, this would protect him from most private hostilities.

But still, Blaine worried. He didn't know why he didn't want Sebastian to flaunt his proclivities; he hoped it didn't have anything to do with wanting to protect the reputation of the earldom. Maybe it was just that he didn't want to lose his half brother's company, which, while exasperating, was often a lot of fun and considerably widened his horizon. But should word get out that Sebastian was someone who, as it were, corrupted young men, his grandmother, unaware that he was far beyond corrupting, would certainly forbid Blaine to associate with him.

So he decided on a tactical approach, since he doubted that the desire alone to protect his maybe less affluent and influential prospective partners would be enough to convince Sebastian to be more cautious.

“Imagine one of the young men of our general acquaintance, many of whom are very handsome and might also be...amenable to your suggestions, catching your eye. If you continue like this, you will soon have a reputation, and no young man, how handsome and willing he might be, will be as much as seen with you, no less go anywhere alone, for fear of getting the same reputation.”

He could see he had made an impression on Sebastian, who seemed to seriously think about his words.

“Most people don't have the money and influence that allows you to ignore society's restrictions and even the law,” he continued. Most people also care what their families think about them, he thought, though he didn't say it. He was well aware that except for the unloved relatives of his mother, he was the only family Sebastian had. And considering, Sebastian could be pretty sure Blaine would not think any worse of him for whom he bedded.

“You make a good point,” Sebastian conceded. “I knew I would have to care about more things now than just where my next meal comes from, but I couldn't have foreseen anything like this.”

Blaine guessed that all the endless little rules of etiquette could be hard to remember when one hadn't grown up with them, but he thought that especially someone like Sebastian would consider other people's situation in life more than someone who had only ever moved in their own circle.

Then again, Sebastian had never claimed to be anything but selfish, and as an earl, he was at least in good company.

“So you will be more careful?” Blaine asked.

“I can try,” Sebastian replied,” but sometimes people get over-enthusiastic when they meet me. It's the charm, you know...”

He grinned, and Blaine couldn't help but smile. The charm was undeniably there, and if Sebastian managed to tone it down, he would be very successful in society.

“You must help my though.” Sebastian continued. “Maybe point me towards the right men. If I am to be discreet, I don't know how to find someone.”

Find someone you admire, Blaine thought, someone who is smart and funny and in whose arms you forget the time and the world around you.

“Someone for the night, I mean. I'm not asking for anything more,” Sebastian said. “I don't believe in love—see where it got my mother. And even if I did—men like us can hardly ask for love, can we?”

Blaine thought that maybe they could. Maybe he did.

#fic: a musical affair #klaine fanfiction

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comicbookuniversity · 5 years ago

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Lessons for the MonsterVerse

by Bunnypwn Gold

I have always been a big fan of Godzilla. I’ve been watching the movies since I was a kid. Now that they’re making new movies again, there’s a lot to be excited about and look forward to. Recently, I re-watched the newest one from the American MonsterVerse, Godzilla: King of the Monsters, as well as the last film from the Millennium era, Godzilla: Final Wars. Both films are big, ambitious, and include some major flaws, one of which they have in common, or at least they have flaws with overlap. While the MonsterVerse, so far, is great and is on track to continue that trend, Final Wars suffered greatest from this shared flaw, and so I am here to set out what the MonsterVerse needs to do to avoid self-destruction: take itself seriously.

Briefly, I want to provide a review and synopsis of King of the Monsters. So spoilers, it’s really good. Five years after Godzilla made landfall in San Francisco and fought against the parasitic MUTOs, Monarch is struggling to figure out what it wants to do with the Titans, as the monsters are now known, while the government and military are pressuring Monarch to kill them all. At the same time, one of their own scientists, Emma Russell, betrays them to assist ecoterrorist Alan Jonah in awakening the Titans with a bioacoustics device called the ORCA so that the Titans can spur regrowth in the environment and undo anthropogenic climate change. They revive Ghidorah in Antarctica, who then awakens all the other Titans still sleeping around the world at once, thus precipitating a conflict with Monarch and Godzilla for the crown. The film sets out to cover a lot of narrative ground while introducing several important elements to the series, and all the while it held together some solid character work for its main cast. Based on the new, expansive mythos that this film lays out—with the many new Titans and the abandoned Hollow Earth society discovered in vast underground caverns which used to live in harmony with the Titans—it looks like things will only get more exciting, and the future of the MonsterVerse is set out effectively and in grand style.

Godzilla: Final Wars is also about a large amount of monsters fighting for control of the Earth, feature monsters trapped in Antarctic ice, and ends with Godzilla fighting Ghidorah, but that’s where the similarities end. Final Wars was released in 2004 as the commemorative 50th anniversary film for the franchise. In it, the Earth has been defended from monsters for decades by the Earth Defense Force, who managed to trap Godzilla in ice in Antarctica years prior. All the other monsters around the world attack at once in the present, and the EDF was unable to keep up until the Xiliens arrived from space, removing the monsters and promising to make a peaceful alliance with humanity. In reality, the Xiliens were invading the Earth in order to herd humans like cattle because they need to eat human mitochondria to survive, and they were secretly controlling the monsters. So the heroes free Godzilla so he can help them fight the aliens and their army of brainwashed monsters. The plot also involved mutant humans and a fake rogue planet that was also somehow an actual asteroid that Godzilla later blows up. It’s a mess of a movie. That aside, it’s clear the film is trying to borrow elements from the three previous eras of Godzilla movies. It took an edgier look from the majority of the Millennium movies (from 1999-2004). The use of serious, formidable super vehicles is like the various super planes from the Heisei era films (1984-1995). However, the element borrowed from the Showa era films (1954-1975) is where it falters: campiness. The difference in this film compared to the Showa films being that they purposefully made Final Wars campy, despite the opportunity they had and despite the tone of the Showa era movies.

The original film, Gojira, is a very serious and tonally heavy film depicting the horrors of the modern era, with rapid industrialization in post-war Japan, the advent of the Cold War arms race, and the reason for that arms race, nuclear weapons, with the one man capable of killing Godzilla horrified by the devastation such an ability would grant. This movie and its first sequel were the only Godzilla films made in black and white, which impacts the way they look and how their special effects come across. After a several year hiatus, Godzilla returned to the screen to fight King Kong, this time in color. Seeing those monster suits and the limited special effects capabilities in 1960 of a B-list sci-fi flick in color really emphasizes how phony it all looked at the time. Throughout the Showa era, Godzilla shifted from an entirely villainous character to an erstwhile hero, and though the movies never stopped being presented as dramatic, they were made with an acknowledgement of how they look despite the drama and seriousness the creators otherwise wanted them to have.

Over time, of course, special effects improved. Starting with the Heisei era of films, Toho was able to produce much better suits and visual effects, and so they resumed making their movies with the kind of drama and seriousness that they had wanted all along. The Millennium era began in response to the 1998 American Godzilla, which depicted the titular monster with CGI, in contrast to the Toho tradition of using suits. The Millennium era was the last hurrah to suitmation effects, and these films, overall, looked great, probably the best that a giant monster movie can look with people in suits. Accordingly, they also hold up the more dramatic tone of the Heisei era while allowing each creative team the freedom to make the standalone Godzilla movie they wanted to make. The exception to this is Final Wars, which, as previously said, was not serious at all. Despite the successes of making serious, dramatic monster movies since 1984 and the ambitions of the Showa era’s large and imaginative canon, Final Wars decided to celebrate five decades of filmmaking by using cheesy comedy, camera work that screams “we had to edit heavily to make our actors look like action stars,” and what may very well be the least convincing acting of the entire series. The only person on set who seemed to understand any of this is alien commander X, who looked like he was being goofy on purpose, instead of on accident like the rest of the cast. Final Wars had the same opportunity as the rest of the Millennium era had to present a serious, dramatic battle for the fate of the Earth, and wasted it with aliens that seem completely unqualified to invade another planet and cramming most of their monsters into throwaway fights with Godzilla that lasted on average less than a minute.

