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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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The Devil’s Own.

Jungkook x OC

Mafia Au!

Warnings : Non-Con ! Manipulation, Degradation, Shitty hero with no redeeming Qualities you have been warned. ( i mean he does get better but not much.)

Summary : Just Mob Boss Jungkook doing mob boss things.

Chapter 1

“ Sign it. ”

I glared at him, feeling sick at the tone. The entitlement.

“No.” I said sharply and I could feel his anger swelling, morphing into something dangerous and deadly but I couldn’t care anymore. I was tired. Exhausted. This cat and mouse game had gone on , long enough. It wasn’t an even playing field, in any sense of the qword.

If today was the day I died, so be it. I would accept it. I would even welcome it.

I was done.

He had everything : an empire at his beck and call , enough money to pave the streets of Seoul in gold and an army of loyal associates behind him. His face was plastered on Billboards across the country , the President posted pictures of him on his fucking SNS and delegates from other countries had to wait weeks , just to get an appointment with the youngest billionaire South Korea had ever seen.

And yet none of those white collared dignitaries saw this side of him. The dirty, violent ruthless man who had more blood on his hands than anyone else in the country. My father’s. My brothers’.

Jeon Jungkook was both the most revered business man in the country and the undisputed king of Seoul’s criminal underbelly.

“You defiance only makes me want to break you in other ways Elena.” He said warningly and I felt my throat go dry. I stared at him, wondering how someone could look so expensively gorgeous and yet, like a hardened criminal.

The expensive silk shirt, the fitted slacks and the handmade shoes ought to clash with the dark ink that covered his entire arm and neck, the piercing on his eyebrow and the glint of metal on his tongue but it didn’t.

It just all came together to make him the most attractive man in existence.

I took a deep breath. Perhaps begging was the way to go?

“ You have my father’s company. You have my brother’s Hospital and you have the family mansion. It’s all yours. This bakery belongs to my mother. It’s all I have left of her. My sister in law is pregnant , due any day. She needs a place to stay and I don’t… I don’t have money to rent anywhere else.” I said desperately, thinking of the paltry wage I earned waiting tables. I could barely afford food for myself let alone for Jisoo and the baby on the way.

The bakery was abandoned but it had a roof. The furniture was crumbling but I could fix that. If I didn’t have to worry about rent, I could save up enough to make it livable. At least till I got a better job.

“I’ve offered you solutions for all of that.” He reminded me softly, eyes trained unblinkingly on me and I stared at him.

“I’m not going to be your whore.” I felt my voice shake.

He grimaced.

“You aren’t qualified to be my whore. And I don’t need one either. Whores are not my thing. I have a beautiful fiancée, don’t you remember? ” He grinned. I felt my heart ache because that fiancée was once my best friend. The only person I had trusted with my entire life. Lisa had betrayed my trust, had spied on my father’s operations and brought him down and I had the horrible, horrible inkling that she had also had something to do with my father and brother’s untimely death in a car crash.

But I couldn’t think about that. Every time I thought about her my heart broke and head spun, and I had to be at my maximum mental capacity if I was going to deal with her heartless fiancée.

“ If you ask me, you’re not fit for anything more than a back alley blowjob for a couple bucks. But Hoseok thinks you have potential. Join his agency, there are a lot of very wealthy men who have a bone to pick with your father. He made a shit ton of enemies. Most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of you. ”

His words felt like worms crawling all over my skin and I could feel the nausea churn inside me.

“I’m not signing the bakery over. You can call the creditors. I still have another year and half to pay the one remaining loan and they won’t come for me till then.” I felt my head begin to throb and Jungkook sighed.

“Suit yourself.” He stood up and I stayed still, watching his tall frame tower over me with ease. He gave me a small bitter smile. It was fraught with hatred and I stared back at him, knowing the emotion was probably mirrored in my gaze.

“Beautiful Elena. As pretty as the day you left me at the altar.” He smirked and I flushed.

“Your vengeance is petty and pointless and unfair…just like you.” I said angrily, frustration building u at his words. The way he talked about our broken engagement like it even mattered. It hadn’t even been real. We had hardly spoken and my father had called the wedding off at the last moment. But apparently, that had been the last straw for the Jeons. They had come after my father’s entire existence with a single minded intent to destroy him and they had succeeded. The man was dead . His two sons were dead.

But apparently it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook stared at me, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe. But it’s also deadly and potent. And it won’t rest until I see you reduced to nothing but a whore on the streets, spreading your legs for every man who can afford you.” He laughed. “ Saying no is a luxury , one that you’ll soon be unable to afford.”

I refused to be cowed, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words scared me. Because they did.

They scared me so damn much.

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

“This bed is so lumpy… I’m so sorry, unnie..” I said apologetically but Jisoo shook her head quickly, palms cupping my face as I held her elbows, gently lowering her to the bed. I stared at her feet, feeling my heart race at how swollen they looked. That can’t be normal, a voice whispered and

I didn’t know if that was normal and I had no money to take her to a clinic. The social center we usually went to only allowed three visits per month and we had used it all up. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and spend the thirty thousand won it would take but that would mean no groceries for a week and surely bread and eggs wouldn’t stretch that long, even if I could sneak meals in the restaurant for myself.

“I’ve been feeling a little dizzy…I’ll just sleep.” She said tiredly. She was thirty six weeks along, not due for another four weeks but her blood pressure was erratic. Her lab numbers were oscillating and there had been talks of an emergency c section. Even with insurance it was way more than I could afford but I had my own jewelry, a few expensive trinkets from my teenage years. I’d been obsessed with diamonds and my father had indulged me and I had a pair of earrings left. I’d already sold the rest but this would take care of the medical bills for the birth itself.

“My shift starts in ten minutes. I have to go. Give me a call if you need anything…” I said softly and I saw the familiar blank and listless look come into her eyes. I knew she was depressed, dealing with grief and pregnancy and loss but there was nothing I could do for her. Nothing. I had applied for a bunch of other jobs but they never wrote back. It wasn’t easy, being rejected over and over again but it wasn’t like there was much else I could do. And the truth was I was resigned to this, accepted that at some point I would have to take more loans and be stuck in an endless cycle of debt for the rest of my life.

And I had made peace with that.

There was no future for me. And I was okay with just surviving.

If only Jungkook would let me.

Apparently, watching me wipe down greasy tables and mop up floors and toilets trying to earn just enough to get a few square meals didn’t soothe his anger. It only fueled it. Jungkook couldn’t fathom that it had been six whole months of me on the streets of Seoul and I wasn’t completely destitute yet. I’d kept myself and my sister in law alive, safe and it pissed him off.

He wanted to see me broken and on my knees, begging him for help. The idea of me somehow surviving despite him taking everything away from me, it just didn’t sit well with him.

I couldn’t afford to have him as an enemy so all I could really hope was that one day he would wake up and give up. One day he would just wake up and decide that I wasn’t worth it.

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

When I walked into my shift and noticed a familiar pair of high heeled Louboutins , completely out of place in my seedy place of employment, I knew I was in trouble. Lisa sat against one of the booths and her gaze was fixated on the door which meant she was waiting for someone. And when her eyes narrowed at the sight of me, I just knew I was the someone.

She wants to get me fired.

It wasn’t rocket science and I felt the urge to turn right back around and leave. But I tamped down on it. I could get through this. I would get through this. Lisa and Jungkook got off on invoking reactions and I wouldn’t give them that.

Except it wasn’t that easy.

It was a nightmare, watching her demand and reject and walk all over me but the sleeplessness from the past few days made spacing out easier and I just stared away at the wall as she yelled and complained and made a scene.

“You’ve stopped fighting? Finally giving up? Good…” She hissed when the manager apologized to her and told me to meet him after my shift and I felt myself tremble in indignation.

“I won’t fight you or Jungkook, you and I both know I can’t afford to.” I said quietly and she went still, something flashing in her eyes for a second. It was gone before I could fully process it but it had been there. Guilt.

Lisa wasn’t a terrible human. She had been a dear friend. We had grown up together and she had even hugged and teased me when I’d been betrothed to Jungkook, all those years ago. I had been twenty back then, naïve and spoiled. While Jungkook had taken my father’s entire legacy apart, piece by piece, Lisa had been nothing more than a pawn. I remembered all the times I had let her home, how she would disappear for lengths of time.

Planting bugs all over the house. All over his office. Jungkook had been smart. Someone like Lisa, so fascinated by thr wealth she had grown up around would naturally jump at the idea of more. It wasn’t greed. It was human nature. And with her help he had destroyed everything my father had built over decades.

I shuddered. My father hadn’t been a good man. He had been greedy, yes. But he hadn’t deserved to die. And Jungkook would have to pay for that sin, someday.

“There’s a job waiting for you in Hoseok’s club.” She smiled cruelly , “ you don’t need this one.”

“The fact that you want to take it away from me, tells me that maybe there’s nothing left in you save.” I said blankly and she turned her nose up at me.

“I have Jungkook. I don’t need to be saved.”

I shook my head. She was so naïve. Men like Jungkook cared for nothing but themselves. But I wondered if women like her didn’t care for anything but the money that came with being his. Money was precious, I thought bitterly. I’d never realized how privileged I had been until I’d had it all ripped away.

“He’s the one you need saving from. And one day you’ll realize that.” I shrugged, not in the mood to offer her anymore life advice. If she was alright with being a trophy wife in exchange for a few pretty shoes that was her prerogative.

Before she could reply, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked nervously and I felt my heart drop to my knees when I heard who it was.

I turned on my heel rushing inside and my manager gave me a look of surprise.

“ My sister..she’s… she’s sick. I need to go.” I said desperately and his eyes narrowed. It was the worst timing. He was already annoyed because of Lisa and I stared in disbelief as he quickly shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry Elena…I just can’t let you leave like that…” He said sharply.

It was so unfair.

“I haven’t taken a single day off in five months…” I said desperately..” Please, she’s pregnant..She needs me, she-“

“If you leave, you won’t have a job to come back to. I can’t do this.. First you make trouble with a customer and now you just want to walk out in the middle of your shift without any notice…”

“Fine. Fire me.” I snapped, because I’d just had enough of it. I was exhausted, and tomorrow I’d go knocking on some other tore and I’d get a job. I lived in Seoul …How hard could it be? For now, I had to get to Jisoo. I had to get the hospital and things would be okay.

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

It wasn’t okay.

“I… You want to keep her in? So soon?”

“Her blood pressure is through the roof. There are signs of severe pre eclampsia and we want to get her started on a magnesium drip. Steroids to help the baby’s lungs incase we need to deliver…”

“Deliver..?” I couldn’t breathe.

“Yes, I’m sorry…. If her blood pressure doesn’t come down we’re going to have to deliver.”

I nodded, glancing at the bed where Jisoo was sleeping, her face swollen and I knew that she was sick. Really sick. She looked pallid and ill.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked hoarsely.

“We’re going to do what we can… But I’m going to be honest, we’re looking at a c section, a lot of meds and also some time in the NICU for the baby…. Can you afford it? Your sister’s insurance only covers 80% .”

I blinked, completely thrown. White noise rushed through my ears, a dull throb settling right at the base of my skull and beginning to spread all the way to my arms and back. It was panic mixed wth anxiety mixed with despair and I couldn’t quite cope. The earrings wouldn’t cover all that.

“Oh… Oh..yeah.” I said dully, “ Of course I can… Let me just…. Can I have a moment? There’s somethings I need to do.”

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

I carefully slipped the cash into the envelope, swallowing as I sat on the pavement. I’d got another call from the hospital, they had administered the steroids but Jisoo’s condition seemed to be worsening. They wanted to try inducing labour soon but they wanted me to pay for the room and for the medicines, and apparently, the earrings weren’t as valuable as I thought they were.

I fought nausea wrapping arms around myself as I stared at the cars whizzing by, the putrid city air clogging my lungs as I tried to come to terms with what was happening. Jisoo needed help. She was the only one left and she carried my brother’s son. I felt my throat clog when I thought of Daehwan. He had been a good guy. I had loved him. It wasn’t fair, what Jungkook had done to my family, I thought miserably .

And the only reason I wasn’t driven by vengeance or anger was because I was nothing like Jungkook. I hated him. I didn’t want him to live in my head, didn’t want to waste any part of myself on him , not even my anger. But it was hard when he wouldn’t let me breathe, always at my heels like a wolf : jaws snapping and blood thirsty eyes trained on me at all times. I couldn’t fathom his obsession sometimes. Surely, his hatred was uncalled for now? He’d taken everything from me anyway.

There was a dull roaring in my ears, one that said that this was not really a surprise. I’d thought about it way too often, had considered it countless times. Had even spent one absolutely horrifying evening scouring the streets of Seoul’s red light district just to see how sex workers behaved.

I’d also realized that in the face of desperation, dignity didn’t hold much value.

You are going to pay your debts on your back and on your knees.

The first time Jungkook had thrown it at my face, eyes glinting with glee, my stomach had rebelled so hard. I’d been absolutely infuriated, had thrown a vase at him. And it had been awful, watching him catch it out of the air with ease, his mocking laughter making my bones rattle as he shook his head, “ That’s how this ends, Elena. Mark my words.”

And it was pitiful , that he went through life so consumed with hatred and vindictive cruelty that he couldn’t leave me alone . He was pathetic. That’s how I saw him. A pathetic child who refused to stop tormenting the helpless ant on the floor although it was no match for his cruelty.

At some point Jungkook was going to win. And his idea of winning was seeing me stripped bare of the one thing that kept me alive : my freedom.

It had just happened sooner than I’d thought.

Because I knew what it would mean, to go to Hoseok. He would own me. Hoseok’s whores were all slaves, tangled in his web so badly that there was no hope of escape. He wasn’t cruel but he was smart. No one left the his ‘ agency’ once they went in. I would be lost, forever. And I couldn’t stomach it.

I stared at my knees, fists clenched on the fabric of my skirt. I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the contacts. I considered it carefully. I had to do this on my terms. Had to make sure I retained some sort of control here.

And I knew just how to do it.

Hoseok picked up on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“I need help.” I croaked out.

The deep chuckle made my skin crawl.

“Elena Gong. What a wonderful, wonderful surprise. What can I do you for?” He drawled.

“Well sweetheart, I’m all out of charity so you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”

I took a deep breath.

“I’m a virgin.” I whispered.

The line went completely silent.

“What?” The amusement in his voice died.

“You heard me and I’ll let you cash in on it. I’ll let you auction it off…” I tamped down on the burning protest in my lung, the screaming inside my head that said it was horrifying, that I was considering this. “ But only if you keep my terms.”

“What makes you think you have a say in that.” He said sharply and I laughed.

“I belong to your world, Hoseok. Did you forget that we were friends, once.” I whispered and he didn’t reply.

Laughter, kindness, a big brother I could always count on, hobi oppa, nine year old me with my fingers curled around his wrist as we ran all around the gardens , a smile so wide that he could spread sunshine on the gloomiest days. Different from Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi and the others. Willing to include a ‘ girl’ in his playtime. Lisa and I the only girls, not even fazed watching as the rest of them wielded toy guns and mock interrogation scenes, pretending to kill and maim and torture because that was the world we were born into.

“We’re not friends, Elena. Let’s get that straight. The only part of you that holds any value to me is th part between your legs. So tell me, what do you want.”

“When was the last time you auctioned off someone’s virginity? You know how much money you can make off something like that. Not just from the sale itself but from the entire night. Your club… Your gaming hell…. All of it.”

“You expect me to believe you’re a virgin. At twenty seven.” He scoffed.

“Put the word out, everywhere. If you find one man who says he’s slept with me , I’ll back off.”

“That would require me to tarnish your family name. And you’re alright with that?”

I smiled biotterly.

“Isn’t that what you and your precious Jungkookie want? To see the last living Gong, be labeled as a whore and a slut.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’ll give you that. You can do it… You know that will only interest more people. As Jungkook so eloquently put it, most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of me.”

“What’s the catch. What do you want. ”

“2 billion won.” I said firmly “It will be one night. One night only and I want enough money to pay off every one of my father’s debts, to get me an apartment for my sister in law and to support her and her baby for a year at least.”

“Done.” He said without missing a beat and I went still. What must it be like, to throw around money like that without a care in the world. And it sickened me that Jungkook was probably ten times as rich as Hoseok , the money my father owed him and his associates not even pocket change in comparison to his gargantuan wealth and yet, he stayed on my heels, snapping his jaws like a dog with a bone.

“And Jungkook doesn’t get to watch.” I said softly, knowing exactly what Jungkook would get off on.

That made Hoseok laugh.

“You know him too well. I keep forgetting he was madly in love with you once.”

I resisted the urge to vomit. Jungkook didn’t know love. He knew ownership. He didn’t love me, he thought he owned me. That I was his to play with…. For the rest of his life. And when my father had denied him that, just like a toddler in a toy store being denied a shiny toy to break and trample on, he had thrown a temper tantrum.

Except his tantrums always ended in death and destruction.

“That’s the deal. He doesn’t turn up there to gloat.”

“He’s heading out to Switzerland for a week , two days from now.” Hoseok said evenly.

“Good then. My sister in law…she “ I swallowed. “ She’s in a hospital in Yongsan. I’ll send you the address.”

“I’ll take care of it. But I want you here tonight. I’m not going to drop a couple billion won on your head without making sure I’m getting my money’s worth. And I can’t have you changing your mind and bolting either. My reputation is on the line here. If I put out the word that I’m serving something so fucking delicious and then back out, they’re not going to want to buy Hobi’s wares anymore. You understand what I’m saying darling?” Hoseok drawled and I knew exactly what he was saying. If I agreed to this, it was blanket consent for him to whatever he wanted.

“I won’t back out. I can’t. But this is one night. One night with whichever bastard you choose and that’s it. I want out. I don’t want you or Jungkook hounding me again. Ever.” My voice shook as I dug my fingers into my knees.

“My men will be there in ten minutes. Sit tight, princess.”

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

I stared at Hoseok as he carefully poured me a finger of whiskey, neat. He gave me a smirk and I shrugged.

“you remember.” I said casually, throat itching because it had been way too long since I’d had quality alcohol. I missed the burn, the warmth , the numbness that followed.

“Of course I do. You could drink all of us under the table with little effort. It was spectacular.” He laughed and I leaned back against the couch, letting my head fall back.

“I was half certain that you would have a doctor around to make sure I’m a virgin.” I stared at him and he shrugged. “ Pointless. You’re twenty seven, you’ve probably had stuff up there anyway… Not like your hymen’s still going to be intact.”

I thought it was rather horrifying, that I didn’t feel nearly as mortified as I should. This was how Hoseok talked, matter of fact and open and that was why he was so popular. Anytime an important person came into the country, Hobi was the one who offered entertainment for the night. Hobi’s girls were always the prettiest, most well behaved and perfect. They were educated, knew what they were talking about and he didn’t force them into the life. They loved it, enjoyed it and it showed.

Not to say he was a saint.

Far from it.

Hoseok knew how to dine with kings in castles but also how to wrestle with swine in the gutter. The seedy brothels in Seoul’s back alleys were his as well, and he ruled his kingdom with an iron hand. The prostitutes there feared him, one look or word enough to silence any rebellion, any thought of escape.

He was called Hope. And yet somehow that was exactly what he denied the women under him. There was no hope here. There was only lust and power and money. You came to Hobi…. You never left .

I took the glass he offered, taking a small sip, savoring the taste.

“But you believe me. I wonder why.” I watched him closely and he scoffed.

“Between your father and Jungkook, no one ever really had the pluck to come anywhere near you did they?”

Undisputable.

I sighed, leaning back to stare at him.

“Do you think dying hurts?” I asked softly.

It was frightening, how his entire body went stiff, eyes wide and jaw dropping.

“Elena, what the fuck-“

“Its just a question. You’ve killed people. You’ve watched them die… how do you think they feel?” I asked , curious.

“None of them wanted to die. If that’s what you’re asking.” The look in his eyes made me nervous.

I stared at him and the question was obvious. None of them wanted to die, but do you?

I didn’t.

“I’m not thinking of killing myself , oppa. Stop looking so horrified.” I laughed. He shook his head.

“ Don’t joke about that. It’s not fucking funny.”

I sobered up, remembering with a jolt. Ah, of course.

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” I said quietly.

Hoseok’s little sister had killed herself when I was seventeen. She was a year older than me and her father had lost her in a wager to a seventy year old man, known for torturing his bedmates. She had heard the news, taken a deep breath and taken a deep dive off the seventeeth floor of the condo where she lived with her mother.

I’d been engaged to Jungkook by then. And I had almost wanted it. Jungkook wasn’t old at least… twenty one to my seventeen.

“Just so you know, he’s going to find out. And he’s not going to like it.”

I shrugged. Three years is a long time to be preyed upon and now my mind was resigned to a life of being hunted. Hoseok was right. Jungkook would find out and he wouldn’t like it.

Good.

“I don’t care what he does anymore. All I care is that Jisoo and the baby are left out of whatever plans he has…. If you promise me you’ll keep them safe , I’ll cooperate.”

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

It was a baby boy.

I stared, fingers itching to hold the baby but it was impossible, the little one whisked away to the NICU right after with respiratory distress and Jisoo had gone into a seizure, eyes rolling back into her eyes.

She as alright now, resting in a VIP room with the best care money could buy. Hoseok had asked me if I was happy with the arrangements, and if I would name the boy after him.

I stared at the room, large and breezy and filled with flowers and gifts, toys and baby stuff and I knew right then that I had sealed my fate. I was going to have to go through with this. I could imagine how much Jisoo would protest when she came to her senses. The only relief was that it would take her a few days to be good enough to fight or protest. But then this would all be over and done with.

Jungkook would leave this afternoon. His flight was at three.

I would reach the club at five. The patrons would arrive at seven.

One night, I reminded myself , staring at the gentle rise and fall of Jisoo’s chest as she slept, my fingers playing with the soft skin on her wrist. The IV line went through her veins and I watched the gentle drip of it.

One night.

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

I didn’t know how auctions happened and while I’d been prepared for the worst kind of humiliation, Hoseok assured me that he wasn’t going to make me stand naked on some podium or something.

“Generally, I would do something like that simply for the flair of it but consider this a favor ….a respite because you were, as you said, once a friend.” He gave me an even smile and I could only nod in mute relief.

I was grateful. Beyond grateful.

And what was more, he hadn’t told anyone, who I was.

That stunned me. Because wasn’t that the selling point? The murderous, greedy mob rat Gong Hyo Suk’s only daughter forced to spread her legs for one lucky stranger? If Hoseok had cashed in on that he would have made a fortune. But he hadn’t. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would , whoever it was be upset if he recognized me?

I was led to a bedroom, large and tastefully decorated with silky satin sheets and dark curtains and dim lighting that lit up parts of the room and left other parts plunged in darkness. Hoseok had told me to wear whatever I wanted and I realized with a pang that he really didn’t see this as some sort of transaction. He was trying to make it as easy as possible without making any decisions for me. Offering me choices and options and some illusion of being in control.

I didn’t have anything fancy so it was just a dress shirt that I borrowed from Hoseok. I’d left the underwear off, eager to merely get the whole thing over with. I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh out loud.

If Jungkook were here he really would have lost his damn mind, simply because of how little this whole thing affected me. And that was it, really. He was always desperate for a reaction.

Earlier when this whole thing had started, I’d obliged him with that. I would scream, rant and yell….launch myself at him like a wildcat, scratching at him , fists flying and it was obscene, how much he seemed to enjoy that. He would press me up against walls and tables , fingers choking the breath out of my lung, just so he could see me struggle and push back.

He fed off from every negative reaction I offered him and it had taken me a long long time that the way to beat him was to become passive, unresponsive. I would go limp in his arms, stare at him blankly as he tried to manhandle me and that…that had pissed him off. Because that meant I wasn’t playing his game anymore.