This purposeful camp and goofiness of Final Wars is presumably meant to provide a lightness and humor to the film. This is where it overlaps with King of the Monsters, which ventured into the modern era of ironic, self-aware humor to provide levity. Borrowing from the MCU, King of the Monsters cracks wise during dramatic moments relatively often, in an attempt to lighten them up. Unfortunately, the jokes they go with are the weakest material in the film, and they do more to undermine the dramatic tension than enhance the film or provide levity. It’s like the scene in Thor: Ragnarok when Korg says they can rebuild Asgard, and then it blows up more, so never mind; or Hawkeye explaining how ridiculous his fighting robots with a bow and arrow is to Scarlet Witch in Age of Ultron. Maybe those are funny jokes, but they do more to undermine the dramatic tension than they add in humor, and both have the capacity to turn parts of the audience off by poking holes in the premise. It’s rather insecure and shows a lack of confidence in the work to stand on its own merits despite critics or easy jokes from the peanut gallery. This brand of humor gave us moments in King of the Monsters like Sam Coleman mishearing Ilene Chen saying “Ghidorah” as “gonorrhea.” It’s really not that funny, it wasn’t a moment that needed lightening up, and there’s no reason he would have misheard her since he was standing within ten feet. It ultimately undermines a moment in the film for an Asian woman to demonstrate her expertise by locating vital information about the threat at hand. But yes, Sam, I guess monsters sometimes have slightly silly-sounding names, like Ghidorah, which is based on the Japanese pronunciation of hydra, a very popular and well-respected mythical dragon.

The 2014 Godzilla film that started the MonsterVerse was enjoyable, but didn’t quite live up to its potential. That’s part of the reason I delayed seeing Kong: Skull Island far longer than I should have. When I did see it, I was amazed. I expected it to be good, and I heard great things about it, but it was far better than anything I could have imagined it to be. It was a truly great movie. After seeing it, my hopes and expectations for the MonsterVerse skyrocketed. I don’t think these expectations have been let down yet, and I expect them to be satisfied moving forward. However, the one thing I wanted most going into King of the Monsters was for them to lean into the tone and style of Skull Island more. In certain respects, I think they did, and the ambitious mythos being built here is far more substantial than anything in the Godzilla franchise so far, which usually has stuck to “monsters keep showing up and fighting.” The dramatically absurd tone, though, was what they lost by using the ridiculousness of what’s happening to make quick, weak, sometimes self-aware jokes instead of to highlight the intensity of the drama experienced by the characters. In Skull Island, when the squad had to fly their planes through a permanent thunderstorm, Sam Jackson’s character started quoting a speech about how the righteous men will win by not backing down and so inherit the Earth. The speech makes the whole thing feel even more ridiculous than a permanent thunderstorm already is, and in doing so amps up the drama and tension. This ultimately makes the arrival of a giant gorilla, which the audience is expecting to see, much more impressive and intense. That’s what I wanted for King of the Monsters. Yes, there are ridiculous aspects to giant monster movies, but the characters are living it, not watching it and thinking, “This crazy.”

Having this more serious tone is also important in really hitting the audience with the larger thematic power of the film. In Skull Island, the way Sam Jackson didn’t want to back down from killing Kong, even after seeing that it’s pointless and even detrimental to the troop, is reminiscent of the way America is currently stuck in multiple seemingly never-ending wars. At least part of the reason people don’t want to leave Iraq and Afghanistan is because they don’t want to create another Vietnam, the war that this film centers around on purpose. Having that tension of a dedicated army colonel who was just forced to “abandon” his war amplifies the drama of the other characters wanting to understand the problems of the natives and come to a real solution to their problems, and it all works because of how it resonates in the current political climate. The Godzilla side of the MonsterVerse so far is focusing on climate change, which, while abstract for far too many, is also a very real and pressing concern for a lot of people, paralyzing at times. Seeing the dramatic steps needed to fix the problem almost makes Alan and Emma’s plan in King of the Monsters feel heroic. The film is filled with images of crumbling, flooded American cities, and Ghidorah, an alien creating imbalance in nature a la humanity thinking itself separate from nature, is literally a living hurricane. There’s a lot of strong, serious, intense potential to make such a movie really meaningful. If they had taken themselves more seriously, it would have had this level of impact. It really is sad that they squandered this potential on silly jokes and a story arc for their generic, useless white man hero, Mark Russell. Like I said at the beginning, it’s still a good movie, but I can so clearly see how much better it could have been, too.

To me, dramatic movies making fun of themselves in important scenes always comes across as insecure, like filmmakers can’t simply make their movie first, they also have to preempt the internet to protect their egos. As the MonsterVerse moves forward, my biggest piece of advice is to do what Skull Island did and take itself seriously. We live in a time when a lot of previously niche franchises and genres are getting more spotlight due to the demands of studios wanting more high-action, effects heavy movies to sell huge on the international market. As these genres, once mired in cultural neglect and seen as silly and childish, come into the limelight, they both prove they always were to be taken seriously and poke fun at themselves to prove they know they shouldn’t be. I get the appeal of ironic, self-aware humor and wanting to be silly at dramatic high points, because it can be very fun and, when used properly, be incredibly funny; look to Thor: Ragnarok for an overall great example. But besides issues of improper use, this kind of humor is arguably at saturation at this point. It’s being misused and overused to the detriment of otherwise good movies in an attempt to compete with Marvel, who remains the poster child on this. So MonsterVerse, let Marvel, Disney, and all those imitators try to outdo each other by proving they can make more fun of themselves before Honest Trailers get to them. Just have fun making movies about giant monsters with the kind of drama and seriousness only modern special effect can give them, and use the ridiculousness of it all to amp up that drama instead of undermine it. Get over people calling you a nerd and just do your thing. As they say, being cool is all about confidence.

#Godzilla #king of the monsters #kong #skull island #titans #ghidorah #final wars #movies #monsters #giant monsters #marvel

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nadziejastar · 5 years ago

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Isa: What is it with you and picking up stray puppies?

Lea: I want everybody I meet to remember me. Inside people's memories, I can live forever.

Well, if I was to go by my own impression of them, this would be my headcanon. There is this recurring theme of dogs with Lea and Isa, right? My theory is that they were meant to be similar to Lady and the Tramp. Maybe Lady and Tramp were from Radiant Garden and they supposed to meet Lea and Isa. If Merlin can be from Radiant Garden, I don’t see why they couldn’t be.

Tramp: Not to change the subject, but... um... ever chased chickens?

Lady: I should say not.

Tramp: Oh-ho, then you've never lived!

Lady: But we shouldn't.

Tramp: I know. That's what makes it fun. Aw, come on, kid. Start building some memories.

Tramp is a lot like Lea. He is very outgoing and wants to make memories. However, I don’t think Lea was originally the “stray puppy”. I think he had a very happy and stable home life, and was given a lot of freedom. He was a very independent kid. His parents were probably not very strict. He didn’t get punished very often. He viewed life as a fun adventure and did pretty much whatever he wanted. Lea thought breaking into the castle was not a very big deal. He wasn’t concerned that he was going to get into trouble. He was a very, very happy person and had amazing self-esteem. I think he must have lived a life that was free from serious difficulty. No abuse or neglect, that’s for sure.

“—Let’s go, Lea,” the blue-haired boy, Isa, said quietly. He stood up and brushed the dust from his pants.

“What is with those guys?”

“I don’t want any more trouble,” Isa urged.

Lea also climbed to his feet, albeit with some resignation.

“There’ll always be another chance,” Isa reminded him softly as they walked away. Lea followed after.

I think Isa was more like Lady. I don’t think he was rich compared to Lea or anything like that. I just think he was more sheltered and naive. His parents also might have been more strict. He wasn’t as quick to get into trouble and he scolded Lea a lot. He was not as outgoing or bold. I don’t think his home life was outrageously bad or anything. But I think Lea probably wanted to sneak into the castle primarily so Isa could have some exciting memories, since it seemed like he didn’t have any. Isa was less adamant about it.

I wanted the three of us to be together. I wanted the three of us to laugh together in the Organisation. Pretending to be adults, they decided it can’t be like that. But I’ll put an end to it—I’ll have them stop.

I can see Isa not having a very close relationship with his parents. It might not have ever been touched on, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Isa came from a family where his parents were distant and he was emotionally neglected. Maybe there was a lot of pressure on him to “act like an adult”. The journal said Isa was mature beyond his years. This might have contributed to his difficulty opening up to others. I think Lea saw him as the “stray puppy” at first. He didn’t smile much, according to Lea in the novel. Axel’s character is about helping those who are in bad situations. Ven, Roxas, Xion. It probably started with Isa. Compared to Lea, he seemed less carefree.

“She doesn’t need you anymore.” Saïx smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

That was the world’s most obvious lie, Sora thought. He’d had about enough of these organization guys trying to tell him what was what. “Like I’m supposed to believe that?” Sora shot back.

“Well, that’s up to you. But you can believe this: Organization XIII has no more use for you.” Saïx lifted his hand to point at the strange moon hanging in the sky above the glass ceiling.

When Lady was captured and put in the pound, she didn’t really know what to do. She wasn’t street smart. She relied on Tramp to survive outside of her bubble. She was afraid that he abandoned her and was jealous that he was so popular. Isa also seemed to have a fear of abandonment, especially after the experiments. He was afraid that if Lea had to help him out too much, he’d get tired of him and leave him behind. I think that Lea actually liked being needed by him, but Isa could never trust that could be true. Maybe his parents had high expectations of him that he couldn’t meet, like Terra and Eraqus.

“I have no use in doing that either, do I? If you think about it, it’s troublesome, right?”

Certainly, if you think about it like that, it does sound troublesome. But… rather than troublesome of it, it’s fun to eat ice cream the three of us, so… so, that’s why we go there. But, I wonder why it’s fun?

“Do you want me to tell you?”

Roxas looked at Axel, and waited for his answer.

“It’s because we are best friends.”

The point of Axel becoming best friends with Roxas and Xion was to teach them about life. It wasn’t simply to tell the audience that they were inseparable and we would then accept it at face value. It seemed like Axel’s concept of a best friend was tied up in convincing Roxas and Xion that it’s okay for friends to be “troublesome”. That was the main theme of their friendship. That’s why he only said this on Day 193. It wasn’t a happy spontaneous declaration of friendship. It was a reflection on his past.

“Because they copied my powers, the Keyblade’s power, and then they didn’t need me anymore—is that it?” Roxas spat.

He couldn’t bring himself to confirm it.

“I guess you felt the same way, huh, Axel?”

At those words, something wrenched in his chest, and he could hardly breathe. No, not me. I wasn’t thinking like that. I would never.

“That’s not true. You—you’re my best friend.” The words spilled out of him.

Axel wanted to emphasize that to them more than anything else. He only used the words “best friend” when Roxas or Xion were worried about the organization considering them worthless.

Axel: Man... Why you always gotta...cause me...trouble...

And when he brought Xion back, he said she caused him so much trouble.

“This is right,” Xion said firmly. “It’s better this way.”

Axel hated that argument. Nothing was better any which way. All it came down to was what you wanted to do and what you didn’t. He’d learned that lesson back when he had a heart.

“So it’s better for you to disappear?” he protested.

And I definitely think that had to do with Isa.

If Saïx sees something he can use, he will—and without a second thought.

Saïx’s character was all about finding something he can use. He only views people in terms of their usefulness. I think that this personality trait was going to be explained by having Isa constantly be considered “useless” like Xion was. This insecurity was exploited by the apprentices, but I wouldn’t be surprised if his home life played a role in why he was so susceptible to feeling useless. After all, Terra’s background provided the fertile seedbed for his darkness. Terra’s relationship with Eraqus made him so vulnerable to Xehanort’s manipulation. Xehanort was grooming Terra for his body. He always reminded me of a real life sexual predator. And they usually go after kids who have difficult home lives.

Axel's always helping me out, so I just assumed he would again. How long has he known about me? Maybe since long before we met in Castle Oblivion. But he told me to think for myself. I was so happy. But now, as I get stronger, Roxas keeps getting weaker. I shouldn't exist anymore. They say that Nobodies were never meant to exist, but I'm the real affront. But before I'm gone, I want to help Roxas and Axel. Even just a little.

I think that all this played a big role in Axel’s extreme loyalty to Saïx. Isa was like Xion. Saïx verbally abused Xion, so she was extremely distressed when she was reliant on Roxas or Axel for help. It’s why she originally started avoiding Roxas. It also contributed to her decision to disappear. She saw herself as an affront. When she asked Axel for help, he was cold at first. But then he told her she was his best friend and to think for herself. So, she thought it was best to disappear, to repay them for all their help.

Sora: He sure is acting weird.

Mrs. Potts: It’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to trust others.

Cogsworth: You don’t suppose he’s been turned into a Heartless, do you?

If Isa was Norted, there were probably times he lost control of himself, like the Beast did. I don’t think his berserk state started as a Nobody. Isa had gold eyes and pointy ears, so he probably thought of himself the same way Xion did. He didn’t deserve to exist. It sounds like Lea had to assure Isa that no matter how may times he needed help, he’d always be there for him. I think Axel was so willing to forgive Saïx because Isa had such a fear of being abandoned by Lea. I think that was supposed to be the big takeaway from their awful relationship as Nobodies.

“In the way of what. Of who,” he asked.

“In the way of us. I trust you.”

Axel cracked a dry smile. “You say that exactly like you would if you had a heart.”

“My memories of the time I did have one are making it so, that’s all. If you get in the way any further, though, the memories I have since becoming a Nobody will overwrite them.”

Why would they make Axel go through so much suffering at the hands of his best friend unless something positive was going to come from it? It seems like Isa had very bad trust issues. But Lea stood by him, even when he thought Isa wanted him dead. So, nothing could ever drive him away. Eraqus fueled Terra’s darkness by making him feel like he wasn’t loved unconditionally. Aqua and Ven saved him from that darkness. I think that was supposed to be the message of Lea and Isa’s friendship, too.

#kh #kh meta #kh lea #kh isa

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balladofthesadcat · 6 years ago

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Back From The Dead

Pairing: AC’s Clay Kaczmarek x f!reader

Summary and explanations: Screw canon, Clay deserved better so here we go, angst and pain and troubles, but he is brought back to life and gets his happy ending with reader. (Y/N) means Your Name. There is a part where he briefly sings, that short line is from Monty Python’s Life of Brian (fun fact :3).

Warnings: some swearing, angst, mentions of violence and a whole lot of tears.

Word count: 10.941 words

Author’s note: HAPPY CLAYDAY2019!!!! I am late but... Let’s give this man the love he deserves! Dedicated to @ass-sass-sin-o who thought up this beautiful occasion. Also tagging @marshmallow--3 who was also really supportive. Everybody: PLEASE ENJOY! LET’S LOVE CLAY KACZMAREK! <3333333

You sat there, staring at the computer screen, your blood pressure reaching another peak of the recent times, just like on many other occasions during these last few weeks. Actually, it had been going on for a little over a month now. You’d find new and new pieces of evidence, traces, digital footprints and outright records of them, their exchanges, and… The remains.

It started out as just another curious vigilante exploration. You knew Abstergo was plain filth, that was old news. There were times when you had bumped into something shady which you then traced back to them and then intervened, operating from the shadows, making good use of your hacking skills, stirring up a nice little storm for them that was just enough to cut that branch off. On some other occasions, you’d even venture to sneak in to some places where, let’s say, no regular person was supposed to. You’d steal, destroy or just tamper with something to make the whole thing useless for them. So, to put it simply, you had been a thorn in their side for a long-long time now. You were the Faceless, you went by that name. If ever you appeared somewhere physically, you’d take extreme care to protect your identity, hiding your face from view, leaving no fingerprints either. If ever you contacted the Assassins, despite being on their side, you’d never reveal yourself. And even in your hacking you’d be neat and someone would have to be your exact image inside-out to be able to trace it back to you and find you at the root of all chaos to the Templars. All in all, in whatever you did, you were neat and precise. Oh, you loved dealing out a series of good beatings and you’d gotten used to killing sprees as well, but even the way you executed that was like a piece of art, a performance which only you could manage. Naturally, both sides attempted to make a deal with you and recruit you, but you would never join the Templars for you could never share their views and as for the Assassins, you felt that you could be most helpful if you remained faceless even for them, always keeping in touch, always appearing in the right moments, but remaining a myth, sort of. You were like an element in an equation that wouldn’t reveal its full potential until the final showdown, the solution, which no one knew when was to come. And this was working – you easily mended your secret life to fit next to the one on the surface. In the beginning, it was a hobby which then became a purpose, but you had the freedom to be your own boss in both, which was convenient. You could make use of your skills and the handsome money you earned when you needed them as the Faceless, providing yourself with the physical requirements - both bodily and the tools. You didn’t keep track of every Assassin, but whenever you came in contact with one or more of them, you’d gather some intel just to know what and how to say and what to expect.

When the Animus project was only starting out and they had sent him in, you weren’t as involved in this whole ordeal back then as you were now and things between you and Clay had been over for quite a while. Honestly, given what happened, you didn’t even want to get involved so that pushed you away from delving into this mission of his. Your reaction was like when seeing an unpleasant acquaintance in a café – you turned right around and closed the doors behind you, not spending a moment there. You weren’t mad anymore, you were just… Sad, plainly put. You felt a tightening in your chest and an unpleasant acid presence in your throat when seeing him or thinking about him so you just did what you had to to put an end to this – cut him off, turned right away from his direction.