If the prey wasn’t playing, the game wasn’t fun anymore. It was drab.

Boring.

And I knew that Jungkook kept raising the stakes, kept tightening the noose around my neck….just to bring that girl out again. The one that had wanted to put up a fight . The one that wanted to mouth off even with the muzzle of a gun pressed against her head. The one who would spit in his face in front of all his associates, even if it earned her a vicious strike of his hand across her face.

I shuddered. They weren’t memories I liked reliving.

Well, if that was who he wanted, I’d make sure he would never see her again.

The door opening made me jump and Hoseok came in , with a wide grin on his face.

“Baby…. Your guest for the night.” He said softly and I peered over his shoulders, my heart and mind grinding to a halt when I caught sight of what had to be the most breathtakingly beautiful man on the face of the planet.

I felt my heart begin to pound, fear taking over because this wasn’t okay. Not really. I was okay with old, creepy and disgusting , not able to get it up for more than ten minutes.

I wasn’t okay with someone who looked like they stepped right out of the latest issue of GQ.

Hoseok left quickly, closing the door behind him and the man stepped into the light, the brightness lighting up his perfect features even more. I felt my throat go dry, and fought the urge to get up and run. Growing up as the daughter of a mobster , I’d learned how to trust my instincts over appearances.

And right now, every single one of those instincts screamed at me that this man was absolutely dangerous.

“Well, you are beautiful. I’ll give you that. “ He said casually.

“Thank you.” I said stiltedly, watching as he tugged on his tie, pulling it off his neck deftly . Instead of tossing it aside , he wrapped it a bunch of times around his wrist over and over as he smiled at me.

“Don’t thank me yet. The only reason I like beautiful things is because of how easily they break.” He smiled. “ I haven’t been with a virgin in a while…. I miss the screams.”

And there it was the full blown panic that came with stark terror. I crawled back on the bed, staring as he moved closer and there was no mistaking the look on his face, the harsh grip of his hand on my ankle telling me that I was going to regret every one of the choices that led me here.

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

“Hoseok wasn’t at the airport.” Jungkook observed casually, glancing at Yoongi as the latter finished cleaning his gun carefully, eyes fixed on his weapon with utmost concentration.

“He’s holding some sort of auction tonight. Some chick …” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook hummed. It was not the kind of thing he was interested in. Anonymous bids were often boring : actresses or female idols past their prime, desperate to make some money to survive. He had no interest in those but he was a little peeved that Hoseok hadn’t told him anything about it.

Hoseok was one of Jungkook’s most trusted friends. He was almost as powerfully rich as Jungkook and the only reason Jungkook reigned supreme was because Hoseok had no interest in challenging him for the throne. Hoseok was dangerous and cunning and loyal and Jungkook was grateful to have him on his side and he had hoped to see him before leaving. Just to ask him to keep an eye on Elena.

He grimaced, hating himself.

God, he couldn’t go two hours without thinking of her. It fucked with his head, the amount of space she took up inside him. Jungkook , for all his wealth and power, was driven solely by his need to prove himself. He wanted to be powerful and terrifying yes, but more than that , he wanted people to know.

He wanted people to look him in the eye and acknowledge him for what he was : the most dangerous man in the country. He liked seeing that fear, that worship, that admiration. He got off on it. He wanted it , craved it and for some reason he craved it more from her , than anyone else.

And instead of giving him what he wanted, instead of begging on her knees for mercy, instead of licking his shoes and begging for him to let her live….she ignored him. She looked at him with defiance and pride, her chin straight and her back unbending, her gaze locked right on him like she was his fucking equal….

And Jungkook, he’d taken a lot of insults. Taken more than his fair share of hits in life …..

But when she looked at him like that , like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe….

Fuck it drove him wild with fury.

It made him want to teach her a fucking lesson, to remind her that he owned her because he owned everything. To break her down, snuff out the flames of defiance that burned so bright in those ember eyes… Take her into his bed and brand her with his body. Till she was on the floor, on her knees covered in his spit and cum begging for mercy….

Because no one looked at Jeon Jungkook like that and lived to tell the tale..

“Seokjin’s here. Landed in Korea a couple of hours ago. ” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook smiled a bit at that. He loved his older brother, technically a step brother and growing up he had only saw him when he visited his mother in China. That meant a couple of months a year and now as adults, a bit more often because Seokjin loved Jungkook and liked to visit him often.

Seokjin was a celebrity trainer, working with actors and athletes and he did a good amount of modeling as well. He was rich, handsome and well liked and the only thing that gave away the Jeon blood in him was the fact that he was a sexual sadist.

The face of an angel with a devilish streak, he had a penchant for sadism and inflicting pain on his partners and while Jungkook didn’t particularly enjoy indulging him, he knew there were women who were into that and usually had them arranged for when Seokjin dropped by in Korea. His hyung’s visit seldom lasted more than a few weeks at a time and it was a pity that he would miss out one whole week of it .

But the issue in Switzerland was a little pressing and Jungkook had to be there in person to sort it out.

He leaned back against the seat, staring out of the window, sighing.

“An unsullied dove ….What the fuck is this shit..” Yoongi muttered and Jungkook turned, curious.

“What?”

“Hoseok’s been hyping up some new girl for the auction and Seokjin hyung’s bidding on her.”

Jungkook laughed at that.

“Jungkook…..” Yoongi’s voice is completely stunned, his eyes confused as he looks up at Jungkook.” Its Elena.”

Jungkook’s thought process came to a grinding halt.

There’s a sound between his ears, a dull rushing sound like the wind in a storm and he can’t quite comprehend what he just heard. Even Namjoon who had been buried in his laptop , looked up then, tugging an airpod out of his ear.

“Wait…did you say Elena?” His eyes were wide , lips parted in shock. Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances, no doubt bracing themselves for the explosion that was to follow.

Jungkook took a deep breath.

“Turn the fucking plane around.”

That jolted Namjoon out of his stunned stupor..

“Turn-? Jungkook what…. We’re on a fourteen hour flight-“ Namjoon began but the look on Jungkook’s face made him stop.

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER?”

Namjoon swore.

“Fucking hell… alright just calm the fuck down, Jesus…just put a fucking bullet in that girl’s head and spare us all the headache fuck…” He growled, unbuckling his seat belt and rushing to the cockpit and Yoongi groaned.

“ Let me guess you want me to get in touch with someone in Seoul and ask Hoseok to hold off on letting Seokjin near her…”

Jungkook glared at him.

“If you already know that why the fuck are you still here…” He growled and Yoongi gave him a look.

“Just tell her you’re in love with her and let us live, Jeon Jungkook.”

In love….. what the fuck….

He glared at Yoongi’s back, his asinine words making him madder. God he wanted to crush someone’s skull into dust with his bare hands.

And right now, in his head , that skull belonged to Jung fucking Hoseok.

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

“What just happened?” I asked, frantic staring at the door as Hoseok’s men casually led a fuming Seokjin away while the man himself stared at me, looking pale as parchment.

“ Jungkook found out.” He said shortly and I felt my heart drop although I was half relieved because there had been something insane in Kim Seokjin’s gaze when he’d reached for me , a cruel glint of hunger that told me he would have hurt me really badly if Hoseok hadn’t barged into the room , frantic and worried.

He had given Seokjin a wide smile and then, “ I’m so sorry. We were waiting on her blood results and turns out she has a…. well, certain occupational disease that is very infectious.”

Seokjin’s mouth had dropped open even wider than mine.

“I thought she was a fucking virgin.” He had snapped, and I flinched at how cold and furious he had sounded.

But apparently there was a reason this whole thing had happened.

“What do you mean Jungkook knows? What does that mean?” I asked frantically, fear taking over.

“ He’s heading back here… He wants to see you.”

I felt my entire body go ice cold as I shook my head…

“No…fucking no bring Seokjin back here , he can fuck me that was the fucking deal, Hobi, please don’t../…”

“Elena , I’m so fucking sorry.. Seokjin…he’s fucked in the head…. He likes hurting his whores, likes making them bleed and he would have fucking destroyed you…”

I gaped at him horrified.

“What?!” I hissed shaking my head in disbelief.

“He’s Jungkook’ stepbrother. I’ve arranged whores for him before, I knew he was a little crazy but I’d never seen him before and I didn’t know he was the Kim Seokjin…fuck he outbid everyone and fucker looks like a fucking angel, how the fuck was I supposed to know he’s unhinged? Thankfully, I messaged Yoongi and …. Fuck… Listen… I know I paid for your sister’s surgery but you’re going to have to pay me back….”

I felt my body convulse in rebellion.

“I can’t.. You know I fucking can’t…”

“I can’t make an enemy out of Jungkook…. I can’t.” Hoseok shook his head. “ You can get out of here now if you want but I’d advise you to stay. If you run it’s only going to make Jungkook angrier.”

“WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO HIM?!!!” I screamed, feeling my composure crumble into smithereens. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE WANT FROM ME?!!”

Hoseok flinched, stepping back and holding his hands up.

“Whether I want to or not, I answer to Jungkook. I shouldn’t have done this in the first place , I’m sorry Elena.” He shook his head and stepped back like the coward that he was and I wanted to hurt him. To shake him and ask him to fucking remember who I was. That I had nothing to do with my father’s sins . That I had been a fucking marionette in his hands, had wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“So much for being a friend…” I whispered.

His jaw tightened. But he didn’t look guilty. None of them ever did. It was like guilt didn’t exist in their world. They did what they wanted to whoever they wanted , whenever they wanted and they got away with it because that bastard’s word was law. What Jeon Jungkook wanted, he got.

“I’ll get your clothes sent in.”

I watched him leave, the door slamming shut behind him and sagged against the bed, staring at myself. What had just happened?

Was I born to endless misery and misfortune?

Couldn’t I catch a fucking break?

I’d agreed to sell myself hadn’t I? Would have even let Seokjin hurt me if that was what he wanted. Because it was one night. It was one night of this…whatever the hell this was and then freedom. That was the deal.

The door opened again and I stared as a young girl brought me a pile of my clothes neatly folded.

“Do you work here?” I said sharply.

She blinked before bowing her head.

“Yes, mistress.”

I scoffed.

“Don’t call me mistress , I’m here to get fucked, just like you. Tell me does Jungkook ever use the women here.” I demanded.

She looked trapped, glancing at the door, clearly wanting to run .

“Tell me.” I snapped and she flinched.

“I..uh..yes. Sometimes.” She said softly.

“Can you tell whoever fucks him next to kick him in the fucking balls?”

The girl bowed deeply and all but ran out and I sighed, feeling myself shaking. Jungkook was on the way here and I wanted to yell and scream and rave at him but I knew that was exactly what he wanted. I wanted to deny him the satisfaction …wanted to act all cool and composed in front of him but it was impossible…

Because I hadn’t realized just how tired I was of this whole thing, till right this moment, when the end had been in sight. I was supposed to get my two billion won pay off all the debt , give Jisoo the rest of the money and disappear. I was so tired, so tired of this life I’d gotten trapped into, slaving over for hours on end just to afford a couple of meals a day. No friends, no boyfriends, no hope of a future …..

The door banged open and I jumped, crawling back when I recognized the man who had just entered.

“Yoongi-“

“Jungkook wants to see you.” He ground out and I swallowed.

“I need to get dressed. Please just wait outside.” I said shakily.

And then the door opened further and a tall looming shadow stepped in familiar and vomit inducing.

Jungkook looked livid, piercing glinting through the dimply lit room and I stared at him. He was dressed in a tight black t shirt, he sleeves stretched thin over his biceps and the tattoos stark against his skin.

“Leave us.” He said softly and Yoongi moved away to the door leaving me alone with the devil himself. I cursed myself for not putting at least my panties on, I was naked underneath this shirt and although it was big it left nothing to the imagination.

Jungkook’s eyes raked over my form before resting on my face.

“You think you’re smart enough to outsmart me, Elena?” He whispered softly.

I swallowed.

“Send you brother back in. He can fuck me and I’ll pay you back.”

Jungkook hummed, stepping closer and grabbing my clothes from the bed, he grabbed the plain white bra and the pastel pink underwear and then to my complete and utter mortification he brought the clothing up to his face, breathing in .

“Fucking pervert!!!” I screamed, feeling the action like a physical touch and wanting to claw his eyes out and the smirk on his face told me that this was exactly what he wanted but I was too fucking gone to care.

“If you want me to be a whore, fine. I’ll be a whore. But on my terms…” I spat out and he shook his head, laughing.

“I don’t just want you to be a whore, Elena. I want everyone to know that you are one…” He dropped my clothes and moved closer, holding a hand out. “ Come here.”

I stared at the inked fingers, adorned with sterling silver rings and bracelets with the motifs of his gang. I shook my head.

“No. I’m not playing this game with you.” I turned my face away.

His hand shot out gripping my upper arm with enough strength to bruise and I screamed, agony shooting up my arm and shoulders as he dragged me off the bed and onto the floor. I landed hard, hips and elbows bruising from impact and I stared at him in disbelief.

“I’ve been to gentle with you. You’ve forgotten your fucking place.” He bent over and grabbed me by my hair, yanking me to my feet so hard that it felt like my scalp had been ripped away from my skull.

“Okay…okay…Okay Jungkook..just…!!” I said softly, flinching because my pain tolerance was almost zero and Jungkook’s grip was so hard that my eyes were beginning to water now. He let me go, grabbing my panties off the floor and tossing them at me.

“I’m going to count to five. Put those on and get out.”

He walked out of the door and I stumbled a little fumbling with the fabric before quickly, slipping my legs in and yanking it up to my waist. I made to put on something else but his voice came, loud and impatient.

“Get the fuck out here.”

I walked out of the door and he was standing there next to Hoseok. I couldn’t meet either of their gazes , hating how they had so much power over my life. I stared at the floor. It was tempting to yell at them and scream but that never led anywhere.

“ I’ve asked them to stop the payment on the Hospital bill. Seeing as Elena hasn’t kept her end of the bargain.”

I felt my breath hitch at that, willing down the tears as I glared at him.

“What do you want?” I snapped. “ Tell me who you want me to fuck…. I’ll do it. Let’s get this over with so you can go back to whatever sewer you fucking climbed out of. ….”

Hoseok’s breath caught like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said and the look in his eye was a warning but I was sick of this. Sick of them all.

Jungkook turned to Hoseok with a laugh.

“You see hyung? See why I can’t let her go? If I let her scot free, everyone’s going to think I’m a pushover….that any worthless bitch can talk to me any way she wants and get away with it….” He shook his head, staring at me with a glint in his eye. “ I’m not going to choose. They are. You think you can charm your way into Hoseok’s heart and get special treatment? You think you’re ready to be a whore, Elena? Let me show you how a real whore gets treated in Hoseok’s club.”

He gripped my wrist, yanking me behind him as he stalked off down the narrow corridor that opened up into the club. I let myself get dragged out into the club dismally aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but Hoseok’s shirt. I could feel eyes on me but I kept mine on the back of Jungkook’s head as he dragged me all the way to the front. I knew what he was going to do and at this point I was just numb.

There was no point reasoning with the devil.

I glared at him as he pointed at the stage. “ Get up there.” He whispered harshly.

I stared back at him, not moving. I saw Jungkook’s jaw clench.

“Either you go up there by yourself, with your clothes on. Or I carry you up there, after stripping you naked. What’s it going to be? ”

I glared at him, pursing my lips before climbing up using the small stair in the side. I moved to the center, right in front of the stage lights, so the rest of the room would disappear. I had no wish to see any of the bastards in the room.

“I think all of you recognize this little beauty here, don’t you?” Jungkook’s voice was cheerful, friendly even and I bit my lips, fists clenched. “ Well, if you don’t let me tell you . This is Gong Hyo Suk’s daughter. Remember that bastard? He put a hit out on my father. Killed him and my mom on the night I was supposed to be marrying his fucking daughter. A daughter who later called off the wedding, because I was too poor now, to give her the life she deserved. ”

I felt the familiar ice cold guilt in my vein. I was seventeen, I wanted to scream. I was seventeen and all I did was say what my father asked me to say, do what my father asked me to do.

“ That was nine fucking years ago… and you know what I told myself…. I told myself, that a greedy little bitch like this, doesn’t deserve shit.” He laughed. “ If money’s what she values the most, then the only thing she deserves is to be treated like the whore she is.”

“Why don’t you guys tell me, how much money you’d be willing to spend, to fuck her? Come on, Hobi’s been treating you guys so well lets help him make some money tonight… be generous. ”

I could barely hear what they were calling out but when Jungkook climbed onto the stage next to me, I jumped. Moving back instinctively, I winced when brought a forearm around my throat nearly choking me as he dragged up against his body.

“90 million won….That’s a lot.” He grinned. “ Jihan hyung….. that was you right? You’re gonna pay 90 million won for her?”

I felt my heart race, it was a lot. More than enough for the Hospital Bills, would even leave extra to get a decent apartment somewhere... I grabbed his wrist as it pressed into my throat, trying to pull his hand off me but he just wrapped his free hand around my waist, wrapping his entire body around mine and chuckling into my hair.

Jungkook pressed his head against mine and I froze, hating the close contact.

“Okay…but since I’m feeling a bit left out here…Why don’t I pitch in… 500 Won.” Jungkook said loud and clear.

I froze. An eerie silence fell over the club, laughter stilling and the clink of glasses slowing down.

What.

I struggled to get away from his but his hold tightened.

“Anyone else?” He called out. “ Come on… Not even thousand? Surely you think this one here’s worth a thousand won? Aren’t you going to outbid me?”

No one responded of course they didn’t. Jungkook’s anger was palpable and no one was going to get on his wrong side …..

“Ahh… is that it then? Bid’s going to close for 500 won then…. Hear that baby?” He whispered against my ears and I swallowed. “ 90, million won to five hundred won in a few seconds… What does that tell you?”

“It tells me you’re a fucking psychopath in love with your own voice… Get off me.” I hissed.

“No. What it tells you is that only I get to decide how much that body of yours is worth, not you. . You don’t get to go sell your fucking body behind my back for two billion won and then pay off all your debts and ride off into the sunset, that is not how this works….”

I went limp in his arms fighting tears because he never played fair. Never.

“Hear that Hoseok-ah… I win her for the night for 500 won…fair and square…. Is that alright?” He called out into the darkness and I felt the first inkling of dread begin to seep in.

“No.. No… get off me.” I hissed and he laughed, dragging me off the stage with ease. I screamed, kicking out in disbelief.

Jungkook grinned at me, before grabbing both my arms and yanking them behind me, and I whimpered, unable to move as he easily pulled me along to the door that opened into the hallway. Behind us I heard Hoseok’s voice.

“Jungkook, don’t be impulsive. Think about whatever you’re going to do.”

I flinched at that, panic building.

“He’s not going to do anything. I’ll fucking kill him if he touches me , I-“

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” He shook me hard till my teeth rattled and I sobbed out.

“Jungkook…” Hoseok warned but he merely snarled.

“I know what I’m doing hyung, just…. Don’t disturb us. And make sure everyone here knows that she’s open for business.” It was loud enough to carry through the club and I felt humiliation burn my throat, acrid like acid.

I froze in disbelief.

“Jungkook …” Hoseok’s voice held a tone of reproach.

“ And tell them that her body is amazing. Tell them she spent the night with me , the best fuck I’ve ever had , mouth made for cock.”

I stared straight ahead as he pulled me all the way to the room we had left earlier and I tripped when he shoved me inside, landing on my hands and knees . I quickly rolled back around to land on my ass, crawling back as he slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

He stared down at me, mouth grim.

“You do owe me a wedding night. I was so ready to fuck your tight cunt, nine years ago… I think I’ve waited long enough yeah.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, to yell and scream and protest and fight so he could get off and forcing me…. Fucking psychopath.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“If you pay for my sister in laws bills, and give me an apartment sure. “ I shrugged. “You’re not any different from any of the bastards here. I don’t give a damn which one of you idiots wants to rut into me like the absolute animal that you are…. I don’t care…” I said softly.

“you don’t? Really? You want me to tell you what your brother said when one of my men put a gun into his mouth…. He begged for his life…said he had a kid on the way….” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. “I told him it was better than what his father did…. My sister was six months pregnant when his lieutenant gunned her down on the streets.”

I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Why are you telling me this…” I snapped.

“Because she didn’t deserve it did she, Elena? She didn’t fucking deserve to die like that , like a dog on the street when she had nothing to do with any of this…. She didn’t deserve it.” He growled, bending down and gripping my chin hard.

“Maybe she did deserve it.” I spat out. “ If I deserve to be here, maybe your sister deserved to die too. “

He snarled, hand flying to my hair and dragging me up off the floor in one sharp yank. I whimpered as he pushed me on the bed, before climbing on top of me. I felt like every bone in my body was about to snap in two, the weight of him unbearable on me.

“I won the bid tonight…. I won it fair and square… You signed the waiver didn’t you…that you agreed to the auction…I won and I’m going to fucking collect.” He growled, and I kicked out, trying to buck him off of my body.

“Get off me.” I hissed. “ I’m not letting you fuck me for 500 won.”

“How about for your Jisoo then?” He whispered and I went still.

“What?”

He chuckled, reaching down and I felt my pulse pound as he pulled his phone out, dialing quickly and turning on the speakers.

Yoongi’s voice made me go ice cold. Everyone knew what Yoongi did for Jungkook.

“Daehwan’s wife is in a hospital room in Yongsan. Hobi’s got the details. I think she’s served her purpose.”

“No!! JUNGKOOK NO!!” I screamed , thrashing so hard my head began to spin but he grunted pressing down into me harder.

“Are you serious? I’m not home yet… I can take care of it tonight.” Yoongi said, voice casual and I sobbed, shaking my head in sheer terror.

“Okay… I’ll behave.. I promise.. please just don’t…”

Jungkook hummed.

“Well, that was easy… Yoongi-yah… why don’t you stay on the phone yeah…. Going to get that wedding night I’m owed and if my baby doesn’t co operate you know what to do, yeah?”

I bit my lips, glaring into the sheets as he gripped my waist, pulling me up.

“Ass up like the bitch that you are, baby.” He whispered and I felt my entire body shudder in disgust. It was worse because I hadn’t done this before. Didn’t know what to expect. But I couldn’t let him know that. If Jungkook knew that I was a virgin, I could just imagine how much fun he’d have with that info.

Hands gripped my wrists, pinning them to the bed and I turned my face away when I felt the press of his lips on my cheeks. He gripped both my wrists with one hand, keeping them pinned over my head and I flinched when I felt his fingers pulling the fabric of my panties aside, just enough for the blunt head of his cock to press against my slit.

“Yoongi, you there?” Jungkook said softly and Yoongi grunted over the phone. I felt my face flame in embarrassment.

“You’re a sick bastard but I’m used to it. What’s up?” he said casually.

“Remember how we used to wonder just how tight Elena’s cunt was… back when we were in school.”

Fucking monster, I thought in disbelief. I hate him I hate him I hate him….

“Good times…” Yoongi chuckled lightly .

Jungkook pushed into me in one hard thrust and pain shot straight up my spine, my insides burning like he’d fucked me with a knife and not his body. I couldn’t stop the cry of agony that got torn of me, my eyes tearing up and tears spilling over onto my cheeks.

“Damn Jungkook, she okay?” Yoongi’s chuckle made me want to claw his face off, and just the urge to kill was growing inside me.

“Well, I can confirm that it is, in fact just as tight as we thought…” He grunted, thrusting into me at a pace that was inhumane, every push and drag of him rubbing my insides raw and I bit down on the sheets under me, afraid that I would do something absolutely humiliating, like beg him to stop.