You were emotionally unprepared when you met him. He was intense, always, and he was so vivid and complex and sure that it was a lot for you. That was what drew you in too. It used to be comforting, because he saw right into you and he knew just what to do to reel you in. But it wasn’t like a hunt, he just let you rely on him, allow yourself that relief, and he made you see that you could trust him, he would help you trust him, and he would show you what it meant to be in a relationship, to be – loved and wanted. You were a tough nut to crack, but he told you that he was willing, that he was able, and you wanted just that. It never reached a peak, however. What used to be comforting, turned into the source of worry and anger. You got scared of his confidence? Perhaps. Maybe you were right? You didn’t know. But you began questioning and he wasn’t responding well, he seemed distant and when he actually had to spend less and less time with you because he got seriously involved in the fight against Abstergo, you accused him and you ran. You disappeared before he did, not knowing. You buried yourself in training, earning your way, making a career, entertaining people. Fame and the picture you painted protected you, at least no one would suspect later what you did when you weren’t putting on a show. Really, you were lucky and you even laughed at it, amused by how so in the face of everyone you were, yet also hidden. Perhaps one day it would cause your downfall and you would go down in flames, but it would only be fitting for your romantic nature.

Sometimes you wondered what would’ve happened had you stayed, what could have been… But you would never know. You had your chance to at least send him a message to talk it over, but you wasted it by not acting. And then he was no more. Subject 16, Clay Kaczmarek. On some cozy and lonely nights after coming back from a trip to your home, unpacking your suitcases, looking at all the things you had bought during one of your many travels as (Y/N), as someone normal, someone the masses thought of as an entertainer, who had an image, your thoughts drifted to him, briefly playing with the idea that maybe he was your origin story all along. How tragically comical.

You then began your study of the whole Animus project, backtracking others’s steps and learning all about the machines, the goals, Clay’s sacrifice, Lucy’s betrayal and Desmond’s fateful end. At first it was very emotionally exhausting, but then you went at it with a more surgical approach, distancing yourself, knowing that you had to bear the weight in order to acquire the knowledge. So you dug deeper, deeper, even when sometimes it seemed that there was no more. You’d sneak into Abstergo’s labs to find the currently unused Animus machines and venture into the deep ocean of information stored inside it to see for yourself what Clay and Desmond left behind. It was a difficult task to accomplish, but once understanding the science of the machine as if it was your mother tongue, you unlocked more levels and planes than what you thought was possible, knowing that this was the only place that did not let you leave without a trace and you paid the price, accepting that you could only cover your steps, gritting teeth to continue this for as long as possible so none in the opposition would discover who you were. At this time, you didn’t really have a goal with this, but somehow you just kept going forward, or more like inward. There was a night when you completely missed out on sleep because of your Animus session and had to flee the scene in the morning and it was the most heartbreaking of it all. You found imprints deep inside the Animus which when molded together, showed you the exchanges between Clay and Desmond, like visions, replaying for you as many times as you wanted them to, but without the option to interact. You learned that Clay, at the very end, tried to momentarily cling to something, anything, hoping that maybe he could still come back, somehow. But he couldn’t, he was left trapped inside the machine’s depth, providing Desmond with his way out so he could leave it completely, although reaching his own end soon after in a similar heroic sacrifice. The day after was when you sent a message to Shaun, Rebecca and William, simply saying that you were truly sorry for their loss. A message out of the blue, emotional, irrational, uncontrolled, but it gave you some inner relief. No one comforted you when you mourned Clay, even if late, because no one knew, but at least… At least you could comfort them.

After that you stopped visiting the Animus, only diving into the information you took on memory cards and hacking, in the safety of your own home. But it seemed that you weren’t allowed to settle down. There was always something that caught your attention and you had to look into it. There was always more to discover about what Clay did. Even after you thought you had seen every last trace of him, there was always more. And it wasn’t comforting, because oftentimes it contradicted what you thought you had learned – the Animus deleted the last remains of his conscience, so how was this possible? There was data that suggested the opposite. You were determined not to accept it, not wanting to give yourself or any of the Assassins false hope by contacting them and then having to tell them that it was a false alarm. But you wanted to get to the bottom of this, so as much as you wanted to escape this, you couldn’t so… Back into another Animus you went, diving deeper than ever before. If Clay was still somehow alive in there, you had to find out, not for yourself, but for him. The reason did not matter, the how or why, but the fact did, so you went with a purpose.

You found the island where he and Desmond met and saw the broken remains of the gateway which no longer functioned, the loose black pieces floated around in the air in a lazy manner. You frowned, turning away, taking a good look around yourself for the umpteenth time. It seemed endless, like a void. There were islands in the distance, like the one you were on, but they did not call to you. You took slow, unsure strides forward until the very end of your feet hung slightly over the edge and your body instinctively stopped. You felt an immense force trying to stop you from what you were trying to do then and it was then that you felt the raw hostility of the Animus. It was terrifying to realize that it was trying to hold you back and sabotage the simple act of you looking down. You even panted when you finally managed, as if you were under actual physical restraints. And it dawned on you that this – this you had never experienced before because the thought never even occurred to you. Below you you saw the endless, impenetrable darkness that somehow still seemed to froth. It was alien, it was wrong, it was screaming at you to go back. Perhaps you should’ve, maybe this was to be your final gateway to madness.

- Clay. – you uttered, voice trembling, but still loud, and then you jumped, hood slipping from your head and your body falling into the darkness, tearing at your invisible restraints, penetrating into the matterless mass that wanted to push you – no, throw you back, but you cut right through it.

What was time? What was light? Such concepts did not exist here. You realized that you could see, you could move, but your brain could not comprehend the means, threatening you with splitting your head if you probed at it any further, barely able to comprehend the fact that it just happened. Were you still falling or were you floating or were you standing? There was no answer. You didn’t even know if your eyes were open or not.

- No living being should be here. – a voice spoke, seemingly close to you. You took a deep breath – or did you? – and you tried to get to the source, feeling that if you could just reach out, you could do that and…

- You are alive. – the voice spoke again in your ear and a hand touched – no, something, something felt as if it vibrated against your shoulder, or what was supposed to be that. You then suddenly felt like you were briefly spinning and then a figure, a shape, a body began separating from the darkness before you, not materializing, more like trying to tear itself away from the endlessness. It never fully formed, no colours or matter were really present and it seemed to be constantly in motion as it was trying to gain – regain? – shape, but the more you looked at it, the more it felt like it was looking back at you, until…

- (Y/N)?! – he exclaimed, terrified, and then his form found shape and colour at once. A scream sprang from your throat in response and seemed to echo all around you until being sucked into the void.

You knew. It was him. He was there right before you. Clay. His face was contorted from not knowing how, what, why this was, only knowing that somehow you were there before him.

- Clay. – you whispered his name. – Where… Where are we? – you asked, but immediately realized that you shouldn’t have because as bodiless as you were, you somehow still felt an inexplicable but enormous pain beyond all bearing, somewhere in your head, causing you to bellow like a thousand hounds, all being beaten at once. Clay’s form appeared even closer to you in an instant and he raised his hands to your head, holding your temples, making you feel the same vibrations again, registering as they snuffed out the pain, leaving your head with a dull throbbing which was, compared to the previous feeling, even pleasurable.

- You are alive and therefore you shouldn’t ask such questions, not here, because in here the Animus will tear you apart for it. You shouldn’t even be here! – his voice gradually got angrier, but it was an exhausted kind of anger which only made your heart hurt.

- How do you know? – you whispered, looking into the depths of his eyes from up close. Perhaps, if you had been outside, up there in the world of matter, you could’ve felt his breath on your lips and he yours, on his. But this place was something else.

- I no longer ask nor look for explanations. I don’t think I can, either. Life is the place for that and I have no right or way to be there anymore. But you… - the colours began fading away from him, draining from his face until he was yet again a frothing shape, getting sucked back into the darkness. Terror and pain were stabbing your heart and you were trying to grab at him, in vain. – Go. – he finished simply, and suddenly he was nowhere.

But the vibrating feeling in your head remained, growing in intensity and it felt as if you were snatched up, pulled with inhuman force and at the same time pushed, but in one direction. You felt your back hit the ground of the same island from which you jumped, but then it disappeared from under you and suddenly your eyes snapped open and you woke with a sharp inhale, sitting right up in the Animus. You looked around in fear, but nothing has changed and you were still all alone in the dim room. You hoped you didn’t scream. Your next instinct was to look at your watch then to check the time, noting that no matter how timeless your experience was, here in the outside world you were still good on that front. You palmed your chest over your heart, focusing on your breathing and trying to control yourself and calm down, your other hand pulling your hood over your eyes again, shielding your identity once again. You would delete all footage of this visit again, naturally, but still, it felt good to conceal yourself again while gathering the energy to get up, clean up and leave.