“Good, you should let me take that tight ass for a ride someday then. With her permission of course…. I’m a gentleman after all. Big on consent.” He laughed and I swallowed the urge to tell him that I would puncture his balls with a switchblade if he came anywhere near me.

“Oh, she’s going to do whatever I ask her to….aren’t you baby…” He grunted, “ Turn around so I can see you.”

He pulled out of me, his weight lifting off my body as he moved away. I couldn’t move, limbs numb and insides throbbing in pain . His palm landed on my thigh, hard and the sharp sting of it made me jump.

“I said turn around, I want to see your face when I fuck you.” Jungkook growled. I stayed limp, breathing hard and he grunted impatient, fingers sinking into my hair , yanking me to my knees and the movement made my legs scream in protest.

“How’s she so quiet? You fucked the voice out of her, kook-ah?” Yoongi asked amused and Jungkook pulled me by the hair, dragging me to the center and pushing me down till my head landed on the pillow.

“Hyung you should see her right now, all fucked out …. Like she’s never had a dick in her before.” He shook his head, “ Fucking slut. Take that off and hold yourself open for me.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending and he grabbed both my hands, placing them on my knees.

“Grab your knees and pull your legs back… So I can fuck that tight cunt the way I want to.” He said slowly, like I was a dog he was trying to train and I stared at him , defiantly.

“ Go to hell.” I whispered.

Yoongi’s laughter came from somewhere to the right.

“Your dirty talk needs work, Kook ah… Tell her she’s a precious little kitten and she makes you feel really good…. Bitches love that shit…”

Jungkook hovered over me, grabbing the back of my thighs and spreading them wide enough to make me whimper in pain.

“Is that so babygirl? You want me to tell you that? That you make daddy’s cock feel good?” He cooed, nudging the tip against me again and I had never hated anyone so much in my life. I stared up at his face, and he smiled at me, a cheeky little grin that made his bunny teeth stand out and for a second he looked so deceptively angelic and the glimmer of his piercing caught my eye.

I couldn’t help but swallow, gaze trained on the glint of metal on his tongue.

“You like that?” He grinned suddenly, sticking his tongue out for me to see, I felt my eyes widen at how sinfully good he looked .” Hyung she likes my tongue piercing.”

“Show her how it feels on her clit.” Yoongi laughed and I could barely fully process what I heard before Jungkook was crawling down my body, arms, curling on my thighs and yanking me onto his tongue .

I felt the press of his tongue on my slit, licking right into me and the jolt of pleasure was so unexpected, the pleasure so unwanted and yet so overwhelming and I couldn’t stop the way my body thrashed against the streets, lips parted as I practically mewled out in pleasure.

“Definitely a kitten…” Yoongi called out and I shuddered as Jungkook slipped two fingers into me , the ice cold press of his ring inside me making me jump. I wanted to pull away, grab his hair and yank him off but I couldn’t because it was

“Next time I’ll put the dick piercing in too, yeah? Fuck you with a bit of metal on my cock so you can feel that up there…. ” He laughed into my thighs and I screamed when he bit into the flesh there , hard.

“I’m getting bored… Either turn on facetime so I can at least jerk off to this , or I’m hanging up…” Yoongi called out .

“Hyung she clenches down on me every time she hears your voice… Just stay on for a few more minutes yeah, she tastes so fucking good, I’m gonna cum soon….” Jungkook added another finger, slipping in deep before spreading them apart inside me. I whimpered when he pushed his tongue in between the wet digits, licking into my walls and I could feel the ball of his piercing drag against my walls, ice cold and hard.

Was it fucked up that I did clench down on him again, my body apparently a slave to my base desires even as my mind screamed that he was the absolute worst bastard on the face of the planet.

“Elena, you owe me a blowjob at least for this…” Yoongi called out and I glared at the phone.

“I’ll bite your fucking dick off if you come anywhere near me.” I snapped.

“Fuck, I could get off just to that mouthy fuckhole of hers…..” Yoongi grunted.

Jungkook pulled away, climbing back up over me and lightly slapping my breasts.

“Now, how about you open that mouth and let me fuck it?”

Yoongi snorted from behind us and Jungkook glared at the phone before glaring at me again.

“Well?”

“You want to know how hard I can bite?” I said sharply, the pleasure ebbing away into nothing and resentment taking it place, the momentarily physicality of the situation fading and the reminder of who he was and who I was entering my sex addled brain.

“No.. You’re right…. But you know what, I’m not feeling it anymore. I was right.. you really aren’t qualified to be my whore. Your body…it’s frigid like a fucking popsicle…such a fucking turn off. ” He reached over and hung up on the phone.

“Now…”he whispered, leaning in closer and I yelped, when his fingers closed over my throat..” Shut your mouth and take what I give you like a grateful bitch.”

I swallowed when he pushed into me again, his pace steady as he fucked into me, eyes closed and I realized that he was almost fully dressed having just unbuttoned himself enough to get his cock out.

When he stiffened, spilling into me his eyes blew open and he locked eyes with me, wide eyed and for one horrible second he looked young and vulnerable and hurt.

I blinked as he pulled out, the sticky warm mess of his cum dripping down my inner thighs and onto the sheets.

“Well, that was much worse than I thought it would be.” He said and I stayed on the bed as he grabbed his phone and buttoned himself back up.

He smirked at me and then reached into his pocket.

I quickly pulled myself together, ignoring the aches and pains and getting to my knees before reaching for my dress on the bed. it was kind of pointless because I still had Hoseok’s shirt on and I wasn’t going to take that off in front of Jungkook.

“Well, I’m a man of my word , Elena so…here you go..just as we discussed.” He tossed a coin on the bed and I stared at the engraved 500 on the shiny surface, feeling my rage swell inside me.

“If you still want to work out a payment plan for your sister’s bills …. Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow?” He tossed his card on the bed before moving away to the door.

Fucking bastard.

Author’s note : My whole life is filled with regrets .

#jungkook smut #bts smut #ts fics #jungkook fics #bts fanfic #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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petri808 · 3 years

Note

hiii i am absolutely obsessed with ur drabbles could u please do nalu #4 and #39 pls🥺

“Walk out that door and we’re through” + “Please come home, I miss you”

This was tough cause the questions could trigger a story similar to this one I also did for these prompt asks round. But I think I can make it different enough, albeit angst hell 😅 here we go! It’s a little rushed but longer then I expected for a ficlet lol

“Lucy,” Natsu knocked at the office door, “it’s time to go.”

“Where?” She answered without looking up.

“Levy’s birthday party.”

“Oh!” Lucy sat up in her desk chair and turned her body to face her husband. “Right! I forgot. Um, shucks, but I’m on a writing high right now and I can’t stop— tell her I’ll make it up to her, will ya?”

She always says that… Natsu sighed, “yeah, sure…”

Levy Redfox was Lucy’s childhood best friend and while the woman was also his friend, it just didn’t sit well with Natsu that she’d choose writing over the woman. But this had been an ongoing issue lately... Don’t get him wrong, he fully supported his wife’s career as an author, especially now that it’s really starting to take off. The issue was it had consumed her at the expense of everyone around her.

He knocked on their friends door, answered by Levy herself.

“Natsu!” Levy hugged the man excitedly, but when she noticed he was alone, frowned a tad. “Again, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Levy,” Natsu’s shoulders slumped. “Lucy’s in a,” he made quotation marks in the air, “‘writing high,’ and said she’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” the woman smiled despite the sadness hiding behind her eyes.

All of their closest friends were in attendance and spent the evening talking, eating, and playing a few fun birthday games. It distracted him to some extent, but as the night wore down and the other guests had all left, Natsu, his best friend Gray Fullbuster, Levy, and her husband Gajeel sat around in the living room talking about the elephant in the room. Lucy.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” Levy said quietly, “but, I try not to make it sound too harsh.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do babe,” Gajeel chimed in. “Be blunt.”

“Yeah, I’m like you,” Natsu agreed with Levy. “It’s not easy to bring it up cause she’s oblivious about it.”

“But it’s hurting your marriage man!” Gray looked at Natsu. “And your friendship,” he switched to Levy. “I’m with Gajeel. If you aren’t honest with her, it’s not gonna get better.”

“Think I don’t know that?!” Natsu spat back. “Think I enjoy being the only one in that house in pain?! I don’t, but—” his voice cracked, “I’m worried I’ll push her away if I say something.”

“She’s already pushing you away dude. Do you still love her?”

“Of course, I do,” Natsu sighed. “I love her more than anything, but apparently it’s not enough… we haven’t even… you know, I can’t remember the last time.”

“Wow… Then you really gotta tell her. All of it,” Gray coaxed.

Levy who’d sat quietly through the back and forth, chimed in quietly. “Gray’s right. You should tell her, when you go home, just tell her how you’re feeling. And whatever happens, happens. We can just hope for the best.”

“You know you’ll be the first to hear from her if I do,” Natsu pointed out.

“I know. But… it’s time I come clean too.”

Natsu slumped back onto the couch and let out a depressed exhale. “And you,” he looked to Gray. “You know if it goes wrong I’ll be showing up at your door.”

“My couch has your name on it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

That had to be the longest drive home Natsu had ever taken, even though it was really just 10 minutes. He was a physical person by nature and never been very good at expressing his feelings in words. Words were his wife’s domain. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but his biggest fear was saying things wrong. With his hand on the doorknob, Natsu took one last breath and opened the door to her office. He knew before entering, Lucy was still working by the clacks of the keyboard and interrupting would immediately cause friction. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

“I’m home,” Natsu called out… with no response. He sighed and spoke more sternly. “Lucy. I’m home.”

“Oh, welcome home,” she finally responded. “How was the party?”

He knew it was an empty question, because she never even looked up or stopped typing and it meant she wasn’t really listening. “Lucy… we need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy Natsu.”

“I know, but you’re always busy Lucy. That’s part of the problem.” The moment the last word came out, Natsu knew instantly he’d picked the wrong one. Crap.

Lucy stopped typing, turned off the screen and shut the laptop. “Problem?” She turned the chair around with her eyes narrowed in a focused glare. “What do you mean, problem?”

“Lucy,” he ran a hand down his face, “I don’t want to fight, but we need to talk— there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” She crossed her arms. “What is so important that you need to mess with my job?”

There it was.

“I’m not trying to do that,” he sighed. “You know how proud I am of your career. But, it feels as if you’re choosing your career over everything else in your life. Me, your friends, we’re all just being pushed aside—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lucy shot out of her chair shaking in anger. “I am not doing any of that! I’m not pushing anyone away! Y-You’re the one who’s acting selfish trying to tell me I’m not giving you enough attention! And don’t you bring Levy into this! If this was bothering her she’d tell me!”

“It does bother her! But she’s afraid of getting,” he gestured with his hands up and down at Lucy, “this reaction! Is it selfish to want to spend some time with my own wife?!” Natsu growled. “We never spend time together anymore! You’re just always hunched over that damn computer!”

“I’m doing my job!” Lucy shrieked. “I have deadlines to meet! This story ain’t gonna write itself! Research ain’t gonna materialize on its own! It’s a lot of work!”

“Lucy,” Natsu pinched his brows together, trying hard to stop from snapping further as well as to control the tears building in his eyes. “I love you, more than anything in this world, but I don’t know what happened to the woman I’d married. The old Lucy wouldn’t abandon her loved ones like this.”

“You’re just mad because I’m successful now.”

“That’s bullshit! And you know it! No job is worth losing the people you care about, and if you can’t understand that, then, I don’t know what else to say!”

“Then I guess there isn’t anything more to say,” she spat back.

“I guess not.” Natsu answered softly, turned and left the room.

He’d already assumed confronting Lucy about her precious career would not end well, and he was right. Staying would only cause more trouble. So, he quietly packed a suitcase to go to Gray’s house, making sure to bring anything he’d need because he had no idea how long he’d stay there. He’d said his peace; it really was all in Lucy’s hands now.

Back in her office, Lucy dropped back down into her chair as the full weight of what just transpired hit her like a ton of bricks. She cradled her face in her hands as the anger that had fueled her response suddenly mixed with sadness. Tears flowed free. Did that really just happen?! She could hear Natsu moving around in the bedroom, the opening of drawers, the closet, the zipping sound of the suitcase, each and every step driving a knife deeper and deeper. How dare he tell her to stop writing! This was her dream! Her livelihood! Why couldn’t he just support her instead of acting like a child who wasn’t getting attention!

When she heard Natsu walking towards the front door area, Lucy raced out of the room to confront him one last time.

“Walk out that door and we’re through!” She screamed. “Do you hear me? We’re through!”

Natsu ignored her words knowing it was the anger talking… hoping it was just the emotions fueling her rage. “I’ll be at Gray’s,” he simply responded with a hint of sadness in his tone. “You should really think long and hard about this Lucy, because if not, you’ll lose a lot more than you realize.” And with that, he closed the front door behind him.

Lucy crumpled to the ground and wailed— raged, banging the floor with her fists as the sobbing overtook her. She truly could not understand what brought this on. Hadn’t she been a good wife?! Faithful! Hard working! What more did he want?! All she was doing was trying to make it in the cut-throat world of publishing. Does he not understand how hard it is to make it in that world?! She pulled her phone from her pocket and started to dial Levy’s phone number. But just as she got to the last two numbers, she stopped. It was already 1 am, and it would be rude to wake her friend up. Lucy sniffled and hung her head in shame before dragging herself back towards the bedroom. She’ll just call in the morning.

When Levy answered the phone, Lucy was slightly taken aback by the response. Not a hello, just a, ‘I wondered when you’d call.’ Evidently the woman was expecting it, but she was too tired to let it add to her problems. She hadn’t slept much after Natsu left— no surprise. She was still angry, but also confused, sad, and just mentally drained of life. Her friend agreed to come over in a bit, so Lucy dragged herself into the shower hoping it would make her feel better.

“Wow, you don’t look good,” Levy remarked at her friend.

“Hi to you too,” Lucy mumbled as she moved to the side to let her friend in. “Who would after a fight?”

Once settled on the couch, Levy went straight to the point before Lucy could even begin. “I already know what this is about. I know Natsu’s side, so start with yours.”

“Wow— okay, well—” Lucy pulled her legs up and tucked them underneath her body in a protective mode. “He tried to tell me to stop writing and I thought that was bullshit,” she said bluntly.

Levy’s brow raised. “Is that exactly what he said? To stop writing?”

“W-Well no, but that what he implied!”

“What did he say exactly?”

Lucy looked away, a scowl growing on her face and to hide the renewed moisture in her eyes. “He said I’m pushing everyone away.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“No! I’m not choosing my career over everyone! It’s ridiculous to even imply that I would!”

“Lu, do you still love your husband?”

“Of course, I love him!”

“Are you sure he knows you still love him?”

“I—” Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and sunk further into the couch mumbling. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“I can tell you, he doesn’t. Lu, you’ve pushed all of us away.”

“So, you’re taking his side?!”

“No. I’m giving you reality. You’ve been wrapped up in your fictional world so much that you’ve forgotten this one and the real people in it.”

“I—” Lucy turned away to hide the tears slowly starting to trickle down her face. “I never meant to…”

“I know…” Levy placed a hand on her friends leg. “Lu, we all know. He knows, but he’s hurting and it’s in your power to fix this.”

“But how?! I can’t just stop writing. I have deadlines and— you know, its a lot of work to put a story together.”

“You have to find a balance. Right?” Levy coaxed. “You have to take breaks. You have to relax sometimes. Natsu’s not asking you to stop, and he knows there will be times you really can’t stop. But it can’t be all the time, and right now it’s all the time.”

“I know…”

“Girl when was the last time you…” Levy wiggled her brows and grinned. “You know.”

Lucy blushed. “Too long.”

“Well?!” Levy laughed. “Are you finally getting our point?”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed. “I got tunneled vision.”

Levy leaned in, adding pressured from the hand on Lucy’s leg and a softening in her voice. “And it put your marriage in jeopardy. But it’s not too late to fix it.”

The tears exploded from Lucy. “I told him… when he left, I-I told him don’t come back.” She buried her face in her hands as the sobbing took control. “I-I was screaming at him… so angry, I just lost it and—”

Levy pulled Lucy into a hug. “Shhh,” she held tight. “I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it. Shh, it’s okay. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we’re mad. But you can still get him back, I’m certain of it.”

“H-how?!” Lucy sobbed into Levy’s shoulder. “He’s gotta be so mad at me!”

“Hun, Natsu’s more sad then mad. He needs to feel like you still love him.” Levy pulled away and cupped Lucy’s cheeks, staring, searching the woman’s eyes. “Can you tell him you love him?”

“I can tell him I love him,” Lucy sniffled.

“Then go tell him that!” She hugged her friend. “You’ll be okay Lu, you two are meant to last.”

“Thanks, Levy.”

“He’s at Gray’s right? Want me to drive you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Levy smiled. “Now clean up a bit, I’ll wait in the car.”

The whole ride over to Gray’s house was the most nerve wracking experience in Lucy’s life. As she sat there huddled in Levy’s passenger seat, all the ways she could ever apologize tried to funnel through her head. She was a writer, and yet for the first time in a long time, all the words dried up or mashed together like a broken verse. Levy did her best to keep Lucy calm, reminding her that it’s all about being honest— just let your heart do the talking for once and not her head.

“You got this,” Levy patted Lucy’s shoulder before she exited the vehicle.

Lucy sure hoped she did. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by and with each chime, all the weight and worry crept closer to sending her over. He was mad. Too mad. He probably won’t answer…

Finally someone did. “You came?” Natsu’s voice was soft and low, his eyes still bloodshot and worn.

“I came,” Lucy hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry— F-For everything, Natsu please come home, I miss you. I love you more than my job, and I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“You always say that Lucy…”

Ouch. Straight through her heart. The tears broke free again as her knees weakened, causing her to fall against him. Natsu caught her, and she clung to him, gripped to his shirt. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please come home! I love you! Natsu please come home! I can change! I promise I’ll change!”

That’s when she felt his hold truly tighten around her body and his head come to rest against her own. Lucy sobbed harder from the acceptance, pouring her heart in her words. “I love you… I love you so much, I’m so sorry….”

Natsu cradled her head and closed his eyes, voice soft with an upbeat to its tone. “Now there’s the woman I married.”

He held Lucy tightly until her sobbing slowed, eventually pulling away just enough to wipe the tear trails away. “Shall we go home now?”

Lucy nodded. “Please….”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu ficlet #nalu fan fiction #angst #asks and answers

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kylorengarbagedump · 3 years

Text

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 4

Read on AO3. Part 3 here. Part 5 here.

Summary: David Rose voice: Oh, my god!

Words: 3200

Warnings: dude

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: First: Thank you to @bastila-ren and @elmidol for their beta-kindness.

I'M ALIVE. I got super burned out at my job, took 5 weeks of FMLA, got incredibly depressed, but now I'm back! Very thankfully, my COVID symptoms were extremely mild. Thank you very very much for your well-wishes and your concerns.

I wish I could express enough apology for my lack of activity, but hopefully uploading a chapter is thanks enough. You all have been so supportive and kind to me. I am SO thankful and appreciative of everything y'all offer me!

(as a side note: I know some people do not like dude, that it throws them out. I am very sorry, but in the politest way possible: I am not going to stop using it. I like it too much.)

I also hope you enjoyed the chapter! God I wonder what's going to happen next chapter. I just don't know.

Love you all so much <3

“Piece of shit.”

Growling, you tugged out another panel from the silencer’s dash. At this point, about a dozen slats of buttons boxed you into the pilot’s seat, crowding you in the cockpit. All of them looked flawless upon inspection, and this new one was no exception. Wires were attached and the circuits were complete, every switch was grounded. You’d gone over a handful of systems already, trapped in this cockpit for hours. The silencer’s refusal to function made no sense. There had to be something you were missing.

The memory of smoke and flames licked at the perimeter of your mind. Yeah, there was a lot you were missing.

Pain burrowed, opened a well in your chest, and you shook your head, rubbing your tired face. There wasn’t time to think about anything else. Sitting forward, you started reattaching the panels to the console. You needed to focus on this. Even though the answer to where you’d go and what you would do once you were finished remained nebulous. Even though you were now apparently unknown and unloved by almost everyone in the universe, including the one man you’d waited on for months.

You caught a sigh in your chest, exhaling into your palms, shutting out the urge to cry. Crying right now was a waste of time. You still had about fifty systems to check, and you’d only read through about half of Kylo’s post-flight novella. Swallowing, you grabbed your datapad from the seat and flipped to the report, forcing yourself through the urge to skim.

It wasn’t like you weren’t interested. Normally this sort of thing was like a buffet for your freakish little brain. But you kept tasting embers on your tongue. Kept seeing your crew--completely unarmed, helpless fuel outpost workers--drowning in destruction. Kept hearing Hux’s voice: Multiple Resistance fighters… Heat gripped your neck, clogged your throat. Multiple fighters for a tiny station. Multiple fighters against three soft, fleshy bodies.

The First Order was not your creed; just your employer. The machine of war had always been an inconvenience to the prestige of working on elite starfighters. You knew that the loss of three cogs was nothing to that machine. In the past, it’d been nothing to you too. But you’d never eaten meals or laughed with or supported those lost cogs when they’d cried. This loss wasn’t just to war. This loss was horrifically and uniquely yours.

“Stop.” You shook your head, tossing your datapad back on the seat. You’d finish putting the console back together, then you’d figure out what to do next.

Jaw tight, you grabbed another panel, and your grip slipped. The sharp edge sliced your palm where the wood had lanced you earlier.

“Fuck!” You dropped it and clutched your hand, seething while you tried to squeeze away the agony. Everything from your fingers to your wrist throbbed, and your chin quaked, tears burning your sight. “Fuck! Fuck!” Snarling, you kicked the panels at your feet. “Fuck!”

The thin cut felt like a sobbing gash. You tore off your jacket and wrapped the sleeve around your palm, wincing when you tightened it to the wound.

“Stupid fucking panels!” you growled, kicking the panels again. “Stupid fucking ship, stupid fucking Kylo, stupid fucking Resistance!” The final kick dented a panel, popped off a shiny button. “Gods!”

You covered your face in your jacket and screamed until your throat crackled, until your lungs were dry. Head spinning, you drew in a breath and screamed again, stomping the floor until dizziness dropped you into the pilot’s chair. Warmth glowed at your cheeks, leaked down your back. Tremors rippled to your toes as you took in a long, steadying breath, exhaling in reluctant relief.

You considered sitting there forever. But it only took two seconds for you to remember how Kylo also sat in this chair thinking of and dealing with everything that wasn’t you before you grunted and climbed out of the cockpit.

The rest of the hangar seemed wholly unconcerned or otherwise ignorant to your tantrum. Wiping your eyes, you hopped to the ground, wagging off the lingering fury in your limbs. Maybe you just needed a walk. You cleared your throat and kept your hand clutched to your chest, the whispering ache pulsing in rhythm with your heart.

In all the hours you’d been in the cockpit, the Steadfast had continued to orbit Orinda. Xi-class shuttles whirled beyond the hangar entrance--probably staffed with crew collecting reconnaissance from whatever the Resistance left behind from the attack. Your feet carried you to the fuzzy blue edge of the magnetic shield’s barrier, meters from vacant space. A quiet hum resonated from its perimeter through your soles.

You gazed into the galaxy. Orinda was a glimmering grain of sand, adrift in the celestial trenches. A fuel outpost turned graveyard. An acceptable casualty of the Resistance. Another home where you couldn’t return. That whispering ache rumbled to a hiss and cast itself over your skin, raking it over with misery, with exhaustion. Your chin quivered. The only place you could think to sleep was the silencer. Eyes falling to the floor, you turned back to the hangar.

“My quarters.”

You squealed and jumped, clapping your hands to your chest. Feet away stood Kylo Ren.

“Shit!” you said, exhaling in relief. “How the hell do you do that?” When he said nothing, you continued, “Like, sneak up on me like that.”

“You’re not perceptive.”

You frowned. “Okay, well…” He wasn’t wrong. You sighed, shrugged. “Anyway.”

Kylo stepped forward, assessing you in your tank top, scrutinizing the tourniquet you’d made of your jacket. “Your hand.”

“It’s fine,” you said, holding it behind your back. “Your quarters?”

His stare lingered on your exposed shoulders, on your neck. “Stay,” he said. “Until the silencer is repaired.”

“That could be as early as next cycle.”

“Given your skill, yes.”

It was difficult to look in his direction. Every worn nerve screamed for his touch. “And then what?”

“You’ll depart to another station.”

You tried to flush the pain from your voice. “So,” you said, “you want me to stay with you through, like, one cycle, and then leave.” You looked to the ceiling in faux-consideration. “Cool. I think I’ll pass.”

Kylo’s eye twitched. He moved closer, tone icy. “You have nowhere to sleep,” he said. “I…” He paused. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me you prefer the silencer.”

“Well,” you replied, “I’ve never fucked the silencer. I never told the silencer how I felt about it. The silencer has never treated me like a stranger who just walked off the plains of Lothal.” You tapped your chin. “So, yeah, I prefer the silencer.”

He grit his teeth. “You’re no stranger.”

“Sure could’ve fooled me!” A couple of heads turned in your direction.

“Quiet,” he hissed. “It apparently takes very little for you to be fooled.”

“Excuse me?” you replied. “Run that by me again, Supreme Leader?”

“Now your hearing fails you.”

“This is great.” You offered a false smile. “This conversation is going really well.”

Kylo snarled, shoulders bunching with restraint. “You speak this way and then question why you’re unwelcome,” he replied. “Deaf and foolish.”

“Oh!” A frustrated laugh escaped. “Okay, then. Talk to you later, Your Excellency. I need a nap before I keep trying to fix your dumbass ship.”

Shaking your head, you folded your arms over your chest and stormed past him, anger blurring your vision. Stupid fucking asshole--

You made it three steps before a warm leather glove grabbed your shoulder, and you stalled, goosebumps shooting to your hands. Kylo spun you, your face inches from his, your breath fleeing and forgetting to return. His lips trembled, his jaw tightened, his gaze boring into you before it met the floor, seeking to stare anywhere else. The pressure of his fingers was firm, then floating. And then he swallowed, grip crushing your shoulder, his eyes finding you again.

No one else in the hangar would’ve known, looking at him. But this Kylo Ren was familiar to you.

This Kylo Ren was terrified.

“I don’t…” His voice was a feather in the air. “You are…” He averted his attention, stiffening. “You have a home.”

Your chest swelled. Water stung your eyes. “I do?”

“Yes,” he replied, utterly sincere. “But not here. Not now.”

Hairline fractures crept into your heart.

“Kylo.” Your composure cracked. All of you wanted to melt, to disintegrate into his being and know each word trapped on his tongue. There was a reason you could not find him, that he would not unfold himself to you. “Please. Why do you want me gone so badly?”

His lips parted, as if he were about to speak--and he paused. He drew in a breath through his nose. “Complications,” he replied. “Factors you do not understand.”

You stepped closer, throat tight. His breath brushed your nose. “Tell me, then.”

Kylo huffed, shifting on his feet--and his face froze. His limbs locked, muscles taut. His gaze widened, fixated on something over your shoulder. Air leaked from him, like time was slowing to a close. You blinked, looked behind you. But nothing was there.

Frowning, you cleared your throat. “Kylo?” He didn’t even acknowledge you. “You’re really just going to leave it like that?”

His pupils were pinpricks.

It wasn’t like you were heartless. You knew that he was attempting wasn’t easy. But what you were feeling wasn’t a sail on a skiff either. You didn’t just deserve more. You needed it.

“Okay,” you said, backing out of his hold. “This was nice. But I have a TIE fighter to repair. So.” He didn’t respond. Didn’t even move. “Whatever.”

You turned--Kylo’s focus flicked to you. His mouth dropped, like there were words he wanted to and couldn’t speak. Instead, he remained silent, fury simmering in his gaze while you pivoted away. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t think you had to.

When you arrived at the silencer, you clambered into the cockpit, like it was a hole you could hide in until he disappeared. Shame, stubbornness, or surrender--you imagined one of these was responsible for why he didn’t pursue you, but you didn’t care. This ship repair would be your parting gift to him, and you could take off, probably spending the rest of your life wondering how you’d managed to fuck up your affair with the galaxy’s most ineligible bachelor.

Loose panels still swarmed the pilot’s chair. You sighed and put on your jacket, settling in and throwing your feet on the dash. Your hand thumped with irritation as you closed your eyes.

Just a couple of hours. That’s all you needed. Then you’d keep working like the foolish little--

Clank.

You yelped, flinching in your seat.

Clank.

Heart fluttering, you scanned the cockpit before realizing the noise came from outside the ship.

Clank.

It was behind you. Someone was messing with the refuel port. Or the solar lines. You couldn’t tell. Grumbling, you scrambled out of the chair and hoisted yourself up the escape. If they were fucking up this stupid ship even further--

Clankclankclank.

“Hey!” You popped your head free. “Will you...”

For a split second, you’d thought Kylo had decided to rip the solar line access open and tear into his own power supply. But then your vision focused. The man crouched over the ship was a different intimidating masked man dressed only in black. Your stomach twisted. It was the one from the Buzzard. The one who’d shoulder-checked you.

“Kuruk.”

His head whipped in your direction, the talons of his predator’s gaze gouging your chest. He pulled his hands free of the solar lines, his gloves greasy with reactant.

“Lieutenant.”

Previously you’d thought absolutely no one but Hux could spit that word with that degree of acidity. But if Hux spat it like acid, then Kuruk hocked it--dragged it up through his throat and sputtered it like necrotic phlegm.

You crawled onto the dorsal plane with the coordinated majesty of a blurrg, trying not to heave and ruin any level of authority you might have tricked him into thinking you maintained. When you’d made it to both feet, you straightened, as if you did this all the time, and moved toward him.

“What are you doing?”

“Repairing a starfighter.”

You snorted. “Really,” you replied. “Tearing out a power supply is repairing?”

Kuruk jerked his arm, wrenching free another line, spewing collector dust into the air. “Closer to repairing than sleeping in the cockpit.”

Heat rushed your spine, swathed your neck. “Yeah, well…” You examined him, watching as he cocked his head to avoid the blinders attached to his helmet. “At least I can see properly when I work on a ship.”

“Magnification’s built into the visor.”

More heat, this time crackling in your cheeks, drying your tongue. “Look,” you said, “this is my job. I don’t need amateurs screwing it up for me.”

He paused, turned his gaze on you again. “Amateurs?”

You shrugged. “In comparison, yeah, probably.”

Kuruk leaned on his heels, wiping his gloves on his jacket. “I don’t think so.”

“Uh, I do.” This man looked like a weapon. Not an engineer. “What experience do you have?”

“It’s called the Night Buzzard,” he replied. “You might be familiar with it.”

You paused, brow raising. “You…” It was impossible to restrain your laughter. But he didn’t move. “You’re kidding. Right? That’s a joke.”

Kuruk’s hands tensed.

“Dude, that ship’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” you replied. “Did you modify it with a boiled chokeroot?”

His head tilted. He rose to stand, so controlled he looked to be fighting gravity. “I can do more work with a boiled chokeroot than you can do with an entire Star Destroyer’s worth of resources,” he drawled. “Lieu. Tenant.”

The hair on your nape stuck straight, your pulse leapt to the ceiling. But the knowledge that Kylo was within thinking distance abated your fear.

“Might wanna get one then.” You grinned. “You’re not making much progress here without it.”

He stared, filthy fingers furling into fists--and then relaxed, the tension sloughing like reactor slime from his frame. Silent, he returned to a squat, rending more lines from their channels. For some reason, a tiny, irreverent part of you was disappointed.

No, that was a lie. You knew why you were disappointed. But this man wasn’t the one you wanted to be taunting into a wild sexual rage. Exhaling, you crossed your arms.

“It’s still my job,” you said.

“And I’ve been told that once it’s done, you’ll be gone.”

“What?” You gawked. “What the fuck? You, too? I didn’t even do anything to you!”

“Debatable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re mad because your Master didn’t want you to disrespect an officer.”

“No.” Kuruk’s attention snapped to you. “You’re loud.”

Blood drained from your face. “I’m…”

Moments blinked in your memory like a holodrama. Like how you’d spent the entire time aboard the Buzzard thinking about Kylo slamming you against the dashboard and breaking your pussy open. How you’d mentally undressed him, verbally taunted him, physically ached for him. How you’d blazed with hatred for him and stoked it with longing. And how you’d just noted that you were desperate to wind him into a state of frenzied lust so he’d wreck you entirely.

“Oh, fuck.” You glanced at the hangar’s entrance and wondered how quickly you could hurl yourself into the vacuum of space. Speaking of hurling… “Oh, fuck.”

You couldn’t spare Kuruk another glance. With shaking hands, you fumbled your way to the ground, steadying yourself on your weakening knees. There was no way you were going to spend another minute on this ship trying to fix a starfighter while getting thought-eavesdropped by multiple men, one of whom seemed hell-bent on doing your job for you anyway.

All you needed to do was find General Hux and get him to reassign you to another station. You’d figure the rest out later when you had time to process your myriad of losses and crippling rejection. You held your breath the entire trek to the command center, only releasing when the doors opened and you spied Hux at the head of the room, briefing someone on something you didn’t care about.

Wiping your forehead, you trudged over to him. Hux’s gaze darted between you and the other officer, his brow furrowing as you approached.

“A moment,” he said to the man. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

Yeah, it definitely sounded worse out of Kuruk’s mouth. “Can I get a new station? I, uh, I need a new station.” The officer peered at you in horror. You coughed, standing at attention. “General. Requesting a new assignment, sir.”

Hux’s lips pursed, his eyes narrowed. “The silencer is already repaired?”

“Uh, no. No, sir, it’s not.” You stared at your shoes. “Still requesting a new assignment. I believe my work here is complete.”

A pause hung in the air. Hux observed you like you were a recently apprehended criminal. He sighed.

“Dismissed, Captain.” He waited for the man to depart before turning to you. “What do you mean, your work here is complete?”

It was hard to find the appropriate words. “I mean. Uh. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“No.”

You groaned. “Okay.” A long breath, flooding your lungs with air. “Well. My services are no longer required. My presence is redundant. I cannot return to Orinda. I’m requesting another station.” You exhaled. “Sir.”

Hux’s pink face pinched together. “Something happened with Ren.”

Warmth flushed your neck. “Uh, no--”

“Lieutenant,” he said, like the words were thorns on his tongue, “I unfortunately believe your insight and skill may still be of use to the First Order.”

“Sir?”

“The TIE project has been approved. You may be just the person to manage it.”

You balked. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea--”

“No?” Sharp green eyes pierced you into silence. “I thought you might leap at the opportunity, considering how cruelly the Resistance slaughtered your staff.”

Your heart clenched, your chest speared with pain. Better TIE units wouldn’t save them. But you could at least ensure their loss wouldn’t be in vain. Though you’d never supervised an undertaking of that scale before, the excitement of a challenge glittered in the distance. Glittered, then dimmed under a brooding, Kylo Ren-shaped shadow.

“Well…”

Hux glanced away, gazing through the thick panes of transparisteel, as if offering you any more praise would blind him. “Go to the Supreme Leader. Inform him of my plans.” He offered a slight shrug. “If he disagrees, then so be it. We’ll find you a new station.” The thought was left unfinished--he seemed very confident Kylo would not disagree.

Too bad you disagreed with him. “Yes, sir,” you replied. “I understand. Where might I find the Supreme Leader?”

Hux frowned. “Am I his keeper, Lieutenant?”

A brief, blissful image of your fist connecting with his chin flashed through your mind. You shook it away.

“No,” you said. “No, sir. I’ll find him. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Dismissed.”

Shooting him a glare, you pivoted on your heel, marching out of the command center. All you needed to do was find where Kylo Ren might be by searching the entirety of this huge Star Destroyer. That would be easy.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fya2 #fanfiction problems #GOLLY-GEE WILLIKERS

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greekowl87 · 4 years

Text

Fic: Remember, You’re Still Alive

A/N: I’m struggling with my smut entry for the exchange as smut is something I don’t think I do particularly well. So I tried to exercise those writing muscles with this fic. First, it was just going to be a quick post-ep for “Pusher,” then “Kitsunegari,” and then it just found itself mixed into this fic into something resembling a story. Apologies for typos, no beta. P.S. Smutty so yeah.

Tagging the regulars and the those for the WIP post I did if they’re interested: @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen @msrheadcanon @monikafilefan @sarie-fairy

As Mulder rested in the dark of his apartment on his leather couch, he could feel his lower back beginning to ache from the indent of the middle cushion. But that was okay. He deserved the pain. At least it was some form of punishment.

The nightmare always started the same way. He could still hear the spinning of the cylinder of the revolver with the single bullet, reminding him of the Wild West. Except it was Russian Roulette. Would the bullet kill him? But then the nightmare was true to his memory. He saw Scully in the doorway. The bulletproof vest was too large for her. Everything always seemed too large for her. In his dream, there were never any words spoken between them but he imagined she could hear her thoughts. Her pleas were crushing, heart-wrenching...but the tears were all real. The tears were something he could never unsee. But he would always wake up before taking the shot.

Sometimes though, the nightmare would continue and he would see Scully, via Linda...Modell’s twin sister and the nightmare of killing

In his waking, logical mind, he knew he shot Modell (and now his twin sister). He would resist, with every cell in his body, not to hurt Scully. But the thoughts, the memory kept playing over and over in mind and it lingered…

There was a light knocking at the door and he glimpsed at his VCR clock; it was 3:07 am. “Mulder, it’s me.”

Scully was right outside of his door. Why was she here? He would be just better to suffer in his loneliness and depression.“Go away, Scully.”

He heard a key slipping into the lock and gently being nudged open. “No.” The door shut behind her, locked, and she didn’t bother turning on any lights. “I know you can’t sleep.”

“I just want to be left alone, Scully.”

“And what? Wallow in your depression and self-pity?”

“Astute as always. You hit it on the head, Scully.”

“Why are you behaving like this?” She sat on the edge of his coffee table, facing him. “Mulder, answer me.”

“I can’t sleep.” He blinked lethargically. “I guess neither can you.”

“I keep having nightmares,” she admitted softly. Something was set on his coffee table next to her. “I suspect you do as well.”

“I almost killed you. Again. How many times will it take to convince you, Scully, that I am bad for you?”

“You didn’t. You didn’t,” she said. Ignoring every FBI protocol, she bent forward to take his face in her hands. “You showed how strong you are. Mulder, what happened in the hospital was two years ago. And there was no one else who could have spotted the differences in this case but you.”

“I almost shot you.” His voice was broken. “I almost hurt you, Scully.”

“But you didn’t. Or are you talking about the warehouse?”

He nodded. “Everything. Including the cancer. I am just going to hurt and get you killed.”

“No, you won’t. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Scully was quiet and watched him as he turned his face away to stare at the wall behind the couch. His eyes traced the pictures above him, avoiding her. He turned his back to her. “You thought you beat the cancer, but you didn’t, not really.”Scully forced him to look at her in the light of the fish tank. He blinked and she kneeled next to him by the couch. “I’m the cancer.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m tired, Mulder. Tonight, if anything...let it show…” Her words failed her. “Mulder, you have done nothing wrong. I have…”

“I saw your body, Scully. I saw your dead body, bleeding out all over the warehouse floor. I can’t unsee that. I can’t undo that.”

“It wasn’t me though.”

“It could have been.”

Scully sighed loudly and grasped the edge of the coffee table. “Why do you continue to do this to yourself, Mulder? How many years have you continuously tortured yourself and offered yourself up to punishment? You are worse than those who used to flay themselves during the Black Death as punishment for their sins because they thought the plague was their fault.”

Mulder snorted and turned to look at her slightly. “Black Death? Really, Scully?”

“I remember that from some college history class.” In the dark, she could sense his smirk. “Shut up, Mulder. But seriously, none of this is your fault. If anything you stopped Linda Bowman. You were the only one to see the pattern when everyone else was focused on Modell.”

“But you’ve suffered both times.”

“I wasn’t the only victim.”

She reached out to touch him but he flinched away. Scully hesitated and reached out to him again. He didn’t pull away. She gently touched his forehead and pushed away from the long strands of his hair. “I still can’t get the image out of my mind, Scully.”

“I know, Mulder,” she whispered. “During my cancer, I used to have nightmares about you.”

“About what?” The question tugged at his heartstrings. “Scully?”

“I worried about you. It was always the worse when I was stuck in the hospital, especially towards the end, it was always the worst.” She leaned forward to brush away a stray lock of hair from him. “I know you would come to my room every night.”

“You were asleep.”

“I pretended but I still knew you were always there, Mulder.” She was unsure of what to do next. “Do you want to know what I dreamed?”

“Do I want to know?”

“I think, under these circumstances, it would be good. I saw you defeated,” she whispered. Scully bent forward to touch his hair lovingly. “I also saw you lost. Defeated. You were so consumed by your guilt that you killed yourself. I can’t live with that, Mulder.”

“For not being a profiler,” he tapped his nose sarcastically, “you’re pretty damn good.”

“Well, I learned from the best.”

He huffed sarcastically. “The best.”

“Mulder, please stop beating yourself up. For me.”

“I failed you twice with the same situation, Scully.”

“But you also saved me.” She grabbed his wrist forcefully so he couldn’t pull away and brought his fingertips to trace the back of her neck. He could feel the raised skin from the chip and her goosebumps from his touch. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Mulder. Your faith kept me alive.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“Is it working?”

He smiled faintly but he realized Scully couldn’t see it. “A bit.” He sighed. “How much have we suffered, Scully?”

“Mulder, I haven’t tried to put a number on it, nor do I want to this morning. I came over to see you and not wallow in what-ifs.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, for being a top reputed profiler, you can be so dense sometimes.”

Scully leaned back on the coffee table. This particular case has brought out something in her that she had been battling with since her cancer remission. The dynamic had changed between her and Mulder. She hinted around the topic when she brought a make-do wine and cheese down at that stupid team seminar in Florida; he had been more interested in chasing mothmen. But that raining sleeping bag comment...it stuck with her.

“I think this case has affected both of us. The first time, I almost lost you and this time, you almost lost me.”

“Where are you going with this, Scully?”

He was right; where exactly was she going with this? Her blood had been simmering since they concluded this case and she had come home that night. Something had changed in the air and shifted. “I’m not sure entirely myself, Mulder. Do you remember Florida? When I brought in the wine and cheese plate?”

“Were you sending me secret signals?”

“That you were too thick to catch onto. Then that comment about sleeping bags.”

“We cuddled that night.”

“You call that cuddling?”

Mulder needed the distraction from the nightmare memory replay in his head. Scully’s blood warmed into a relaxing warmth at the prospective. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Mulder held out his hand and she licked her lips at possibility. Just like Mulder, she knew she was eager to put those foul memories behind her. But there was also something else at work: a fear of loss. The Pusher case, both times, brought out their worst fears. That, combined with Scully’s miraculous cancer recovery, only added fuel to the burning fire. Slowly, she took his rough hand, taking the time to admire the beauty of it.

“You have marvelous hands, Mulder.”

“I can say othewise. I like yours better.”

She smirked. “Why?”

“You can do so much.” Mulder reached behind him with his long arm and flicked on the fish tank light. She winced momentarily as he studied her hand. “You give the dead voices, you have a crack shot, and most of all, you can heal with these hands. You’ve healed me more than once. And saved my ass.”

He kissed her palms and then the inside of her wrists. She bent over and cupped his face and gazed at it lovingly. She bent forwards slightly and, before she knew it, she gently kissed him softly. Mulder felt her lean into him and bite his lower lip enticingly. It was like a spark lighting a gunpowder barrel. He reached effortlessly and managed to have her straddle his hips on the couch with him still laying down. Scully yelped in surprise but she saw his heated gaze in the fish tank light and she was lost.

“Well,” Mulder whispered, his hands snaking up under her shirt and expanding against her toned lower back. “'This certainly isn’t a sleeping bag.”

“What are we doing, Mulder? Before we go any further.”

“I think you’ve been trying to hint at something, right?” Mulder was desperate to get those thoughts out of his head. He could still himself aiming his weapon at Scully’s doppelgänger. But this was the real Scully. She bent forward to kiss him again, snaking her tongue inwards as if to breathe life into him. “Scully…”

“What?” She asked hastily. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all.”

Scully moved slightly, trying to adjust to this position. This was different. Very different she clenched her thighs reflexively and Mulder moaned slightly. “What? It's it something?”

“No, no, no.” He breathed. “It’s just been so long, Scully. And this…” He cupped her cheek. “This is the stuff of dreams.”

“Except this is real.” She felt him beneath her. “Oh, this is very real.”

“Are we doing this, Scully?”

“I want to,” she whispered huskily. She felt him beneath her even more, prominent and large. “Fuck, I want you to.”

“I can.”

“This isn’t a one-time thing,” she whispered. Scully forced him to look at her in the dim light. She repeated it like a mantra, “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“What do you want, Scully?”

“You. Only you.”

He let his free hands roam nervously. He pushed beneath her tighter jean’s waist at the small of her back and sighed like he had been burned; his long fingers gently massaging the top of her buttocks. She leaned forwards, surprised how electrical it felt. “What?”

“It’s just been a hot minute,” she breathed. “Since you know…” She looked down at him. “Are we sure about this, Mulder?” As certain as she was, Scully was also equally nervous. “I’m just…”

Mulder remembered how happy he had been when Scully first gave him the news of her remission, how he hugged her, unwilling to let her go. “I’m positive, Scully.”

His hands traveled upwards and gently undid a few buttons of her cardigan. He sighed as his fingertips touched the silken bra. Eager for more, he slipped his hand to cup her breast. He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. “You know, I could make that easier for you.”

“How would you do that, Agent Scully.”

She clenched her thighs and whispered, “Well, Agent Mulder, I may need some help with that.”

“With your permission?”

She nodded and licked her lips again. “I’ve always dreamed of this. You know that?” He spoke to her in a low, husky voice and she found herself getting wetter. “I have a lot of fantasies about us.”

“You do?”

He hummed yes. His fingers gently popped the rest of her buttons on her sweater and he expanded his chest with a deep breath of reverence. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s just like I said, it’s been a second. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect, well, except that bra of yours. It’s actually a bit of a hindrance. Do you mind? I’m not quite an expert in it.” She obliged and undid her bra. Mulder sighed happily and palmed both of her breasts. “Oh, Scully, you are so beautiful.”

Hearing those words uttered from his lips made her feel alive. His hands gently expanded, squeezed, pinched, and teased. It was driving her mad and she wanted more. Scully leaned forward and kissed him crushingly. Mulder’s arms wrapped around her and sighed. Her own hands pushed up his shirt and he sat up slightly to let her pull it off. Her well-manicured nails scratched teasingly at his chest like mapping a new discovery. She leaned forward, pressing herself against him, eager to feel what it was like with their skin pressed together.

It was like what Scully imagined the splitting of an atom had created, something indescribable and otherworldly but at the same time, still very real.

“Mulder…”

He sat up with her, still in his lap, and switched their positions so they would be reversed. Scully suddenly felt exposed but Mulder gently peppered feather-like kisses down her lips to her throat, her sternum, her abdomen like bread crumbs before stopping at the button of her jeans. “Scully, these have to go.”