It was around 3 am by the time you got home and locked your door behind yourself. You took off your shoes and trembled your way towards your bathroom, finally able to allow yourself to shake and lose focus, not having to concentrate on stealth. You turned on the light and looked in the mirror, not even flinching at the sight. Thin trails of dry blood ran from your right ear and your nose. Perhaps you had subconsciously licked it from your lips while making your way back, but you couldn’t recall that bit. You concluded that it could only be the result of when you asked your first question from Clay and felt that horrible pain. You sighed, for now content with only hoping that you did not suffer any serious internal physical damage. From then on the rest of the night was a blur – cleaning yourself and then surrendering to a joyless slumber in your bed. But now you knew one thing: Clay’s conscience was still alive. And you were going to bring him back.

The next few days you couldn’t act yet, being snowed under with your current work project, but at least it was good for a rest. But you already began thinking of your next step. In order to bring Clay back, you needed to find him a body, which was no easy task so at first you were completely devastated, not really knowing what your options were, if you even had any. You weren’t just going to rob a morgue for one and steal someone’s son away, you would need someone whom… Well… No one missed or no one knew where to search for. So once again you began snooping around in Abstergo’s database, trying to see if there were any unfortunate imprisoned souls somewhere, stolen from the world, who perhaps were crushed under the organisation’s weight and whose body you could… Maybe… Hopefully… Use for your quest. You figured that if you could get the body and you’d put it in an Animus, linked another to it to create a joined session and went in, you could drag Clay’s conscience back out and he’d find the body and anchor himself in it. You could program the device so that in the right moment it would overload for a snap and give him an electric shock to kick-start the heart. And maybe, just maybe, all that together would be enough to… Bring him back to life. You were no surgeon, no medically versed person but even if you were, you would have strong doubts. This was madness and quite impossible. But with all that happened, Pieces of Eden existing and all that wonder, all that magic, all that danger, you thought that if you didn’t give it a shot, you would be no better than the Templars. You heard him yourself, he wanted to come back. And he was a good Assassin too, he deserved to. So, not for yourself, but for him, you were going to try.

You released a long sigh from your lungs, not knowing you were holding one in. It was a beautiful, warm day and you were currently buried deep in one of Abstergo’s many servers, looking for your unknown target. What you ended up discovering though, you really weren’t prepared for.

„Clay Kaczmarek, former Subject 16 of the Animus Project - REUSED”, the title read on your screen.

- Reused…? What the… How the… What? – you mumbled, shaking your head, blinking erratically. But the text did not change. You gulped and moved your cursor over it, clicking after a moment of hesitation. You immersed yourself in the detailed report, reading everything carefully, even though most of what was there you had already known, it was basically his story written down. But at the end there was an update. Your heart almost skipped a beat. Reused. They recovered his corpse they had previously dumped. Using a Piece of Eden combined with a device – the operation of which you skipped reading about for now – they reversed the process of decay it was naturally going through and were now harnessing it for further genetic memory. They wanted to use his knowledge about the Assassins against them and incorporate the techniques into their own training. The body was now kept in Berlin in another one of their secret labs. Location, condition, everything was there.

Reused.

You spun your chair around and stood up, walking extremely slowly into the kitchen. You opened your fridge and took out a tiny jar of your homemade yogurt, ready to be consumed as a treat, finding the cinnamon as well and sprinkling some of it on it. You stirred it with a spoon, licked that, then poured the whole thing into the sink and ran back to your computer. Your skin felt like it was on fire and your brain was basically frying in its place but you never felt more alive. With this information, you hadn’t another moment to waste and you wanted to act as soon as possible. You didn’t even think it through, you just did what your instincts were telling you to do.

You worked furiously to locate Rebecca and her team and Lady Luck seemed to be on your side still, because you found them in Europe. You contacted them in a message, telling the necessary details about your recent discoveries and your plan. The events then followed each other in a rapid pace. Their response came quickly and you engaged in a serious conversation and by the end of the day you had your and their trip organized and covered to Berlin. The plan was to meet up there and infiltrate the lab, follow your mad speculation of resurrecting him through, steal the Piece of Eden, blow up the lab as a parting gift and get the hell out of there. Simple. Easy. Madness.

You cleaned up the yogurt incident in your kitchen with a pounding head, struggling to believe that all of this was happening. Of course, going through with this would mean revealing your identity to the team and thus, the Assassins, by getting into the Animus – no way they would just stand and wait while you were out cold and not lift the hood from your eyes to see who you were. But this didn’t bother you as much as you expected. You came to the conclusion that it had to happen at one point for whatever reason and that seemed to be now, with this. But you needed the help, this wasn’t something you could do alone and if you succeeded… You did not want to be left alone with Clay, you realized. You did not want to be the one to explain it all to him and then sit through the awkwardness that would surely follow, maybe even have your past brought up. You wanted to hand him back to the Assassins and disappear, returning to your role as the Faceless, allowing them to know you but still keeping your distance, functioning as a ghost to the Templars and as an ally to the Assassins, just doing your own thing, leading your life the same way as before until it came to a close, no matter how violent that may actually turn out to be.

You made sure nothing and nobody would bother you until you conducted this brave venture. And soon enough, the fateful day to meet the others finally came. You arrived to the hotel late in the afternoon and claimed your room key, booked under a fake name. The agreement with the others was that your rooms were to be booked right beside each other and you would meet once you were all settled. You didn’t bring too much and you didn’t bother to really unpack, not needing to. You finished that energy bar you were munching on on your way there and then walked out to the balcony, noting the walls dividing each room. You leaned on the railing and looked out over the city, breathing in. You were somewhat tired, and anxious, but you still wanted to follow this through. Thoughts about what was lying ahead and memories flooded your mind and you allowed them to consume you, taking you through pleasant and unpleasant times, only resurfacing when you heard soft chatter from your right. Leaning a bit further out you looked in that direction, spotting the familiar trio. Nodding to yourself, you returned to your room and then left it with the same drive, stopping at the neighbouring door and knocking. There was a light murmuring inside and some shuffling and then the door opened, revealing a slightly uptight-seeming Shaun Hastings who looked quite surprised.

- May I help you, miss? – he asked.

- I don’t suppose you have an espresso machine in your room, do you? – you asked. By your agreement this was to be your code to help them know it was really you. Wordlessly, he stepped aside to let you in. There was the natural surprise and some questions about if and how you knew Clay but you brushed those aside, stating that you would not talk about the two of you. Your eyes betrayed you and displayed exactly how much sadness was churning inside you. But you all had to keep going, you weren’t there to relax. So you sat down and discussed your approach, every step. Infiltrating the underground lab at night would be easy and you decided that destroying that one level where you were to conduct your experiment would be enough, it would destroy all evidence and throw Abstergo off your possible trail. Deciding on whipping up an electric fire, you have discussed everything and got ready.

From then, it all turned into a crazy dream. You wouldn’t call it a nightmare, but it was quite strange nonetheless. Your heart was definitely not beating as it usually did, the closer you got to your ultimate target. And when you were standing in front of the capsule-like object which housed Clay’s body, you realized that you were terrified, the fright was clawing at your tissues from the inside. But you didn’t fear failure, you were actually prepared for that. You feared success, you feared facing him, even if for a minute until you would have to get going and get out of there. Your heart, after all this time, was not ready. You did not want to analyze what you were feeling nor face it, at all. You forcefully pushed on and helped the others set up the connection between the machine and an Animus in which you were supposed to go. Shaun and Rebecca were absolute geniuses and you experienced a short relief while you marveled at how quickly and seamlessly they familiarized themselves with the strange device, discovering how they could produce that overload in the right moment that was to serve as the defibrillator and how they could remove the Piece of Eden after it was all done – successful or not. Now that Piece of Eden, it was a strange artifact, really. It was made of the same material as the Apple, but it was shaped like… It really reminded you of a traditional Japanese teacup. It was thin, but the „cup” walls weren’t that high so it could barely hold any liquid if used in such a way. It emanated a strange sensation and an unearthly, soft but unsettling sort of light and when you gazed at it for a bit longer, you felt a familiar buzzing inside your head. It was situated behind Clay’s head in the device and with a bit of tinkering it could easily be removed as you could see.

Clay… His body was in excellent condition, the river’s toll taken on it nonexistent. He looked like as if he was only sleeping – he just wasn’t breathing and his heart wasn’t beating. He was as beautiful as ever, you thought with fondness, but you violently tore yourself away from that and turned your back to him, settling in the simplified Animus device beside him. It wasn’t made to be comfortable, you noted, but it was the easiest to transport and it would serve the purpose. Once everthing was ready, the others settled down and you went in.