She breathed deeply and nodded. Her eyes were dilated as she stared at him hungrily. Very gently he popped the button and pulled down the zipper slowly. The sound gave her goosebumps. Slowly, he pulled away from her jeans and she lifted her hips to help. “Oh, Scully, you are so beautiful.”

She didn’t know how she was suddenly so aroused. “Mulder, if you were cancer, I wouldn’t feel so alive as I do now.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“I haven’t felt this alive in ages, Mulder.”

He smiled proudly and leaned forward to kiss her. The jeans fell on the floor and, with a shaking hand, cupped her lower mons over her underwear. “You are so wet, Scully.”

He leaned forward again to kiss her as his hand sunk beneath the elastic and she sighed in ecstasy into his mouth. His long fingers arched inwards and she arched her hips upward at the initial contact. “Slow,” she commanded.

He met her gaze and held it as his nimble fingers found their way, and judging by Scully’s sharp intake of breath and panting, he was doing something right. “I only want to protect you,” he whispered. He let his hand work as he kissed her lovingly, his tongue delving into her mouth, and dueling her. “I almost lost myself with your abduction. If I had lost you to the cancer, it would have been even worse.”

She pulled back and cupped his face. “What do you mean? Mulder?”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he whispered.

“I would have nightmares of you doing something reckless or killing yourself if I had died from the cancer.” He nodded silently. She brought him back down to her, pressing her body against him. “We’re alive, Mulder. We are very much alive. Do you feel that?”

“What?”

He was too distracted feeling her breasts against his chest. This was the stuff of his dreams. She smiled and took his other hand and placed it against her chest. “My heart. Can you felt my heartbeat?”

He nodded.

“Do you feel how fast it is beating, Mulder? That’s because of you. I have not felt this good or alive in a very, very long time. It’s all because of you.” She kissed him. “You aren’t a cancer. You never were.”

Feeling emboldened, Mulder broke away and whispered, “I’m just getting started.”

Mulder pulled his hand away from her and she was about to protest it, he ripped away the rest of her underwear and he smiled deviously. “Mulder?”

“Watch me,” he ordered.

She clenched her inward muscles. “Mulder.”

“Watch. Me.” He paused. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Did he really just say that? She watched him devour her. At one point, she must have experienced what Mulder called missing time with her. He was calling her name and she was breathing like she had run a marathon. “Scully? Still with me?”

“Um yeah.” She licked her lips. Her entire body was still tingling. “I just...I just didn’t expect it to be so much.”

Mulder smiled smugly. “Do you want a minute or two?”

She nodded and added, “But I don’t want to be the online one naked.”

“We can go to the bedroom,” he said in afterthought.

“You have a bed?”

“Yes, more like a rarely used one but the sheets are clean, I promise.”

She licked her lips and shook her head. The thought of them staying on the couch seemed far more arousing to her than the rarely used bed. “No, let’s stay here. I’m sure between us, we can make this work. Think of it as an overdue team-building exercise.”

Mulder grinned like a fool and bent down to nuzzle her. “You really aren’t rushing with this, are you?”

“As you aptly put, we’re both alive,” he whispered.

“And I want to feel you. This is a two-way street, Mulder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her hand easily undid his jeans and he groaned at her touch. “Scully…”

“Only fair.”

“Fine, fine.”

She sat up and hurriedly stripped him down until he was standing in front of her, all exposed. He watched her bite her lip to keep from grinning. “All I say is this,” she whispered, “we’ll have time to explore later. Right now, I want you.”

The first time was supposed to be special, but in all honesty, it could be rushed or just plain awkward, Scully mused. This was likely the former than the latter. She pulled everything away and gasped. Mulder grinned, excited he could produce such a reaction for her. “How do you want it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I just want you in me.”

It was like an awkward wrestling match that ended Mulder back on the couch and Scully straddling him. They chuckled at the awkwardness. “We’re both very much alive.”

“Yes, we are.”

After some repositioning, Mulder guided himself to her entrance and slowly moved inward. He rolled her beneath him and she wrapped her legs tightly around Scully released a breath she did not realize that she was holding as he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck,” she breathed.

“Okay?”

She nodded. It was like the missing piece of a puzzle she had been trying to construct for years. They moved together, as they often did with everything, this coming (surprisingly) naturally. She wanted fast but Mulder drew it out. She could imagine their movements as a growing crescendo. It felt so good; they were alive. Very much alive.

She clenched around him and he moaned. “Fuck, Scully,” he murmured.

“Is that good? Are you okay?”

“I just asked you that,” he chuckled. “Perfect. Does that answer your question?”

He continued to move in sync with her and she melted at the sensations. She reached to hold him closer. Time melted and seemed forgotten. There was only here and now. There was only them. Taking a moment to like down between them, she watched him move in and out of her and it seemed unreal. She thought about how perfect he felt, how perfect he was. “I can’t think of any other word other than perfect.”

“For once, you’re speechless?” He laughed and kissed her lovingly. “Let’s hurry along. I’m so close, Scully.”

“I’m almost there,” she admitted. She had been too lost in the moment to focus on anything else. “It’s okay if…”

“No. Together.”

He reached between them and she hissed sensually, feeling his thumb begin to rub her clit hard and vigorously. “Shit, Mulder.” Her entire body coiled around him like a strong. “Just like that.”

“You got it. Shit, Scully, you feel so good.” He bit her shoulder gently and moaned. “So perfect. So alive.”

“Both alive,” she panted.

After he added to her ministrations, all it took was a few quick strokes and they were gone. She screamed his name and he howled into her shoulder. Still, on the couch, he moved wearily to the side. He was panting like he had been running forever. “I’ll get up in a sec.” They were both spent and sated. Mulder chuckled as they spooned against each other and he pulled her closer. “And get us something to clean up. But right now, I just want to hold you.”

“Blanket,” she murmured.

He pulled the old brown Aztec blanket around them. “And Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re right.”

“About what?”

“Us. I have never felt more alive than when I am with you.”

“See? Not a cancer.” She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I hope for more of this in our future, Mulder.”

“Think that is highly likely,” he smiled, sneaking another kiss.

She smiled at him. In the blue light of his fish tank, coiled up on the leather green couch together, Mulder and Scully continued to smile at each other, their nightmares momentarily forgotten in the ecstasy of each other.

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #msr fic #msr #season five #angst #smut #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #first time

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akatsuki-celeste · 3 years

Text

I can feel my anxiety medication wearing off so before I re-up it, because if ever there was a day that I just need to keep it going - I feel the need to scream into the void first.

I haven’t talked about my personal life that much save for a few depressive, anxiety-fueled rants before, and maybe this is just one more of those but longer. But today was the last day in a long saga of days that has just made me....really question *everything*. It’s probably the closest I’ve ever felt to being absolutely done.

So the last year and a half has been quite the roller coaster and occasional hell for me, as I imagine it has been for everyone else on the planet. Everyone has their own 2020 story to tell, everyone’s is important, so I haven’t made a huge deal out of mine. I’m luckier than most. So this isn’t a post where I’m going to go on and on about how rough I’ve had it, etc, etc. This is just going to be about...me. The facts, as seen by me.

In March 2020, my work began efforts to roll out a remote work plan that I qualified to start early due to being immunocompromised thanks to a fun little auto-immune disease called ulcerative colitis. I’ve been diagnosed since I was 18, so basically half my life, and the medication I had been on then, Remicade, was one I’d been using for the last decade with absolutely no issues except maybe I get really tired and like naps afterwards. All of that went smooth. I felt relieved that I, at least, was going to be at home. One of my roommates, also a co-worker, was able to work out the same situation so we didn’t even need to deal with transportation for her until the official lockdown.

And then a week - possibly less, my memory is hazy - my roommates (my then-best friend and her brother) got into a screaming fight of such epic proportions that I had an actual mental breakdown in the middle of (first for me). I remember hiding in my room with my laptop - I was still trying to work for some reason, I do remember eventually telling my boss I had a family emergency so I could log off - I remember calling my mother in a panic, and then I remember waking up at my parents’ house about 6 hours later and finding out that my mother had told my former roommates to gtfo, which I did not attempt to rescind (not at the time, because apparently I was there when it happened but I don’t remember this, and not later) because I knew living with them was no longer feasible for a number of reasons which I will not go into. I’m still dealing with five years of mental abuse and trauma on that one.

By the first week of April they were gone, and I was able to busy myself for the next few months with making my place habitable for one person again, which was a good distraction. And then September came around and I started to notice these, well, patches on my skin. At first I thought it was just eczema or dry skin irritation, it happens sometimes. But with each month they got worse and worse, until December finally rolls around and the only conclusion anyone can come up with is that my trusty Remicade, which had successfully kept my UC in check for a decade, had finally decided to stop playing nice with my body and I was having a “psoriasis-like” reaction. So for the first time in a long while I was starting the medication shuffle again, steroid creams and a new UC medication that took nearly 4 months to get approved. I’m still not recovered even though I’ve been off of Remicade for 7 months now. It takes 6 months for that stuff to fully work its way out of a system, so the reactions didn’t stop until a few weeks ago and I’m still struggling to heal. I’d say it’s about 75% better than it was, but showers still suck, pants also suck, and I can’t tolerate temperatures higher than 70 degrees (hi summer, you suck). Also during this time I got the COVID vaccine (woo!) but seriously, if not for remote work I probably would have lost my job. I used up most of my sick leave in the beginning of the year because I couldn’t move without pain, even to sit at the computer for 8 hours. I also have a ton of PTO, but my boss told me that I couldn’t necessarily use it for sick leave (news flash for me) and again, could lose my job if I tried to use it too much. So trigger my anxiety. A lot.

Fast forward. In one week my office is reopening for 50% capacity, which apparently means to upper management that we have to all work 3 days a week in office, 2 days remote, which doesn’t match the math but whatever. They’ve also stopped screening temperatures, have nixed the social distance requirement, and are only requiring masks for the unvaccinated - but aren’t requiring anyone to say whether they are or not. Needless to say, not exactly the best reassurance for my still-immunocompromised ass, not to mention the dress code will murder my skin. So I ask about continuing remote work and get told I need an ADA accommodation. Okay. I get the paperwork and pass it on to my GI; I was already on FMLA for my UC, figured this wouldn’t be that different.

Except my GI has refused to sign the paperwork, saying there’s no medical reason for me to continue remote work. Despite still not being recovered from the skin reaction I got back in December from the Remicade, despite finding information that Remicade potentially interferes with the vaccine, I’ve been told to just adhere to social distancing and mask-wearing despite my employer not requiring that of anyone else. And with all the information about the delta variant coming out.... yeah, I’m scared. Probably paranoid, probably anxious. I have no idea how I’m going to get through a work day without having to medicate and I won’t be able to function if I have to do that. i see my psych before RTW-Day, but only a few days before.

My last chance is that the dermatologist I’m seeing on Wednesday might be able to fill it out based on my condition, but at the moment I’m in a cycle of panic that I’m going to be told it’s Not That Bad and not get taken seriously. Which is a feeling I’ve been having a lot lately. I know it’s partly the depression and anxiety ramping itself up, but I just don’t know what to do now. All I want to do right now is press the restart button. Sell my place, relocate to a new place so radically different from where I am now that I can’t even compare it, start over. Get a puppy, write a novel, not be in $33k worth of debt. This wasn’t where I’d hoped to be at 36, and now it feels like it’s going to be another 5-6 years before I can get there. If I can get there. It seems like another lifetime.

Anyway. That ends my void screaming. TLDR, I have to start working in the office again in a week, I’ve been told by my GI that my auto-immune disease doesn’t qualify me for an ADA accommodation to keep working from home, my anxiety is now living with me instead of me living with it, and my last shot is a dermatologist I’ve never met before.

#personal #anxiety #depression #immunocompromised #COVID #psoriasis #but not exactly psoriasis #Remicade #ulcerative colitis #someone please just get me out of here

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make-it-mavis · 3 years

Text

Homesick (Entry #26)

(cw: drugs/addiction, themes of depression, very brief reference to sex) ----------

01/13/88 12:40 AM

Hey.

The trip got more solid after that. Sort of. Also sort of the opposite.

After that last flash, I found myself still sitting at the table, still across from Fix-it, still not quite eating the destroyed pie in front of me. My hand was completely intact.

My finger slipped in a slow, idle circle of cold red syrup. I had my knees pulled up to my chest and my heels on my seat. I’d draped the blanket over my head like a hood and cocooned the rest of it around myself, only exposing my arm to touch the plate. I was too hot, less from the blanket and more from what felt like a fever.

Fix-it’s voice was just finishing a sentence. “--can hear me, just nod your head. If you can hear me.”

I gave one small nod, more entranced with the feeling on the tip of my finger than anything else.

He asked tentatively, “What’s your name?”

My voice was muffled against my knees. “Mavis.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Fix-it Felix Jr.”

He sighed in relief. “Mavy… I need you to listen to me. This might be hard to understand right now, but… a lot of things you’ve seen or experienced tonight… that you’re experiencing right now… are not real. You’re safe, okay? You’re very safe. But you’re not in your right mind. You’re on buffs,” he swallowed. “You’re on… on Game-- Game Changers.”

I blinked without looking up. “No, I’m not.”

“Mav--” he paused to contain himself. “Mavy, honey, listen. Let me tell you what really happened tonight, okay?”

Pain in my head flared, scratching blue lines in my vision. I tried to listen, but buff-fueled stimuli did its best to drown him out.

As the stripes on the wallpaper lifted and arched like a hissing cat, he said, “You broke through ---------- second floor. You ---------- bed frame and ---------- like you were being attacked. You even ----------- when I ---------- understand what I was saying…” his voice and eyes lowered. “You… didn’t even know who I was…”

The windows shattered into jagged teeth in yawning mouths that stretched so wide, the curtain rods crumbled off. Tiny, pink, hairless bats flowed from the holes in the walls and flew in circles above our heads. Niceland itself seemed to break from the earth and float on rolling waves like a pirate ship, and he continued, “You went on about ‘a dog in the hive’ and ---------- saw Gene and chased ---------- had him backed into a corner ---------- in time to stop you from -----------”

“Wait,” I said, watching the table leg divide itself into pieces, “Gene? No, it was a dog!”

“It was definitely Gene, Mavy. You scared the daylights out of him.”

“I almost bludgeoned Gene to death with a bat?”

I could hear resigned disapproval in his voice. “Leg of a bedframe, actually, but, yes.”

Pretty sure I laughed an unwholesome, violent, and spiteful laugh, but it played from my throat like a rolling xylophone. Fix-it was less amused.

“Mavis.”

Suddenly, I felt a bit pissed. “Why did you stop me? He would have respawned! That little sausage roll had it coming!”

“This isn’t funny, Mavis! This couldn’t be farther from funny!”

I forgot what we were talking about. “What happens next?”

He explained insistently, “I had to stop you, of course. I knew you wouldn’t like it when I touched you, but ---------- scratching holes in your arms ---------- blood all down your arm, but you wouldn’t let me ---------- out the window to the dump.”

While he spoke, I pushed my finger into a cold, mushy cherry and took way too long to pop it in my mouth. It tasted… in a word, obscene. My feet were yanked to the floor, my knees pried apart, and when I peeked down into the dark of the blanket, binary-blue glowing eyes leered up at me from between my legs. They winked.

It suddenly became way harder to listen, even as I stared intently at the speaker.

“Ralph actually brought you back up here when he found ---------- heal ---------- shouting about being a bird ---------- slow ---------- started to even out ---------- were very chatty, but still couldn’t understand me ---------- on my couch for two hours ---------- talking to me, but ----------- get through to you ---------- with that pie for an hour and a half…”

The wallpaper peeled down like banana skins, and suddenly, we were surrounded by an aquarium. Rather, we seemed to be in a glass box in the ocean, with a panorama view of the life around us. Rainbows of shimmering fish rippled over a coral reef blooming with funny, fingery flowers. Silhouettes of dolphins twirled in the distance. Pink jellyfish floated around like half-filled party balloons. I felt my little hood fall back as I took it all in, spellbound. Part of me wanted to break out and swim away. Would being a fish be so bad?

“Your eyes are still so blue…” he told me then.

I turned my head, and screamed as I felt a wall of icicles shoot through my body.

A dog was in the water. The one that got away. Looking like a deathly thin shark, it floated limply and stared at me with those dead, black eyes.

“THERE!”

I grabbed the nearest object and hurled it with all my strength. When the plate smashed against the wall, the illusion broke. All of them did. The apartment was just an apartment. I sat back in my chair and tried to steady my breathing, tried to level out my heart’s tantrum. Once I settled, I settled hard. I fell into an eerie sense of calm. A peaceful numbness.

When I saw the pie splattered over the wall and the plate shards on the floor, I said, “Aw. The pie.”

Then I heard a sniff.

I looked at Fix-it. He was crying. He covered his mouth and leaned on his elbows, quietly watching me through watery blinks. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

“I can…” I said slowly, “cut another slice… or get another plate, you know… There’s no need to, uh…”

He didn’t answer.

Finally, I asked, “Why are you crying?”

For a moment, he only shook his head. Then he said, through his hand, “I just… I look at your face, and I just--” he shook, “-- I’m so afraid that this’ll be the last time I see it.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. My knowledge of my high state was unsteady.

“Why? Are you sick?”

“Make-it Mavis,” he said forcefully, “you’re going to corrupt yourself.”

I took a moment to contemplate that, long enough for him to ask if I still understood him.

“I hear you,” I nodded.

“I-- I thought,” he shook so hard, he could barely speak. “I watched you lying there on-- on my couch, and-- and your eyes were so bright, they cast beams on the ceiling, and-- and you were twitching and kicking and your--” he choked on his words, “-- I thought I could see a blue tint over your sprite-- it might have been my imagination but-- but I didn’t know what to do, because I was so-- so scared that you were-- were gonna corrupt right then and there, right in my living room, right-- right before my eyes!”

I felt around inside my cheek with my tongue. “If that’s the case, why would you worry about never seeing my face again? You’d see my face every day,” I shrugged. “Y’know, just in pieces.”

“Mav--” he broke right into sobbing. I was hopelessly confused.

I asked, “What’s the matter?”

After a period of collecting himself, he said, “Mavy, this isn’t a joke. If you take enough GC, and you get addicted, it’s-- it’s all over. The--” he seemed to go green, “-- the other sprites that have been found corrupted, they-- they all--... None of them had a code deficiency, Mavis. Do you know how long it took for a GC addiction to kill them?”

“Two weeks.”

He fell silent. As if he were afraid to ask, he breathed, “How many have you taken?”

I answered, even though I felt like I didn’t know, “Just two.”

“...Over how long?”

“I… don’t know. A couple days?”

Tears poured from his eyes. “Mavy… Mavy, do you want to corrupt?”

“What? No. I don’t even want to die, much less… y’know, that.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you--...” he made vague, upset gestures. “You’re hurting so bad, Mavy. Why do you medicate with-- with this? None of this fixes anything. There are sprites who are able and willing to help you. Just let them. You don’t have to do this alone -- please, please realize that. None of us can undo… the past, but we can make the present and future better. Things can and will get better, Mavy, you just need to--”

“It can only get so much better, though, can’t it?”

He froze. I just blinked and sat in my chair comfortably, as if we were having a quaint conversation over tea. I didn’t even know where my words were coming from -- I just opened my mouth and let them flutter out like moths.

I continued, “It can only get so good. I think I almost found what ‘good’ really felt like to me, but… it’s over now. I don’t know if I have it in me to look for ‘good’ again, not when losing it hurts this much. I don’t know how to carry on, knowing what I do. I don’t want to die -- I just want to forget. I don’t want to corrupt, and I’m not trying to. I haven’t lost my will to live or anything, it’s just that… I’ve been looking for ways to be happy here my whole life, and… that search has never been more daunting than it is now. I’m tired. I want to rest my head for a while. I just want little vacations from life. That’s what GC is to me.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I spoke before I realized I’d opened my mouth.

“I’m too big for the life I was made for, Fix-it. I can only cut off so many pieces of myself to fit into it.”

He seemed stunned. With good reason, too. I’d never opened up to him quite like that before. He was lucky I was so high.

He muttered, “You… You mean being an Easter Egg?”

“Yeah. Everything that goes with it,” I thought for a second. “I probably have the smallest code out of any playable character in the arcade, and I’m still too big for this place. I don’t belong here. I’ve known that my whole life.”

I thought for a second. “I’m not sure I belong anywhere.”

“Mavis,” Fix-it said, suddenly firm, even with red eyes. “That is, if you’ll forgive my potty-mouth, a whole lotta hooey.”

“Hooey?”

“I know it’s hard for you to feel at home… anywhere, Mavy. I know the Devs served you the short end of the stick. And if I meet ‘em after I delete one day, you can bet I’ll give ‘em a good talkin’ to for treating my cousin like that -- but good golly, Mavis. You know this, you must know this,” he leaned on the table. “You are more than just an Easter Egg.”

I just looked at him, waiting. I expected him to tell me a bunch of stuff I already knew and that never helped me before. I was… mostly right.

“Mavis, I have not seen a single sprite less defined by their coded role than you. Most of the time, you don’t even show up for work! And, you know what? That’s okay! Because… I know these words hurt you real bad before, but…” he swallowed, determined. “This game… doesn’t need an Easter Egg.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear a distant echo of Gene’s voice saying that, even after all these years. I didn’t have the emotional presence to be upset by Fix-it bringing it up. I just waited for him to finish his point.

“But this arcade,” he slapped the table, “needs a Make-it Mavis.”

I’ll admit it. That was a nice thing to hear.

I can’t tell if I was in a good or bad state to be receptive to it.

“Well…” I said, eyes wandering. “I’d like to believe you. Maybe it did. But it sure doesn’t want me right now.”

He considered that. “Times are really tough right now, but… they won’t always be. Someday soon, it’ll be okay. Once it’s all died down. And until then, you still have sprites who care about you.”

“Like who?”

“Me. Tapper. I-- I think Ralph… maybe? Uh…” he trailed off. I could see panic in his eyes.

I looked at him quietly. I could hear the effort in his voice, the genuine desire to help. More than that, I heard the fear. He was desperate to help me, but lost as to how, and afraid that he wouldn’t figure it out in time. I know I’m not easy to help. I know that. It’s kind of hard to put into words the reasons why. I just need to be able to know that I’m in charge of my own life, whether that lands me in good or bad places. I have a lot of reasons to fly solo. But as Fix-it threw himself so wholeheartedly into some kind of verbal rescue effort, I recognized that there was no way he could understand any of them. If the worst happened to me, I bet he would blame himself.

I knew all too well what that feels like.

I may not exactly be Fix-it’s biggest fan, but I don’t strive to be cruel. If I really was boarding a one-way train to corruption, attempting to dig up the seeds of guilt before they could take root would be the least I could do.

I wouldn’t have been good at that while sober. I don’t think being high made it any easier.

I asked, “Do you really love me?”

Fix-it froze as if I’d punched him in the chest. I just watched him.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “Of course I love you. Don’t you know that?”

“Sometimes. I think. There’s just something I need to tell you. I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out on your own, but, y’know...”

I looked at him. He was waiting on bated breath, already overflowing with tears. I’m sure he was expecting something better than what I said.

“You’re wasting your time.”

I genuinely took no joy in the stricken look that broke over his face. “What..? No, I’m not.”

“You’re wasting your time and your pain. You can’t keep wasting your love on me.”

“It’s not…” he shook. “I’m not wasting my love. How can you say that?”

“I…” I suddenly felt my shoulders getting heavy. “I… can’t... accept it.”

“Why, Mavy..?”

“I can’t,” I said a bit more forcefully. “No matter how much love you offer, I’m not built to receive it. You’re going through all the trouble of worrying about me all the time, and for what? Doesn’t it hurt you when you get nothing back? Loving me isn’t kind, it’s stupid.”

“Mav--”

“I have nothing to offer you. I can’t give you anything for your trouble. There’s no way for us to have…” I gestured, “a real, functioning relationship. I know it’s very hard to understand why, but trust me. The best thing you could possibly do for yourself is to stop caring so much about me. It’s just going to keep hurting you. Especially right now. If I really do get addicted to GC, and I corrupt myself, you’re going to feel like the entire Devs-forsaken world is ending. You’re going to think it was your fault for not doing more. You’re going to hate yourself every day for not protecting me, but you couldn’t have protected me. If I’m going to be corrupted, it’s going to have everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you. But if you love me so much, you won’t be able to understand that. You have so many reasons to hate me already. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll use them.”

He took a second to breathe, clearly dwarfed by the massive plate of emotions I was serving him. I could see in his eyes things that I didn’t quite understand, but they felt so invasive. I’d laid myself just open enough for him to peer inside, and even in my numb state, I felt horrendously naked. After a period of silence, my eyes fell, and my voice lowered.

“You can’t help me,” I said, and fell into barely a whisper. “I… don’t know how to let you.”

We were both quiet for a minute. I was hesitant to look up, but when I did, I was thrown for a loop.

He was smiling. Through tears, but still. There was a quivering, wavering smile on his face.

“Why…” I said cautiously, “...are you smiling?”

A short, single-note laugh burst wetly from his mouth, and he shook his head. “Mavy, don’t you see what you’re doing?”

“...No?”

“You’re giving back. You’re trying to protect me,” he nodded. “You do care about me.”

Yeah. Gross. But at the time, I was just stunned. I couldn’t fathom how I could have broken such hard truths over his head and still have him smiling. “You… wait, what?!”

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t even try. This is just one of the things that makes you so wonderful, Mavy -- you’re so full of surprises. You think you don’t know how to be loved, but you do. It just… might not be in the way everyone else does. You give back in ways you don’t see,” he said. “Like right now.”

I stared, agape.

“And, you know…” his smile weakened a bit, “I’m sorry that accepting help is so hard for you. And… yes, it is frustrating a lot of the time. It does hurt. But, no matter what you think you can or can’t accept…” he shrugged a bit, “I still love you. I don’t need your help with that. And you can’t protect me from it, either.”

“You…” I muttered, “ought to have higher standards for yourself. Don’t you want more?”

“Mavy…” he looked at me earnestly, tears flowing, “please listen to me. I don’t care about you just to get something in return. I care about you because I love you. I don’t care if you change or not. I just care that you’re safe.”

I said nothing. I don’t know what my face read.

He continued, “So please, please, Mavy. If I can’t protect you, please protect yourself for me. No more Game Changers, please. Please don’t take my cousin away.”

I blinked slowly and swallowed. “I’ll… try. I just don’t understand how you could care so much when I so clearly... don’t... want you to. Suppose I survive. Just how long do you think you could keep this up?”

Without a single thought, he answered, “Forever.”

The word was barely out of his mouth before I felt it quite physically slap me hard across the face. I reeled and pressed my palm into my cheek, sucking my teeth. I asked, “What in the eight bits was that..?” as pain in my head began to climb.

Fix-it straightened up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I guess, but…” I pulled my hand from my cheek and saw a bright red streak over the palm of my glove. “What…”

Looking at it shot blinding pain through my head and tore holes in the oddly calm veil I’d been hiding behind. Clutching my head with my other hand, I asked, “Fix-it, am I bleeding?”

“No, Mavy. Not for a while, now.”

“Then what’s…” I stared at the stain, and my heart began to pound. I showed him my hand. “What is this?”

“That’s… your hand.”

“No,” I insisted. “The stain. On my glove.”

He put his hands up in a deescalating way. “Mavy…”

“I’ve seen it before. Why do I keep seeing it?!”

“Mavy, listen. You’re not wearing your gloves.”

It was still there when I turned my palm towards me. “Yes I am! It’s right here! What is it!?”

The sight of my hand became so sharp, so crisp and defined, the scarlet streak so vivid that it bore into my eyes, while the world around me began to wobble and distort at the edges. A hundred jackhammers in my head threatened to split my skull open. Wires of binary scratched, hissed, and sparked across my vision. I felt myself hit the floor.

Squinting through the stinging blue, I didn’t recognize the apartment anymore. I felt like I was looking at it through waves of warped glass. Patches of greyscale cut through the shifting colors. The lines on the wallpaper swelled and shrunk like a ribcage, and with each breath, the lights flared and dimmed. I heard a voice, far away and muffled as if underwater, and a mess of blurry pixels bent over me.

I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming panic. I was dropped into another mental timeline entirely. I was suddenly lost, unprepared -- I felt like I should have known what to do, but I didn’t. I had to act quickly, but I didn’t know on what. I had no idea where any of this was coming from.

I screamed almost involuntarily, and heard glass shatter.

I dodged the blurry figure with a roll, hit my already throbbing head on what I quickly recognized as a table leg. Almost on instinct, I dove for cover under said table, and folded myself up tight. I hid my face in my knees and pulled angrily at my hair, as if I could rip a hole in my scalp to vent out the pain. The crashing and smashing grew louder and more frequent.

When I dared to peek up from my knees, I saw the walls beginning to push inward with a groan, but not in a comforting way, this time. The drywall began to split and crumble with the pressure, and the room’s light started to struggle and flicker frantically, each frame of darkness seeming to plunge me into a completely different room. The shattering glass rang out like deafening warfare. I couldn’t take it. It was ravaging my brain in ways I didn’t understand. I had so many phantom emotions running my thoughts in circles, it just left me reeling.

“Stop,” I said into my knees, “Stop, stop, stop --” and I screamed, “STOP, STOP IT, YOU’RE GONNA PASS OUT!”

A hand made of dense, metallic code touched my arm.

I shrieked and scrambled backwards. Fix-it knelt in front of me, perfectly tangible, his hand still lifted. When I saw his worried face, I noticed that the rest of the room had snapped back into place, too. My heart wanted to break out of my chest, my head was still killing, and my throat was parched, but everything seemed intact and steady again. My arm still tingled in a sharp and gross way where he touched me. Apparently, the shock of his code was enough to snap me out of it. I wanted to be pissed at him for touching me, but I was too stunned. I took in the sight of him completely, crouching there in full work clothes sans hat, looking ready to collapse from exhaustion, yet still going through all the effort of trying to help me.

I was floored by the fact that he succeeded.

As I clutched my chest, trying to catch my breath, he sat down very gently. “Easy, easy,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

I swallowed.

He asked carefully, “What’s your name?”

I breathed, “Mavy.”

His eyes widened a bit, and he held his breath for a second. He asked, “Do you know who I am?”

I stared at him. The bare bones of it, at that point, seemed obvious.

“My cousin.”

I swear I heard his heart thump.

He slowly brought up his knee to rest his cheek on it, and he took deep breaths. That episode clearly stressed him out, too -- hardly a fair comparison, but still. A weak smile appeared on his face. “Your eyes are starting to dim.”

For a moment, I tried to remember how much time had passed. Then, a pressing thought occurred to me.

“Wait. What time is it?”

“Uh,” his eyes shifted. “Around 3:30?”

“AM?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, crit--” I hit my head on the underside of the table. “Ow-- Okay, I gotta go,” I said as I climbed out and stood. “I’m so cussin’ late. Even for me.”

Fix-it got to his feet, too, and looked more than a little confused. “You had to be somewhere?”

I pulled my gloves on. “Yeah, I was supposed to meet Turbo in Paperboy like, five hours ago,” I grabbed my conveniently materialized leather jacket from the chair and shrugged into it. “He’s probably gone home by now to anger-sleep. You’d never believe that’s possible ‘til you’ve seen it.”

Fix-it just turned white.

I strode to the door in a place it hadn’t been before. “Toodles,” I said, before grabbing air and walking into the wall.

There was no door. There were no windows.

I was very late, and there was no way out.

Flash.

My game’s screen loomed in front of me.

I sat cross-legged, wrapped in the blanket, on the grass in front of Niceland, staring up at our inverted title screen with dry eyes. My body felt hot and riddled with aches that would only get worse as my high continued to fade, and my brain felt fizzled to a crisp. I was so tired, I couldn’t even recognize that I wanted to sleep.

Someone next to me didn’t have the same problem. I heard the honks of Fix-it’s cartoonish snoring. He was just barely upright, his face smushed against his bent knee, a bit of drool staining his pants. I wondered how long he’d been there. I wondered how we came to be there at all, but not enough to wake him. Maybe if I had been sober, I would have painted an airhorn. But, being hazy and braindead and with a faulty brush, I just idly flicked colors onto different parts of his sprite. Red hat, orange shirt, yellow shoes. Red hair, orange skin, yellow pants. Red, orange, yellow.

Past my sleeping canvas, I saw movement. Wreck-it was climbing onto his kingdom of bricks, presumably coming home after a particularly long night at Tapper’s. He came to the little peak behind which sat his stump, and paused. His head turned, and he saw me.

I looked at him blankly.

He held my gaze for a minute. It was hard to tell just what expression he was making, but even from my distance, I could see him sigh. He shook his head slowly and stepped out of view.

I couldn’t manage any thoughts on that.

Red, orange, yellow. Red, orange, yellow.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #original character #homesick

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thingsifindinthedark · 4 years

Text

Some thoughts about: Anger, Illness and Imagination

Good morning

It’s 11:30 am in Los Angeles and the sky is finally looking blue again even though fires are still raging close by.

Living in the smoke reminded me of winters in West Virginia. When the sky was just a heavy gray blanket from November through April. It felt cruel at the time.

I never got used to that winter.

My moods are so connected to the weather and what I’m looking at outside.

California is the perfect place to live if you’re pretending to be happy all the time.

The weather always tells you you should be hiking, and laughing as you wash your face with some sort of foaming organic cleanser like you’re in a commercial.

Setting aside the horrific reality of the fires, purely for the sake of metaphor, there’s a poetry in being here in this moment.

Just as I learn to make room for anger, and embrace it, and leave the cult of fake positivity, things are going up in flames.

Something that therapy and illness has taught me, is how much freedom and power we have to make sense of certain things creatively in whatever way we want. It’s just hard to let ourselves do it, it feels almost indulgent. Or maybe silly. Or we feel it will take away from our ability to grasp harsh truths or do something about them. I think we need both versions.

The places where I have most desperately wanted certainty and facts but not been able to get them- those are the places where finding meaning with my imagination helps my life.

I remember being in 3rd grade, newly dealing with the reality of being in pain all the time. Something had changed in my stomach.

I was now late for school every single day, a trend that would continue, because of the mixed messages my gut sent me every morning that sent me in and out of the bathroom, or cause me so much paralyzing stress that I would try to talk my out of attending.

My 3rd grade teacher, tired of my lateness, but with good intentions, once told me to picture a cool liquid in a soothing color, to pick my favorite color - I chose turquoise, filling the inside of my stomach. Calming the pain.

I was annoyed. Imagining a color in my stomach was not going to fix me. I needed cold hard data. I needed medication or a replacement set of internal organs. Even if this COULD help, the moment I admitted using my imagination helped my symptoms? That would be the moment doctors took my pain even less seriously and dismissed me outright. Many had already because I was a young girl. If I weren’t a young white cis girl from an upper middle class family i guarantee the dismissal would have been even worse.

So I was defensive to my teacher. The same way I would be defensive for years when people told me to try xyz lifestyle choice or simple solution to address years of pain that had confused doctors.

The same way I would be insulted when I was told it was “just anxiety” by doctors. I was defensive, and I became avoidant of sharing about my life in order to not, inevitably, come off as defensive.

But there is a weird sort of privilege in my being sick this long, over various stages of life; childhood, adolescence, young adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, I would rather not be sick, but what I mean is, this isn’t my first rodeo.

Science may only just now be really starting to understand the microbiome and the conditions that plague it, but I have been here, waiting in the wings, doubled over but still trucking along, learning how to make sense of things where there is not enough information for them to literally make sense.

I’ve found I truly need both the antibiotics AND the stupid turquoise liquid mind exercise, the lab work and the therapy that looks to address my anxiety and traumas. The idea that it was one or the other, in my mind OR in my body has been a barrier to my coping skills for years.

I came by that “either or” idea organically. It’s the way we are taught to think and the way western medicine tends to view things, though that is improving. Trauma also makes it harder to grasp nuance instead of black and whiteness.

I couldn’t have gotten to this point without learning to recognizing the way my brain got organized in childhood: don’t get angry, always appear positive, put others first, men’s emotions and needs are generally more important than yours.

I have a lot of anger. I have anger at my illness too. About the symptoms. About being on a restricted diet (again) and taking all these supplements. About feeling like I have to do everything perfectly or my body will collapse for days.

It becomes so much more livable though, even by simply acknowledging that in writing; I am angry. I am still sitting here calmly on my red velvet pillow on the floor at my short Japanese tea table by the window, but I am also angry.

There is something in anger that is self-preserving. An acknowledgment that you deserve better than what you’re facing.

When I can trust myself to meet my anger, to neither stuff it down or express it in a way that is harmful to others or myself, I feel a new freedom. I don’t have to walk around ready to spring into a defense posture. Because I know how to regulate that emotion and I’ve made room for it to show up. Even though it is still uncomfortable.

When it can’t show up as itself, for me anger shows up as; looping anxiety or guilt, obsession over food and health that leads to tunnel vision, impulsive decisions, various other forms of self sabotage. Oh, and physical pain.

My therapist once told me it was “like my body rejects it, when I feel angry.”

It made sense to me perfectly in a way that is hard to explain, but that I’m sure someone out there reading this also feels and understands. I think a lot of our bodies, women in particular, reject anger. Or maybe reject some other emotion. Whatever you weren’t allowed to feel growing up. Whatever emotion was deemed too much, or was monopolized by a different family member in a toxic way.

But that pain, rage, sorrow- it has to go somewhere. We learn to point it at ourselves for the benefit of other people when we don’t know what else to do.

This is the last thing you probably want to think about if you have a chronic illness. Or even if you don’t, it is not stuff we as humans tend to embrace; trying to better regulate and sit with our least pleasant emotions.

But while you are waiting; while you’re waiting for your lab work to return or your doctor to call you back, while you’re waiting for your new anti depressants to kick in, while you’re waiting for the incessant busyness of your pre-Covid life to return, experiment with stopping yourself from going down whatever avenue it is that you go down when things are out of your control, the one that harms you. The one that is probably fueled by anxiety - constant googling? Obsessing over something small? apologizing constantly for reasons you don’t understand? The list goes on.

Instead, try to feel the physical sensations of emotion in your body. Are your physical pains saying anything to you?

Is there a totally unscientific but spiritual interpretation of what’s going on that can help you get through the day or the hour or the minute, WHILE you’re on the meds, or waiting for the next step?

Here’s mine:

Science: My body has been overwhelmed for years by bacterial overgrowth, pathogenic yeasts, mold spores, fungus, mycotoxins. As I have been wiping out these beasts, I’ve also had to build up my body’s detox pathways, my ability to take in, process and effectively get rid of what is harmful. I’ve had to get my immune system stronger, and build up my good bacteria so it will fight these monsters off and not let them take over again.

Creative connection: My biggest roadblock in relationships, of all kinds, and in my career, aside from being sick- has always been with boundaries. I used to never have them, and feel the need to say yes to everyone. When that burned me out, I was resentful. I’d built up a lot of resentment that wasn’t the fault of others. I let everything in and it built up and I had no methods of getting it out. So I am detoxing here too. I have gotten rid of so much of what doesn’t serve me. And my ability to notice and honor anger as a messenger and protective force will help keep the harm away, just as a healthy immune system and functional microbiome keeps the pathogens away.

That’s an oversimplification of both my illnesses and my point of view on it, but it helps me to find these ways that healing from (and just improving in dealing with) sickness mirror/compliment the other areas of my life. I used to push illness into it’s own separate corner of my brain as if it weren’t really a part of me.

It is. And I both accept that, AND feel certain that I won’t always feel the way I do now, and that I can keep getting better, or at least befriending these parts of me. I’m building a relationship with my illness. Weird as that sounds.

When something is awful and out of our control and makes us feel we lack agency, deciding your own interpretation of it can be a way to seize a little bit of a feeling of autonomy. I will wait for my doctor to tell me what to take next, but not to tell me how to feel.

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brokenfoetus · 4 years

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...Real Talk for a Moment....

This is gonna be a long rant post, so by all means... quickly scroll past. Parts may even be a tad emo feels for some folks for one reason or another... There’s no shame in skipping for reals. A lot of days I can’t bother to read anything too in depth... anyway... HERE goes.... While I absolutely love art, and performance, and surreal awkward characterization of myself I call “THE END”. I also value truth, and being understood. My blog here started more as a journal for me to vent, and place to post music and art for me to look at in order to try and just relax during a very difficult point in my life. Every now and then I like to stop and ground myself and post in a sense about the actual me. There’s frankly not anything magical here, everyone has a story and their experiences and struggles we all do no matter who you are. I suppose like I said, I just like to be understood where I am coming from typically can only be slightly grasped like anyone. Even if you agree with views and relate to feelings, things become clearer with details.... hence my rants. I get it out of my system and state my perspectives all at once and anyone who happens to be curious gets to read it. Maybe gets to relate and frankly that tends to help us sometimes. It helps people realize they’re not alone in their situations. Anyway.... I was born a tiny premature gremlin on the east coast of the U.S. I was raised a devout Catholic boy. At age 11 I was diagnosed with the chronic illness Diabetes. when the symptoms started my mother called doctors concerned. We had to wait a full month for my appointment. It was rough. Some people don’t know of the disease, but most people generally are aware. It typically doesn’t seem all too dramatic to most since people think of it as old grandma and grandpa taking their pills and measuring their food. When you’re talking juvenile onset diabetes it’s different... severity can vary. but, I caught some sort of virus, with flu like symptoms... I was very very sick for a week or two. Once it passed, I was okay but slowly started feeling gross in other ways. By the time we got to see Doctors it was too late, and the damage done to my pancreas made it so it created pretty much no insulin. The only theory Doctors had at the time was the virus freaked out my auto-immune system so it made my body attack itself. It seemed that my white blood cells had attacked my pancreas. I was 11, so... I didn’t know what diabetes was. I asked my doctor if there was a cure, and he explained that there was no cure. My little boy brain after feeling so awful for a month and a half assumed I was going to die. I burst into tears as I was very very afraid. My Doctor quickly explained I wasn’t going to die like I had assumed and that it can be treated. It doesn’t seem so scary most the time when you realize it can be treated. The thing is the hormone insulin can be quite dangerous, as low blood sugars are actually very much more dangerous than high blood sugars. Insulin allows glucose in the blood to travel into cells to basically use as fuel. without it sugar levels rise in the blood stream, and the body starts rapidly breaking down fat cells to use as fuel. Now, that happens normal some anyway usually after eating. Just not rapidly.... when it does, the fuel it breaks down creates ketones which can make the blood toxic... by making it acidic.... Like I don’t really think... there’s any way I can describe what high blood sugar feels like... or what it feels like when your blood starts to become acidic.... I can’t... but... minor low blood sugar attacks can happen to anyone just by skipping lunch or forgetting to eat... and those suck... bad ones... well... they feel like you’re dying. Not to be melodramatic about it all... but that’s all I can say to explain it... it just feels like you’re dying. Probably because you sort of are..... The brain runs on glucose so when the levels get too low... your brain panics and tries to save itself and alert you. It’s not fun. It’s been many years since I had anything dangerous or serious in terms of low blood sugars but, a couple times in my life when I wasn’t doing very well emotionally and mentally I wasn’t paying attention or being careful with my insulin dosages and how much I was eating. I’ve had 3 grand mal seizures in my life when I was younger.... it’s hard to explain the experience... in mine... I don’t know.... It was like not existing at all, there was nothing. I woke to pain, I couldn’t see or hear it just hurt. Everything hurt head to toe. Then I could hear myself saying it hurt, then I could hear the people around me, and then I could see the people around me. Then I knew what had happened. I felt a bit guilty for scaring my loved ones so much. That honestly made me more upset than the pain. The reason I spell all this out... is my life has mostly been surrounded by fear. I’ve been aware of my mortality and trying to avoid dying on a daily basis since I was a very young boy. The strange thing I suppose.... is after a while... you just get sick of being afraid.... you kind of stop being scared and just get angry... I was a shy timid nervous little dude.... I’ve had long long times where... I’ve felt worthless, I’ve hated myself, felt I didn’t deserve happiness, or love. I’ve let people use me, without standing up for myself. I’ve let people be toxic and cruel, while excusing their behavior. While at the same time condemning myself for any tiny mistake I may have made in any way. I’ve made myself a martyr in personal relationships, sacrificing myself and my feelings. I’ve frankly... done a whole bunch of fucked up things turned inward. The nice thing I suppose, is I don’t do that anymore.... I still make mistakes, and I like to take responsibility for them and make amends or fix them. You can get used to some really fucked up things. Especially when struggling with self worth. I used to think I was useless and undeserving. Today... I’m well aware I’m a PRETTEH PRETTEH GOFF BOI.... I have long time close friends who love me just as much as I do them. I have a wonderful beautiful lovely lady who has my heart and soul whom I want to spend every moment I possibly can with until my bones are dust. Who helped me a great deal over the past couple years or so. Helped me with myself and helped me believe in myself again. Just by being my friend and supporting me while I continue to be the eccentric artist asshole I am. and I have Scrambles... THE MOST CUTEST BLACK KITTEH KAT EVAR. I feel rather lucky to have all I do. I appreciate what I have very very much. I’ve been dealing with Diabetes since I was 11... and had been dealing with Severe Major Depression symptoms since my early 20s. over the past five years I finally started getting help, Turns out I don’t just have diabetes.... I have adhd and some kind of sleep disorder. we’ve been calling it narcolepsy but it’s hard to say exactly, it could be hypersomnia which is a super fancy way of saying I’m fucking always exhausted 24/7 which is pretty accurate. That is usually caused by narcolepsy or something else but... who knows... still trying to figure that part out. I have discovered though that, being fucking exhausted non stop for 20 years will make you very depressed. Sometimes depression makes you tired, and sometimes being tired makes you depressed. When I was a young lad, I gave myself one single life goal.... That was to finish an electro industrial album and play some live shows. I dunno, to some that might not be a big deal.... I never said it had to be “good” after all. But, when I was at a low point dealing with my stuffs, trying to take care of myself... I honestly spent most my days sleeping. I was awake maybe 4 hours a day. Things felt very hopeless, that learned hopelessness made me believe things were pretty much pointless. I would shrug... and talk to my psychiatrist about my suffering in a manner that people talk about the weather. I didn’t even care anymore it was happening. It was “oh well... is what it is.” Until I got angry, it was a good thing I was so frustrated.... because it meant I finally gave a shit again. I wanted to get better and I wanted it to hurry the fuck up. Anyway... I’m just rambling and ranting because I was thinking back a lot after doing a sleep study... probably the first in a series of them. I don’t have apnea so I mean... that’s good. I also got to see what some of my brainwaves look like... I also apparently wake up after dreaming some a lot... I also apparently yelled in the middle of the night hahaha. So back to the whole life goal thing.....my long time friend, who introduced me to shitloads of music and bands and has always been close through good and bad times. Was saying how he knew it was something I’ve always wanted to do, so he wants to help me. He’s starting to help me plan the performance and then later will help me setup my shows and come with me to what will be really awkward and silly first couple gigs I play. An open mic night will be particularly hilarious to me, since instead of hearing shitty rock song covers, it will be an insane goth punk dude screaming distorted vocals to weird electro noises haha. It’s taken a long time to get shit finally going... but... it’s getting there... it’s still going to take a lot more work... on both me and the music. I have countless things I have to do, but I’m just happy I finally got angry enough to scream fuck it... and go for it... I love a lot of various kinds of work. I don’t really fit there very well though. Now that the sleep disorder stuff has become worse over time... it’s not really possible anyway. That’s okay though, since now I’m just doing what I’m actually good at. Eccentric artist asshole has always been my key features. xD So, here’s some photos of me before and during my sleep lab and random enjoyable crap I suppose... and my general mood. It’s been a while.... -The End-

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#Me #Personal #Random #Pointless #Update #THE END

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alexsmitposts · 3 years

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It’s been One Hell of a Year in the US and its “Not Over with Yet!”