Snooping outside the regular planes inside was now your forte, you could say, and finding that desolate island was easy. You floated and treaded with purpose and even though you could sense the resistance of the system – trying to push you back from reaching the place where you weren’t logically supposed to be because it was actually trying to protect you, even if aggressively –, you slowly but surely made your way to the edge once again. You peered down into the impenetrable depth and knew that you were attempting the impossible again. How could it be impossible if you had already done it once before? But it was, it really was, because you knew that this time you might not be so lucky and come back. Or you would, but without Clay’s conscience. But whatever awaited you, you did not care, you had to go, you had to jump, you had to cut through, you had to reach, you had to find

- Clay. – you said his name, Clay, Clay, Clay, Clay---

You did not even notice when you began your intrusive descent against and into the womb of hostility, but suddenly you just knew that you were doing it. You couldn’t tell when you arrived, if ever, but you just had to trust your gut that you were, somehow, there – wherever that was. There was silence, but it was a peculiar statement to make because what really was there was the nothingness. You still had to try, somehow, to find him. You had to. He must still be there. But unlike the first time, he did not come. In an instant, you were panicking and you had to mentally pressure yourself to snap out of it and stay focused, to not get lost.

- No living being should be here. – you whispered, just like he did the last time. What were you hoping for by this? You honestly had no idea, you just made an attempt so that maybe, just maybe…

- I am no longer alive. – his voice, exhausted, dismal, called somewhere near you. You tried to turn in his direction, wherever that was.

- Maybe not at the moment. – you said and swallowed a huge lump in your throat. You began hearing the loud beating and throbbing of your own blood in your ears. In that moment, you suddenly knew, just knew that you had to be swift now, there was no room for fooling around. You could hardly make out the frothing shape of a body, the image of a man who once was.

- What do you mean, (Y/N)? – he asked you, and then you lunged forward – you hoped you did, but this place wouldn’t let you be able to tell. Your mind, however, was dead set on executing these actions. You looked in front of you, at the unreal figure and extended your arms, wrapping them around him, not knowing if you were actually feeling him or not, but you prayed to all deities that were and were not that you did.

- You are coming back, Clay, you are coming back with me and you are going to return to your body and you are going to live, you are going to live, you hear me?! – you screamed, voice shaking with the tears that never escaped when you parted those many years ago but threatened you now.

The Animus attacked you then. You were attempting to leave and take something with you that you were not supposed to and the system didn’t want you to do that. You felt winds of cold and dark stab and tear at you, attempting to pull you apart, but in response you just dug your nail into the mass of Clay’s conscience you were enveloping. Invisible and unreal electrical charges shot through you, but you just pushed closer, focusing on only one thought: returning to the world. Everything was loud and silent, you felt sensations that were impossible to describe and nothing at all, extremities held you that could not be and you could not tell what actually was and what was not. You could only hope that you were actually moving, somehow escaping, but you also felt lost and you had no way of telling.

In the room, Rebecca, Shaun and William were watching over the two of you. Five minutes had passed, ten, fifteen, twenty… Frustrated sighs left each throat, one after the other. They felt like it was all in vain and they should try to pull you out before you were lost.

But then your vital signs changed abruptly. Your heart was beating twice the speed of what was natural and acceptable in your tense state, your blood pressure was at the same time extremely low and your fingers were twitching, although the rest of your body wasn’t jerking. It was alarming and they all jumped to their feet, but before they could forcefully end the session, the Piece of Eden activated itself as well, the alien light that was softly coming from it quadrupled in power and filled the whole room, coating everything, causing the glass of Clay’s case to crack an then completely shatter, covering him in the softest layer of glass shards – all so quickly that they barely had enough time to register it. But it was obvious that they had to act now. They launched the overload and Clay’s body convulsed from the shock, continuing to twitch wildly, the alien glow making it seem like a lucid dream.

Then, with no warning, you sat up, sucking in air as if you were a second away from drowning and this was your last and unexpected chance to save yourself from suffocating. At the exact same moment, Clay’s body stopped twitching and he himself also raised into a sitting position in one swift movement. Just as you both raised and your eyes were trying to refocus and regain sense, the Piece of Eden’s light died down. For a few seconds you were debating whether you were dreaming, dead, or if this was real and you were back out, alive. You bit the insides of your cheeks and when you felt the familiar unpleasantness, you nodded, accepting the fact that you were alive. You slowly, timidly, turned your head in the direction of the other device to see whatever you had to see there. As if on cue, mirroring your movement not a millisecond late, Clay also turned his head and then your gazes met. Time really felt like it had stopped then, only the beating of your hearts was heard, a thousand tiny needles picking at you inside your veins. You were in a trance, but you desperately wanted to break out, so you began fighting yourself, mentally beating yourself, all in the matter of seconds, to make yourself snap out of it and…

- Come on, let’s pack up. Shaun, help Clay up and William… - you heard Rebecca speak and that was your salvation. You sprung to your feet and frantically pulled your hood over your head. From then on it was another crazy blur, but one thing you could constantly feel – Clay’s eyes upon you. You thanked the fact that he was still too weak to speak to you – or whatever the reason was, really, you were just glad as you were already at the end of what you were able to handle without shutting down. You gathered your tools, Shaun safely removed and wrapped up the Piece of Eden to take it away for further discovery, all footages of your presence were erased and you successfully started up the fire, making sure that it would destroy everything behind you and cover your escape. Shaun and Rebecca took Clay with them in the van while you and Miles senior took a different route, the five of you meeting once again back at the hotel, careful about your re-entry, not to cause a stir and seem suspicious.

You told Mr. Miles to go forward and you went to your own room first. Since you hadn’t unpacked, you only had to wash up and fix your attire and you were ready to leave. You grabbed your bag and entered the other room from the balcony. You walked over to the team, your breathing measured. Clay was sitting on the bed, seemingly fine and Shaun and William were explaining the details of the time leading up to this day to him. When they noticed you, Rebecca greeted you with a tired but warm smile and stood to step towards you but stopped, seeing your bag hanging on your shoulder.

- Don’t. Please. I just want to be short about it now. – you got the start of any protest, taking in one shaky breath before continuing, straightening your posture. - So, everything is as we discussed, you have your contacts here and disappearing once you are ready should be easy. I hope I have provided you with enough financial support. Please, treat yourselves well with however much is left – I hope it’s a lot, I really didn’t play it shmuck. Yeah, all that and… Take care, see you around sometime. Let’s continue to stick it to the Templars. – you finished, striding to the door with only one intention – to leave.

- (Y/N). – Clay called out to you with such a tender voice that you almost choked on your own breath and that halted your hurried movements. It was the first time in years that you heard his actual living voice and it nearly made you collapse, they could see your legs bump together, making you stumble.

- I beg of you! – you struggled out with trembling lips and wildly shook your head, not looking back. – Guys, I am really not proud of what I am about to do and I will forever try to atone for it, but… This is all I can bear now. I must return to what I was. You know who I am now anyway. I… I cannot do this, Clay. – you breathed out the last sentence and then dashed towards the door like a wild animal escaping confinement.

And with that, you were gone.

You then began your longest hitchhiking of your life and made it across the border. That much caution was excessive, but you needed the therapeutic effect it held. Sleeping in cheap motels, not speaking to anyone besides giving the directions and saying a polite thank you when paying for your food. You had time to start burying this whole experience in yourself and build your walls right back up, protecting your heart, mind and soul.

After the last bit of traveling, you resumed your life back home under your real name, continued working and took some time off from being the Faceless once you have made sure that Clay, Rebecca, Shaun and William were all fine as well, but without contacting them of course. After a month of this, you knew though that you were prepared to open up that part of your life again. You caught up with what was happening at Abstergo and happily noted that they still, even after a bloody month, had no clue what the hell happened in Berlin. It was a serious blow to them which threw them back a great deal.

Life was relatively normal for you and even though you were prepared to be bombarded by the Assassins, in thought you mutely thanked the guys for – you guessed – spreading the message that you preferred to continue operating as an ally, solo. Wherever you went, you knew that when a stare was too long and too strange, it was from these hidden ones, but you were thankful for them respecting your silent wishes. You had your hands deliciously full, so to say, because you were never bored, you always found something to deal with, a way to stir up some trouble for the Templars.

Your heart returned to its dormant state that was oh so familiar from the previous years and you thought that it would now stay that way forever. But on a cold, autumn day, you felt your breath stolen from you once again. Of course, you couldn’t expect to never see him again, but not like this… You were sitting at a table in front of a café, almost empty paper cup of melange in hand and book in the other when a figure took the seat next to you.