What is really going on in the US? Lots of people are having a difficult time, and see more of the same, if not worse, for the future. Most Americans are just thinking about one more stimulus check, just before Christmas, with so many unemployed, locked down with COVID restrictions, etc. And they should not get their hopes up too much, as they may be waiting for a long time.

All the while the US government is working to get Covid-19 vaccinations to the American public, but now they want strings attached, as people have not only lost faith in the government but the public health system. One proposal, from former congressman John Delaney of Maryland, aims to link the provision of stimulus checks to getting vaccinated, which is virtual blackmail.

Herd Immunity or Herd Mentality?

Since there’s such massive censorship, especially in the mainstream media and on social networking sites, people who would never otherwise give much credence to far-fetched allegations are now starting to believe there’s a conspiracy, or a “cluster-fuck” of conspiracies, starting out with Russiagate, Crossfire Hurricane Investigation, which proved to be the proverbial witch-hunt.

In light of everything that transpired during its run up, the recent US elections have really opened a Pandora’s Box. Take for instance absentee ballots. Several people claim they’ve seen boxes full of postal ballots not collected or counted after hours. According to Jackie Pick, a volunteer attorney in the State of Georgia who presented the evidence to the state Senate, said four suitcases ‘come out from underneath a table at the site while there was no election supervisor present’. But…. if they’re mail-in ballots, they would be for Biden anyway, right?

The mainstream media continue to totally dismiss claims of voting irregularities and fraud, without being willing to address the fact that the thing is remotely possible, claiming that Trump is merely “crying foul over the results”. But this only adds fuel to an already roaring fire. For example, CCTV evidence recently presented to a Georgia Senate Judiciary Subcommittee shows poll workers waiting for observers and media to leave before accessing ballot-stuffed suitcases from under a table, but no one has bothered to explain this, considering it not worthy of a democratic country’s attention.

Bearers of Bad News

Why is it necessarily to look elsewhere, to “off-the-wall” media outlets for alternative views on the election? Some of their insight into election cyber security, diverting votes by electronic means, Dominion Voter Machines, and old-fashion vote rigging is starting to make sense, and a democracy should be concerned about such claims, not treating them as part of sour rhetoric.

Some are now claiming that large transfers of money were made by Chinese investors prior to the elections, which brings a smile to my face in the light of Biden and his son Hunter, and a plethora of allegations of corruption involving them, including influence peddling and other backhanded moves, reported by the New York Post and other non-mainstream publications and outlets. Such stories, and even more scandalous ones, are quickly discounted or not reported in the respectful American mainstream media. They call that fact-checking.

However, a range of pundits and born again types, also not to be believed, are saying that 5 or 6 counties (cities) in the US were able to control the entire election process, and had known in advance what would be the outcome. In these same 6 cities the voting count was held up due to water problems, and allegedly people were robbed of their votes. There were also water main breaks in those same cities: Atlanta, Philadelphia, Detroit, Las Vegas, Phoenix…, and a few other cities also decided the election: Dallas Milwaukee and Seattle.

It is more than sheer coincidence that all these allegations are buttressed with the erosion of fundamental rights that Americans hold so close, free speech, majority rule, an array of constitutional rights and mainstream values. There is little doubt that the mainstream media, especially news networks such as CNN, have been manipulated in recent years, driving domestic and foreign policy, to a degree Joseph Goebbels would have been envious of.

At last some inside information concerning the agenda of the news networks is beginning to surface, and this is not good timing for those who have been manipulating the news. There is no longer a fine line between the truth and the lie, and CNN and others in the same stream of media flows have taken one maxim to heart: “If you tell a lie often enough people will come to accept it as truth.”

Some of the born again types, and their media outlets, seem to know what is going on, including the backdating of absentee ballots. They believe that Trump will somehow remain in office.

In the Meantime!

It is becoming clear that until Trump is out of the White House, he will be a problem. It does not matter whether he won or not. People continue to send him money that he can use for his own personal use. I liken these people to “useful idiots” or “real patriots.”

Yet many Republicans say nothing – which is sad, as without this force, which saw them of them riding on Trump’s coattails, many would not be in office now. It is so depressing to see that people can be so ignorant, or arrogant, or both. If Trump refuses to leave office – which I don’t believe – there will be huge protests. But he will leave office – he may not like it – but he will leave and continue to “suck” money from his supporters.

CNN Defect and Manufacturing Dissent

Recent breaking news is that James O’Keefe of Project Veritas caught CNN red handed conniving to influence the election over a period of two months during conference calls. This network made a concerted effort to report in favour of Joe Biden in the run-up to the election, and in its wake, thus adding more layers of conspiracies to an already complicated mess.

In the video he has released, O’Keefe enters into a CNN conference call, unmuting himself, telling the CEO, Jeffrey Zucker,

“We’ve been listening to your CNN calls for basically two months and recording everything. Just wanted to ask you some questions, if you have a minute … do you still feel you are the most trusted name in news? Based on what I’ve been hearing on these phone calls, I don’t know about that. I mean, we’ve got a lot of recordings that indicate you’re not really that independent of a journalist.”

The plot thickens as to how media and politics are joined up, and the playing field is less than level. The Washington Post, another media outlet which has also been accused in recent years of one sided coverage, reported that “while Project Veritas had previously disseminated covert recordings of CNN’s daily meetings, in this video O’Keefe himself could be seen dialing in to a private CNN call — apparently without the knowledge or consent of participants”.

It is clear that these recordings, legal or otherwise, show that CNN took sides in the US election, and even in the coverage of Trump’s bout with COVID, and made a concerted effort not to show him and his party in the best of light. What escapes critical attention, however, is what degree of conspiracy may have taken place with those outside of the media, such as the DNC. Based on the 2016 election, CNN is still referred to by some by the nickname, Clinton’s News Network, and that is not a good position for the network itself to be in.

I Smell a Rat!

I remember the news about the “stopped counting” on the night of the election. When this was first reported a few days after the election, election officials added an excuse that people were tired and needed to sleep. Nowhere else in history, especially on Election Day or before a deadline, and “where does a company send night-shift workers home because they’re afraid their workers are too tired?”

I smell a rat. This clip of vote counting clearly shows the counting votes continuing after hours, when everybody else, such as the election monitors, has left. Due to one sided media coverage, only now is this getting the attention it deserves, with recent Senate Hearings, e.g., Congressional Oversight in the Face of Executive Branch and Media Suppression.

Taken together, the media coverage, election results and all else happening now reminds me of an old film about the nexus of media to politics and American values. This is A Face in the Crowd (1957), directed by the rather controversial Elia Kazan, who has long been vilified for naming names during McCarthyism.

Some recent liberal critics have begun to maintain that the film predicts the Trump era, as it exposes an unhealthy alliance between populism, media and politics, while others claim just the opposite. However it definitely shows how lies and manipulation are part of any election process, and what has apparently transpired shows much more than just how low lying, deceitful politicians, journalists and governmental election oversight watchdogs will go to achieve their ends.

We’re Nowhere Near the Thick of it!

There are several videos of postal contract workers saying they saw suspicious dealings with truckloads and boxes full of ballots. As for the movie, readers should watch this carefully, stop at places and take notes, as it tells it all. Think of your own political history, your country – many countries have had, or still do have, similar vote rigging, media manipulation, playing the same political games. Compare for yourself with what is being alleged in the US, and see how your own people are manipulated into accepting all this as normal by government and media.

Think back to Dr. Goebbels, and how Hitler grabbed and consolidated power, and how it all fell apart in the end. The US is supposed to protect the world from that sort of thing. Whenever it is criticised by doing the opposite, it deflects this by saying that can’t be true because such things don’t happen in the US itself. Once the global community had to accept that argument but will it now?

Nobody is going to be the winner in the US presidential election, and the vote count is a moot issue; only democracy will have been lost. This will only empower those who want a different system – dictators, radicals and extremists of all kinds. These are same people who then dress their deeds up as “democratic”, Soviet-style, to give them legitimacy. They day they don’t will be the day US-hegemony ends, and it make be as soon as the day you read this article.

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drabbledragon · 5 years

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Memories Chapter 1

A LU fic inspired by a prompt on Discord. I really can’t post the actual prompt since it does reveal some spoilers but I believe the summary should suffice. This one is a little bit more on the heavier side in terms of violence and depressing matters but I promise that it’s all necessary for the plot’s sake. As for the length of this fic, I decided to make this one a two - parter to keep some tension on the line as well as cut down how many words are on each post. This chapter alone is 4.5 k words and the next one will probably be around the same length if I’m not mistaken. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Summary: Upon bringing Time to the Shrine of Resurrection, there were just a few consequences that went unforeseen.

Warnings: Some violence, temporary character death, and some depressing thoughts.

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 1:

Even with the rain pouring heavily outside and the thunder bellowing in the skies, Twilight’s frantic pacing could still be heard echoing throughout the Shrine of Resurrection. At times he would stop, stare at the closed door to the back chamber for a minute, and then resume his erratic pacing, never once breaking his habit.

“He’s been at it for three days now.” Warriors sighed, poking a needle through his scarf as he began to sew another hole shut. “ If he continues like this, he might just dig a hole through the floor.”

Sky stopped mid - carve to direct a sympathetic look towards Twilight. “I can’t blame him though. You saw the way he acted when Time…” He hesitated for a brief second. “...fell. I’ve never seen him so upset before.”

“Well I’m sure it’s not doing him any good just walking around like that; I haven’t even seen him sit down for two whole minutes, nevermind eat, drink, or sleep.” Four commented from his place by the fire. He looked questioningly at Wild across from him. “ How long did you say it took you again?”

“100 years.” He answered bluntly. He reached to his side to grab another Hylian Shroom and proceeded to dice it into the cooking pot. “ But I’m guessing it won’t take that long for the Old Man. It looks like the only major injury he had was just the one across his chest. Still, it’s going to take at least a couple of years for him to heal completely.”

The Shrine fell quiet again save for the sound of rain and pacing.

Every second ticked by incredibly slow to Twilight. He knew the others would talk from time to time - probably about him - but he could barely pay attention to anything else but Time’s well - being. He stopped himself in front of the large door again and fixed it with an intense stare. No matter how much his stomach would grumble or how much his eyelids would droop from lack of sleep, nothing could take his mind off the snippets of memories that flew by.

He was brought back to a group of Lizalfos surrounding him, angry growls sounding from every direction. His shield was split, his sword was dulled, and he himself was about two seconds away from collapsing, but despite all this, he still parried a Lizalfo’s spear and ducked just in time to avoid an overgrown claw to the face. As he struggled to regain his footing, he caught a glimpse of the other Links fighting around him: they were all in various states of stress and exhaustion, some of them suffering from more wounds than others, but the fact that Kakariko Village stood just a little ways from their current battlefield fueled the heroes to keep fighting no matter how many blows they took. The thought of children as young as Colin being terrorized by a group of ruthless monsters made Twilight’s stomach turn and made his attacks come just a little faster.

He fought relentlessly against the enemies for the next couple of minutes, his actions a little sloppier than usual but no doubt cutting down the small army’s numbers. Just as he was about to deliver another killing blow, he cried out as his muscles suddenly tensed up with unbelievable pain. White hot bolts of electricity ran up and down his body and caused him to drop his sword and shield, leaving him defenseless and wide open for attacks. From the corner of his eye, he could spy a Lizalfo stabbing the tip of a yellow spear to his side, a grotesque smirk spreading across its face. The spear itself released little sparks that was undoubtedly excess electricity and Twilight could only assume that that weapon was the cause for his paralyzed state. He heard shouts of fear and anger rise from the other heroes as they noticed the sudden bind he was in and no matter how much the others begged and ordered him to move, he stood paralyzed, engulfed by the agony his body was in.

He could see a particularly - large Lizalfo scurry over and raise its Tri - Boomerang just above him, no doubt preparing to deliver its own killing blow. He willed his legs to move - even if it just meant dropping himself to the ground - but to no avail; his whole body was rigid with electricity and pain and he would have to take the full force of the hit. This was it. Years of adventure and heroism all coming to an end with the swing of a single weapon.

But then a sudden push forced him to the ground, causing him to roll a few meters in the dirt. If the lingering electricity pulsing through his muscles wasn’t enough, the feeling of bruises and cuts scratching painfully against the hard earth certainly pushed him over the edge. He must have blacked out after that because the next thing he was aware of was that he was leaning heavily against someone with one of his arms hanging limply across the person’s shoulder and a delicate hand supporting him from his side. His memory was still a little fuzzy and his body still ached with pain and just as he was about to ask the stranger next to him about what happened to him, his mind went completely blank as he laid eyes on the bloody scene before him.

Just a few meters away, surrounded by a group of various Links, laid Time, a large deep slash across his chest spilling blood into a pool around him. He made no effort to stop the bleeding, didn’t crack open an eye to assure the other frantic Links that he was okay, didn’t take a single breath to show that there was any indication of life.

In other words, Time was dead, and the more Twilight stared into the growing pool of red underneath the corpse, the more he began to piece together that Time was the one that pushed him away, Time was the one that took that fatal blow for him, and Time was the one who saved his life.

Twilight’s world came crashing down. He barely registered his legs giving out from underneath him or the person shifting his weight to get a better grip on him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to rush over to Time and shake him awake, but all he could do was stand there in shock. The murmurs from the Hylians in front of him as well as the one next to him faded into white noise and all he could process was that their leader - his mentor - was dead. Ever since he started this journey, Twilight knew that one of them was bound to get killed - but to be killed in something so trivial as a Lizalfo battle? It was downright comical to even think that Hylia’s Chosen Hero would be taken down so easily. Sure, there have been a couple of rough battles here and there but all nine of them always always made it out alive no matter the foe. But not this time. They had defeated all the enemies, even when they were outnumbered and somehow outclassed, but they still lost in the end. They lost a hero and a dear friend.

It’s his fault. He’s the reason why the man they all look up to is dead. He’s the reason why they might not be able to defeat the evil that threatens all of their Hyrules. He’s the reason why so many people are in danger, especially in Time’s timeline. He’s the reason why they’ll all have to go to Lon Lon Ranch to explain to Malon that her husband is dead and there’s no way to bring him back, no way to start the family they’ve always dreamed of, no Hero of Time to protect the people of their time. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault -.

“We might still be able to save him.”

Twilight’s ears immediately perked up at Wild’s claim and, without missing a beat, whipped his head up to stare wide - eyed at his protege. All eyes fell onto the Hero of the Wild as he stood there, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“In this Hyrule, there’s the Shrine of Resurrection: a piece of Sheikah technology that can bring dead people back to life. According to Zelda, it takes a long time to heal someone but it does heal them completely, no matter the injury; the only tradeoff is -”

That’s all Twilight needed to hear. “Take us there.”

Wild raised his gaze to eye his distraught mentor. He opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, and shook his head before he met Twilight’s eyes again with a look of determination.

“I’ll use the Sheikah Slate to take Time there. Once I’m at the shrine, I’ll have to use the Sheikah Slate to power the machine, so that means the rest of you will have to walk. The walk’s not too far, but be careful.”

The group nodded with understanding, their sorrow now replaced by newfound fortitude. Once Wild was gone, the rest of the group began their trek to the Shrine of Resurrection.

Twilight let out a frustrated sigh and absentmindedly rubbed at where the spear had stabbed him. How long was this healing process suppose to take again? He knows a large amount of time has passed already so Time must be close to waking up by now. His wound ached and his tired mind was constantly begging him to sleep for a few minutes but the horror and guilt he felt over Time’s death kept him awake and moving. He could do nothing but nervously pace from one corner of the room to the next, hoping that Time would be alright - that Time wouldn’t be upset at him for being so careless. He was about to begin pacing again but a hand wrapped around his arm stopped him; he turned to meet the worried eyes of Hyrule, the young traveller silently greeting him a sympathetic smile.

“Listen, Twilight, I think it’s for the best if you took a little break and ate something. You’ve been up for a few days now and it’s really starting to take a toll on you.” Twilight didn’t miss the way Hyrule’s gaze briefly shifted lower to stare at the dark circles that stood out around his eyes. “ Why don’t you lay down for a few minutes? I’ll keep watch if you want me to.”

Twilight hesitated for a second, considering the offer. A nap wouldn’t hurt, and it would definitely make him more alert after, but then he was reminded that he was responsible for Time’s death and he’s the reason why they were stuck in here for Hylia knows how long so he should be the one to stay awake and keep watch. He sharply tugged his arm away from a dismayed Hyrule and began to start frantically pacing in front of the door again. He was only a few steps in before another hand grabbed onto his shoulder and spun him around to meet an irritated Legend.

“Hey, didn’t you hear him? He told you to sit down and not starve to death. It’s bad enough that one of us died; we don’t need another one.” After that, he muttered a quiet: “ And your pacing is driving us crazy.”

Despite Legend’s warning tone, Twilight glowered and pulled away from the other’s touch. He stumbled for a few seconds before regaining his footing and continuing his uneven steps. He could hear Legend give out a frustrated huff and a few muttered curses.

“Do you think you’re doing the Old Man any favors by not taking care of yourself? You look like complete shit and no amount of walking in circles is going to fix that. You’re hungry, hurt, and tired and it’s not going to take long before you go insane and jump off a cliff. Sit down, have a decent meal, and go to sleep before I knock you out myself.” Underneath all that frustration and exasperation, there was certainly a hint of genuine concern in Legend’s voice but whatever indication of worry there was, Twilight seemed to have missed it.

It didn’t take much for Twilight to snap at that point and his impatience and irritation had gotten the best of him. He whipped around to face the Hero of Legend, an angry snarl on his lips. “ And so what if I don’t sleep for a couple of days? I’ve been through a lot worse than this so I don’t need your advice on how to handle myself. If I want to stay here and wait for the Old Man, then I will, and no amount of complaining will stop me.”

“What, are you a dog now? Waiting for your owner to come back just so you can sleep easy at night? We’re heroes; we don’t get the luxury of waiting! We need to go back out there and figure out this evil that’s trying to kill us all before it ends up destroying all our Hyrules and everyone in it. Do you really want to be responsible for thousands of deaths?”

The argument got progressively louder as time went on and the yelling seemed to catch everyone’s attention. It wasn’t long before Sky put down his carving knife to walk hurriedly to the two heroes, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Twilight, Legend, we shouldn’t be -” But Sky’s words went unheard.

“Of course not! I never wanted to be responsible for one death but here I am, having to pay the price! Time sacrificed himself because of my stupid mistake and the very least I can do is wait for him to wake up, even if it takes years for that to happen. If you guys are so eager to go on an adventure without him, then be my guest! We’ll catch up to you once he’s fully healed.”

“No, you’re missing the point! You need to rest and get your shit together! There is no way we’re leaving you alone because you think you can solve your problems just by sitting here and doing nothing. We all feel guilty for Time’s death but we all have to keep moving forward and saving people; it’s what he would want us to do. And I don’t care if I have to drag you the entire way, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

Just as Twilight was about to respond, a sudden rumbling caught his attention. He hurriedly looked behind him to see the stone door slowly rising, revealing a smaller room that emitted a soft glow. His eyes widened with growing realization: If the door is opening, then that must mean Time…

Without a second thought, Twilight bolted through the opening, leaving a confused and angry Legend in his wake. Wild was soon to hastily follow, dropping whatever he was doing in favor of trailing Twilight. Everyone else stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do or if to do anything at all. A few wanted to follow but they paused as they thought of what help they could be. Out of all of them, Wild was really the only one who had experience with this sort of situation so what could the rest of them do but wait for him and Twilight to return? They all quietly resumed their tasks, hoping that the Shrine of Resurrection had done its job.

The first thing that Twilight had noticed when he entered the room was how dark it was. The only light sources seemed to be coming from a bed in the middle and a small pedestal towards the entrance, both of which emitted an eerie blue glow. His skin crawled as he saw a trail of blood leading up to the bed as well as splotches painted crudely around the device. His stomach turned as his mind cruelly conjured up the mental image of Wild carrying their dead leader into the chamber, both covered in an obscene amount of blood.

Twilight sharply turned away and squeezed his eyes tight, forcing the thought to disappear. His ears perked up to the sound of soft footsteps lingering behind him and he looked to see Wild beside him. The newcomer didn’t so much as spare him a glance; he just stared silently ahead of him, a grim expression on his face. He followed his protege’s gaze to the soft glow of the pedestal which he just now noticed was obscured by a large figure. His vision adjusted to see messy blond hair trailing down the figure’s head and the remnants of clothing hanging from the person’s body, crudely ripped from battle. Once Twilight caught sight of the man’s scar across his right eye, there was no mistaking who this person could be. Whatever anxiety and sorrow Twilight had been feeling was immediately washed away with relief.

“Old Man…”

He watched as Time jumped and snapped his gaze to look at him like a deer caught in headlights. The tablet he had been inspecting was lowered and his body tensed with apprehension, eyeing Twilight with an unnerving amount of suspicion. The Hero of Twilight couldn’t help but stare at the red scar that crossed over the older man’s chest.

“Who are you?”

A chill ran down Twilight’s spine and he felt a sudden sense of dread overtake him. “ What?”

“Who are you?” The other’s voice became more forceful and demanding - more hostile. “ And where is my fairy?”

Twilight couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. This had to be some sort of sick joke, right? He knew Time could have a twisted sense of humor sometimes and maybe he was just getting back at them for what happened a couple days ago. “ Alright, you got us. I didn’t take you as the joking type but I guess we’re all filled with surprises. C’mon, everyone’s been waiting forever to see you again.”

Even as Twilight motioned for him to follow, Time stood still. He didn’t answer nor make any moves; he just kept eyeing the two boys in front of him with a distrustful look on his face, almost as if they were complete strangers. In truth, it was really starting to freak Twilight out. “ Haha, okay, the joke’s not funny anymore. Let’s get going; Wild has dinner cooking and we don’t want to burn it.” Another stretch of unsettling silence and Twilight was starting to get worried. The Shrine of Resurrection didn’t fail, did it? Time looked relatively okay from what he could see and he seemed to be functioning just fine so why is he acting like this? He couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something deeply wrong. “ Time, are you feeling ok? Me and Wild can-”

“Link, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Twilight was taken aback by Wild’s sudden question and he fixed his protege with a confused look. Why, of all times, was he addressing Time with his actual name? He thought they had agreed to use their titles to make things a bit easier for them. He could understand that Wild was checking to see if Time was alright but using his actual name made no sense. However, there was something knowingly in Wild’s gaze, almost as if he intentionally meant to use his actual name. Despite the odd question, Time had responded albeit irritatedly.

“Removing the Master Sword from the Pedestal of Time. Now tell me, who are you two and where is my fairy. I don’t have time for these games.”

Twilight watched the brief reluctance cross over Wild’s face before a stern expression replaced it. He spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. “ My name is Wild and my friend’s name is Twilight. Us three and six other Hylians were chosen by the Goddess Hylia to defeat Ganon in his various forms; we’ve all succeeded but now there is a new evil that threatens all our Hyrules and we’ve been working together ever since. A few days ago, you died in battle so we decided to bring you back to my Hyrule’s Shrine of Resurrection. You’ve been completely healed but some of your memories had to be taken as payment. This may seem very confusing but I promise, we’re not the enemy here.”

The room was stunned into silence. Memories, as ‘payment’? The whole notion sounded absurd, even to Twilight, but the more his muddled mind tried to process this, the more the dots in Wild’s past connected. He knew that Wild had lost his memories sometime before they met but he was never told the cause of it; they just met one day and everyone accepted it. He watched as Wild’s memories would resurface from time to time, observed as his body went rigid and a distant gaze would cloud his eyes for a few seconds before he would immediately resume what he was doing, acting like nothing happened. Those episodes would happen at random intervals, always taking Wild by surprise, and each time it happened, Wild would always be reminded that he never had a true grasp on his past, just small fragments of it. And now Twilight had doomed Time to a lifetime of that same punishment. His stomach dropped. He wanted to say sorry - apologize to Time for causing him this much harm - but the tightness in his throat prevented him.

“That is the worst lie I have ever been told.” Wild and Twilight stared helplessly as the disbelieving look on Time’s face morphed into pure outrage. “ Do you believe that I am dumb enough to be fooled by such an obvious lie? There is only one Chosen Hero able to save Hyrule from Ganon and you want me to believe there are nine of us nevermind nine different Hyrules? Even saying that sounds completely insane. And I ‘died in battle’? If I was alone in the Sacred Realm last, how could I die from a battle that never existed? Trying to cover up such a blatant lie with memory loss is the worst solution I’ve ever heard of.” His eyes narrowed. “ If you won’t tell me the truth, then I have no other option than to assume that you are working with Ganondorf.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Time swung his fist to knock Wild off his feet, a punch to the jaw forcing him to the ground. Before Twilight could so much as make a sound, a hand closed around his throat and slammed him into one of the shrine’s walls. His breath was knocked out of him immediately and as he tried to take another one, the pressure around his throat increased and caused him to futilely gasp. He forced his eyes open to see Time staring up at him with so much anger and rage that it made his blood run cold.

“You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me where I am and what happened.” His tone was cold, icy, and unforgiving, nothing like the fatherly tone that Time spoke to all of them with. This was not the Time that Twilight knew.

He tried to say something past the pressure around his throat but all that came out were wheezes and choked attempts at words. His vision was starting to darken around the edges and he began to feel his consciousness slowly seeping away and by this point, he was sure he was going to die by the hand of his own ancestor; but then a rush of pounding footsteps echoed through the small room and he could just faintly make out an infuriated Warriors pointing a sword to the back of Time’s neck, coldly demanding to let Twilight go or to face the consequences. Time looked at the newcomers with disdain for a few seconds before reluctantly letting his hostage drop to the ground. He didn’t say a word - he just watched with scorn as Warriors slowly lowered his weapon before he decided to make a run for the entrance. Within a matter of seconds, he had disappeared from sight.

As Twilight struggled to get air back into his lungs, a pair of hands hoisted him up into a standing position and the world tilted precariously around him. He gripped onto the person’s shirt - Hyrule’s shirt - to steady himself and something by the way he was supported felt oddly familiar.

“He’s gone.” Sky had said once he came running back with Legend in tow. “ He’s left the Shrine of Resurrection and disappeared completely; it’s raining too hard outside to really tell which direction he went in.”

“Alright,” Warriors huffed in irritation before giving out orders. “ Sky, Hyrule, take Twilight and Wild and check if they’re alright; the rest of us will figure out a plan. The two of them can explain the situation later and we’ll go from there.”

“No...gotta go…” Although Twilight’s objection was barely audible, it didn’t go unheard, and it definitely earned some disbelieving looks. If the situation wasn’t so dire, a few would have laughed at how bad of an idea that was.

“Twilight, did you just miss what happened two minutes ago? You nearly got killed, by Time of all people. You have to be crazy if you think we’re just going to let you go.” Four stated and a few others nodded in agreement.

He had a point, and Twilight knew that, but there was no way in Hell that he was going to just give up now; Time, the man he had killed, the man he had been waiting for day after night to see again, was lost, completely unaware of what happened to him, and definitely in danger of getting killed again. He needed to try to explain the situation, try to get Time to understand that he’s safe with them, and try to recover his memories, even if it killed him; it’s the least Twilight can do. With a sharp tug, he slipped out of Hyrule’s grasp and stumbled a few steps before moving on to a full sprint. Despite the surprised shouts and the way his lungs burned with each step, Twilight continued forward with unbreakable determination.

A few of them started to follow him but were stunned to see Wild dashing ahead of them, commanding them to stay put. “I’ll go with him but the rest of you guys need to stay here. ”

“Are you both idiots?” Legend had exclaimed. “ I’m not much of a team player either but even I can see that this situation is going to take a little more than two people.”

“I know that it looks like that but trust me when I say I got this. I’ve been through this thing before and I know exactly what Time is thinking: he’s angry and upset but he’s also scared and confused, just like I was when I came out of this shrine. I can help him, but he needs space; we can’t just crowd around him. Please, just listen to what I say.”

There was hesitation among the group. Some looked at each other while others stared at the ground but there was an overall air of uncertainty. Finally, Warriors was the one to answer.

“Fine, but we’ll keep watch at a distance. We’re not letting you two recklessly risk your lives like that again.”

A small triumphant smile graced Wild’s lips before he hurriedly made his way into the heavy rain.

#linkeduniverse #hero of twilight #hero of time #hero of the wild #fanfic

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kestrellavellan · 4 years

Text

Time Past - Chapter 54

Word Count: 3,713

Warning: depression, torture, non-consensual touching

Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/52317766

Time passed strangely after that. Snippets of conversation flitted through his consciousness.

“It’s been a week and there’s been no response.”

“I know that, Tae. Did you send for the boy? Dalish?”

“Yes, but it’ll likely be another week before he arrives. I sent a messenger to Atronis and Dalish as soon as we had word of their location, but that was only a few days ago.”

“Kaffas. Maybe that boy could help heal Kes more than what I’ve been able to do. I fear…” Dorian’s voice choked off.

“He’s taking fluids for now. That spell would have killed him if you hadn’t killed Aquinea when you did. Because of you, Kestrel has a fighting chance. His body just needs time to heal.”

A hand roughly grabbed Kestrel’s and lifted, pressing it against a tear-stained cheek. “Fight, Kes. I need you to fight for me, for you...Please.”

Dorian sounds like he was in so much pain, and Kestrel longed to acknowledge his touch, but no matter how hard Kestrel willed his eyes to open, they refused. The darkness soon pulled him back under.

~~~

A sickenly sweet scent stirred him from his slumber. It was the same scent from the Pavus House baths. Had his escape been a dream? He knew he was in the house that broke him down, that revealed to him the worthless, useless elf he was.

He struggled to move but couldn’t.

“So helpless, little bird.” A hand ghosted over his cheek. “No fight left in you, hmm?” The sheets were pulled down and the hand continued its path down his chest.

A second hand closed around his throat as a new voice spoke. “I should’ve killed you the first chance I had. Proceed as you see fit, Harrier.”

“With pleasure,” he purred, hand dancing lower and lower.

Kestrel’s mind screamed, but his body was useless. Unresponsive.

The hand tightened and tightened, cutting off his air supply even as Harrier fondled him.

Mercifully, unconsciousness barreled towards him, and Kestrel welcomed it this time.

~~~

Tense hands gripped Kestrel’s, a trembling thumb brushing along his knuckles. It paused at his ring, running over the warm surface. “Kes, I’m sorry I put you here. So many ‘what if’s’ run through my mind at night as I lie awake. What if I’d stayed with you instead of returning here? What if I allowed you to come with me at the start? What if I killed my mother after realizing she was the one who wanted me dead? None of this would’ve happened. You would be healthy, happy, and whole. I know I don’t deserve you after everything I’ve put you through, but I need you to keep fighting. Please. I can’t lose you again.”

Kestrel tried to squeeze his hand to let him know it was okay, that he didn’t hold any of what happened against Dorian, but his body remained frustratingly unaware to his commands.

A huge blast of air jolted Kestrel awake. He could sense something large standing over him, scaled snout sniffing. Another large exhale bathed him in the stench of decaying carrion and something more putrid.

Kestrel had no trouble remaining still, praying the beast passed him by.

A slimy tongue slide along his shoulder and up his neck, leaving a tacky trail.

His throat seized as a whimper tried to escape, heart hammering harder and harder in his chest before it stuttered to a stop.

~~~

“Kestrel!” cried a small, strained voice before a smaller body slammed into his, despite the echoing protests from the others in the room.

At first, Kestrel was worried the creature had returned, but small hands grabbed him. Those didn’t belong to any evil beast waiting to feast on him, yet he was cautious of hoping for anything better until he felt Dalish climb into bed with him and nestle close. Tears dampened his shoulder as a familiar warmth spread through the rest of Kestrel’s body, repairing the damage Dorian was unable to heal.

Unable to open his eyes, Kestrel still basked in the warmth and love from Dalish, the nightmares pushed back to the corners of his mind.

Dalish, exhausted from the magic use and his trip, and Kestrel, worn from the healing itself, slipped into a deep sleep together.

Unfortunately, the horror of his trauma could only be kept at bay for so long. The nightmares returned in force, punishing Kestrel for the short moments of respite. They plagued his every waking moment, unable to move, but able to feel every cut, every bite, every violation.

~~~

“I don’t understand. He should be awake by now. His body is healed,” Taeven muttered.

“But his mind...he has bad nightmares from when Mast--Morven hurt him.”

A strong hand clasped Kestrel’s, finger brushing over the golden band. “So what ails him may be more mental?”

“Kestrel is strong, Dorian. He’ll fight this and come back to us. I know it.” Dalish sounded confident.

Several voices agreed, offering up similar sentiments.

“Amatus, please, come back to us.”

I’m trying! Kestrel insisted, even though no one could hear him.

“Dalish?” Someone gently shook him awake, jostling Kestrel into consciousness too. “You should come to dinner.” Kestrel recognized Alvinius’ voice. It was disorienting. Had Kestrel left Tevinter or had Alvinius traveled all the way here, risking recapture?

“But Kestrel…” Dalish protested, clinging to him.

“You should let him rest, mon cher. Let’s get some dinner, and we’ll visit him again in the morning, okay?”

Dalish pressed a kiss to Kestrel’s cheek and whispered, “I’ll be back after dinner. No one can stop me.”

His departure left a cold void next to Kestrel.

“You’re trapped.” Cole’s voice spoke to him in his mind. “Your mind knows you’re back in the place of your torment. It’s trying to protect you, shield you, but if you don’t fully wake soon, you’ll die here, Inquisitor. I tried to take those painful memories away, but they resist like there’s a shield around them.”

Cole. He tried speaking with his mind, knowing if anyone could hear him, it’d be Cole. Cole. Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t get Cole to acknowledge his attempts.

“I hope this is not the last time I can visit you,” Cole said sadly before his presence disappeared.

No, he refused to die here in the house that saw him brought to his lowest, surrounded by the sickly sweet scent of bottled flowers.

~~~

Kestrel ignored Corypheus’ visit even though he whispered horrible things into his ear as he clawed at his flesh. It wasn’t real. That mantra played over and over in his mind. He needed to ignore the torment and focus on his surroundings, listening for his next visitor. He knew he’d have to put every ounce of his energy towards communicating, so he waited and conserved his strength.

Slow steps walked toward him, before they stopped. The noise of a chair being repositioned next to him and a heavy body slumping onto its padded surface followed.

A warm hand took hold of his, squeezing. “Kes,” Dorian said, sounding so very tired.

Kestrel longed to kiss Dorian’s pain away, to rub the tension from his shoulders, and curl up in bed with him, but he was trapped in his own body.

“It’s been over two weeks and you...you haven’t changed. Your body is deteriorating before my eyes, and I feel so helpless. I need some sign from you. Something, please. Anything. Open those beautiful blue eyes for me,” Dorian pleaded, tears dampening his tone.

Dorian pressed his forehead against Kestrel’s hand, and tears steadily dripped onto Kestrel’s cool skin.

Kestrel tried desperately to pry his eyes open. He focused on Dorian’s pain, using that as fuel to get his body to cooperate. He pushed, he pulled, he urged, he begged and nothing. Not even a twitch of his eyelid. Even if his eyes wouldn’t open, maybe something else would work with him.

He moved to his mouth where his tongue felt like a slab of lead, immovable. His lips remained as firmly shut as his eyes, and he couldn’t manage even a flick on his tongue.

Then surely his hand would cooperate! Dorian’s skin felt extra hot against his cool flesh. Kestrel soaked in the warmth and the tears. Just one finger twitch would be enough to convince Dorian he was there and listening. He focused so hard for so long, he was jarred from his attempt when Dorian pulled away with a sniffle.

As Kestrel’s hand fell the short distance to the bed, his finger curled, but Dorian was already out of the room. A meaningless victory.

There was no escaping his prison. After everything he’d been though, after everything he’d fought for, he was still going to die with Dorian barely out of reach.

~~~

Sunlight hit Kestrel’s face, pulling his mind to the present. It lit up his closed eyelids, filling his blocked vision with a warm pink. How long since he’d felt the sunlight on his skin? Slipping his awareness around him, Kestrel realized he was seated on a padded cushion, and by the way his body swayed, he was in a carriage.

Firm arms surrounded him, holding him tight against an equally firm chest. Dorian.

“Before you leave me, amatus, there’s a place I want to show you. As best as I can.” The sadness in his words broke Kestrel’s heart.

“He’ll know,” Dalish said nearby, probably seated across from them.

“I just…” Dorian sighed. “It’s a risk moving him, but if this is his end, I didn’t want him to die in that house. He deserves to be somewhere peaceful. It’s not quite ready, but I don’t think he’ll last long enough to see the completion.”

“He really loves you, you know,” Dalish said softly, repeating what he’d told Kestrel not long ago.

Dorian nuzzled against Kestrel’s neck, whispering, “I love him. Terribly.”

Kestrel felt so weak, so useless. He knew his body was failing him as much as Dorian said so. Consciousness came to him less and less as the days passed, and he’d given up hope of ever being able to wake up again.

Might as well allow himself this fleeting moment of alertness to bask in the warm light and Dorian’s even warmer love.

Kestrel came around again in a field of grass, the cool blades grazing his arm, legs, and neck. Songbirds chirped overhead before the shrill cry of a kestrel silenced them. And there were so many smells to pick through, flowers, manure, hay, fresh hewn wood. Was he on a farm or near a stable? He couldn’t be sure, but the grass and gentle breeze mingling the aromas together indicated he was at least outside.

Dorian laid down beside him, touching as much of their sides together as possible. “This was going to be our home. I started building it after I made my first jaunt back to Tevinter before...everything with Solas. I already knew I was going to propose and hoped you’d join me up here. And then my father died and our relationship fell apart. I had it worked on for a while, enough to get the house finished, and then forgot about it. As best as I could.

“And then you arrived in my life again, Kes. For a short time, I thought we still might be able to move here. I had the men start working on the property again, building the stable, setting up a garden, everything I knew you’d love. Even after my...mother sunk her claws into you, I knew I’d find a way to get you out of there. There was no other option. And then you died.

“I thought about coming here and setting the whole place on fire, throwing my body on the flames, but that was a bit too dramatic, even for me.” Dorian took a shuddering breath. “And then miracle of all miracles, you returned to me again. Just for me to watch you wither away.”

Dorian had built them a house and now Kestrel was going to die without ever seeing it. Rather than the usual disappointment or depression that haunted him, anger simmered in his gut, growing into an inferno of rage. He’d had everything taken away from him since a young age. He’d been forced to give and give and give. Was it too much to ask for this small gift?

“I know you’d love it, Kes. There’s a forest on the backend of the property for hunting, if you’d like. And a garden where you can grow whatever vegetables and herbs you want. The stables are for your hordes of mounts. I heard Dennet still has most of them in Skyhold, but here you can be reunited with them again.”

Dorian shifted onto his side and draped an arm over Kestrel, pulling him close. He buried his face into Kestrel neck and murmured, “I just need you to come back to me and all of this will be yours. Is it too much to ask for just one more miracle?”

Mythal was the protector but also the goddess of vengeance, and Kestrel swore that he would not allow Aquinea to win in the end by keeping him away from Dorian. The fury within Kestrel blossomed and bloomed into something fierce and torrential. It tore through his body, boiling his blood and leaving aching, tired muscles in its wake. But they were no longer frozen. For the first time in weeks, when Kestrel willed his eyes open, they responded.

Shocked, Kestrel froze, eyes wide as he stared into the blurry, sun-shielding boughs of a large tree overhead. His eyes immediately filled with tears against the brightness of his surroundings. Still, now was not the time to retreat back into his prison, it was time to burst forth.

Kestrel parted his lips, tongue heavy but responding enough for him to croak out a faint “Dorian,” voice weak with disuse.

There was a delayed response, as if Dorian didn’t quite believe what he heard after wishing for it for so long. At last, he reacted, cautiously sitting up, but once gray eyes met blue, he cupped Kestrel’s face in his hands. “Kes? Kes, is that…? Maker’s breath, you’re awake!” Still holding on, grip tight, he turned his head to the house and yelled, “He’s awake!” There was a cry of surprise in response before Dorian turned back to Kestrel and pressed his forehead against his.

“You have to stop scaring me like this, amatus, it’s not good for my heart,” Dorian blubbered through fresh tears.

Kestrel worked a weak smile to his lips and swallowed. “I love you,” he said, voice still dry and raspy.

The pattering of small feet heralded Dalish’s arrival only a moment before he dropped to his knees and threw his arms around Kestrel and Dorian. He was crying too through a big grin, overjoyed with the fact that Kestrel was awake and responsive.

Once the emotions lowered to a simmer, Dalish said into their embrace, “We should get him inside and see if we can get him to eat something.”

“Yes, yes, right you are.” Dorian scooped Kestrel up in his arms like he weighed nothing. He probably didn’t after wasting away for several weeks.

Dalish grabbed his dangling hand.

As they turned towards the beautiful house of Dorian’s creation, Kestrel could only focus on the beaming Taeven, the tearful Alvinius, and the relieved Atronis waiting at the entrance. He finally felt like he was home.

Kestrel used the last bit of his energy to squeeze Dalish’s hand and snuggle against Dorian’s chest, falling asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

***

Kestrel woke much later after night was in full swing. He found himself in another unfamiliar room, another unfamiliar bed, with someone sleeping beside him. Before full panic could set in, the warm form next to him shifted and turned over, revealing Dorian. With the sight of his sleeping face, the memories of the past few weeks came back to him. Snippets of conversation playing around him without the ability to respond. Although his eyes were open, what if his body was paralyzed? Almost too afraid to try, Kestrel focused on closing his hand into a fist. While he didn’t have the strength to lift his arm up, he could feel his fingers ball together. His body was weak but responsive. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed on his own which left him to stare at the wooden beams in the ceiling, tracing their unfamiliar pattern with his eyes.

Dorian inched closer, sensing his disquiet. He wrapped his arm around Kestrel’s waist and kissed his shoulder.

Kestrel tensed, worried he’d ask for more, knowing he was incapable of giving him more, unsure he was worthy of more. Fortunately, his worrying was for naught. Dorian’s breath deepened as he fell back asleep, leaving Kestrel alone with his thoughts.

As the room darkened, fire in the hearth burning low, so did his thoughts.

Morven stood over him, limp dick in hand. “My, my, what would your people think of you now seeing your brought so low? Better yet, what would Pavus think, seeing you covered in my piss, kneeling obediently before me? Think he’d be awed or disgusted?”

Morven had broken him down more thoroughly than he thought possible. That was only possible because of how weak he was to begin with. How quick had he been to beg for forgiveness? How quick had he been to fall submissive by Morven’s side, letting everyone take what they wanted from him?

The demon shifted into view, leaning over Kestrel to whisper in his ear, “My my, you truly have no purpose in this life, do you? You’re driven solely by your desire to be with that one man.”

Everything Kestrel did was for Dorian. Why when such a man should want nothing to do with him? Dorian was his life, and yet he caused Dorian so much pain in the last several months. How could that be healthy for him?

Kestrel blinked as tears filled his eyes and Aquinea replaced the demon to echo his doubts. “But what do you have to offer him now, Inquisitor? What makes you think you’re even worthy of his attention? You’re nothing now. You hold an empty title. You have no land, no people. You don’t even have two arms! He’s the one with the position of power. And if he were to actually marry you? He would get nothing but ridicule and disgust. You have to know your insignificant presence is nothing but a detriment to whatever lofty goals he hopes to achieve.”

“You know, I thought about having Morven cut off your finger to remove the ring since it’s so stubbornly affixed, but then I thought, what better way to remind you what you’ll always be unworthy of?”

Aquinea was right. He had nothing to offer Dorian, and he’d only hold him back. Why did he think he could save Dorian when he’d be the one to bring him ruin in the end?

“Banish whatever dark thoughts are swirling around in your head,” Dorian said softly.

Startled, Kestrel jerked his head to the side, sending his vision swimming and tears falling.

“Oh, amatus,” Dorian murmured, lifting himself onto his elbow to brush away Kestrel’s tears. “You know, when we were discussing what you wanted for yourself in the Winter Palace, and I answered with a joke? I should’ve been serious. I should’ve told you that my home is with you. Wherever you decide to go, I will be there. Whether you choose this house or somewhere else, I will be there with you.”

The location didn’t matter, what mattered is that they couldn’t share it. He didn’t deserve to be with Dorian. Now was the time to end this.

“I don’t think we should get married, Dorian,” Kestrel said, trying to put as much strength into his words as possible.

Dorian blinked, an uneasy grin rising to lips, unsure if this was some cruel joke. “What? Why ever not?”

Kestrel pulled his face from Dorian’s hold, staring at the ceiling again. “I’m nobody. You...you’re perfect. And what you’re doing in Tevinter is amazing. ...I’m not worthy of you. I’m not worthy to stand by your side, Dorian. I’m useless...I can’t even provide for us.”

He was corrupted. Sullied. Perverted. Unworthy of Dorian. Now more than ever. He needed him to know that he had an out. He had no obligation to him.

“Amatus.”

That one word still made his heart clenched every time he heard it. He remained turned away, hoping Dorian would say it one final time before they parted.

He needed to get everything out before Dorian stopped him. “I was the reason you were tortured. I was the reason you had to kill your mother, Dorian. It’s unforgivable. Do you really want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

“Kes, look at me.”

Unable to resist the pain in his voice, Kestrel turned back to Dorian.

“That wasn’t your fault. That was hers,” Dorian hissed. Fury dying down, he continued with a softer voice, “While I’m flattered you think I’m so grand, you have to stop putting me on a pedestal. I’m hardly as perfect as you claim, despite what I want others to believe. Forgetting the fact you saved all of Thedas for a moment, you’re someone to me. We both have our flaws, but you’re perfect to me. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it will take a while to put the pieces back together but know that I want to marry you as soon as you feel strong enough. All I need to know in return is this...Kestrel Lavellan, will you stand by my side?”

That was all it took to break him again, to knock down his insecurities and make room for his deep-seated selfishness when it came to Dorian. One heartfelt request.

Kestrel started crying again, too weak to refuse. This was all he ever wanted. To marry Dorian, to live in peace together; it was being offered up to him, and he didn’t have the will to refuse. “Yes,” he sobbed, and Dorian embraced him.

#time past #chapter 54 #kestrel lavellan #dorian pavus #pavellan #dragon age fanfic #dragon age #fanfic #dragon age inquisition #m!lavellan #this was a tough update for me to write #at least I'm done tormenting Kes!

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