- Hi. – a curious male voice greeted you and you looked up at him, blood draining from your face then. It was Clay, Clay Kaczmarek, sitting right there beside you, looking as alive as ever, looking… Looking beautiful, healthy, everything he deserved to be, a brown leather jacket over a hoodie with a pair of dark jeans and boots keeping him warm and simply stylish. His eyes were stormy, however, but you didn’t stop to wonder about the reason behind that.

- Is it something concerning Abstergo? – you whispered after a few moments of trying to compose yourself. You saw him shake his head.

- No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to talk to you about… - he began, but you dropped your coffee and book after his first word. You ran, once again, forgetting your book there, only caring about escaping him. You did everything, tot he best of your abilities, to lose him, arriving home quite a while later. Your legs gave out once you closed the door behind yourself and you fell to the floor. You were breathing heavily, loudly, fighting for every inhale, trying not to pass out. It took quite a while for you to calm down and then you shakily took off your shoes, still lying on the floor. You trembled, almost collapsing when trying to stand up, but with enough patience and determination you managed to stay up and get out of your coat, now just staying in your pants and cozy turtleneck. You took a few steps towards the kitchen when you heard the soft creaking noise of your door as it opened and then closed and your keys were turned in the lock. You were frozen in your spot, one arm raised halfway in front of you as you wanted to thread your fingers through your hair but stopped before you could due to these sudden noises. You couldn’t move so you just waited. A few steps and then the intruder was right behind you. A hand slowly rested on your shoulder – strange, it wasn’t menacing at all and it was oddly familiar.

- (Y/N), please take deep breaths. I do not want you to panic. I locked the door just to be safe, but not to trap you. You can still send me away if you wish. But if you don’t, I will keep my distance, but please, give us a moment to sit down so I can talk to you. And just… Just listen, please. That is all I ask of you. – Clay spoke slowly, clearly, careful not to startle you even further or cause you to react in a way that you would harm yourself. You followed his request and consciously took deep breaths, keeping a steady rhythm. You then slowly moved away from his touch and walked into the kitchen, sitting on the first chair beside the table you saw. Clay, after quickly getting rid of his shoes to be polite, followed you and carefully took a seat in front of you on another chair, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you.

- Alright, I’ll… I’ll listen. – you mumbled, chancing a quick glance into his eyes but feeling a sharp pain in your heart so you immediately averted your gaze. There was no escaping now, it was going to happen.

- So… - Clay began, trying to choose his words carefully. – I… Won’t ask why you did it, but I… I still want to thank you. – He hummed, scanning your face, your form for any sort of reaction. – Yeah. And I… Actually, you know, I am just so damn thrilled because even though I still remember everything, the visions no longer haunt me and I haven’t slept better than since you brought me back. – his sudden enthusiasm seemed to die down here and he looked down at his hands. – Although something’s still missing and… Damn it, (Y/N), I want to talk about you and me, pick up the problem from where we left off, you know? – he confessed, looking right at you again.

And that’s when it happened.

- I ca-, I-hi-I, I ca-, I can’t! – you struggled to spit it out through a series of wild, tearful hiccups, feeling a sudden shortage of breath. The barrier finally broke and the tears you forced down your throat all those years ago after running away from him, in addition to all the frustration and exhausted pain you gathered since then in connection to him, now finally escaped your prison. You wept, hollering in pain as your suffering felt too much to bear and there was no other way for it all to escape. It felt like you were going to explode if you tried to keep it in any longer. Your body hunched forward, your forehead on your knees, your hands clinging to the sides of your thighs, surely bruising your own skin under the pants. Every nerve in your brain and every cell of your body was on fire, was hurting, and you had nowhere to run from this feeling. The tears kept coming like a monsoon’s downpour, completely soaking your face and your clothes. Clay was in fact afraid of such a heavy reaction from you, but he didn’t expect this volume. He debated whether touching you in this state would make it even worse for you but when he saw you slipping towards the floor from your chair, he dropped to his knees and caught you, locking you in his arms. You barely even registered, but you wanted to fight him, to escape his hold. This pointless struggle caused your weeping to increase and you had serious trouble breathing now, threatening you with passing out if you couldn’t calm down.

- (Y/N), listen to me! Focus on my voice! – he said loudly and sternly, hoping to drag you back from your helpless frenzy. – You must reign this in! Step by step, okay? But you must, you have to calm down, for your own sake! – he released a frustrated sigh, his defined brows knitting in the moment of desperation. – Please, I do not want you to hurt yourself even more!

He held your body even tighter to himself, elbows pressing your arms to your sides as his hands he then paced on your temples, making you angle your head so he could get a good look at your face. It was a mess of tears and some mascara, a troubled land in the midst of a war.

- Breathe with me now. Just come back. I am here. Find me, (Y/N). – he attempted to bring you back again. You had your eyes shut tightly and sounds of struggle and hurt were still spilling from you the same way as your tears were, but at least, slowly, you were regaining control over your breathing and as heavy as it was, you were no longer in danger of passing out from the lack of air. Clay held you through it and continued murmuring soft and sound phrases to you, helping you find your anchor back in reality. He was devastated that he could not prevent this, but at least calmness born out of weariness was still better than more turmoil, he thought.

Slowly, you rain out of tears and when you did, your first real thought appeared again – you wondered if that was even possible, but it seemed so. You turned your head, facing away from him and, as if on cue, he stood with you, helping you sit back on your chair. He walked over to the sink and you heard the water running, still not looking in that direction. Soon he was back in front of you, gently dabbing your face with a wet cloth, cleaning as well as refreshing it. You flinched at the first touch but then relaxed, the gentle treatment actually making you feel better. When he was done, he handed you a glass of water and waited for you to drink it all before taking it and the cloth back to the sink.

- I bet you have your answers now, whatever your questions were. – you said dryly. Clay looked at you with a confused expression but you still refused to meet his gaze.

- What do you mean?

- I’m embarrassed, Clay! Just look at what just went down. I’m practically mad so whatever you wanted, I’m sure you don’t want it now. – you sighed in frustration.

- Oh, for fuck’s sake, (Y/N), you should’ve seen me when the bleeding effect got worse and I was acting under the effect. That was madness and fucking ugly. Now this… - he sat down in his chair in front of you again. – This is all me and this is ugly, but not for the reason you think. – his voice softened by the end and he leaned closer to you.

- I want to sit back on the floor though. – you said flatly, already sliding back down to the kitchen tiles. This small act of yours made Clay smile genuinely, it was so undeniably cute even in such a problematic situation as the one you were in at the moment. But he loved your little quirk nonetheless.

- You always liked that. – he noted, joining you, one knee almost up to his chest and his other leg stretched out.

- Yeah.

- I remember it well.

- Aha…

- You often behaved like a cat. This, too, made me think of that.

- I guess.

- It’s cute. – he said, eyes searching your face. You didn’t respond with words, but you folded your hands in your lap. He moved his into your field of vision, aimed at the floor, showing you his palms as a sign that he had no vile intent. When you didn’t retreat, he closed the distance and placed his hands on top of yours. – So… Let me talk to you? – he tilted his head and your bottom lip twitched, but you nodded. – Okay. – he took a deep breath. – I just realized that I probably fucked this up greatly but… I know you probably don’t want to say too much yourself and I did want to let you rest but I do have questions… But anyway. – he chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head. It was a cute gesture and you looked up at him shyly, trying your hardest not to look away again when he locked his eyes with yours.

Whatever he was going to say, ask, you wanted not only to hear but also see that he was honest in it. You often forgot to blink when you were doing this, when you were so deliberately looking for this proof and he remembered that, noticing how your pupils changed in size, registering all your tiniest signs and understanding their meaning.

- I started doubting you. – you suddenly said before he could speak up, surprising both him and yourself. – You were always so confident, so sure, you had everything in you and you were the whole goddamn package and more – did you even realize that? – your lips trembled momentarily, but he stayed silent, wanting to hear you finish this, knowing how important it was. – You were – you are – handsome, smart, strong, but you also had a personality and when I learned that you even knew what suffering meant, how difficult it was to… To rise above a messed-up family background, I felt more connected to you than ever. To know that you would understand me changed everything! And you even said it when I voiced my concerns, you said that it was – that it was okay, you would help me see that and get through and over it and… And I wanted that, I thought that finally, finally someone… But, but then you… - your hands stiffened under his. – You began becoming distant and… And I wondered – he has been through hell and he came out victorious, why the hell would he ever want to do it again with me, suffer through the same by being with me? He didn’t need that trouble, did he? So I… I couldn’t understand anymore why you would ever… And you were even behaving differently so I… I just left because I… I didn’t want to be left. And even if your change in behaviour was caused by your blossoming involvement with the Assassins, I… Even today with a name to myself and success carved by my own hands, I would do the same. Because… Why would you ever… You need someone who’s not loaded with a problematic background and I don’t want to be… Left… But making it work with me is way too crazy so… - you shrugged, losing your energy and not knowing how to finish it so you just stopped. He’d think whatever he wanted to. Sure, you were horrible for saying all of this. But at least he got his explanation he could never ask for. Surely that was the only thing he came for. And even if now he thought you were a real bastard for thinking so horribly of him, it would be… Just okay. You were drained, ready to just accept it.

- So you lost your faith in me? – Clay asked carefully, his voice not giving away anything.

- Sort of, I guess… – you nodded, finally blinking and having to keep your eyes closed for a good minute as they watered painfully. – It was nice to toy with the idea, but you and me together wouldn’t be a heaven-made match, I think. And even if I’ve grown, I’m still the girl with trust issues and a strangely rising and lowering self-confidence inside. And even if I understand the lives we live now and I’d know you were coming and going because of it, the same with I, I just… I couldn’t do it. I’d run, because I’ve always did and… I’m a distrustful coward and I cannot expect you to fix that. Because you shouldn’t. That’s my job and probably a certified and trained therapist’s.

- You’re right about some things but you’re astonishingly wrong about others, (Y/N). – he said, laughing quietly.

- What…? – you tilted your head.

- Sure it’s not my job to fix everything for you but when we met, I didn’t say what I did just to get into your pants. I knew what I was in for, just as always, like with Abstergo. – he spoke clearly and unwaveringly, keeping you focused and unable to look away from him. – And I was ready to be your support, your crutches if you will. Even your home therapist if you wanted. I was willing to cut myself if it meant I could patch you up. Because I knew that you were someone who wouldn’t keep it one-sided. You were always giving and fair so I was never afraid of getting too deep. I wanted to go there. So when I said trust me, let me, allow me – I meant it all. All of it, (Y/N). – he sneakily slipped his hands around yours, fingers intertwined, and gave them a firm squeeze. – Healthy or not, I don’t give one single shit. I never did, I don’t. Because I knew, I know, that the reward was you and me, us. We’re definitely not a heaven-made match but don’t you remember? I’m a hell-hound. – he winked at you, bringing back old memories which you couldn’t fight and you… You blushed furiously, cheeks so red that he had a hard time resisting the urge to kiss them endlessly right then and there. He smirked, but it was not predatory nor scary in any way, it was hopefully confident even if he knew that he was still walking a tightrope with all of this. – Life’s a piece of shit when you look at it… - he half-sang that one line and it made you laugh, so suddenly and freely that it felt like the first deep inhale of fresh air after leaving a smoke-filled house. The sound was beautiful to Clay’s ears and he raised your hands to his lips, kissing each before noticing your gasp ending the laughter. – It really is, but there are some good things in it. We still haven’t lost the big fight, we still have our free will, coffee smells good, tigers and lions are just as silly as tiny housecats but like equipped with murder mittens, you are one kick-ass woman and now that I have another chance, no way in this damn world I’m wasting it. – he pulled you closer to him and you let him. – Can I say something? – he asked and it didn’t really seem to make sense, but you wanted to understand so you nodded, though frowning slightly.

- Sure.

- I’ll tell you what I think you should do. What I want you to do. – he began. – But you have your options, I just want you to trust me on this. I know that it will work if you give it another go.

You breathed in sharply.

- I won’t disappear again, not without you. I’m changing the game because I’m fed up after how it went down last time. We either go together or we go nowhere at all. I want you back with me and I want you to take me back, (Y/N). I will face whatever insecurities stir up some trouble for us and I will weed out every last one of them. You’ll be so sure of everything that you won’t ever feel that horrible pain here… - he released one of your hands to touch the side of your head gently - … or here. – his touch now rested over your heart for an extended moment before retreating but still hovering in front of you. – Just like I said all those years ago, I’m still standing by it today. I don’t care if it takes years, I’m willing and able to do it all. So you should just… Just dive right in. Trust me on this. You’ll see that I��m right, because I have it in me and you have it in you too and… If we just put that together, you’ll be in the best love you could ever find. I bet you couldn’t even write up such a story where it would surpass this.

- Clay. – you breathed his name.

- Nobody else could ever make me feel this weak by saying my name… - he admitted with a smile, the hint of shyness in it, grabbing your chin with his free hand, the other still holding yours. – I want to write my story, I want to tell a different tale and I want you to be and stay in it. I want… - his own composure was breaking now and he just started listing everything that he so missed. – I want you to say I’m yours and I want to say the same, and that you are mine, and I want to punch every bastard who looks at you wrong. And then I want you to scold me for it but feel it in your embrace afterwards that you love it when I get possessive. Then I want to talk it out and agree that I don’t have to go that far, only in extreme cases. I want to go on missions with you and kiss the damn breath out of you after you shoot a bad guy in the head because I’m so amazed and proud and I bet you are incredibly sexy when you do that. – his hands were suddenly all over your arms, rubbing them up and down and groping with growing fever, but still restrained from venturing to the rest of your body. – And I want to argue with you and then fix things because I know we can. And I want to watch you work and be your greatest fan. And I bet we’d almost get kicked out of a cinema because we’d laugh at the most inappropriate moments again during a horror movie. And I want to go to bed with you, I want to watch you shower and see you almost slip when you notice me so I can catch you and keep you safe and unharmed, I want to make a show of me undressing for you, and I want to be anything and everything you want me to be because you already are for me and I want you to know that if you just take that leap of faith… With me… We’d love each other so much that it would be so fucking good… - his hands stopped at your shoulders, gripping you there. Now, it seemed, it was his turn to cry. His sigh was so heavy, it held the weight of a whole world and his tears were even hot, matching his heated skin.

You couldn’t really speak while he talked. It was a lot to take in. But the more he went on, the more you felt different… Better. Hope somehow opened its eyes inside you and Clay’s momentum took you with him and soon you were drinking in his words like a desert’s wanderer the first source of water after the longest walk. And now that he was done, just watching you with silent tears and still holding you, you made your choice.

- Can I call you mine? – you asked timidly. His reaction was everything. He threw his head back in glorious, liberated, joyful laughter and pulled you into his arms. He leaned back against one of the table’s sturdy legs, keeping you tight against him.

- Yes, baby, I’m all yours and only yours and you can announce it to the whole world.

You were still unsure so only after he gave you his answer did you sneak your own arms around his waist as well. – Mine. – you stated, lips slowly stretching into a genuine, loving smile.

- Tell me if I’m wrong but… Mine, so mine that you’re nobody else’s. – Clay said, rubbing slow circles on your back and waist. You just nodded, confirming his claim. – I love you, (Y/N). – he confessed, nudging you so you would look up at him again.

- I—

- No rushing, babe, no need. We’re together now. – he cut you off.

- Never interrupt your woman, you uncultured possum. – you teased him, earning yourself a grin from him, which you easily mirrored.

- A’ight, ma’am.

- I love you too, Clay. – you finished, and in that moment, you felt better than ever.

- And now I’m going to kiss the life back into you because that’s what you get for loving me. I just need to do this in a more… - he suddenly stood, gathering you in his arms and making you wrap your legs around his waist - … comfortable setting, there we go. You’re really in for it now. – he said in that darling rascal of a tone of his, drawing a bubbly, easy laughter from you as you held onto him.

He took you through your house, doing an unintentional, quick discovery until he found your bedroom and after turning the lights on, he gently but playfully threw you on the bed, climbing in with and then over you.

- I bet your couch is nice too but I figured this would be much better for it. And then a nap, which we both undoubtedly need. And whatever else you agree on. – he winked down at you, caressing your cheek and your throat with unmatched tenderness. – If, of course, you don’t mind me staying over…?

- Please. – you said, wrapping him in a firm hug, keeping him close, enjoying his weight on you. It was reassuring, it spoke of comfort and safety and uninterrupted time without words.

- Good. Now… Let’s get this eternal love going. – he announced and his lips finally crashed down on yours.

That night, after you fell asleep in each other’s arms, you were still together even in your dreams. You met on the same unearthly plane of minds and knew that this time… This time it would stay this way.

#ac #Assassin's Creed #ClayDay #ClayDay19 #Clay Kaczmarek #fanfiction #my writing #Clay Kaczmarek x reader #ass-sass-sin-o #marshmallow--3

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